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[gaurcity2022]

Ashrai Golden Grande is a commercial project with a world-class shopping and business hub. It adds unlockable office spaces, commercial office spaces, and corporate suites.

[livwritessometimes]

A Footnote Will Do...(For Me)

: Charles Leclerc x Reader

: So I'll just take a footnote in your life

: Main Masterlist

: Author's Note: I had no plans of writing this but I got this sudden urge to write some angst.....so Tada!

…

You ate at a restaurant, the host said we're cute They think we're a couple, they bought us some booze We shared the Moscato and laughed 'cause it's true To me (to me)

The air was filled with the rich aroma of spices coming from all sorts of Italian cuisines. There was a different kind of calm in the atmosphere, which was quite contrary to what the next few days had in store. It was finally time for the Italian Grand Prix, Ferrari's home race, and a very special day for the Monegasque walking besides Y/n.

Charles Leclerc, the golden boy for Ferrari, the pride and joy of Monaco, but to her, he was simply the boy she met through his younger brother. The boy Y/n was madly in love with.

People say that love comes into your life when you least expect it to. It comes in various shapes and forms: a hug from your mother when you see her after a long time; catching up with your best friend after a stressful day at work; seeing your father gloat about you to his friends. But no one told Y/n that for her, love would enter her life in a blazing red suit and a super-fast car. 

Walking down a relatively empty street in Italy, Y/n felt content. Next to her was the boy of her dreams, going on and on about how an old lady earlier today had told him he reminded her of her son and gave him a free muffin. Chuckling at the Monegasque's excitement over a baked good, Y/n took a moment to take in the young boy's appearance. He was wearing a loose-fitting shirt, some pants and a pair of sunglasses tucked in front of his shirt, nothing extraordinary, but it felt right. He offered Y/n his hand, signaling her that they had finally reached their destination.

A beautiful restaurant hidden in the streets of Italy. Covered in greenery, the place looked like it came straight out of a painting. At the entrance, an older woman with kind eyes greeted them, smiling at the pair. She offered them one of the tables that were laid out in front of the restaurant. It was almost as if the lady knew what Y/n would have liked, as she had given them a table right next to the window. It was the perfect spot to get a glimpse of the inside of the restaurant while enjoying the serene view that surrounded them.

Thanking her, Y/n and Charles gave her their order. As soon as she was out of their site, the boy in front of her began to tell another story of how he got locked in the bathroom during one of Ferrari's meetings and how it took the entire team 2 hours to get the poor boy out. It seemed like Charles had a way of finding himself in all sorts of weird and bizarre situations. It reminds her of the first time they met. 

It was Arthur's birthday, and Y/n was on her way to his party when she saw a man standing on the side of the road, asking for a ride. Y/n could see the dark clouds slowly engulfing the once clear patch of sky and decided to take pity on the man. Stopping right next to him, she got to know that the strange man was none other than the birthday boy's older brother. It seemed like fate to her; what were the odds of something like this happening? Offering him a ride, both of them began the journey back to Arthur's (and Charles') house. Y/n has had first-hand experience with these bizarre situations, because not even 10 minutes after they began their journey, it started pouring down heavily, blocking any sort of visibility there was, causing them to stop the car. So Y/n and Charles spent the next, god knows how many hours, of Arthur's birthday sitting in the car chatting away. It was also the first time Y/n felt seen, truly seen.

Focusing back on Charles' story, she noticed the lady from earlier approaching them with a bottle of wine. "For the lovely couple," she said as she poured a glass each for Charles and her. "You both look cute together; I hope you stay happy for a long time," and with that, she went back inside the restaurant. Bringing up his glass to her, Charles whispered, "Cheers to the couple, I guess." Letting out a laugh, the pair shared the bottle of wine and continued their conversation. What Charles didn't realize was how fast Y/n's heart was beating after the woman's comment, because for her, it was the truth.

You said at the party that I was too drunk I told you I liked you, you said, "Sober up" But why would I lie? It's so clear I'm in love With you

The bright lights were almost blinding, and the entire club was filled with red. Everywhere you'd look, you'll see a member of the Ferrari team celebrate their hearts out. Charles had won the Italian Grand Prix; finally, all the doubts and worries that flooded the Monegasque's mind were put to ease. He won his home race in Monaco and has now won Ferrari's home race. Y/n and Charles were here to celebrate, and celebrating is exactly what they did. Bottles after bottles, everyone was drunk beyond their minds, Y/n especially. It was as if she could not contain the joy that filled her mind seeing Charles stand at the top of the podium. After a long night of partying, the club was slowly dying down. Most of the team members had booked a cab and left the venue; some were passed out on the couch with a content expression on their faces, and the rest were still on the dance floor. 

That is where Charles found Y/n. Upon seeing the boy, Y/n pulled him closer to her, and the boy instinctively wrapped his arms around her waist to steady her movements. "I think you've celebrated more than me at this point," said Charles while looking down at Y/n with a playful glint in his eyes. "Well, of course, someone has to, Grand Prix Winner," Y/n said, smiling up and looking back at Charles. "Let's get you some water. It'll help you stay hydrated," he said as he began walking towards one of the sofas with his arms still around Y/n. "I think you've had one too many drinks-" Cutting him off, Y/n blurted out, "I like you." Slowly looking up to see Charles' face to see any sort of reaction from him, he said, "I think you should sober up now," and without saying another word, he began to walk towards the exit with a very drunk Y/n, who was now very aware of everything happening around her.

She was completely in her senses when Charles helped her get in the passenger seat or when he leaned over from across the driver's seat to help her with the seatbelt. The boy was so close to her that even after hours of partying, she could still catch the faint scent of his perfume. For the entire trip, Charles refused to look her in the eye, not when he helped her out of the car, or when he took off her heels, or even when he tucked her in the bed. Just as he was about to leave, Y/n reached out and grabbed a hold of his wrist. "Would you stay with me till I fall asleep?" She could see the hesitation in his eyes. "Please," she said, looking up at his face, and for the first time since her abrupt confession, he looked back at her to meet her eyes. Nodding slightly, Charles sat down at the foot of the bed, and true to his words, he stayed there till Y/n dozed off.

A tense conversation, you like someone else I say, "If I waited, could that maybe help?" You told me that patience won't change how you felt For me

If Y/n thought last night was worse, then she was in for a huge surprise. The morning after was one of the worst mornings for Y/n. She woke up with a splitting headache, dazed and disoriented from last nights events, until it all came rushing back to her. Her drunken confession, Charles' behavioral change towards her. Getting out of the bed she walked towards the kitchen where she saw Charles nursing a cup of coffee in his hand looking at something on his phone. Upon hearing movement, he looked up from his phone, putting it aside he kept another cup of coffee in front of her saying "I made some for you as well, I know you'll be needing it." He smiled at her before continuing, "How's the headache?" He questioned. "I've had better days," Y/n said before taking the cup of coffee and thanking the Monegasque.

"So about last night…" Charles started, and there it was, the dreadful moment Y/n was hoping to avoid. "…I had no idea you felt that way," Charles said before looking at her. "Y/n, I'm actually seeing someone…for a while now," and with those 9 words, Charles had shattered Y/n's heart into pieces. Y/n could not believe it; they were perfect; everyone could see it. So why is it that the boy she was madly in love with could not see how good they both were together? "I'm really sorry, Y/nn, but I don't feel that way about you," Charles said with a genuine look behind his eyes. In a desperate effort to hold onto this idea Y/n had created about the both of them, she said, "If I waited, would that help? Would that change things?" The hole in her heart grew bigger and bigger with each passing second that Charles didn't answer. Letting out a sigh, he said. "Y/n, even if you waited, it's not gonna change how I feel about you. I'm sorry, but I've always seen you as a great friend," Charles said, and with that gone was the future of them together; empty was the house they were supposed to move into after a few years of dating; dead was the flower garden they both would have spent hours trying to maintain; forgotten were the children they would have eventually had; lost was the life they would have shared.

So I'll stop being pretentious and loathing our friendship You taught me a lesson, that feelings are reckless It's just like the novels, side characters end up alone

It is observed that friendships that start because someone expresses a romantic interest tend to take on a different meaning once the feelings involved in the situation are gone. Empty, distant, and disregarded, that is what Y/n felt. Ever since Charles told her that he did not reciprocate her feelings, something inside Y/n died. Gone was the girl who always paid attention to Charles, who, even in a room full of people, always had one eye on him. Gone was the girl who tried to impress the boy she was in love with. Instead, she started to loathe the fragments that were left of their friendship. They no longer met up. No longer did they have their phone calls that lasted for hours on end. 

True to his words, Charles was in fact seeing someone; someone he officially announced his relationship with 2 weeks after their fallout, or at least that is what Y/n likes to call that morning in Italy. Charles taught Y/n what love actually was and how beautiful the feeling can be. Charles is also the person who taught her how reckless feelings can actually be. It's messy and complicated. It's the girl not getting the guy; it's the golden boy meeting his girl next door. It's just like the novels, where the side character always ends up alone, forgotten somewhere in the background of the main character's story.

