suspended bridge

Things Ryder has definitely done at some point with the Tempest’s suspended walkway between the bridge and the research room:

  • done their best Dramatic Commander turn-on-heel and stalk away from the bridge after giving an order
  • tried to start a fashion show
  • took a running start and slid down in their socks
  • sat on the edge and ate snacks while their legs dangled
  • tossed stuff down/up at people who are walking by (whether it was that tool they were asking for, or snack bits as they pass by)
  • started a fashion show with Liam and a sleep-deprived Gil
  • staged a dramatic sword/lightsaber fight (but with whom?)
  • space bowling??
  • hopped off the side to avoid a conversation or meeting reminder (or just to look cool) (luck was in their favor the first two times, but then they got cocky and sprained their ankle on the third try)
  • fashion show now with guest stars Suvi and Kallo
  • special guest star when Cora refuses to change her route for their shenanigans
  • dropped something onto the floor below while Too Damn Tired and just kinda slowly sank to their knees and then their chest until they’re laying down with their arm dangling over the side, reaching, until Vetra finally walks by, “Oh thank god you’re here, your arms are long and beautiful. Can you please pick that up and just. put it in my hand.”
  • tried to use biotics/jump jet to do some cool wall bounce from the first floor onto the walkway, estimated any aspect of that wrong, crashed into the opposite wall, and crawled to medbay
  • sat on the side with their legs gently swaying, listening to the hum and beep of the ship
Zelink FF: “Fit For a Princess”

I was feelin’ Zelink tonight so I typed up a quick PG fic about Link preparing his Hateno house for Zelda’s arrival. Enjoy the fluff!

******************************************************************

“Linky was supposed to be here quite some time ago”, Purah mused, finally noticing that her guinea pig had been missing for a number of days. She had new tests to run on both him and his Sheikah slate, including more rune tinkering and a modification to the slate’s teleportation carrying capacity. Soon, two people or one horse and a rider would easily be able to teleport around Hyrule. Purah hoped that eventually she could design a modification that would enable the slate’s carrier to teleport OTHER things here and there, such as guardian remains or perhaps precious stones. The lab was always in need of funding anyway, and charging Link for her services now that Ganon was defeated seemed reasonable enough. Goddess knew he had plenty of money to invest, anyway. Purah decided to propose the idea to him the next time he came around, whenever that would be. She grunted with annoyance, stamping one of her small, freshly shined shoes.

Like any other child, she loathed to wait. “Where would he have run of to?” Purah huffed impatiently. In her head, she imagined Link intentionally wasting time- scaling the sky-tall mushrooms of northwest Hyrule, using the stasis rune to send giant boulders clear to the heavens, chasing after viscous tundra bears as though they were speckled pink ponies…

“I’m sure whatever he’s doing is of utmost importance”, replied Symin. He plucked a long, white hair off of the tall bookshelf in front of him. “It’s extremely out of character for Link to not show, and especially to do so without any word.”

Purah sighed and plopped down heavily on her wooden stool, painted to resemble a thunderwing butterfly. “I suppose you’re right. Maybe I should go find him, make sure he’s alright. But, ohhhhhh!” She grabbed the corners of her stool and leaned back dramatically. “I can’t leave, looking this way! Symin, would you go fetch him for me?”

“Ill see what I can do”, Symin replied woefully, not looking forward to yet another trip away from the Lab. The direct sun always shone too brightly on his fair skin, and he had allergic reactions to most things he touched. Nonetheless, there was a task at hand which only he could accomplish.

After lacing his shoes up and applying a generous layer of sun salve to all visible parts of his body, he trudged towards the door, fidgeting with the handle for a moment. “I’ll check the village first, for the general direction he headed”, he muttered in Purah’s direction. “And I’ll send notice if he’s left for… goddess, who knows where?”

Stepping through the threshold and out into the yellow-green grass of Hateno, Symin shut the Lab’s rickety door behind him. He walked slowly down the hill, taking note of the deep, spotless blue stretched above him. Though it was already late as midday, he knew better than to trust the sky to remain clear. Hateno was notorious for two things: fresh milk, and flip-of-a-switch weather patterns.

