#I took some creative liberties. I see the End as quite space-like in appearance.

[motoroil-recs]

A moodboard for osmp!Aimsey with themes of royalty, the end, and sibling love. With a colour scheme of purple, teal, and cream.

Here you go, Aimsey! I hope this falls in line with what you were hoping for, my friend. Thank you so much for your patience and your request!

[kurishiri]

03 . . . happy birthday, darius! ˗ˏˋ🪽´ˎ˗

— this translation may not be 100% accurate or may contain creative liberties for characterization or narrative flow purposes. if you enjoy, please consider reblogging, but don’t repost or claim these as your own!

— cw: invasion of personal space, objectification (?)

Darius: People really are unbelievable.

Kate: Huh? Ah, wait for me——

Seeing him turn on his heels, I chased after him going the direction opposite of the commotion in a bit of a panic.

Darius: I’m feeling a bit worn out now.

D: And it looks like the weather will turn on us any minute and start raining anyhow, so I just want to head back.

Looking up, I could see what appeared to be rain clouds, but...

Kate: I would like to get you a present, though, so could you wait a bit for that?

Darius: Did you come across something?

Kate: I did, actually. I won’t take long.

With a faint smile, he gave a nod.

Darius: Alright, but I’ll be heading back first if you do take long.

And so, after that, I hurried off to buy his present and returned to his side,

but the moment we returned to the castle, it started to rain hard, as though a bucket full of water was flipped over,

and despite the fact it wasn’t even night, it was dark outside.

Darius: Thank goodness we beat the rain.

He stared out the window, opening his mouth.

Darius: That said, I sure wasn’t expecting to not only have to see that nonsensical scene, but also have to wait.

Kate: What’s nonsensical now?

Darius: You know, how humans always put the most unbelievable ideas into words, like how they’ll make someone else happy for life and whatnot.

(Oh...)

—— Flashback ——

Darius: People really are unbelievable.

—— End flashback ——

(I didn’t really get what he meant by that, but at that time, Darius’ eyes were bitingly cold.

(I don’t know what makes him think and say something like that, but...)

His profile as he looked out the window seemed to hold a tad bit of loneliness, and seeing that, I felt as though my heart was being squeezed.

(We spent the whole day together, and yet I still don’t know a thing about Darius...)

Darius: So? What did you buy?

His expression changed then, and so I held out my present.

Darius: A handkerchief?

While the design was simple, with honey yellow embroidered on the white cloth, it held a quality of elegance to it.

Kate: I was thinking you could take it with you while you’re out so you could wipe your mouth and whatnot.

K: That, and the embroidery on the handkerchief can also be like a protective charm.

(I still don’t know him well, and I don’t know if there will ever come a day when we can really understand each other completely either, but...)

Kate: I hope you can live a life with just a little less clouding your heart, even if it’s just a single thing.

I had thought the handkerchief resembled him, and when he took it, Darius stared at it fixedly.

Darius: Hehe, you really are a tad strange now, aren’t you.

And then, he suddenly started to laugh.

Kate: Huh?

Darius: It’s just interesting to me because I’ve never had a single human come up and say something like that to me before.

Kate: Not even one?

Darius: .........

D: I mean, see, I can fend for myself just fine, you know?

(Oh, I see, I knew that he was strong, seeing as he’s the leader of Vogel, so maybe something like this was just unwanted on his part?)

While giggling, he placed the handkerchief in his pocket.

Darius: Today was quite interesting, so I won’t turn this into an international problem.

Feeling a wave of relief rush over me, I thought back on today.

Kate: I also had quite a bit of fun today.

K: At first, I was surprised and wasn’t sure what to do,

K: but also, I figured spending your birthday in a whole different country than your home one alone would be a bit lonely, right?

That said, I found myself continuing to think of what to do for what started off as a celebration on a whim, without any plans.

Kate: So that’s why I’m glad I could celebrate it.

While I did feel some sense of unease with him, I turned once again to face him.

Kate: I hope you’ll let me celebrate again.

The moment I said these words, there was a flash of light outside the window, and there was a loud sound.

Kate: Oh, it’s thunder...

Turning toward the window, lightning ran through the sky, and while the sound of thunder surprised me to the point my shoulders jumped,

(It kind of reminds me of the color of Darius’ eyes.)

For some reason beyond me, I felt no fear as I stared outside, and——

Darius: Then, will you celebrate with me next year too?

Kate: What?

When I turned around, I saw him standing there with a somewhat disquieting air about him.

Darius: Next year, and the year after that too...

D: Do celebrate, always and forever, until I draw my veeery last breath.

Kate: Uhm, that...

(I don’t know when Vogel plans on returning to the place from where they came,)

But, if they were still here next year, then...

At that time, I could actually make some plans, and I would want him to feel really happy to celebrate it.

(But, I think until he ‘draws his very last breath’ might be a bit of a stretch...)

But the moment I opened my mouth to speak…

Kate: !

He placed his arm right above my head, and my vision filled with nothing but him.

Although the scent I picked up was gentle and made me feel a bit calm,

the words he murmured in my ear made me anything but calm.

Darius: ...Actually, I do have plans to send some things I don’t need back to Germany.

D: Maybe I should send you with them?

Those words came so out of the blue, I found myself stiffening.

Darius: If I do that, then for you that would mean a betrayal against Crown, and I imagine you would never again be able to return, yes?