So I'll just take a footnote in your life And you could take my body Every line I would write for you But a footnote will do A footnote will do

Standing at the Ferrari garage, Y/n could feel everyone's excitement. Charles had won yet another Grand Prix. Everyone rushed out of the garage, heading towards the barrier to celebrate with him, Y/n could see Charles getting out of his car and running to where she was standing. He was just a few metres away from them when he opened his arms and started running towards them. Y/n almost thought he was coming over to hug her, but just as she was about to let her imagination get the best of her, reality came crashing down on her again. Charles leaped into the arms of his girlfriend, the same girl next door she lost him to. The girl who has a polite smile and a kind heart. The girl who he now shares a puppy with. It reminded Y/n of her place in his life; no longer was she a priority for him. She was merely a footnote in his life now; gone was the time where she would have been a chapter or few in his books, but for her, he had been the entire story; the start, the middle, and the end. 

Every line she wrote, she wrote for him, but now all she can afford is a footnote in his life. 

But a footnote will do. A footnote will do for her.

[labuenosairesfrancaise]

Coleshill House

Hi guys!!

I'm sharing Coleshill House. This is the 16th building for my English Collection.

I decorated most of the house, but accompanied the floor plan for reference.

History of the house: Coleshill House was a country house in England, near the village of Coleshill, in the Vale of White Horse. Historically, the house was in Berkshire but since boundary changes in 1974 its site is in Oxfordshire.

The building may have been designed by Inigo Jones, and built by Sir Roger Pratt around 1660. Nikolaus Pevsner described it as "the best Jonesian mid house in England". It was gutted by fire in 1952 and demolished in 1958. The Coleshill Estate is now owned by the National Trust.

Coleshill House was a double-pile building, influenced by Jones's Queens House in Greenwich, and combining Italian, French, Dutch and English architectural ideas. It measured approximately 120 by 60 feet (37 m × 18 m), with two main floors of nine bays, above a rusticated basement, and an attic with seven prominent dormer windows and four tall chimney-stacks on each side of the hipped roof. The roof was topped by a flat deck surrounded by a balustrade with a central belvedere cupola. The main floors had equal heights, unlike the Palladian emphasis on the piano nobile.

The two main façades were very similar, with external steps leading up to a central entrance. The pediment above the door at the main front was topped by a rounded segmental pediment, and that to the garden at the rear with a triangular pediment. The dormers alternated rounded and triangular pediments. The entrance door from the main front led to the entrance hall, and the entrance from the rear led to the salon, with the hall and salon taking up the central third of the house. From the hall, a grand staircase with flights to either side climbed to a first-floor landing leading to the dining room above the salon; central corridors on each floor provided access to the other rooms. Several rooms were decorated with elaborate plaster ceilings. The services on the basement floor included an early example of a servants' hall, so the servants could eat away from the great hall.

For more info: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Coleshill_House

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This house fits a 40x30  lot.

Hope you like it.

You will need the usual CC I use:

all Felixandre cc

all The Jim

SYB

Anachrosims

Regal Sims

King Falcon railing

The Golden Sanctuary

Cliffou

Dndr recolors

Harrie cc

Tuds

Lili's palace cc

Please enjoy, comment if you like it and share pictures with me if you use my creations!

Free to download!

[professorscrooge]

Sleeping Soldiers AU Draft - circa August '23

Feel amidst continuing to necro-post on this AU, I should probably actually post the draft of my attempt at turning this into a fic, bit more than a year ago. Ran out of steam, as I tend to, and it's a bit rough (also don't know if tumblr has a character limit, but fair warning, this is ~3k). Diverged from where ideas on this ended up going.

References to the original inspiration(s) can be found on posts here and here, and I will emphasise credit @phoenixyfriend, @epicmusic42 and @graylinesspam whose work I have been butting in on (and I think this may rip off some of their wordings). Leans largely into bits and pieces of the Legends timeline, but only through vague references as that's a whole monolith of a thing to try and understand. --

 Coruscant is a city of metal and glass; the planet that once was is buried beneath eons of sharp edges growing out ever further. As the centre of the Galactic Republic, it is demanded to be continuously modern (at least on the surface), with a slick and shining outer coating. Its noises are of technology; the heavy thrum of electricity is the heartbeat of the city, speeders and aircraft fill the air with their droning, and there are an abundance of holoscreens to display the inauguration of the new Chancellor of the Galactic Republic. 

 The Jedi Temple is perhaps the one exception: its tranquillity is unmatched on Coruscant, and its construction is old and solid. All the same, when the silence within the Temple was broken by noise, its nature was unnerving in its irregularity; not the shattering of glass or creaking of metal, not the whine of engines, not an explosion or a turbolaser or any such thing, it is a noise unheard on Coruscant for Millenia.

 It is a grinding, of stone upon stone, echoing up from its very deepest recesses.

–

Circa 500 BBY

 The Jedi Temple is an ancient relic of bygone times; old enough, that the only records that might say how old are held within its own walls (or rather, were, given the unfortunate number of sackings and assaults in its history had frequently damaged the famous archives). Its grand size is a symbol of strength against the dark, but also something of an impracticality in certain times. Its lower reaches are vast, stretching all the way down to the forgotten mountains of Coruscant; a surface where sunlight hasn’t shined in millennia. Construction kept reaching upwards for the longest time, keeping up with the rising levels of the city-planet as its foundations became buried under smog and filth, forgotten.

 In the wake of wars’ end, many lower levels were sealed away; who needed such vast halls, impromptu barracks and storage, when the Jedi no longer served as military leaders? There was no need to house so many people as to require them, and it was more effort to clean and maintain them than necessary for a monk order of a few thousand. After all, this was a Golden Age, with the Sith defeated, and a time of the High Republic.

 Age lent itself to secrets, and with time, many of those secrets were lost with their keepers.

--

 The newly minted Chancellor paused only briefly in taking his oath of office. Most present simply chalked it up to the weight of the vows involved being taken seriously. In truth, the hidden Darth Sidious that lurked under the unassuming garb of Sheev Palpatine had shivered at a tremor in the Force; local and distinctly, searingly Light in its origin, piercing the veil of darkness he and his master had woven over the planet for but a moment. Quickly, he steeled himself and resumed his words; it would not do to falter or drop his mask at this stage. And after all, what could stop The Great Plan now? Sidious had a thousand years of his Order’s planning behind his back. It wasn’t like the Jedi could think on such a grand scale.

–

Circa 1000 BBY

 The history of the Jedi Temple site may as well be a timeline of the Republic itself. With the ever-recurrent war that was fought over its location, and how often Coruscant changed hands, it wasn’t just built upon, but rebuilt, several times. The Grand Ziggurat of the High Republic era was built over the ashes and ruins of the Temple before it, reaching to the sky not far from where the newly built Senate District would form the seat of the Galaxy. A symbol of strength to a unified Galaxy that had defeated the evil of the Sith, once and for all.

--

 The Jedi Council scrambled to action, of course (in as dignified manner as they could). Even with their senses long-blinded by the veil that consistently hampered their sight, there was no missing the stirring beneath their feet. 

 “Awoken, something has,” Master Yoda was heard to declare.

–

Circa 3653 BBY

 The Soldiers’ Hall, as it came to be known, was a real anomaly. It was unearthed in the wake of the Treaty of Coruscant, and the Great Sacking of the Jedi Temple. The respite granted by the armistice with Sith Forces withdrawing from the world was a balm to the Coruscanti people, yes, but the Jedi had returned to a Temple filled with death and desecration. Their holiest relics had been plundered, and the numbers of dead were horrific; a toll only growing as they uncovered the deadly traps spiteful Sith had left behind to further ruin them. It was a painful experience for the survivors, not helped by the lack of justice and repercussions the treaty afforded them.

 With their returned forces in peacetime, however, it was decided to fully survey the Temple to account for all possible traps. The survey unearthed many lower chambers forgotten for centuries, which would soon be repurposed as bunkers for military assets. Naturally, the opportunity was also taken to strengthen ancient foundations with modern materials, which came with looking over the foundations of the ancient Temple grounds atop a mountain of Coruscant, and the Dark Shrine hidden there. It was known to the High Council alone that the old Temple had been built atop a Dark Vergence in the Force in an attempt to cleanse it, and a handful of masters yet survived to share that information to a select few. What surprised them more was the discovery of older ruins beneath the Shrine, built into the mountain itself, and seemingly dating to before the Alsakan conflicts, perhaps even the Jedi Order itself (though few dare voice this thought). The shift from precision, machine-poured duracrete that has been in use for millennia, to the more rough, hand-hewn stone is a sight that excites the archaeologically inclined allowed to see it. 

 Most of the tunnels are collapsed, but slowly, over several years of uneasy peace, a path is unearthed to a large atrium, central beneath the Dark Side Nexus. The discovery is shocking to those who uncover it; they’d gone from archiving very faded murals (amidst admonishment that such pre-Jedi religious teachings are not worth great regard), to cracking the door open to a great chamber filled with an army of statues. A thousand men – clearly soldiers – each expertly carved with incredible detail, each set of armour uniquely battle scarred and hand painted, each posed differently, and every single one perfectly preserved in defiance of their ancient surroundings. The warriors sat, or lay, or kneeled, in great concentric circles, facing inwards to a central figure, the only one not wearing armour; a Togruta woman, dressed simply, and with lightsabers resting at her hips. Where the soldiers were wrought from a pale white stone, she was crafted in warm terracotta in a relaxed pose, face bowed in conference with the Force. It was almost as if she were made of flesh.