Upon reaching the base of the town, Symin stretched his neck around a bend in an attempt to find a friendly face with whom to speak. There was a stable hand- and given her general composure, she seemed a bit rude, but not unapproachable. Nobody else seemed particularly interested in what she was doing, which was by the look of things, not very much. She leaned against a small stable in front of the Inn with her arms crossed, chewing a blade of grass. Symin slicked back his hair and approached her with a kind confidence.

“Good evening, ma'am. A word?” He asked gently, as though one wrong move would cause her to blow.

“Sure, I got a word for ya. I’m a sir”, the stablehand corrected.

Symin stuttered in surprise. After running through a number of apologies, he finally stumbled into his original question.

“Have you seen Link around?” Symin pulled at a stray strand of hair ticking the corner of his mouth. “Sort of short, blonde mop, stoic expression?”

“Oh, Link! Sure. He’s been locked in his house last two, three days.” The stablehand huffed a little. “When you see him, can you ask him to, uh… help me catch a couple more of those restless crickets? Damn things are too fast for me.” He smiled sheepishly, the added, “I’m needing a lot of’em.”

A strange expression flickered across Symin’s face before he regained his composure. “Crickets. Got it. Thanks.”

Symin wondered what Link may be doing in his house, especially for TWO DAYS. The boy couldn’t even sit still long enough to sleep at night, let alone spend two days locked in his ramshackle home. No, Symin concluded, something had to be going on. He walked past the strange cubic model houses on the hill to a frighteningly rickety bridge. Goddess, how long had THAT been weathering there? He crossed it carefully, hoping the warped wood wouldn’t break under his weight. The bridge was suspended 50 feet above a pond, and Symin was as capable of swimming as a stone.

He reached the end of the bridge with a sigh of relief, facing Link’s cottage. He had made several home improvements, that much was obvious. Last Symin had seen of the place, it had been falling apart. He noticed saplings planted around the yard, along with white flowers cropping out from the grass. The place had a door now, and the roof had been patched. It seemed less run down, and more quaint.

Symin’s eye was caught by a small, blue bloom cropping up near the old stable. He walked towards it curiously and bent down to meet the little bud.

“Silent Princess?” He whispered in amazement. “They aren’t native to this area.” In fact, they were native to very FEW areas at all. The flowers had grown in number the last hundred years, but were still not incredibly common. They grew mostly in the fields of Hyrule, or around Great Fairy fountains. They were both places almost no one had access to. Except for maybe, a certain Hero…

“I wonder, could Link have dropped seeds here?”

That was when he saw several plooms of dust come out of Link’s window, followed by deep coughing from inside the house.

Symin rushed towards the door, politely knocking once before shoving his way in without invitation.

He found Link clinging to a rafter, reaching above himself to dust the CEILING.

“Sir Link”, Symin started. Link jumped, caught off guard for once, to Symin’s surprise. “If I may ask, what in Hylia’s name are you doing?”

Link looked down at him, rubbing his neck embarrassedly. “Cleaning, actually.” His clothes were completely filthy. Where they appeared to be dampened with something, dust, dirt, and other strange brownish substances clung to him. His hands were none the better, and his hair was pulled back into a messy, sweat-streaked ponytail.

Symin sighed, meeting Purah’s impatience. Of all the things he could have found Link doing, cleaning was considered quite low on the priority list. “While I agree with a tidy keep, you’ve left Miss Purah waiting for you to make an appearance at the lab for quite some time, and her patience wears thin very quickly these days.”

“Sorry”, Link muttered half-heartedly. “I’ve been distracted. I’m trying to prepare everything for the Princess’ arrival.” He blushed deeply.

Symin grinned excitedly in response. “Oh! Our Princess Zelda is coming for a visit? How long will she be staying? I’m sure she would love to meet with Purah and discuss improvements on the Sheikah technology!”