His voice as he laughed was gentle, and yet at the same time incredibly cold.

Darius: Then you’d be left with no choice but to stay by my side for life... even knowing that, could you still say the same?

My breath caught in my throat from the fear that rushed down my spine, and I couldn’t look away from those honey-colored eyes that held me captive.

Then, the room once again flashed, and the sound of thunder boomed from behind me——

Darius: Be sure to give me your answer by the time lightning strikes again, alright?

(I had thought he was someone who resembled an angel...)

But perhaps, he was more like the lightning outside, having struck down on my life without so much as a warning.

Fin.

With the sound of thunder, the cruel angel wants the little robin

← prev fin. epilogue →

full masterlist 🪽🍰 ╱ ko-fi

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

miss raven 🐦‍⬛ you like shiny things right?? what are your thoughts on rollo’s ring. didn’t you call it chunky before

Many times, yes— I find it super ugly, chunky (as in, it’s a weird shape and takes up a lot of space) and hard to coordinate with a look, but it works fine on Rollo.

There are a few Raven-Rollo interactions I've received; these will be differentiated from the usual Rollo at the Writing Desk interactions by a different phrase in the header. "Will today be the day?" is a reference to the opening scene in Hunchback of Notre Dame; Quasimodo asks a bird (nesting in a gargoyle's mouth) if they're ready to fly yet.

Will Today be the Day?

“… You’ve been staring at my hand for quite some time now.” Rollo’s observation was abrupt, an accusation with a sharp point. He casted Raven a suspicious look as they walked side-by-side. “Crowley-dono is your guardian, is he not? I would have thought him to instill better manners in his kin.”

She leapt, frazzled by the truth he bore. “Y-You’re absolutely right! My apologies… I will avert my gaze.”

Rollo scoffed. “What is it that you are planning, hmm? Do you intend to make off with my possessions the instant I lower my guard? Perhaps you’ve picked up a habit for pilfering from Ruggie-kun. It wouldn’t surprise me—you Night Raven College mages are all the same.”

“No, it’s not like that!!” Raven shyly brought her index fingers together, her eyes cutting away from him. She suddenly found the sidewalk to be of great interest. “It’s, erm…”

“Don’t mumble. Spit it out already.”

“Corvids—ravens, crows—have a penchant for shiny objects. I can’t help that my eyes are drawn to them. It’s in my nature.

“Hmph.” Rollo made to cover the crimson gemstone that crowned his finger. “You have surprisingly juvenile interests. At the very least, it appears to be harmless so long as you control your desire to acquire those trinkets for yourself.”

“I’m telling you, I don’t have such a desire in the first place! Besides, things that sparkle look their happiest when they're with their true owners."

"... Did I hear that correctly? Things that sparkle look happy?"

"Not literally, of course. I took creative liberty with the phrasing." Raven cocked her head to one side. "But don't you think when a piece of jewelry catches a stray beam of sunlight, it looks like the jewel is winking at you? That's what I mean when I say they look happy with their owners."

"Not ever," Rollo replied stiffly, "and your comparison doesn't work. Ownership means nothing; a jewel would shine all the same regardless of who wears it."

"Now you're just sucking all of the romantic lyricism out of it."

"It didn't need that to begin with."

He turned away—as if that were the end of the conversation—and elicited an excited squeak from Raven.

"Oh...!" She fixated on the gleam of gold and scarlet that peaked through a crevice between his fingers.

The ring smiled at me.

Her heart leapt, and she smiled back at it. (Rollo scowled, his displeasure obvious.)

“If you don’t mind, may I see it up-close?” Raven asked. “Just this once. I promise I won’t bother you again about it after.”

“… You may, but you’d better keep your promise. I don’t want to hear another word about this later.”

With that, Rollo offered his ringed hand to her. His fingers splayed out to allow for a good glimpse of his accessory. Raven bowed her head—a sign of thanks—and gingerly took his hand in her gloved ones.

She had expected him to be frigid—his fingers were so long and bony. But no, he was flesh too. Warm and pliant.

Of course he is. I don’t know why I was thinking of anything less. He is only human too.

Raven slowly guided his hand, watching the way the sunlight gathered on the ring’s facets at different angles. The band and prongs were golden, and the center stone was a gorgeous red.

Ruby? Garnet? Or something else entirely…? Cut into a lozenge shape—diamond-like prism, with additional flat faces she could see herself in.

“Oooh, pretty,” she cooed, sounding slightly dazed.

As Raven did this, Rollo inspected her.

She was a small thing, no taller than his shoulders. Dressed in black (like a certain lizard he loathed), perhaps she would have registered as more of an enigma had there not also been a sort of… fluffiness to her, thanks to her voluminous feather shawl and skirt. The top hat skewed at a jaunty angle really did make her look like a childish miniature of NRC’s headmaster.

He honed in on her ears. They were pointed, certainly not the shape of a typical human’s. She had mentioned her tendencies as a corvid earlier, implying animal heritage—but the ears suggested fae, not beastman.

He took in the rest of her face. With her eyes cast downward like this, her thick lashes shaded honeyed amber colored irises. Sun dappled raven hair, highlighting the small, mysterious smile at her lips as she regarded his ring.

Such a simple-minded girl, he sneered. It’s no wonder she’s so easily manipulated by mages and sympathizes with their cause.