 Despite the gathering of Masters who quickly investigated the room, none could quite manage to lay a hand upon her. The sense of foreboding was just too strong. Every gaze in the room was pointed towards her; an even thousand visors of solid stone, focused on this one woman, every one so lifelike as to be uncanny. In-fact, sometimes, in the corner of the Jedi’s eyes, it was almost like they moved; a chest rising and falling with breath, tiny fluctuations in the Force that evaded the senses, or flickers of dreams. Almost as if they were waiting for something.

 The Council ordered the chamber sealed; what markings upon the soldiers that could be identified were Mandalorian in origin, so clearly this was some work of those great adversaries and their common allies, the Sith. That those forces combined had so recently sacked their home likely aided this decision. Knowledge and warnings were recorded within the Council’s private library only, and would be lost some centuries hence by the passing of those who saw the sight and another sacking of the upper Temple.

 Beneath them all, the feared warriors continued to sleep.

--

 The sounds of shattering stone echoed within the long-forgotten chamber, even as dust filled the air from the broken remains. This noise was swiftly drowned out by a thousand throats all drawing breath at once.

–

Circa 5000 BBY

 Recapturing Coruscant was not the final victory of what came to be called the Great Hyperspace Wars, but it was perhaps the most important, given that all that followed became much easier with forces scattering. However, there was an interesting discovery made upon their landing; an empty Shrine, where once the Sacred Spire peak of Mount Satorl had stood.

 The destruction of the Sacred Spire had been one of the opening gambits of the conflict, so this was expected. The Jedi amongst the Republic Forces were most dismayed that the legendary Vergence in the Force that had rested there had been twisted into a Dark nexus, but this too had been rumoured by spies and propaganda. No, what was surprising was the lack of occupants, particularly Sith acolytes. This was a powerful nexus in the Dark Side, and a clear site of investment to build the new Shrine, but there was nobody present; just the signs of conflict that predated Republic arrival to the planet.

 Eventual interrogation of Sith Forces revealed rumours of a ‘curse’ upon the site; no force had managed to occupy the site for long, somehow always turning up dead. Construction of the Shrine had taken several years, and a great many slow attempts, always stymied by poor fortune.

 The Jedi took this as a sign that the Force itself resisted the corruptive attempts for as long as possible, and when granted a boon for their aid in the war, chose to claim the land for themselves. There, they built a new Temple, in the hope that the presence of many Jedi may once again cleanse this place that had long been sacred to a great many religious and Force-sensitive sects throughout the Galaxy. The Jedi Order would build their new headquarters at the heart of the Republic and therefore claim the site instead of any other religion having access.

 Of course, throughout construction, there was plenty of investigation of the ruins being built over (padawans got bored hanging around and waiting, naturally, and the Galaxy’s archaeologists were most invested in seeing how this location had suffered under Sith rule). Of particular note is a surviving chamber of the old Sacred Spire that is unearthed; a grand chamber filled with statues. Sadly, no records from prior to the Sith occupation persist, but a great many experts descend on the room to catalogue what they can of the astoundingly beautiful find that is far more interesting than dusty old clay vessels. The General’s Legion, they are quickly dubbed, given the militaristic bent.

 They bring in first art experts, then body language experts, even a scholar on Mandalorian culture once some symbols are defined. Most of the markings they find mean nothing, however; while Mandalorian symbols are identified a few dozen times, including Jaig Eyes on one of the more prominent soldiers directly facing The General, there’s no real commonality with any clan, or any real consistency. Many more besides are marked with nonsense; a loose word or number in some language, even some unrecognised languages that cause head scratching. The holstered blasters cause them to bring in antique weapons dealers to unsuccessfully identify them, causing yet more headaches at the clear mass-manufacturing on display, since most the soldiers bear the same weapons, but they are entirely unfamiliar. Artists are baffled at how perfectly detailed and well-preserved the figures are; the level of work on display would have taken hundreds of artists thousands of hours, but the style implies a singular sculptor. The historians flail wildly at whether these soldiers throw all the old theories about the Taung originating Mandalorian culture into doubt.

 The only experts who could agree upon something were those who attempted to psychoanalyse the figures; the way the men were arranged was with deference for the General, and those closest to her were the officers with the most decoration and adornment (and battle scars), while those nearest the edge were the lowest ranks. Originally, they thought the much smaller central figure was being threatened by the soldiers, but she sat in such a relaxed pose of confidence it seemed more clearly a commander’s position.

 Still, as time goes on, their observations are recorded and stored in the new Jedi library, and a towering new Temple is built over the ruins. Gradually, this fills with masters, knights and younglings looking forward to a new era of peace and prosperity. The past is not forgotten, but it is not the focus of an Order trying to rebuild after centuries of conflict. And so, the statues sit in their atrium, still and silent. Masters study them for decades, photos and essays are included in the new archives; they are a fascination, a mysterious piece of history.

 But, time passes, and slowly the fascination fades. The wider galaxy captures attention, the Regions are expanding in a new era of colonisation and there is great need for Jedi aid. Only those particularly intrigued by art and archaeology look through the old archives. The statues become more of a ghost story.

 Padawans sometimes gossip about them over latemeal. They dare each other to sneak down to the lower levels, and walk between the rows upon rows of sleeping soldiers. The truly brave (or reckless) of the classes make the journey, past the point where the air lifts reach, down long staircases and through the dusty thick air. Lightsabers raised high over their heads, they tiptoe between the first few rows, twisting wildly at jumping shadows cast over the room. Some stare petrified into the visors of the men, convinced that if you peer close enough, you can see eyes peering back at you. 

 Very, very few brave padawans make it all the way to The General – one or two per generation – but those that do, swear they hear her breathing.

 Over the years, those children grow into knights, into masters and grandmasters, and then they pass into the Force. Still, the tradition survives, for a time, until one day, when the new Temple has become old and known many Councils, the chamber passes from memory, and is lost for many centuries to come.

 But still, the soldiers look to their General for orders.

--

 The first breath is the hardest.

 Going out, the air feels abrasive and dust-filled, and her throat is drier than a desert. Then, she must try and breath in, and it’s an effort to fill lungs that have sat still for so very, very long. She coughs once, and then struggles through it, going through the motions a few times as she slowly registers her montrals ringing from the similar sounds about her.

 Finally, she looks up, eyes open and awake.

 “Orders, sir?” Rex asks.

 “Form up.”

–

Circa ??? BBY

 The Mountains were a safe place. A sacred place, to many. So when war came to Coruscant, it was to the mountains people fled.

The One-Thousand-And-One, a group of warriors who spoke no language anyone understood, but under whose strength, Coruscant stood against Alsakan [– Tion instead?]. They could never leave the Mountain, though.

—

And that’s all I managed to write out, couldn’t quite figure a) what I wanted their arrival period to be like/what they did there, and b) how I wanted the present-time to work out (likely marching on the Senate building and demanding Sidious’ surrender). Ended up with some Jedi-negative things in there that I'm not entirely sure where they came from (probably something emerging from my frustrations with Christianisation on mythology). May have been a bit uncharitable.

Much as I kinda like the framing of current day swapping back and forth with older and older eras, I don't think I'm coming back to this version - I think I prefer the more recent ideas related to the chamber's unveiling in more modern eras, and drama resulting therefrom.

[paganimagevault]

Statue of The Republic by Daniel Chester French 1893. Going to make this my '4th of July post', happy 4th all! Sources and more images on my blog, link at bottom.

The Republic statue was created for the Chicago World Fair of 1893 and was known by a variety of names: The Golden Lady, The Republic, Goddess of the Republic, and Statue of Liberty. The fair lasted from May 1st-October 30th. About 50 different countries participated in the fair and 18 erected their own buildings at the site. The site was known as the "White City" for its predominant white Greco-Roman style buildings. It also featured the first ferris wheel, created by George Washington Gale Ferris Jr. for the event.