“Well, she’s been spending time getting reacquainted with the country.” Link paused for a long while, calculating his next words. “She doesn’t want to return to the castle just yet, as it is in repair, and she has little interest in living anywhere but Hateno…”

“Ah.” Symin nodded in understanding. He had anticipated that Link and Zelda would fall back into their roles of princess and knight eventually. It was their original dynamic, after all. Perhaps returning to it would provide them both with some sense of familiarity in this new, strange world. “Her highness would be living here with you”, he said conclusively.

"Yeah”, Link confessed. He flustered in the way that only came about from mention of the princess, or shamelessly forward Great Fairies. “One hundred years ago, it would have been considered completely improper- never would have happened. To be honest, I’m surprised she suggested it at all. She can be quite traditional.” He leapt down from the rafter in one graceful movement.

“Sir Link, do forgive me, but I fear you have an error in memory. You lived beside the princess in the castle, before Calamity Ganon, and it was approved by the royal court”, Symin corrected. His voice softened to a more friendly tone. “It wasn’t so taboo- she was safe near you. Your services are less necessary now than they were back then, since our biggest threat has been snuffed out. But even so, I’m sure the Princess is very capable of handling herself.”

Link laughed, really laughed- the sound was full bellied and rich as monster cake. “She can hold her own wherever she goes- there is no question about that.” He rubbed his neck shyly. “But she isn’t moving here to be protected.”

“Then why would she be…” Symin started, before noticing Link’s deep, red blush.

Oh, Symin, you damnable fool! He chastised himself silently. “Oh, goddess… I beg your forgiveness, Sir Link.” He hung his head in embarrassment. “I was unaware of the status of your relationship with the Princess. Pardon my assumption.”

“Don’t worry about it”, Link brushed off. “I hardly believe the reality of it myself. Which is probably part of the reason I’m doing all of this, in preparation.” He motioned around his little cottage. “Helps me get a better grip on things.”

Symin smiled, relieved to find Link hadn’t taken offense to his obliviousness. “The world has changed, my friend. People see each other as equals, and the old laws that established one’s rank and class have been long forgotten.”

“It isn’t only her title, or her lineage. I couldn’t have allowed myself to hope for something like this… before.” Link mindlessly readjusted his ponytail as he spoke. “Not with her.” He pulled the leather chord around his hair, then rested his hands on his hips in a defiant sort of way. “But, enough with the squishy talk. Purah needs me for something?”

Symin nodded ruefully. “Yes, and immediately. If I return to her empty handed, she’ll have my head as kindle for the blue flame outside the lab. And I’m only partially kidding.”

“Purah is a force to be reckoned with, no doubt about it. I promise to come back with you. But listen, before we leave…” Link’s face grew gravely serious. “…I have a favor to ask of you.”

“Of course.” Symin braced himself, wondering what sort of treacherous task Link would propose. His stomach knotted as he ran through a million different scenarios, each ending in disaster. How would he even manage to keep up? Link had traversed through the electric jungles of Faron, the frozen wastelands of Hebra, the scorching sands of the Gerudo desert. What services could he possibly offer to the young hero? Was returning to Purah without Link somehow safer than agreeing to whatever may be asked of him? And if so, how could he possibly say no? Symin pushed his fears to the side, realizing that even if it were to be a death sentence, he owed his loyalty to the hero of Hyrule. This was something he would simply have to overcome- despite the statistical probability of his death. He closed his eyes, before quietly asking, “What is this favor, young Hero?”

Link breathed in and back out slowly. “Would you help me bake these fruit cakes?”

Rowan Vs. Dorian (aka I love spilling tea)

Rowan: Prince. 

Dorian: King!!!


Rowan:  “you’re worthless.” “you would probably have been more useful to the world if you’d actually died ten years ago.”

Dorian: “She was not becoming anything different from what she always was and always had the capacity to be. You just finally saw everything. And once you saw that other part of her… You cannot pick and choose what parts of her to love. Just as you cannot pick which parts of me you accept.” 


Rowan: “Thirty minutes later, Rowan was still staring up at the ceiling, teeth gritted as he calmed the roaring in
his veins that was steadily shredding through his self-control.
That gods-damned nightgown.
Shit.
He was in such deep, unending shit.” 