A creature captured and tames to be in service to vile villains—Rollo would be lying if he said some part of him vaguely felt pity for her circumstances. Perhaps if she was removed from NRC and given the proper guidance and instruction, she could see reason. (… despite how annoying he found her to be.)

No, she’s too far gone to be rescued, he argues with himself. Draconia has already sunken his claws into her feeble mind.

What a shame, the voice in the back of his head simpered. She could have been saved from sin. We could have understood one another.

Her eyes suddenly fliicked up. “… Rollo-senpai? I think I’m done. Thank you for letting me look.

He quietly gasped—he had been caught staring. Cheeks heating, Rollo hastily pulled his hand away. His shame was masked with a stern frown.

“… That is enough. Let us never speak of this again.”

“Hehe, it’s the very least I could do for you.” She grinned in an irksome manner, the snaggle-toothed smile reminding him of the less savory smirks sent his way by other NRC students. “It can be our little secret.”

"I do not wish to share any sort of a secret with you."

Raven raised her brows. "Were you not the one who requested that we no longer bring up this incident? So it's our little secret, whether you want it to be or not~"

"Which I don't," he clarified stubbornly.

That was the truth--wasn't it?

[resonating-kitty]

Dreambur - Pirate AU fic requested by @peppsta

Using the sentence “You’re too distracting with your handsome face and… your… everything!” (Took a bit of creative liberty to make it work)

I am happy with how this turned out. I've been a bit too critical of my writing lately but I generally like this one. Peppsta I hope this fits what you had in mind with the prompt! :)

I hope you all enjoy!

-

Wilbur laughed, joyous, as the wind hit his face. The open sea was such a wonderful place! His love of its wonders and mysteries and melodies was endless. He was a traveling musician, a quite successful one at that. His music was known all across the world and many lords and kings requested his presence to perform at their castles. That’s what he was doing now, headed back to England, summoned by his Majesty’s request to perform at the annual ball.

“Mr. Soot please get down from there!” The Captain’s orders barked hastily at him had him turning with a grin. He was standing up on the bowspirit of the ship and the Captain of the vessel was standing just behind him, hands on his hip and a growing annoyance in his eyes.

Wilbur relented, his boots hitting the bed with a thud as he hopped down to stand beside the Captain. He fixed the older man with an innocent look and a charming smile, “I do apologize Captain. I love the sea so much that I sometimes cannot help myself.”

The Captain regarded him with a knowing look and sighed, “Just please refrain from doing it in the future. It makes the crew nervous. None of us want to report to his Majesty that his requested musician fell overboard.”

“Of course Captain!” Wilbur saluted, mockingly.

The Captain opened his mouth, no doubt to reprimand the action, but was stopped by a frantic call from above.

“Captain! Captain! Skull and crossbones on the horizon!”

The Captain whirled into action, turning full circle to run to the helm. Curious, Wilbur followed closely.

“Pirates?” He asked, excitedly but none around him seemed to share his enthusiasm.

The Captain shot him a sharp look, wordlessly taking the spyglass that was handed to him. He looked through it, curses falling from his lips.

“It’s the bloody Speedrunner!” The Captain announced, turning for the wheel. He started to bark orders. Raise the sails, all hands on deck. “Mr. Soot below deck!” was the Captain’s last order.

Wilbur protested but the Captain cut him off. “Sir, whether you like it or not, you are under my command until you reach shore and you will do as I say and I’m telling you to go below deck.”

Wilbur was escorted below deck, not before he got a peak at the fastly approaching vessel. The light vibrant green sails of the ship stood in stark contrast to the jolly roger waving above them. ‘Tacky’ Wilbur thought as he was ushered below deck.

-

Try as she might, the merchant vessel was no match for the speed of the pirate ship. The Captain gritted his teeth as soon, his crew and his ship was completely taken over by the ragtag group of pirates.

“Dream,” The Captain gritted out with annoyance, heedless of the gun and cutlasses that were pointed at him and his crew. Dream usually never spilt blood during his raids and the Captain had been at sea long enough, had met with the pirate in these exact situations enough times, to know that the show of aggression was all bluff.

The Pirate Captain wasn’t much. He was tall and slim and didn’t even look or dress like a Captain. He wore dirty ragged clothes, a lime green bandana tied around his head to keep his dirty blond hair pulled back. He also wore a mask over the lover portion of his face, hiding all but his emerald green eyes from view. No one had ever seen his face and if they had, rumors had it they never lived to tell about it.

The Captain had no intention of doing that. He just watched the cocky pirate as he sauntered up to him.

“Sparklez!” Dream greeted happily, throwing his hands out, “what a surprise that we ran into each other again while you were transporting goods!”

Captain Sparklez pinched the bridge of his nose, insisting tiredly, “Just get what you came to get and leave”

Dream was grinning under his mask as he laughed, “Glad we have an understanding Captain,” he turned to a couple of his crew, “Alright boys, you heard the Captain, go see what’s below deck for the taking!”

A couple of the crew, a slightly shorter man with dark hair and a white headband tied around his head, a thin man with glasses and wearing a black, red trimmed, cloak, and another pirate that appeared to be in a full reindeer costume, headed below deck.

Captain Sparklez hoped they didn’t discover Wilbur but his hopes were dashed when muffled shouting sounded from below.

“What the hell?” Dream demanded, going to the stairs to call down, “Everything okay!”

“Look what we found!” Came the replying yell moments before the pirates were reappearing and dragging Wilbur with them. “He was trying to hide behind the salmon.”