After the fair closed the small city was destroyed in 3 fires, but the Goddess statue survived all of them:

"On January 8, 1894, the first great post-Fair fire consumed much of the east end of the Court of Honor. French’s Statue of the Republic stood “in the midst of it all like a gigantic silhouette, with uplifted arms as if appealing for help,” wrote the Chicago Tribune (Jan. 9, 1894). She held her liberty cap defiantly among clouds of black smoke as fierce flames danced around her for more than an hour. While the heat from this “Peristyle Fire” was intense enough to melt the ice on the Grand Basin, it barely tarnished the golden statue. By morning, the conflagration had completely destroyed the Peristyle, Casino, and Music Hall and damaged parts of the Manufactures and Liberal Arts Building. Had the firemen not saved it from the flames, the Republic likely would have burned down that night, too. The next morning, the majestic golden goddess of the Fair looked as brilliant as ever, “except for a blistered right arm and a black spot over her heart,” noted the Chicago Herald." (from worldsfairchicago1893 website)

"When arsonists set a fire on February 14, 1894, the Republic watched the blaze destroy much of the South Colonnade between Agricultural Hall and Machinery Hall. She faced yet another and much bigger scene of horrific destruction on July 5, 1894, as the western end of the Court of Honor burned in another arsonous fire. Seven buildings—Terminal Station, the Administration Building, Mines and Mining Building, Electrical Building, Manufactures and Liberal Arts Building, Agricultural Building, and Machinery Hall—succumbed to the inferno. The next morning, a single serene statue towered above a field of blackened ruins of twisted iron framework." (from worldsfairchicago1893)

"...the Chicago Inter Ocean also recognized that, with the surrounding buildings of the White City gone, the Republic now stood to better advantage: “Particularly was this so when last winter the golden figure towered above an unbroken field of snow. On the night of the last fire the flames seemed to separate and pass by on either side, and when the sun rose the next morning there seemed nothing left untouched but the golden woman of the lagoon.” (from worldsfairchicago1893)

“With only the sky for a background,” observed the Washington (DC) Evening Star, the statue “shows it proportions and lines to better effect now than before.” (from worldsfairchicago1893)

Redesign plans for the area to be turned into a park by Olmsted, Olmsted & Eliot initially included the statue at its current location but later omitted it from the plans. Minimal efforts were made to repair the parts of the statue that had been damaged and the city decided, in secret, to destroy it:

"While the South Park board had spent around $250,000 making improvements to Jackson Park, focused mostly on the northern end near the museum, they had devoted a mere $400 for repairing staff and repainting the Republic. This despite a claim by J. F. Foster, General Superintendent and Engineer for the South Park Commission, that “every effort had been made to preserve the statue.” On Thursday, August 27, Captain Kelly of the South Park Police placed the orders to burn the Republic the next morning, and Capt. Shippy of the Woodlawn police notified the fire companies in the district that a blaze would be set in Jackson Park at dawn. When taking this decisive action at their meeting on August 12, the South Park board chose to keep the execution a secret. They delegated the task of destroying the statue to mechanical engineer and Assistant Park Superintendent A. H. Wilder, who chose fire as his tool. The Commission deemed burning the statue at night too hazardous because it would attract too many people, and a proposal for a public ceremony and celebration also was dismissed. They thought it best to raze the Republic—in secret—at daybreak. Her executioners slipped away quietly as crowds arrived on the scene, curious about the smoke rising over the park." (from worldsfairchicago1893)

[cherry-jamm]

Explorer’s Honor

・❥・An explorer accidentally stumbles into a not so abandoned castle and meets the lady of the home

・❥・word count: 1.5k

・❥・warnings: mentions of sex, reader is written as not living in Europe, reader is not male aligned/men dni, not beta read (😭)

・❥・@aquavenus58 thank you SO MUCH for requesting!!! I was on a vacation and didn’t check tumblr so this is pretty late. Hope you like it 💕

As an explorer you traveled vast horizons in the name of adventure. Currently you were spending two months in Europe. You had expertly planned every village, town, and castle you would pass through. Except for one.

You didn’t even intend on staying in Romania long, but after your cab abandoned you on the side of a slick and snowy road claiming he wouldn’t drive you any further, you really had no choice. It seemed as if you were dumped in the middle of a ghost town. Broken down houses and boarded up windows and doors littered the town. But one thing stood out. A beautiful castle overlooked the town, one that you hadn’t seen on any of your exploration sites. You half thought you’d be the first person to discover it.

The chill from the snow and wind had started to seep into your skin, burying itself in your very bones like knives. ‘None of these houses look particularly warm.’ You thought. Logically thinking you knew that the castle wouldn't be much warmer but you decided to start the trek there despite yourself. The was a cracked and mossy stone path that led to the Castle, weeds and grass started to sprout up in it. You didn't know how long the path was but you were completely exhausted and numb by the end of it. The doorway was grand, beautiful stone and a oddly well kept plants greeted you. Just as a precaution you knocked on the door using the golden knocker in the shape of a bat. You waited for three minutes before assuming the castle was abandoned and open for a night.

The chandelier was lit, and the castle radiated warmth. Those were the first things you noticed. Red flags rose in your head, there was no way this place was completely abandoned and still had this kind of upkeep. Driven by a need to be out of the cold you stepped in and let the door shut behind you regardless. The air was still and suffocating. You looked around to search for any sign of life, nothing. Wind blew through the windows and made creeks in the wood, at least you hoped it was the wind that made those sounds. You took cautious steps around the hallway, soaking in the grand stairway and ornate chandelier. Your footsteps echoed and you cursed yourself for your loudness. There was a creek from upstairs that sounded almost like footsteps, like heels clicking against the tile floors.

“Hello?” You said, not wanting to be too loud. There was no response. A few flies swarmed you, but you shooed them off with no mind. Your feet carried you through the elaborate hallways, and you pulled your camera out of your bag to snap a few photos for later; if this was an unmarked and potentially abandoned castle you could get large amounts of money for discovering it. There were the footsteps again. You froze and your blood ran cold. They were getting closer, the quiet yet steady click of heels against tile approached you.

click..

click…

click….

Someone else was in the room with you, right behind you. You take a slow shaking step forward. One foot in front of the other. The thing didn’t take any steps forward. You try to increase your pace before a cold voice rings out.

“Don’t run, little thing.”

You should’ve stayed outside. No amount of cold could compare to the shiver that went down your spine. Obediently, you didn’t run, instead opting to stay in place and not look at whatever was there. It sounded human, maybe it was the owner? But the way the air in the room changed and the louder than life steps that were taken made it seem like a creature rather than a person. It starts walking again, towards you. You squeezed your eyes shut and tucked your head down as it approached.

“What is your name?”

You hold your breath and don’t respond. Sweat drips down your brow.

“I know you heard me.”

“(Y/n).” You state quietly, your voice shaking. Without even opening your eyes you start to sputter an apology. “I-I didn’t know anyone owned this place! I was dumped my driver and it’s so cold outside I assumed this was abandoned, because of the abandoned village, so I’m didn’t freeze. I’m sorry to have broken and entered and whatnot.” You stumbled over your words and barely took a breath in between them. You start to crack your eyes open to look at whoever was in front of you.

A woman was face level with you. She must’ve been a bit taller than you because she was crouched down to meet your level. Your face heated up as you looked at her. She had a smile on her red painted lips and her deep eyes stared into your own.

“Most drivers tend to avoid driving here.” The woman started, completely ignoring how you intruded into her home. “Were you not warned of such?” She tilted her head. She had a gleam in her eyes as if she was daring you to admit that you had deeper motives in coming here.

“No.” Your voice was meeker than intended. “I thought I did ample research about the area before coming here, but apparently not…” You trailed off. You took a few steps backwards and kept your gaze trained on the floor.

“Research?” Her voice was smooth and velvety. Despite your complete and utter humiliation, and the fact that in all technically she could threaten legal action, you found yourself craving to hear more of her. She spoke elegantly, it could be compared to a glass of red wine. It was intoxicating. You almost missed her question.

“Um… yes research! I’m and explorer so I like to visit castles and villages and things of that sort, especially abandoned ones.” You rambled on. “I’m actually on a trip here to Europe on these adventures of sorts. I guess I should’ve looked into my travel a bit more.” The woman laughed silkily. She stood up to her full height causing you to gasp at her size. She was larger than any human you had ever seen, in fact she was larger than just about any human. The woman smirked down at you as if she knew the effect she had on you. She started walking back towards the door, waving her hand to urge you to follow her.

“You poor thing, being forced into the snow.” She tutted. “You don’t have to worry about that here in the castle of Dimitrescu.” You racked your brain for any castle you had heard of that matched that name. You came up short.

“Dimitrescu?” You curiously looked up at her, still stunned by her height. She was at least nine feet tall, maybe even ten.

“Yes that is my name, Alcina Dimitrescu.” She finally introduced herself, still walking ahead of you. Another swarm of flies buzzed around before leaving quickly. Alcina turned to face you. You got to look upon her face more closely this time. Her features were defined and mature, she had smile lines etched into her face and her eyes were deep-set. Her dark hair fell in shirt pin curls and her height made her all the more appealing to you. You admired her amber eyes and her pronounced cupids bow. The red lipstick she wore suited her well. You wondered how her lipstick would look staining your face, or your neck, or-

“So as I was saying,” Alcina said. Your head reeled from your wild thoughts and back to the tall woman. “There are plenty of rooms that are yours for the taking, for tonight of course.” Alcina led you down winding and beautiful hallways. “I apologize if my daughters happen to bother you. They can get a bit rowdy at times.” She warned. You felt your heart sink in disappointment. This beautiful woman had a family, she probably had a husband that she was waiting to return to bed too. You wonder what kind of bed she sleeps in due to her height.

you took a deep steadying breath before speaking. “A-and your husband?” You tested the waters.

“Oh, I don’t have one.” She replied simply, not explaining further. It didn’t matter, hope had ignited once again. She led you to a hallway with many elaborate doors, not that the other hallways didn’t have elaborate doors, but this one was different. “Here are the bedrooms. You’re allowed any and all of them.”

You look at her in confirmation, as if she would tell you this was all a trick and kick you back out in the snowy cold. “You’re too kind. Thank you.” You nod, walking towards the closest door.