Dorian: “He was done with politics and intrigue. He loved her, and no empire, no king, and no earthly fear would keep him from her. No, if they tried to take her from him, he’d rip the world apart with his bare hands. And for some reason, that didn’t terrify him.”


Emrys on Rowaelin:

“What are you doing?”
“What?”
Emrys didn’t raise his voice as he said, “To that girl. What are you doing that makes her come in here with such emptiness in her eyes?”
“That’s none of your concern.”
Emrys pressed his lips into a tight line. “What do you see when you look at her, Prince?”
He didn’t know. These days, he didn’t know a damn thing. “That’s none of your concern, either.”
Emrys ran a hand over his weathered face. “I see her slipping away, bit by bit, because you shove her down when she so desperately needs someone to help her back up.” 

Otho/Chaol on Doraelin:

“So she’s not with him?“
“No.”
Otho shrugged. “That’s strange.”
“Why?” Chaol had the sudden urge to strangle him.
“Because it looks like he’s in love with her,” he said, and walked away.
Chaol’s eyes lost focus for a moment. Then Celaena laughed, and Dorian kept staring at her. The prince hadn’t once taken his eyes off her. Dorian’s expression was full of–something. Joy? Wonder? His shoulders were straight, his back erect. He looked like a man. Like a king.”


Doraelin: 

Aelin extended her hand—a question and an offer and a promise.

“To a better future,” she said.

“You came back,” he said, as if that were an answer.

They joined hands.

So the world ended.

And the next one began.

They were infinite.

They were the beginning and the ending; they were eternity.

The king standing before them gaped as the shield of flame died out to reveal Aelin and Dorian, hand in hand, glowing like newborn gods as their magic entwined.

“You’re mine,” the man raged. He became darkness; folded himself into the power he carried, as if he were nothing but malice on a dark wind.

He struck them, swallowed them.

But they held tighter to each other, past and present and future; flickering between an ancient hall in a mountain castle perched above Orynth, a bridge suspended between glass towers, and another place, perfect and strange, where they had been crafted from stardust and light A wall of night knocked them back. But they could not be contained. The darkness paused for breath. They erupted..”

Rowaelin: lmao Rowaelin could NEVER compare to that bye.

I’m just saying….

But they held tighter to each other, past and present and future; flickering between an ancient hall in a mountain castle perched above Orynth, a bridge suspended between glass towers, and another place, perfect and strange, where they had been crafted from stardust and light. A wall of night knocked them back. But they could not be contained. The darkness paused for breath. They erupted.
—  Sarah J. Maas, Queen of Shadows
Runs In The Family

Originally posted by thethingsthaticantsee

Requested by just-a-touch-of-writing:

“I wanted to say that I love your imagines and I was wondering if you could write one where you’re Owen’s niece and you and Zach don’t get along at first but you slowly fall for each other after the many near death experiences and he kisses you at the end.” 

Note: This person asked for a personal but unfortunately I do not write personals, I hope you love this imagine anyway, thank you for enjoying my writing! :) xx Also this imagine will not be exactly to the plot but I’ve tried to stay as close as possible x

Warnings: Swearing


“Can I help you train the raptors?”

“No.”

You huff in annoyance and roll your eyes at his answer. You don’t know why you thought today would be any different but you had and now you feel totally bummed out. Everyday it was the same routine, you got up early, scoffed down your breakfast, threw on your denim shorts and Jurassic World t-shirt, chucked your hair up into a messy high ponytail, laced up your combat boots, walked to the Raptor’s pen and asked your Uncle if you could help train them and every day received the same answer. 

“Better luck tomorrow, kid.” Barry said patting your shoulder as he walked past you. You stare after your Uncle’s retreating figure as you groan. “Do you think he’ll ever let me?” You ask as you trail after Barry. “I can’t answer that, your Uncle is the most unpredictable man I’ve ever met.” He says as he begins to fill out some sheets. You were about to reply with ‘tell me about it’ when something catches your eye.