Wilbur was pushed before the pirate captain. Wilbur looked up with wide eyes. Dark brown met emerald green. Both seem to freeze.

“Got something you wanna tell us Captain Sparklez?” The pirate in the black cloak asked, suspiciously. He glanced at Wilbur then his own Captain, who was still frozen.

“The boy is headed to Britian. He’s but a musician who hired me to ferry him.” Captain Sparklez answered hastily. He also was looking at Wilbur and Dream. “He is an innocent bystander in all of this.”

The pirate opened his mouth, possibly to ask more questions but he was cut off by his Captain.

‘Who are you?” Dream asked Wilbur, his voice soft and held none of the cockiness it had before.

Both crews, pirate and merchant, looked at the two with raised eyebrows and some with shocked expressions.

“Wilbur. Wilbur Soot.” Wilbur answered earnestly and Captain Sparklez facepalmed and muttered, “Boy, don’t engage with the pirate.”

“Why?” Wilbur asked, glancing at Sparklez, “He’s interesting.”

Laughter erupted from Dream. “Yeah Sparklez,” He said, his voice playful and teasing as he looked at the merchant ship’s Captain, “I’m interesting.”

“Please don’t feed his ego.” One of the pirates, a man dressed in light blue with a pair of goggles covering his eyes, warned in exasperation and Dream whirled around to face him.

“Oh shut up George, he can feed my ego as much as he wants to.” Dream demanded though the grin was evident in his voice. George just rolled his eyes at his Captain. Dream turned back, winking at Wilbur, who’s cheeks colored pink.

“So Mr. Soot, you do music?” Dream asked, conversationally as he leant against the mast of the ship.

“Dream, what about the cargo?” The pirate with the white headband asked and Dream waved him off with an order, “Start loading it on the Speedrunner obviously.”

“Dumbass,” the pirate muttered before motioning to a few of the crew and they disappeared below deck.

“I… I uh… yeah.” Wilbur muttered, “I’m actually on my way right now to perform for his Majestic at the castle.”

Dream whistled, impressed, “You’re Mr. Popular then aren’t you?”

Wilbur laughed softly, shaking his head. His brown curls bouncing on top of his head, “Something like that”

“What are some of your songs? Perhaps I’ve heard some of them?” Dream questioned. A crash was heard and his attention snapped to his crew and the box of produce that was now spilling out over the deck, hollering, “Hey be careful with the goods. We need those!”

“Sorry Captain.”

Dream turned back to Wilbur, “Sorry. Go ahead.”

“Let’s see there’s Jubilee Line, Since I Saw Vienna, Soft Boy, Saline Solution, Maybe I was Boring.”

“I’ve heard that one!” Dream exclaimed, eyes shining, “Maybe I was Boring. It was being sung in one of the pirate owned taverns. The guy singing it was trying to pass it off as one of his own but he didn’t look smart enough to come up with something so beautiful.”

“Yes well, as I’m sure you are well aware, there are thieves in every trade I’m afraid,” Wilbur sighed before he seemed to catch the last part of the sentence, “Wait you think my song is beautiful?”

“That’s not the only thing I think is beautiful,” Dream’s voice dropped as he reached up and closed the space between them. They were interrupted by someone clearing their throat. Callahan was standing to the side, he looked apologetic.

“I do not mean to alarm anyone and I certainly hate to break up whatever is transpiring between the two of you, Captain but there is a ship on the horizon. Looks like the Navy.”

Wilbur was left at the mast as Dream stepped quickly to the side of the ship and took the spyglass from George. He looked through it, muttering out a curse before barking, “Everyone back to the ship!”

His crew reached instantly.

“What about this ship?” the pirate in the white headband asked almost eagerly as he headed for the ropes that connected the two ships together, “You said we could start sinking them.”

“What?!” Sparklez’s outraged voice rose up as panicked murmurs rose up from the crew. Wilbur’s breath caught in his throat.

“Not this one,” Dream said, his voice steeled with finality. Emerald eyes met dark brown once more, “Today this ship was saved by a distracting handsome face and everything else. So long for now and Mr. Soot? I’m sure you and I will meet again in the future”

Dream gave a little salute before joining his crew and soon the Speedrunner was just a speck in the distance as the Naval ship approached.

Wilbur stood at the bow of the ship, watching as the pirate ship disappeared in the distance. A soft smile on his lips and his whole body was warmed. The pirate captain certainly was charming wasn’t he.

“Charming?” Sparklez repeated with alarm as the Naval ship pulled up alongside them and Wilbur realized that he must’ve uttered the sentence out loud. A hand fell on his shoulder and the Captain leaned down to speak quietly, a warning, “Son let me tell you something, no matter how ‘charming’ he may be, at the end of the day he’s a pirate and you need to stay well away from him. He’s dangerous, not only in general, but also to your career.”

Wilbur tried to heed Captain Sparklez warning but he couldn’t get his mind off the oddly charming pirate. He hoped that Dream was being sincere when he said they would meet each other again because he was looking forward to it.

[harringtonstudios]

best friend’s ex.

plot: he’s your best friend’s ex and you should stay away. 

A/N: i wrote this in one sitting and it’s very long <3 took some creative liberty here so imagine 2020!kells but he hasn’t made it just quite yet in the industry. this is heavily based off the song release tonight with blackbear so enjoy (maybe while listening!)

masterlist!