“It’s no bother, I couldn’t let a pretty thing like you freeze out there.” Alcina chuckled before walking away. Your face heated up and you tucked yourself away inside the room, a flustered mess.

[vintagelasvegas]

Vegas World / Stratosphere

The Stratosphere, built on the site of Bob Stupak's Vegas World was conceived by Stupak, with preliminary designs by AdArt’s Charles Barnard. This circa 1990 rendering of the tower is by Jack DuBois of AdArt, taken from Barnard’s book The Magic Sign.

’74: Bob Stupak opens World Famous Million-Dollar Historic Gambling Museum and Casino. The casino is closed a month later, and the site is later used for Vegas World and Stratosphere.

’79: Vegas World opens 7/13/79.

’84: 24-floor tower opens.

’90: Stupak unveils “Vegas World Stratosphere Tower” plans in Feb. The architect was Ned Baldwin.

’91: Groundbreaking ceremony (Stupak, J. Jones, S. Miller) on 11/5/91. Leeman Corp., contractor. Concrete pour Mar. ’92.

’93: Perini Building Co. takes over as contractor. Stratosphere Corp. formed, separate from Vegas World, Stupak as chairman. Fire on the tower construction site, 8/30/93. Grand Casinos Inc partners in Stratosphere Corp.

’94: Public stock sale. Height of the tower raised to 1,149 feet. Taylor Int’l takes over as contractor.

’95: Vegas World closed 2/1/95. Tower crane removed in Sep. Topped off via helicopter 11/4/95.

’96: Stratosphere opens 4/30/96. Las Vegas City Council approves Stupak’s concept for King Kong mechanical ape ride in Feb., idea dropped by summer.

’97: Stratosphere Corp. files for Ch. 11 bankruptcy protection.

’98: Carl Icahn purchases the resort, has the remaining hotel rooms finished by 2001. Ownership transferred to Icahn’s American Casino & Ent. Properties (ACEP) in 2004.

’08: Whitehall Street Real Estate Funds buys ACEP & Stratosphere.

’12: Golden Ent. buys ACEP & Stratosphere.

[stromuprisahat]

How could that coup possibly have worked? The only thing which would have come out of it was even more rapid grisha hunting because one grisha literally destroyed a whole country so kill them before they do so too. Not to mention how would he even have tracked who is hunting and who is not? Even if the ming of the country says don't hunt them the people most certainly still will. If he has enough power to control all of that then destroying that country is not even required.

By that logic, there should've been a Coup done by the First Army. They recognized- on some level- that the King isn't interested in them, and if they blamed it on the Darkling- which they did- Little Palace is right in Grand Palace's backyard, and storming it, when freeing either the Tsar of evil Grisha influence (or the country of the Tsar) shouldn't be an issue.

“The Fjerdans have a breech-loading rifle that can fire twenty-eight rounds per minute. Our soldiers should have them, too. If the King could be bothered to take an interest in the First Army, we wouldn’t be so dependent on the Grisha. But it’ll never happen,” he told me. Then he muttered, “We all know who’s running the country.”

Shadow and Bone- Chapter 18

When you can drag adult, fully trained Grisha out of their beds to slaughter them, you can burn down their home with a few teachers, children and invalids, when going after their leader.

Although true- people rarely react to slow destruction, but a sudden tragedy gets an immediate response. Proof or not.

The thing is, there were no anti-Grisha survivors of the Fold moving, even in books, there are speculations mentioned, but then the pogroms started almost immediately. Either somebody took control of the narrative and ensured the finger shall be pointed in the right direction, or the First Army took matters into their hands out of pure initiative and spread the word themselves. You need to justify a massacres of the Crown's property ~somehow~.

As for how was the Coup supposed to work in the first place- we have exactly no info about anything regarding Aleksander's side and plans.

We have only the basics- he wanted to get rid of the Lantsovs, somehow secured the Apparat's support in the Capital and tried to force a permanent ceasefire by using the Fold.

What was his deal with the Apparat- he doesn't trust him and the creepy priest stabbed him in the back as soon as possible, so what was the original agreement?

He had to have more allies. Ideally on more places. If there are malcontents among the First Army, some might be less anti-Grisha than others. There might be more realistic nobles. Merchants could benefit greatly from better use of Grisha, especially with control over the Fold. It's likely they'd all go underground if the key parts of the plan failed.

Why target Novokribirsk? We've been over this plenty of times, but the person we've been introduced as a pretty decent strategist, who often puts himself in risk to spare others, wouldn't just annihilate a random site. And the winning side sure as hell wouldn't hurry in to paint a full picture.

How should it succeed?

The Darkling turned his back on their stunned and angry expressions and addressed the Grisha and soldiers on the skiff. “Tell the story of what you’ve seen today. Tell everyone that the days of fear and uncertainty are over. The days of endless fighting are over. Tell them that you saw a new age begin.” A cheer went up from the crowd. I saw a few soldiers muttering to each other. Even some of the Grisha looked unnerved. But most of their faces were eager, triumphant, shining. They’re hungry for this, I realized. Even after they’ve seen what he can do, even after watching their own people die.

Shadow and Bone- Chapter 22

With the control over the narrative, the Ravkan people would've been freed from the yoke of the golden Royal leeches, their new leader stepping in after ensuring a permanent peace on all fronts, soon opening a path through the Fold, reuniting families and making the goods flow from one side of the country to another.

Sure, it wouldn't solve the prevailing anti-Grisha sentiments in the society, but one thing at the time. Such issues are easier to tackle, when you're not a slave, dependent of your masters mercy or a hunted animal. The Darkling already tried to change things from the below, it's about time to do it the other way around.

[scotianostra]

On October 15th 1902 Edinburgh's Balmoral Hotel opened its doors for the first time.

Look out for my own connections to this grand old hotel, both in a personal sense and through my home town of Loanhead.

Back then it was called The North British and in Edinburgh a lot of people, myself included, still refer to it by the initials NB.

On Wednesday 15 October, 1902, on the front page of The Scotsman newspaper, a small advert appeared: “North British Station Hotel. This hotel in direct communication with Waverley Station is now open F.T. Burcher, hotel manager.”

According to the hotel’s official history, the North British was “a vanguard for the railway company which built it, a surrogate for the grand station they had never been permitted to erect in the sensitive site between Old and New Town.” The architecture, executed in golden sandstone, features towers and balconies galore. It’s a glorious mash-up of influences from across northern Europe. Expensive to build as well as to run – it gobbled upwards of 200 tons of coal every month – the hotel was seen as a “sign of the future heralded by the railways, the newly opened Forth Bridge and the electric lights switched on in Princes Street just seven years earlier”.

Nevertheless, some believed the Caledonian, which opened a year later, boasted the more advantageous location. And some detractors found the sheer size of the hotel gauche, complaining “it is coarse and obstructive at once”.

The hotel – working name “Waverley Station Hotel” – was the brainchild of George Wieland, a former NBR company secretary who retired to its board in 1890. Having toured some of the most lavish hotels in the world – where he realised the importance of having a banqueting hall to bring in business – he hired W Hamilton Beattie to draw up plans for Edinburgh. The hotel would have 300 bedrooms, 52 bathrooms, and 70 lavatories, and was designed to encourage the circulation of fresh air. Lifts shot people straight from the station into the hotel’s foyer, and beyond that, to rooms furnished with mahogany, leather and crimson moquette. It’s said that the bill for plants and flowers exceeded the bill for gas, and there was even a special machine to burnish the silver. Weiland made sure the new hotel’s cellars were full of the finest champagnes, hocks, ports, and whisky, the better to entice his ideal customers – wealthy, landed families moving between their multiple residences.

In 1922, the hotel became part of the London and North Eastern Railway Company and by all accounts the hotel sparkled from top to bottom, but after the Second World War, when the railways were nationalised, and Prestwick airport began getting transatlantic traffic, things began a slow downward trajectory. Even so, the hotel remained the destination for Edinburgh society events, be they corporate or personal. In 1983, British Rail sold off its rather faded North British Hotel. In 1988, it closed for refurbishment, it was in dire need of this, some of the rooms were looking a wee bit shabby, the wooden window frames unable to open fully, and how do I know this? Well I used to be the window cleaner in the hotel and the windows that didn't open meant I had to find one close by and edge along the crumbling sandstone ledges, the worst affected, and highest were on the south of the hotel and there was a six storey drop down to the train station below.

At the start of the 1990s, Balmoral International Hotels, an Edinburgh based company, bought the venue. In 1997, the Balmoral became the first hotel bought by Sir Rocco Forte as he assembled his portfolio of hotels. It currently boasts Scotland’s only Bollinger Bar, as well as the Michelin-starred Number One restaurant run by executive chef Jeff Bland, a spa, and ten function rooms accommodating up to 450 people.

Famous guests over the years have included Elizabeth Taylor, Michael Palin, Beyoncé and JK Rowling, who finished the last Harry Potter novel here, on 11 January, 2007, and then daubed her signature on a bust in her room.

A second wee link with the hotel, is Charles Forte, Grandfather of the present owner began his working life in my home town of Loanhead when he moved to Scotland from Italy.

[samgibsonuk]

Why Choose Somerset for Your Wedding Photos?