“Hey who’s that?” You ask nodding your head toward an unfamiliar car that just pulled up as three unfamiliar figures get out of the vehicle. 

“I don’t know, but they shouldn’t be here.” Barry says narrowing his eyes.

Keep reading

Domhnall’s New Shop Location Causes Controversy.

The peddler from Zena opened up his new store last week and unfortunately hasn’t seen much business. Domhnall’s loyal customers are even staying away after 5 people fell to their death trying to reach him.

“He’s a nice guy, but God Damn who opens up a shop under a suspended bridge!?” says one local.“I’ve lost a few friends who couldn’t remember how to jump and fell to their death!”

Domhnall isn’t worried.

“I see my customers get so close then miss the jump!” he said. “It works out great though as I take the armor off their corpse and then sell it in my shop!”

Domhnall’s Trinkets can be found up Hollow Dr. near Firelink Shrine. Be careful though as the store is easy to miss.

I demand

Riot grrrl maenads getting into ecstatic states in the pit. Grabbing intruding punk boys by their spiked collars and hurling them to the back of the audience.

Hekate’s hounds protecting protesters marching to commemorate those killed by racist, sexist, transphobic, homophobic, and classist violence. Their long shadows and yellow eyes scaring away the cops.

Artemis and Poseidon teaming up to protect the activists working against Arctic drilling. Artemis giving strength to the ones suspended from bridges, Poseidon protecting the ones in kayaks.

Athena hanging out in Vienna, helping smooth the Iran talks because diplomacy is way more strategic then war.

Hestia running around a new apartment building for newly sheltered people. Straightening the donated pillows on this couch, double checking the safety hinges on that donated crib.

love is like this:

watching him die –
kill himself –
because he believes that
it’s the best option,
the only real option.
and maybe it is.
maybe saving the world
is more important
than the way
you feel your heart drop in your chest.
saving billions of innocents
is more important
than saving your
guilty conscience –
(for a short moment
you wanted him to stay with you
in a burning world
if it meant just a few more
seconds
in his presence.)
he would hate you for that
so you just beg him to take you
with him
long after his body scatters
into stars.

love is like this:

you are hanging off a bridge
suspended on wires
and across you is the world.
across you
is every stare from every mother,
every helpless child,
and you are a good man,
so you are afraid
because you love
an atlas.
one man is not
worth the weight
of the world.
you know this is how
your story ends.

love is like this:

not the absence of him,
but the lack of presence:
the way you turn to an empty room,
a laugh dying on your mouth,
and then dying altogether.
the empty bed
you shared for such
a short time
and somehow still
smells like him.
you should be hailed as heroes
but the gold
melts in your hands
scalds your skin
runs down your arms
to every place he kissed you.
a thousand medals
are not as heavy
as his corpse.

love is like this:

one man can weigh more than a galaxy.
for every word that praises you
you can only feel the
oppressive lack of pride.
they sing for you,
every planet on every star,
but it just sounds like
you screaming his name.
for every memorial
there is a matching one in your chest;
a drumline beat out by heartbeats,
your ribcage a group of pallbearers,
for every word he might’ve said.

love is like this:

in his situation you might’ve let the world die.
maybe that makes you
a bad man.
maybe you loved him more.
maybe that’s terrible.
“don’t leave me behind,”
but he does,
and you have to be okay with that.
“next time, wake me,”
and he does,
shrieking into consciousness
with nightmares that carry his shadow.

you put his name
on the wall
and now you stay behind with him
long after he burns out
and leaves.

– loving you is being chained to a supernova,
l.b.