The circles in New York are different than the ones in Los Angeles. There’s a hint of familiarity in the New York circles, everyone seems to know each other connected by one person or a distant story of that one night the whole crowd tripped on molly. It’s dizzying, intricately knowing every single person backstage or at some club without recognizing them exactly.

You haven’t gotten used to the life, not yet acclimated with the high-fives and looks thrown your way at a party, or the nameless phone numbers crowding your text messages. It’s all new, fun and exciting and you have no one to thank but your best friend.

She’s made for this life, for the late nights and the rushes, the sticky floors and glittery lipgloss. This is her environment, where she thrives, and sometimes when you look at her in the club, necklaces shining with the overhead lights, you find it hard to connect this Domi to the one who you’ve seen crying on your bedroom floor after watching a despairing animal shelter commercial. But then she throws you a grin, crowds close, drapes her arm over your shoulder, and it just makes sense.

It’s been years of friendship, ever since you two met at freshman orientation for college. Her roommate was terrible, and more often than not, she’d be camping out on your twin-sized bed, offering you bites of her snacks in exchange for a safe haven. You both hadn’t really been into the party scene at school, too busy scrambling for reports and fibbing results for the endless lab sessions.

Domi graduated a semester early, spent an entire summer taking accelerated classes so she could go fly off to New York right before the new year started. That’s when things seemed to change. You’d been upset with her, hints of jealousy tinging in when she’d send you pictures of fancy clothes and people she was hanging out with, the nicely decorated venues she’d find herself in. She invited you to come to the city a few weeks in, buzzing on Facetime about backstage passes.

Then you were graduating yourself, packing two suitcases and jetting halfway across the country to live in the shitty apartment Domi’d been renting out with a couple of strangers. It had been hard to settle down at first, the air was different in the city and you’d had to up your resting bitch face game when you sat on the subways late at night, but before you knew it, you were enjoying the city that never sleeps, best friend right by your side.

Colson had stumbled into your life a year ago, and then been ripped out six months after. He was a up and coming musician (self-proclaimed) and had taken a chance bet on the city, moved from Cleveland with his friends and a mixtape. He was beautiful in a rugged way, angled cheekbones and lanky limbs, but Domi had taken one look and called dibs, so you tampered any attraction down.

It hadn’t taken long for them to start dating, even if Domi claimed they were just fooling around, it was clear to see that there was some level of intimacy there, a relationship itching to be formed. You’d been happy for her truly and it was easier than you’d expected to fall into a camaraderie with the guys.

Colson’s friends were funny, quick on their toes and absolutely chaotic. They fit into New York better than you did, and almost every single night, you would find yourself at their apartment, playing shitty drinking games and jamming to loud music.

Domi kept the relationship as lowkey as she could, and at some point, you would hear less and less about Colson. It didn’t really hit you then, but it was the beginning of the end in a way, and then she was walking in, eyes red and wet before yelling out the fated words, “We broke up.”

Everything you had gotten used to was suddenly taken away. You spent weeks consoling her, reminding her that she was better than this guy, stronger and that time was the only way this would heal. She begrudgingly listened, and then took your phone from you, casually blocking Colson’s number along with all his friends.

At first, you’d been mildly upset. She was the one who’d fucked up, the one who’d decided to break up with him, so why was this effecting you? It didn’t make sense, they were still your friends and you liked them more than anyone else you’d met here.

But then she’d given you her patented puppy dog eyes, and you’d dismissed it, decided that if this was what she wanted, so be it. You could stand to lose the drunken nights, your liver would thank you.

Colson Baker and his friends disappeared from your life as fast as they had appeared into it. You spent your nights cooking at home instead of going out, focused on building back your sleep schedule instead of getting drunk off your mind, and the days went by.

-

Of course, nothing lasts forever and six months later, your coworkers’ are begging you for a night out, like the old times. Everyone’s antsy for your reply, know that you haven’t been to a social function with them in ages, and you take one look at their faces before sighing and agreeing.

The entire office claps, you flip them all off before catching sight of your boss, who simply smiles and shakes his head. There’s a faint flutter in your stomach, memories rising from months ago, parties and late nights, flashes of lights and thumping music. You shrug it off, tap your pen against the desk, bring your focus back to work.

Three hours later, you’re catching the train back home. It isn’t exactly rush hour yet, you’ve gotten out a little earlier than usual, Friday evenings usually being dull at work anyway and you’re glad because there’s less people mulling around in the sticky heat of the train station.

The station doesn’t smell great, there’s a tinge of stale pee filling up the air and you discreetly move to the other side of the station, trying to get as far away from the smell as you can. New York City man.

The train pulls in, and you automatically put in your headphones, music blasting in your ears as you sidle into the train car, passing the passengers coming out. It’s relatively empty, being near the front and you thank the train gods before sliding into an orange seat near the door.

There’s a couple of guys sitting at the other end, they’re loud and boisterous, shoving each other and you give them a once-over before settling into the seat. The train moves, and you pull your purse onto your lap, patting it once before letting your eyes fall close.

The next stop comes abruptly, jolting you out of the little dreamscape you’d created. There’s a shout as the doors open and you pause your music trying to tune into what’s going on. It’s still the group of guys, but now there’s more of them and you roll your eyes at the banter drifting across the car.