Scenic Beauty Beyond Compare

Somerset is known for its dramatic landscapes that provide an idyllic setting for wedding photography. From the rolling hills of the Mendip Hills Area of Outstanding Natural Beauty (AONB) to the tranquil shores of Somerset Levels, the region offers a diverse range of backdrops for your wedding day. Whether you prefer sweeping vistas, intimate woodlands, or lakeside views, Somerset has it all.

Mendip Hills: Known for its rugged landscapes and picturesque views, Mendip Hills offers stunning panoramic views that make for unforgettable wedding photos.

The Somerset Levels: Known for its wetlands and expansive fields, the Somerset Levels provide a serene and rustic setting for photos that evoke timeless beauty.

Exmoor National Park: With its misty moors, deep valleys, and charming villages, Exmoor National Park offers a romantic and dramatic backdrop for couples looking for a more wild and natural setting.

Charming Wedding Venues

Somerset is home to an array of wedding venues that suit different styles and tastes. Whether you're dreaming of a grand, stately manor or a more intimate countryside barn, the county has it all.

Bristol: Although a city, Bristol offers some stunning wedding venues on the outskirts, with views of the Avon Gorge and the Clifton Suspension Bridge as perfect backdrops for your photos.

Clevedon Hall: This Victorian mansion with its beautiful gardens is perfect for couples looking for a classic wedding with a touch of elegance. Its manicured lawns and ornate interiors provide numerous opportunities for stunning photos.

Somerset Wedding Barns: For couples looking for rustic charm, Somerset is dotted with barns and converted farmhouses that make for an ideal setting. Barn venues are particularly popular for their warm, cozy atmospheres, and scenic surroundings.

Castle Weddings: If you want a more fairytale-like experience, consider one of Somerset's historic castles for your wedding day. These venues combine rich history with sweeping views that are perfect for dramatic wedding photos.

Rich History and Culture

Somerset is steeped in history, and many of its locations provide a touch of old-world charm that you can incorporate into your wedding photos. You can choose from a wide range of venues, from medieval castles like Dunster Castle to historical sites such as Glastonbury Abbey or Bath's Royal Crescent.

Somerset also boasts some quirky historical spots, such as the Wells Cathedral, which features stunning Gothic architecture, or the quaint streets of Bridgwater and Taunton, which offer an authentic and rustic vibe for your photos.

The Perfect Lighting and Seasons

The natural lighting in Somerset is another reason why it’s ideal for wedding photography. Early morning and late afternoon provide soft, golden light that can add a dreamy atmosphere to your wedding photos. The ever-changing skies, whether cloudy or clear, give photographers the flexibility to create a wide range of effects that bring out the best in your wedding album.

Somerset also offers beautiful seasons to complement your wedding photos. Spring and summer provide vibrant green fields and blooming flowers, while autumn showcases the stunning orange and red hues of falling leaves. Even winter in Somerset can be magical, with frost-covered trees and crisp blue skies.

Conclusion

Somerset is a hidden gem for couples seeking a picturesque, historic, and diverse location for their wedding photos. From breathtaking landscapes to charming wedding venues, there is no shortage of amazing spots to capture your special day. Whether you’re drawn to the natural beauty of the countryside, the elegance of historic venues, or the rich cultural backdrop, Somerset offers something for everyone. With the right photographer and a little planning, your wedding photos in Somerset will be memories you’ll cherish forever.

[fleshwerks]

hell, and while im here, going back to the dragon age OC ask game: Arbor Blessing for Spiridon?

AND (just to make things complicated) it's not part of the original game, but what about Felandaris? What kind of spirit or demon would your character be? for whomever sounds most fun to write about

Arbor Blessing :: What is the happiest ending you can think of for your character?

He gets it, in his own way. His greatest stunt was leaving Divine Victoria, Leliana in her lay name, without her iron fist. She was this close to successfully waging a smear campaign (not entirely unfair or unfounded) against Spiridon so she could seize the Inquisition's manpower, war chest and real estate for herself as a military force dedicated to see her edicts and decrees through. Sure, some argue she did it for the greater good, but power's power, and Spiridon never trusted her with it, he, as an elf, always had a sense that Leliana always viewed the historically oppressed as a bit of a 'pet project'. Maybe she didn't, he doesn't know, but it sure felt like it.

So, when Leliana sent her representatives to take control of the Inquisition, Skyhold, and even more importantly, Caer Bronach, she found them empty. Spiridon had straight up paid the people and told them to go take a hike, the Inquisition has seen what it had to see through, and then promptly disappeared underground with a small band of loyalists and a lot of money. Thus, he had effectively crippled the Faith without disrupting the stability of the fragile South, and set himself and his successors up for the coming fight against Solas.

He didn't get to lead it for long, though, and handed over the reins about seven years into his efforts against the return of the Creators and all their ugly horses too. Now he spends his time in Ferelden, in the Southron Hills, in a huge apple orchard estate, and has established his own cider brewery. His health is failing, but he keeps an eye on current events, his estate is financially immensely successful, reinvigorating the economy of Southern Ferelden, with Ferelden still being technologically backwards feudalistic, war-torn state, and a lot of that money goes towards unearthing ancient ruins and artifacts, especially along the Southern Coast of Free Marches, rushing ahead to amass as much cultural wealth as possible, and holding it hostage against both the Divine and Solas, often handing it back to its original cultural inheritors as a way to garner goodwill, but also to keep people's options open: it doesn't have to be the Maker or the Creators. It's cynical, but such is politics, and such is the cost of seeing your long-term plans through, even when others would try to supplant you.

By that point he's made up with Crassius Servis, and though he spends most of his time on excavation sites and researching new magic, he often finds his way to [filthy fucking Ferelden] to enjoy the golden boughs of Spiridon's great apple orchards.

Life's good. He's old, he's crippled, but he is more adept and capable of doing what he feels like needs to be done than he ever was as the active Inquisitor, ever in the spotlight. He can die in relative peace, only mourning the fact that his sub-race of elf is so fucking short-lived. Who the fuck dies of old age at the grand age of 54???

[gaurcity2022]

Fusion Ufairia is a commercial project with retail shops and commercial shops within Noida Extension.

[darkroguescribe]

Hitsuhina Week 2023 - Day 3: Shinigami/ AU

Rating: K

Summary: Set in the Machine Society AU. Police Lieutenant Hinamori has to attend a gala hosted by the Executive Committee where she runs into Toshiro who works for the Vigilance Committee.

AN: The AU originally came from Brave Souls. I took some ideas from my WIP that can be found on AO3. I think of this almost like a mini sequel since it references some events that I have planned for that story.

--------------------------

Gilded carriages bearing the crests of the most influential in the Machine Society lined the entrance to the capital building. Momo looked out the window of her own carriage, waiting for the line to move. She’d never set foot inside the grand building before. Large fire basins sat atop the massive marble pillars casting light across the front garden filled with floating lanterns casting the spring flowers in a light amber glow. It looked almost like a scene from a fairy tale.

Siting back in her seat, she adjusted the front of her coat and then began to nervously play with the ends of the red sash tied around her waist. The occasion had required full dress uniform and Momo hadn’t worn anything this elegant before. The uniform consisted of a long black coat edged with golden laurel leaves embroidered on the edges and cuffs and a high collar bearing the Lilly of the Valley that marked her rank as a lieutenant. The black waistcoat had gold trim and the red sash at her waist was tied with the knot on her right side. The black leather belt she wore over the sash carried no weapons and she felt empty without anything at her side. White trousers and knee-high black riding boots completed the ensemble.

Momo shifted uncomfortably as the carriages moved up. She’d rather be anywhere but here. Politicians and aristocrats were among her least favorite people to deal with and now she had to socialize with them for an entire night. At least she knew there would be others from her department in attendance. Police Commander Kyoraku was going to be there, along with Lieutenant Ise who would probably be watering down his drinks so as not to make a fool of himself in front of the heads of state. But besides them, she didn’t know anyone else.

The Vigilance Committee would be there, but whether Toshiro and his team would be in attendance was questionable. Toshiro had told her that the secrecy of his work meant that few even knew the team existed, let alone the role they played in ensuring the everyday safety of the whole of the Machine Society. She didn’t think it was fair, especially after seeing how they had dealt with the murderous support bot crisis, and how they took down the Phantom Thieves. And no one would ever know the truth of any of it.

The carriage jolted a bit as it rolled up once more and stopped at the main drive. The footman who opened the door was a copper plated support bot. The metal work of the body made it look almost human; two arms and two legs, all finely detailed with interrogate gold patterns welded to make it look like it wore a servant’s suit. Momo stepped out, ignoring the bot’s extended hand, too nervous to focus on anything but not falling flat on her face. Her fingers twitched at her side, unsure of what to do with her hands as she looked around at all the finery surrounding her. She swallowed thickly and adjusted her waistcoat, smoothing it out before she began walking up the mall towards the imposing building before her all while surveying the grounds and guests that she passed. Men were dressed either in uniform or their finest bespoke suits while majority of the women wore colorful gowns of the latest fashion. She only saw a handful of women like her in dress uniform, and most of them were well known figures in the military and Vigilance Committee. Colored sashes and pins of office adorned almost all the guests. She spied a few who even wore the Golden Chrysanthemum; the highest Medal of Honor awarded only to those who committed great acts of heroism in defense of the Machine Society.