Sky Keep and the Isle of Songs

“Look around us! As a child, I always dreamed of a world below. I wanted to see the surface with my own eyes and feel the land’s warm breeze on my skin. I … I think I want to live here. I always want to feel solid ground beneath my feet, see the clouds above my head …”

- Zelda, Skyward Sword

Across the Surface, as numerous, complex, and interconnected as Her divine plans, exist structures dedicated to the Goddess Hylia. These buildings, whether they are sanctuaries, towers, or hidden vaults, all derive their style, function, and mystery from the graces of Hylia, who created them, either through sacred might or through the will of humankind. Irrespective of who built these places, a deeper association is far more important, and that is the inherent connection between this school of architecture and the savior of all those who did, do, and will dwell upon the Surface. This style—these clear and distinctive embellishments, patterns, materials, and atmosphere—holds divinity. Perhaps more than any other school of architecture or singular building within the entirety of The Legend of Zelda, these buildings—Her buildings—are manifestly sacred. The more Link journeys upon the world of the Surface, the more clarity we get into this phenomenon. We are no longer simply confined to the Statue of the Goddess upon Skyloft and its counterpart, The Sealed Temple, below, but we are given hidden structures on Skyloft, a beacon within an impassable barrier of cloud and wind, and the truly incredible Sky Keep, which houses the most powerful object within this much-beloved universe—the Triforce. All of these structures are intimately connected, and, for the plans of the Goddess to ever achieve success, they needed to remain whole, protected, and undefiled. It is perhaps better to think of these structures holistically, in that, without one, there would be none. Were one link of the chain to be sundered, the Goddess Plan would have failed, and the world forsaken. To me, it is fascinating to look at the happenings of this time period in light of its structures. They facilitate, house, and guide the Hero on his quest, and they are just as integral to the salvation of the Surface as is the current incarnation of the Goddess Herself.

In a way, every massive structure, temple, or dungeon that Link encounters in his journey is related, either directly or indirectly, to the Goddess Hylia. While certain buildings, like the Ancient Temple of Time or the Sealed Temple, carry her designs plainly, even those constructs built by the ancient tribes of humanity—from the Lanayru Mining Facility to the Fire Sanctuary—have a role in the story that unfolds within Skyward Sword. Some safeguard still waters and shrines, while others protect the mighty Goddess Flames that rest ever-burning in sheltered spaces. But, as far as architecture goes, only about half of the major structures within this time period can be said to be within one school of design. From our first glimpse of this tradition in Skyloft upon the Isle of the Goddess, descending to the Surface where rests its counterpart, the Sealed Temple, we are, throughout the events of this era, continually brought into contact with Hylian Architecture, as it will come to be known.

The Ancient Temple of Time, nestled safely within the sand dunes of Lanayru Province, plays host to one of the more violent meetings within this game, and though our time there proves to be short-lived, it is an intensely familiar sight. From the reliefs of Loftwings to the Goddess Harps etched in stone at the bottom of piers, the thick, plain walls echo perfectly those of the Sealed Temple. Of course, this being a drier climate, the stone here is more bleached from the constant sun, and perhaps weaker, as evidenced by the crumbling masonry. This temple, even with its open sky, was chosen to house one of the two Gates of Time present upon the Surface, and after the destruction of the Gate and the ending of this game’s events, another temple arises in its wake bearing the same name, and housing a relic of much the same function. In this way, the structure not only lives on but flourishes.

A chain of premeditated events upon both the Surface and Skyloft yields a method of piercing the cloud-wall of the Thunderhead, revealing an untouched vista of distant islands and grey mist beneath a leaden sky. The main island within this veil is called the Isle of Songs, named for its singular and holy purpose. Left for the Hero by the Goddess, this massive tower is further protected by another layer of defenses in the shape of wrought-iron fences, and a complex locking sequence which controls the tripartite movement of the bridge leading inward. The grey tower has long been covered in all-pervasive ivy and plant life, and its hexagonal layout carries one design above all others: the Goddess Harp. Music is clearly sacred within Goddess worship, and no instrument holds more divinity within The Legend of Zelda, save for, arguably, the ocarina. Each of the giant-order pilasters on the six corners of this building bear this harp motif, and a chain of harps encircles the entire exterior, while higher-up reliefs are chiefly floral in design, bringing an element of the natural world to this ancient religion. Fascinatingly, the entrance is little more than a crawl space. It may be that, like in Japanese tea houses, wherein the doors were crafted small so as to ensure that all entered at the same level of status (and without weapons), the entrance was created to force humility before the Goddess. Such a small tunnel precludes a proud entrance, and this may be a gentle reminder of the virtues of modesty in face of the Divine.