The music starts up again and you lean your head back, try to get comfortable again, but it doesn’t work. There’s a weird feeling in your gut, making you uneasy but you brush it off, raise the volume until all you can feel is the dirty bass.

A minute later, someone kicks at your shoes and you open your eyes, ready to angrily scold at them until they can feel the rage across the car.

The words die in your throat. Colson Baker’s standing there in all his glory, lanky arm leaning against the metal, blonde hair puffing around his head, grin lighting up his face.

His nose is pierced now and you take it in, the way it brings out his eyes and you pause the music mumbling out, “Nose ring looks good on you.”

You bite your tongue right after, embarrassed that after months of silence that’s the first thing that falls out of your mouth. He laughs, body shaking and you’re flashed back to nights in his apartment, watching him laugh on the other couch, head thrown back.

“Thanks,” he murmurs before going, “How’ve you been?”

“Good,” you answer honestly and there’s another shout from across the car, Colson turning to wave a hand.

“It’s the guys. They didn’t think it was you, but I could tell yanno,” he explains and you raise your eyebrows as he continues, “They’re all still kinda pissed you blocked us.”

The statement falls between you two, awkwardly as the train car rumbles on. You wince a little as he fake coughs to fill the empty space.

“Yeah, I’m sorry about all that man. You guys were like family,” you carefully mention, hands playing with the hair tie on your wrist.

“It’s cool. I get it, I mean we both know Domi,” he stammers out and his own hand goes to rub at his chin.

This conversation isn’t what either of you expected and you shift up in your seat, trying to change the topic at the mention of your best friend.

“So what’ve you been up to?” you ask and he smiles at the gateway question, eager to get rid of the uncomfortable energy.

“Got signed to a record label,” he murmurs and the smile that takes over your face is unreal. There’s pride blooming in your chest.

“No way!! Oh my god, congrats dude. That’s killer,” you gush out and his cheeks taint red at your words.

“Thanks,” he says, eyes meeting yours.

“I knew you’d do it. You’re immensely talented,” you continue on as the train comes to a stop.

It’s not yours but it seems to be his. The guys all shout over at him and he’s looking up and then gazing at you, caught between the two options before he makes up his mind.

He doesn’t choose you, you’re not surprised.

“I appreciate you!” he shouts out before running off the car, joining the rest of the guys on the station.

You turn in your seat and wave at them, catching a couple of glares and hesitant waves back before the car pulls away, to the next destination.

The music starts up again and you will your heart to slow down for reasons you can’t even comprehend.

-

Domi gives you a look as you rush into your room. Usually after work, you spend time in the kitchen, milling around grabbing little snacks as she cooks, but you actually have plans tonight.

It’s the first time you’re going out in months and you take a quick shower before pulling out all the old outfits you’d shoved into the back of your closet.

There’s a nice dress, black with faint traces of glitter and you eye it for a second before deciding against it. This is a fun night with the coworkers, not your insane best friend who’d always managed to get you to dress your very best.

There’s a pair of skinny jeans tossed into a dresser, and you eye the rips in it before pulling it on. It looks good, tight in all the right places and you root around for a shirt that can be just fancy enough.

There’s a nice purple one tossed in the closet, slipping off of a hanger and you grab it before pulling it on and tying it up in the front.

It’s pretty, makes you look just right and you play around with your hair before sitting down and committing to a makeup look.

Fifteen minutes later, you’re throwing your keys, a pack of gum, gloss and your phone into a small purse. It hangs off of your wrist and you take a look in the mirror before stepping out of your room.

“Where are you going?” Domi asks, her tone slightly cold.

“Night out. Coworkers invited me and I couldn’t say no,” you explain, running your hands down the jeans.

“Oh,” her face falls.

“Do I-look good?” you ask hesitantly.

“Yeah. You always do bitch,” she half-heartedly adds and you smile at her.

“I’ll see you tonight,” you say, grabbing a carrot from the countertop.

“I’ll wait up,” she smirks and you nod before heading out the door.

The club’s only a few stops away and when you swipe your metro card again, you groan at how low the funds are running. You haven’t filled it just yet, and the $1.25 flashes up at you, taunting.

“I’m poor,” you scoff at the machine and the girl swiping next to you laughs.

You get in somehow, sneakily using the swinging baby stroller door and by the time the train pulls up, you’re only running a few minutes late.

It only hits you when you sink into the familiar orange seat that you didn’t tell Domi about running into her ex. You know she doesn’t care as much about Colson now, scorchingly refers to him as that one rapper, but it’s an unspoken rule. You always tell if you run into the ex.

Your fingers tap against your phone screen, wondering if texting her is appropriate but you drop it quickly. It’s not a big deal. You’ll just let her know when you get home tonight.

The doors open, you leave and then you’re stalking towards the club doors, eyeing the long line. The bouncer is staring everyone down, and you wade up to the front. You’ve learned enough tricks in the short party lifestyle you’d had.

“I’m with the VIPs,” you flash your ID and then a $5 discreetly tucked under it. He looks you up and down, grumbles slightly before taking the money from you.

The rope opens and you smile before stepping through into the dark. It’s loud inside already, the lights contrasting the slight evening colors from outside. You look around before you spot the team and walk over to them.

“Hey!!!” they exclaim and then you’re being handed a glass, cheering the night as everyone drinks it down.

It’s tequila, stings in the back of your throat and you cough before wiping your mouth, “God, I haven’t had this in so long.”