To say Momo felt out of place would be an understatement. As she climbed the steps and entered the building, she caught sight of the entourage that were accompanying the noble Kuchiki clan, evident by the family crest that patterned the gold sashes they all wore. She ducked her head as she quickly put as much space between her and them as she could. She didn’t belong here. Why had she been invited in the first place? With her head down, she could barely see where she was going, let alone who was in front of her as she scurried to find a place to hide until it was all over. Make herself small, be invisible; then perhaps she wouldn’t be noticed when the host made his rounds of the guests. The thought of meeting the Chairman of the Machine Society made her legs threaten to give out right under her as she finally found a spot in a corner next to a massive pot of greenery to stop. The large leaves could partially hide her from sight while still giving her a pretty good view of the people milling about and mingling around the main floor that overlooked the large ballroom.

Leaning back against the wall, she caught her breath as she took in her surroundings. Standing tables were lining the walls, with small groups of people exchanging pleasantries and gossip. Below, she could make out tables that were being held for the Shiba clan, guarded by retainers bearing the family crest, and keeping onlookers back as if the head of the clan was actually seated at the table. Momo looked away and watched the dancing taking place on the ballroom floor. The fluid movements, and turns had her sighing as she watched. For once, she wished she’d taken dance lessons instead of spending so much time preparing to join the police force. It was beautiful to watch the people dance. The flowing dresses the women wore, and the chivalrous way the men would bow and take their hands; it reminded her of the fairy tales she’d read as a child.

“You look terrible.”

Momo jumped at the voice, and turned sharply to her left in the direction of the voice. Her hand instinctively went to where her side arm was usually strapped, but faltered when her hand landed on nothing, and her eyes locked with the familiar turquoise eyes of her best friend. “Toshiro? I thought you couldn’t come to these things.”

He was dressed similarly to her but with variations that marked his affiliation with the Vigilance Committee. His coat was white with silver trim and the emblem on the collar was a silver daffodil. A silver four pronged star was pinned the left breast of the coat with the black cross of the Vigilance Committee engraved in its center. His white waistcoat was trimmed with dark green accents over a black shirt and cravat, fastened with the bronze brooch he usually wore. A dark green sash was tied around his waist over white trousers and tall black boots.

Toshiro sighed and moved to lean against the wall with her. “Commander Ukitake ordered some of us to come.” He explained, pointing down towards the ballroom floor where the commander of the Vigilance Committee could be seen seated with his two attendants standing at attention behind him as he conversed with a representative from the Machine Bureau. “We’re here to petition for more funding. More resources for research, and more personnel.”

“So, you’re here with…”

He shook his head, “No one you’d know,” He said. “My team isn’t the only special advanced task force in operation across the Machine Society.”

“I see…” She didn’t press him for more information. He likely wouldn’t tell her much anyway.

Toshiro arched his brow as he looked her over. “You really do look terrible, you know,” He said. “You look like you expect someone to try and kill you. You’re tense, uncomfortable, and you have a hunch in your back.”

She rolled her eyes. “Thank you, Captain Obvious. Clearly your observation skills are unmatched.”

“You aren’t making it difficult to notice,” He said. “Hiding in a corner, and I’d bet you’re just waiting for the right opportunity so you can make your escape. Just try to appear at ease. It’ll make the night go by faster.”

Momo looked at how relaxed he was just standing there, leaning on the wall with his legs crossed at the ankle and his hands folded in front of him. It was clear to her that this wasn’t the first time he’d been to this sort of function, especially as he gave a familiar nod directed at a pretty lady dressed in a blue pastel gown. The girl had blushed before hurrying past with her friends giggling, making Momo scoff. “Easy to say when you’re so clearly enjoying this,” She said.

He scoffed himself, “I’d rather be shot and stabbed than be here,” He said. “I’m just better at hiding it.”

Sighing, she leaned her head back and looked up at the high molded ceiling tiles. This place was a strange mix of old and modern with gold filigree inlayed in the walls and tiles and the old chandelier that had been fitted with electric bulbs that were bright enough to cover every corner of the grand room. Not even the alcoves with their statues of the great founders and inventors of their society had an ounce of darkness to them. “How many of these have you been to?” Momo asked after a moment.

“Three,” He said.

“Are they all more or less the same?”

He shrugged, “I guess,” He said, rolling his shoulders. “I’ve never been asked to wear my uniform to one of these things before.” Momo turned to look at him. His eyes were casually moving around the various groups walking around. Occasionally she noticed eyes looking over towards them, and his response was to stand a little taller before the attention drifted away. “Uniforms make it harder to be inconspicuous. I don’t like my ties to the Vigilance Committee being on display,” He said in explanation.

Momo nodded and took a breath as she let her head bounce back on the wall behind her. “Tell me really; how bad would it be if we just ditched this thing?”

“Bad,” He said. “But that’s why they serve drinks.”

Her brow arched, “You don’t drink.”

Toshiro shrugged, “At these things, I do. But just enough to make it more tolerable,” He said. “Besides, how often does one get the chance to drink from the Chairman’s personal cellar?”

Shaking her head, Momo pushed off from the wall, “Well, since you’re such an expert, why don’t you show me how to survive the night?” She held out her arm towards him and he just stared at it for a moment. Instead of taking her offer though, he simply cocked his head in a gesture to follow as he began to walk towards the stairs down to the ballroom floor. With an amused smile, she followed, walking along side him.

He led her down towards one of the high tables situated on the edge of the dance floor. Almost immediately after laying claim to the table, a support bod rushed towards them and placed two glasses of dark red wine in front of them before disappearing back into the crowd. Momo looked around, and noticed that, with the exception of the couples on the dance floor, there wasn’t a single person down here that didn’t have a glass either in their hand or on the table in front of them.

“Support bots are spread rather thin everywhere else,” Toshiro said, swirling the wine in his glass before sipping at it slowly. “Down here, you never go more than a minute without a drink.”

“How’d you learn that trick?”

“Who do you think?” He asked sarcastically with a smirk on his lips.

Momo laughed, of course Rangiku would be the one to know. From what she knew about Toshiro’s lieutenant, she was terrible at paperwork, reliable in a fight, and an expert when it came to getting free drinks.

Trumpets sounded from the balconies above as a loud bang of the herald’s staff rang through the room. Everyone stopped what they were doing and looked up towards the large main staircase as the precession of the host and honored guests began. The first to walk down the stairs was the host of the gran affair; the Chairman of the Executive Committee: Genryusai Shigekuni Yamamoto. Well beyond his prime, the chairman was still an imposing figure to behold. The stories about him from the war, the uprisings, and restoration; he was a modern legend that inspired as much fear as awe in people. Beside him walked the Vice-Chairwoman, Retsu Unohana who was a powerhouse all on her own. The two walked down towards the ballroom floor and began making the rounds, greeting guests and holding short conversations as they went.

Behind them, the noble clans began their precession. The Kuchiki’s had a precession of thirty retainers, all dressed in black and purple finery so as not to distract from the head of the clan and his sister. Lord Byakuya Kuchiki wore a dark blue coat with gold accents and fringed epaulettes with a gold cord extending from his shoulder to his left breast jacket button. Beside him, walked his adopted sister, Rukia Kuchiki. She wore a dress of blue and white with a golden brooch of the Kuchiki family crest.

Momo heard Toshiro scoff beside her as he drank his glass of wine. “What?” She asked, glancing between him and the seven noble families that were making their way down the stairs.

“There’s always such a fanfare surrounding nobility,” He said, looking more bored than impressed.

“You could get in trouble for saying things like that,” Momo said.

He rolled his eyes and looked like he was about to say something, before his jaw clamped shut and his back straightened as Yamamoto and Unohana approached their table. Toshiro bowed respectfully at the leaders of the Machine Society and Momo did the same, feeling her legs tremble like she was going to lose her balance. A hand gripped the back of her jacket, subtly helping to keep her standing and pull her back upright. She cast her eye to her side, grateful that Toshiro had kept her from falling and making a scene.

“It’s good to see you again, Captain Hitsugaya,” Unohana greeted, casting a friendly smile towards Momo which was gladly returned. In her brief interactions with the Vice-Chairwoman, Momo had learned there was more to her than just the front she put up for the sake of her politics. She’d seen her willing to fight and put her life on the line for the Machine Society.

“Chairman, Vice-Chairwoman,” Toshiro returned, his hands folded behind his back as he spoke.

“Captain,” Yamamoto said, inclining his head respectfully towards Toshiro, then shifting his attention to Momo with a furrow in his brow that suggested he didn’t know who she was or why she was here.

Unohana fortunately saved the encounter and placed her hand on Momo’s. “I’m so glad you were able to make it tonight, Lieutenant Hinamori,” She said. “I read your report on the arrest of Nemu Kurotsuchi. To think we trusted their private security company for so long;” She shook her head, disappointed at the shortsightedness of her colleagues.

“Ah, yes,” Yamamoto said. “I recall that incident. The Vigilance Committee was none too pleased to know that they failed to see a threat that a mere police lieutenant put together in a few weeks.”