Keeping all of this in mind, it should be truly without doubt that we are about to enter into a sacred space. And, indeed, the atmosphere and architecture of the interior are further evidence of this. The interior is a decagon, made of the same grey stone universal in this tradition. This chamber has great resonance, and it is here that we first learn of the melody of the Goddess, broken into fragments and held safe by Her guardians below. And while there are reliefs of the Goddess in abstract form upon the walls, with harp, Triforce, wind, and shield motifs beside them, the true beauty of this room resides in what is absent. A humble bridge of stone leads out into the center of this vast chamber, resting above nothing, and below yet more, for there is no ceiling to this place, nor is there ground beneath. The bridge is suspended, resting perfectly between the light from above and the darkness below. It is as though this extension divides the two, and this edge gives the powerful impression of suspension between the unfathomable powers of heaven and hell, good and evil. It is almost a reminder of what should come to pass if Link fails, and the intense beauty that will return to the world if he should succeed.

Once Link has learned the three fragments of the Song of the Goddess, one last trial awaits him on Skyloft, and this one will prove not only the most difficult but the most unnerving. As he enters the trial, and the veil drops around him, yielding a faded shadow of the vibrancy of Skyloft, Link likely cannot help but notice this dim echo of his childhood home—a deep unrest stemming from the perversion of the joy and comfort that Skyloft embodies so perfectly. Yet, as all trials do, this too passes, and the world is returned to normal, with its colors, energy, and life. And with the growth of the spirit comes greater knowledge and the method of unveiling the Sky Keep, a tiered and concentric complex hidden beneath the Goddess Statue for untold years.

Upon entering the Sky Keep, the most piercingly obvious sensory experience we have is one of sound. The entire auditory landscape is introduced through the dull rising and falling of harp strings, and then an otherworldly pulse builds over time, adding voice to flute in a haunting and ethereal song, which seems to echo forth mournfully from far passages and unseen corridors. We must remember that this place is yet one more trial for the Hero, and while it is not unfriendly or working against Link as he attempts to gain access to the Triforce, it certainly is protecting this most sacred of treasures. Reflecting this aspect of the Sky Keep, the music is highly ambivalent—almost comforting and pleasant, yet ever withdrawn and cold.

Notice how the Triforce makes continual appearances throughout this space, and how other, more familiar, aspects of Hylian Architecture continue to show up in new and subtle ways.

As we have talked at such great lengths already as to the stability of Hylian Architecture across the Surface world and beyond, it is only logical that this last temple be both a continuation and culmination of the features and meaning of this school. Like the Sealed Temple below, colors herein are muted and hazy, lending a sense of ever-changing unsolidity to the entire structure—as if, when we enter into the Sky Keep, we enter into a dream. Countless greys, deep and faded blues, veins of gold and brown, and wan green light seen in an indeterminate distance all meld together in conjunction with this shifting and restless structure. It seems strange to say, in light of the linear design of at least half of the interior, that this building barely maintains its sense of solidity, but the tricks of the light and the billowing fluidity of the stone embellishments rising high above the head all shape the perspective in this seemingly nonsensical way. The large gaps present in many of the walls give a huge sense of emptiness—space—and extend perception far beyond the immediate environment. But even while these unearthly aspects of architecture pull us into unfamiliarity, other forces serve to stabilize us in the present, reminding us of where we are, and in whose presence we are meant to be. Nearly every surface bears some mark of the Goddess Hylia, and all of them are familiar to us. The Goddess Harp is perhaps the most ubiquitous, being one of the prime instruments in fulfilling the Hero’s destiny, though the Triforce, Loftwing, winds, and sun are all present in motif and embellishment. Something new is present, however, in the four piers that stretch from floor to ceiling in the four corners of these Goddess Chambers (those that are a part of the actual temple, not the reincarnations of the previous ones); these piers are rigid and straight, but for small triangular protrusions that mirror the blade of the Master Sword near to the hilt and crossguard.  Atop each, where the hilt of the sword would normally be, sits a statue of a Loft Wing. This experimentation in blending design is what truly sets the Sky Keep apart in terms of its architectural importance within Skyward Sword, and is partially what makes it worthy of being the final dungeon of the game.