“See that’s why we needed you out tonight,” one of them goes, checking your shoulder with theirs. You laugh before agreeing and order your drink of choice, chiming into the conversation.

It’s going so well, the night seems to be twinged with good vibes. You feel nice and loose, arm draped over your nearest friend as you two sway at the songs playing.

There’s a commotion at the door and you guys turn towards the bouncer only to see people scuffling around, pushing to get closer.

“Hey dude! I’m playing tonight. Musical guest here!!!” comes a loud voice, and it rings familiar in your head. It’s faint, digging somewhere into the back of your mind and you get on your tip-toes trying to see.

“Fuck you,” someone else spits and it echoes around the club.

The crowd splits open then, and you get a glimpse at old friends, adjusting their hats as they stalk across to the stage.

Rook’s fuming as he walks past you, and you spot the tell-tale crease on his face, the grit of his teeth. It scares you, the memory of it all after late night game losses, the way he would blow a gasket about cheating.

Slim and Baze wander behind him, they seem cooler, always are, but the anger is brimming under and you look away as they pass you.

AJ isn’t there and you guess he’s already in the club. He’s always been the sensible one, stable and ready to take control of the situation when it inevitably turns bad.

Colson’s following the rest but his eyes are on the crowd, hand going out to meet people, smiling at everyone. There’s a faint cut on his lip, blood trickling out and you want to scream at him. He comes up around to where you’re standing, and you step back, let your coworkers high five him as he passes.

He doesn’t see you, it’s better that way.

You order up another drink, ignore the whispers of the pesky rapper as they fill up the air around you. He’s well known here apparently, people aware of him in the scene. They mumble about the fights, the way he never seems to show up without a cut or bruise.

You take a shot, sip at the alcohol, smile fading as your coworker ravishes on about how good looking the musician is.

It takes about twenty minutes, and then the music shuts off. There’s a squeal of microphone feedback and everyone around you ducks, hands rushing up to cover their ears.

“Fuck,” a mumble comes across the sound system.

There’s another shuffle and your friend grabs your arm, pulling you closer to the stage. There’s already people there, milling around, clutching drinks and you try to stay on the sidelines, out of view.

“We should go closer,” he determines and then you’re being pulled forward again, swimming around in the second row.

Colson is standing front and center in all his glory. The shitty lighting makes him glow, and he looks big, energy filling him up. He pulls the mic off the stand and steps back before going, “Afternoon. We are Machine Gun Kelly.”

The name isn’t familiar. You don’t know it and quite frankly, it doesn’t place anywhere either but that’s all you get before the music starts up. It’s weird, a pace you don’t expect from him and then he’s off, singing with a grit in his voice, fingers flying across a guitar draped over his shoulder.

Everyone seems to bob along in the crowd and you do too, losing yourself in the way he sounds, the tone of his voice as he croons. The music is great, drums harsh and strong, guitar loud behind the vocals.

The set’s over quick and you’re slightly sweating by the end of it. He thanks the crowd before jumping off stage, and you immediately retreat back to the bar, anxious to steer clear of him.

Even in your drunken state of mind, it’s a bright red flashing light: Stay away from Colson. Stay away from the guys.

You switch to water for a while, try to stop your head from spinning with the lights. Everyone you came with is somewhere on the dance floor, so when an arm drapes on your shoulders, you freeze up, still facing the bar.

“Hey,” and then you’re looking up at Slim’s face, sweaty and eager.

“Slim,” you breathe out, vice in your chest loosening at the fact that it isn’t Colson. You don’t know why this is better, but it is.

“What’re you drinking?” he asks, hand going up to call over the bartender.

You don’t have the heart to say water, know that he’ll laugh and then get you a beer, so you murmur, “Get me a shot of vodka?”

His smile widens and he shouts the drink order over the counter before dropping his arm, “You sipping the hard stuff now?”

Shaking your head, you respond, “I’ve always drank the hard stuff.”

“Yeah, back when we hung out,” he slips into the banter, and your heart stops. You didn’t realize it had hurt them this bad, that months later, drunk and high off of a good show, Slim still manages to bring it up, voice tightening slightly.

“Look, I’m sorry about all that. I really am,” you start, but then he’s passing you the drink and locking arms.

“Cheers,” he says and you clink your shot glass against his, tipping it back.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble out but he throws you a look.

“Don’t worry about it,” he says and then he’s shouting out, “Yo Kells!”

It clicks into place then, the Machine Gun Kelly. It’s his nickname, has been for years apparently since he was rapping in middle school hallways, but he’d always introduced himself as Colson to new friends, let them decide whether the Kells fit him or not.

You hadn’t called him Kells once, in the months of knowing him, had laughed about it a couple of times with Domi, who loved to mock it any chance she could.

“You stalking me?” Kells sleazes out, there’s already a drink in his hand, someone following him around with bright eyes.

“No,” you state, moving away from the counter. The red lights are in full effect, this could end up terribly.

“Seems like it,” he sums up, coming in closer to lean against the bar. His lip is still cut, looks swollen as he approaches you.

“You fucked up your lip,” you state, mind cursing at the lack of filter you seem to have around your best friend’s ex.

“What?” he goes, and then his fingers are rubbing at the fat lip, eyes scrunching, “Guess I did.”

“Well it was nice to see you again,” you try.

“I just got here, you leaving already?” he murmurs, brushing off the person following him.

Slim’s moved to the other end of the bar, Rook’s throwing you a glare.