Momo bowed, “Thank you, sir,” She said.

“Her assistance has been invaluable these past few weeks, sir,” Toshiro added. “Without her insight, I doubt we would have been able to put down the most recent threat so soon.”

Yamamoto nodded, “I must say, overall I have been very impressed with your team’s work these past months. I assure you that the Executive Committee has taken note of your efforts.”

Toshiro bowed his head, “I’m honored by the Committee’s recognition,” He said. “Though I do hope an answer to the request we put in will—“

Yamamoto patted Toshiro on the shoulder, “—There’ll be time enough later to talk about transfers. For now, enjoy the festivities.” And with one final bow from her and Toshiro, the hosts departed, moving on to the next table.

With just the two of them standing at the table now, she looked up at him out of the corner of her eye. A transfer could mean any number of things. A new division, a new assignment, a new office; but it all amounted to about the same thing. He was leaving. Again. She felt her chest constrict at the mere thought of it, and so soon after they had gotten back on friendly terms too. Momo took a breath and pushed through the discomfort. Better to deal with it now than later. “You… you’re transferring?” She asked, “Are you sure you want to leave your team under Rangiku’s command?” She forced a smile as she tried to make light of it, but it felt unnatural even as the words left her mouth.

“Wh— No, that’s not—“ His lips pursed as his brow knit and he made a grunting sound as he cleared his throat. “I’m not transferring,” He said after he seemed to gather his thoughts.

“Then, wha—“

“— I requested a transfer for you,” He cut in. “If you want it, that is.” His eyes refused to meet hers as he focused his attention towards the tables that the Shiba clan were seated at.

Momo was speechless as she let his words sink in. “You… you want me?”

He sighed and scratched at the back of his neck, “I wasn’t going to tell you until I knew it would be approved, but Yamamoto…” He shook his head, “Besides, Unohana said it was almost a certainty, just… a backlog of paperwork to get through. Bureaucracy and all that.”

“But… you… want me on your team?” She had to ask again.

Toshiro took a breath and forced himself to look at her. “Everyone is rather fond of you. You’re diligent, insightful and work well under pressure. Besides, it’ll be good to have someone else who actually does their own paperwork.” The corner of his lips rose in a small smile, “So, in answer to your question; yes. I do want you on my team.”

[crazylittlejester]

Something I want share about my new links meet AU, Linx, because I need to tell someone right now before I explode. It’s mostly about clothing ngl, some plot at the end. But mostly clothes with pictures sprinkled about.

HW Link, Apocalypse, gets forced into the links meet a week after the war ends. Hyrule’s having a grand ball/party. Everyone’s looking all fancy and having a good time. Lana’s there with the newly “““redeemed””” Cia, and they’re in matching outfits with their signature colors, plus a unique accessory for both of them. There’s concept art for their predecessors, which I will share here because that’s basically what I’m picturing them wearing, with a few changes here and there.

Marin’s in a ruffled dress with a split on one side, her signature bow situated there. She has these long white mesh gloves and stockings with floral patterns on it, her hair super wavy. She’s at least half the life of the party. Despite being stuck in another time, she’s planning to make the most of it and make as many friends as she can. Also have some pictures I stole from, ugh, temu, to get a better idea of what I’m describing.

Ghirahim is here! Like him but actually from this time. Yeah, they found him and decided to keep him, under strict supervision of course. Impa is the one supervising him during this party. Impa’s wearing a simple blue dress with pockets :) Lots of leg coverage for hidden knives. She also has long black gloves and leggings. Ghirahim is in a suit similar to what he normally wears, but it’s a suit. His cape now looks like a red suit jacket. Apocalypse is actually wearing something vaguely similar, his has a white dress shirt with a green vest, beige pants, brown shoes and belt that has a golden Triforce on it, his blue gloves, and a blue suit jacket with red accents that’s slung over both his shoulders. Picture of what the jackets would look like from a site called “man of many,” the name of which I find very funny. There’s also another picture I stole from temu.

Zelda, who is dancing with Apo, has her hair up like this one concept art of her I will show. She also has a mostly white sleeveless dress that fades into a pinkish purple at the ends, with the ends looking like feathers. Her gloves and socks are a nice pink, with white shoes. I’ll show both of the concept arts I got inspired by for her fit.

So Apocalypse is having a very good time. Mostly, he still doesn’t trust Cia, but she’s behaving herself and Lana is there, so things are mostly fine. He dances and drinks and eats good food, experiencing luxuries he never could have even dreamt of during the war. Life is good, great even.

Then a portal appears in the middle of a dance, an armored hand grabbed Apo by the arm and pulling him in. Before he even fully processes what’s happening, he’s suddenly in a field, with almost every other Link that he was with during the war also there, Wind and Spirit. The Fierce Deity is standing over them all, smiling. The hero of time is nowhere to be seen.

WOAAAAH THIS IS SO COOL, THANK YOU FOR THE PICS TOO!! i love this so much this seems to interesting

[justsome-di]

How have you managed to update neud every week?

It's a combination of a lot of things!

How To Manage Schedules for Long Project

Advice by me, someone who has done this once and is totally an expert (/sarcasm)

Write in advance

Get a lot of the writing done before you start posting anything. For NEUD, I wrote the whole of draft one, then edited it to get to draft two which meant filling out every section that was incomplete, adding/removing chapters to make the plot move fairly well. Draft three is what's available now. I spent a week working on a chapter and then it gets posted on Friday (I worked ahead to get all of draft three up on Patreon early, so I'm not in this editing process anymore, but this is what it was like for a while). It's not impossible to write a chapter from scratch before each upload if you're on a weekly schedule, but you'll probably be battling burnout and you won't be giving yourself much of a safety net for any issues with the plot/writer's block/etc. This advice might seem kinda obvious, but I did try writing as I was uploading on a now-abandoned project, and it wasn't great! This also helps you stay motivated even if you're not getting notes/comments at first (and you may not). You'll have it all written out and all you have to do is press post.

Be okay with it not being perfect

There are a lot of parts of NEUD that I'm not happy with. But if I had waited for NEUD to be up to a grand, golden standard--it would have never made it online. Publishing a web novel, imo, allows for more amateur mistakes. You don't have an editing team like you would at a publishing house. Especially with a project like NEUD--a romance novel--I felt a little less pressure. I wasn't writing War and Peace. I want it to be good, but I tried not to be too much of a perfectionist. And the thing is, you're going to be unhappy with parts that other people really like. You're seeing your work in a different way than your readers. There are parts of NEUD that I honestly don't like, but it's one of those things that it just has to be done. A bad chapter doesn't make a bad book. Just try making sure there are as few grammatical errors or spelling mistakes as possible. You can use software like Grammarly to help catch mistakes you're inevitably going to miss.

Plan ahead and pace yourself

Make out your schedule before you start posting. Think about what days work best for you. Write down what dates you'll post on a little in advance and don't try tackling your schedule in one night. It'll take time to plan how you want to execute everything. I made a mistake here! I wish I hadn't chosen Fridays to post! I work every other Friday, and my homework is always due on Fridays. There would be other days that worked better for me, and in the future, I'm going to consider that for upcoming projects. You can also use queues or scheduled posts to ease the workload if you have chapters ready in advance.

Take breaks

Go on hiatus every now and again. Take time to relax and work on other hobbies. This is important especially if you have other commitments like school or a job that gets busy at certain times of the year. If you're using Patreon, you can suspend payments a month at a time.

Don't get discouraged

Disclaimer: not that many people have read NEUD. But I really am appreciative of every single person who has let me know they read it because I really wasn't expecting anyone to look at it at all! Projects posted online are often overlooked and get buried under the mountain of WIPs everyone is working on. Having someone read your project is a big honor because they're volunteering their time and attention! And everyone is busy, so really even if one person is leaving a like--that's a huge accomplishment! I don't buy into the "likes don't do anything" mantra that started being spread on this site. Likes are important! They're cool! Enjoy your likes! Reblogs don't guarantee that more people are going to look at your thing, honestly. Of course, reblogs are neat because they do raise the chances of your project being seen, but I also don't think anyone is entitled to having their project reblogged. People can post whatever they want on their blogs. If they don't want my amateur project there, that's fine! But I also understand when you've poured hours into something and you get about three notes. It feels bad. But don't let it get you down. Sometimes it just takes a while for people to find your project or find the time to read it. You never know if someone has the link open in a new tab on their laptop or is following your blog, waiting for more chapters to be uploaded so they can read a substantial chunk later. Just because something didn't get notes in the first hour that you posted doesn't mean it'll never be seen by anyone ever again. I know a lot of times that's how social media is made out to be, but you should never feel like you've lost an audience because you posted when people are sleeping/working/just not on their phones.

That's all I can really say :) Just stay positive and think ahead. It's not an easy thing to do but if you just set aside time once you're done writing and get your ducks in a row, you should be able to manage it bit-by-bit.

And mini self-promo, you can check out Nobody Ends Up Dead in a Bathtub, Everyone Keeps Their Organs every Friday on this blog, on Wattpad, AO3, or my Patreon (where chapters are made public every week).

Check it out if you'd be interested in a romance about a sex worker and a client who met through a prank, now fake-dating as revenge against the men who set them up.