Each temple, dungeon, and sanctuary from the game is present within the larger puzzle of the Sky Keep, and each province of the game is represented in both land and sound. In testing the Hero, it is as if the Goddess wishes to remind Link of what he has overcome to make it thus far. To me, revitalizing these temples and landscapes is yet another reminder of how the Goddess wishes to embolden Link, and how even subtlety can serve as a vehicle for Courage.

As each piece of the Triforce is obtained, adding its power to the others, we re-enter the Goddess Chamber, but through new eyes. Gone are the walls and ceiling. It is as if the whole room is suspended in a sea of grey-blue mist, and even Link appears a spirit in this realm. Upon the recovery of the last piece, Link is spirited from the Sky Keep entirely, appearing atop the Goddess Statue, held safely in Her hands while the Triforce shines in unity above. In front of this omnipotent force, Link issues a fervent prayer, and the Isle of the Goddess severs its connection to Skyloft and once again is joined to the land below, acting as the final seal on the Imprisoned. Yet, as we all know, this is not the end of the story, but the beginning of the cyclical history of Hyrule. And as each chapter yields its recurrent themes of wrathful power, ancient wisdom, and unwavering courage, the past is brought to life in new form, through strife and peace, though always only for a time.

Woojong Kim (Architect, Foster + Partners)

The City of Sleep, Bartlett, UCL 5th Year Design Project

The proposal ‘The Floating Cathedral in the City of Sleep: Toward Inhabitable Infrastructure for the Pilgrims in the UK’ has attempted to adopt the critical principles of the spatial qualities in cathedrals, and the concept of floating infrastructures to create proposed spaces to be included in the main body of the structure, the Cryonics unit, the suspended bridge, the bird towers and the wave energy centre in the proposal, ‘Floating Cathedral.’

2

“To a better future,” she said.

“You came back,” he said, as if that were an answer.

They joined hands.

So the world ended.

And the next one began.

They were infinite.

They were the beginning and the ending; they were eternity.

The king standing before them gaped as the shield of flame died out to reveal Aelin and Dorian, hand in hand, glowing like newborn gods as their magic entwined.

“You’re mine,” the man raged. He became darkness; folded himself into the power he carried, as if he were nothing but malice on a dark wind.

He struck them, swallowed them.

But they held tighter to each other, past and present and future; flickering between an ancient hall in a mountain castle perched above Orynth, a bridge suspended between glass towers, and another place, perfect and strange, where they had been crafted from stardust and light.

A wall of night knocked them back. But they could not be contained.

The darkness paused for breath.

They erupted.

5

Inside McLaren: Looking At How The Design Of Its Headquarters Redefines The 21st-Century Workplace

It may already be 11 years old, but the McLaren Technology Centre (MTC) in Woking in southeast England looks like it was built just yesterday. A space-age, futuristic building with snaking suspended bridges and see-through cylindrical elevator shafts, the corporate and production head office of the McLaren Group It may already be 11 years old, but the McLaren Technology Centre (MTC) in Woking in southeast England looks like it was built just yesterday. A space-age, futuristic building with snaking suspended bridges and see-through cylindrical elevator shafts, the corporate and production head office of the McLaren Group. Read more >

2

They were infinite. They were the beginning and the ending; they were eternity. The king standing before them gaped as the shield of flame died out to reveal Aelin and Dorian, hand in hand, glowing like newborn gods as their magic entwined. “You’re mine,” the man raged. He became darkness; folded himself into the power he carried, as if he were nothing but malice on a dark wind. He struck them, swallowed them. But they held tighter to each other, past and present and future; flickering between an ancient hall in a mountain castle perched above Orynth, a bridge suspended between glass towers, and another place, perfect and strange, where they had been crafted from stardust and light. A wall of night knocked them back. But they could not be contained. The darkness paused for breath. They erupted.

for @frickingfinest7 from your Secret Santa