“Don’t think your friends want me around,” you nod over.

He turns his head and makes some kind of motion. Rook drops his eye contact, head going to duck at the bar. Slim smiles.

“They don’t know what’s good for them,” he mumbles, head turning back. His fingers tap at the bar, and there’s a beer appearing. He smiles at the bartender.

“I’m good for them?” you scoff, there’s a hint of bitterness at your tone, but it’s not directed exactly at them. It isn’t their fault.

“Always have been. The good influence when we would try and do stupid shit,” he says thoughtfully. He’s almost as drunk as you, eyes slightly red.

You laugh at that, “You’re always doing stupid shit. Great set by the way, impressed the fuck out of me.”

“You didn’t expect it?” he says as if you were supposed to have known all his songs by heart.

“I haven’t heard any of your music,” you honestly reply.

“Not even the mixtapes?” he seems shocked.

“No, Domi never sent them to me and you all just assumed so,” you stop yourself, falling into dangerous territory.

At the name drop of his ex, he winces a little, “God she was a fucking head-case.”

“Hey that’s my best friend you’re talking about,” you shout a little too loud. You catch Slim slamming a hand onto Rook’s shoulder. The air becomes stifled.

“Sorry,” Colson offers, taking a long, pointed sip.

You sigh, “Don’t be. She can be a little much sometimes. I’m sorry for how it all ended.”

“You should hang with us tonight,” he calmly says, switching the subject. Your breath catches in your throat.

“I don’t know-“ you start.

He cuts you off, “I get it. If you want, we’ll be here for a while. Find us.”

That’s all you get and then he’s walking towards the gang, slipping into the crowd. You drop your head onto the shell covered bar, groaning out.

-

The night dwindles down, your coworkers trickle out, slamming messy kisses on your face before walking out. You’re left by yourself soon enough and there’s a pulsing in your head, matching the music vibrating under your shoes.

It doesn’t take long to decide. You want to hang out with Colson and them, with Machine Gun Kelly. It’s a bad idea, you can tell before you’ve even fully determined it, but it’s as if fate’s lined everything up for you. It’s gonna happen.

You push away the nagging thoughts, wander around the club trying to find someone, coming up empty. Everyone seems to have left and you roll your eyes before stepping out yourself. Maybe fate doesn’t want this to happen.

As soon as the thought crosses your mind, you spot Rook across the street, blunt in hand. He hasn’t seen you, looking down at his shoes but you know him well and if he’s around it means the others are close by.

You brace yourself, work up some form of courage and walk over. He looks up at the sound and there’s immediate dislike flashing across his face.

Out of everyone, Rook’s been the most temperamental. You’d thought it was going to be Colson at first glance, but were quickly proven wrong by his friend, by the harshness of his demeanor at times. He doesn’t hide his feelings, and while you respect that, you’re also intimidated by his posturing.

“Hey Rook,” you mumble.

“Y/N,” he bluntly states.

“How have you been?” you try, but immediately know it’s the wrong thing to say.

“Cut the shit. What’d you want?” he bites out, eyes hard.

“Was wondering if I could catch a ride with you guys?” you question. 

AJ usually drives them around, his black van large enough for the gang, and his self control strong enough to stay sober. You don’t know if it’s changed since the last time everyone hung out, but you’re hoping it hasn’t for the sake of your almost empty metrocard.

“Why’d you think we drove here?” he’s shrugs, giving you a hard time, and you shake your head wondering if your pride is worth this.

“Never mind dude,” you turn around but then he’s groaning behind you.

“Yeah we’ll take you back home. Kells’ kill me if I let you walk around here drunk. C’mon,” he says and you try to hide your smile as you follow him.

He takes a few more hits before tossing his blunt to the ground, and you’re glad he hasn’t offered you any. It would be too forgiving of him, too close to what you all used to be, and you wouldn’t know what to do if it came to that. Domi would kill you, hell she’d kill you if she knew you were getting into a car with them right now.

He stops in front of the familiar van, opens the door with force and everyone’s shouting inside, clambering over each other. You almost smile at the chaos, the familiarity of it all.

“Y/N!” Colson’s shouting and you do smile then. He slumps over long limbs and comes over to the door, reaching his hand out to you.

“You coming with us?” he asks and you nod before Rook mutters, “She needs a ride home.”

Colson purses his lips before looking back over at you, hand still outstretched, “Yeah, c’mon in. AJ got you.”

It’s late, later than you should be out and there’s a reminder that Domi’s waiting for you back home, wants to hear about your night. Your resolve flickers the minute his hand wraps around yours.

He tugs you in the van, and you follow, stepping in before they all scatter around, making enough space. There’s another girl with them, someone you don’t remember meeting or knowing but she smiles at you and curls into Rook’s side.

The music in the van is almost as loud as in the club, filling up the space. You wonder, not for the first time, how AJ drives like this, how he casually sings along, fist bumping the rest of the guys after a song.

Before you know it, there’s a blunt being passed around. Colson skips you on the first round, and you try not to let it hurt, remind yourself that you’ve stung them harder than this, hurt them worse.

He leans into your space after handing it off, whispers, “You still don’t smoke right?”

There’s a painful twist in your stomach at his question. When you all first met, you wouldn’t smoke blunts with them, hesitant about the strain and Domi’s eyes on you. She hated weed, despised the smell and would always remind you of that fact before you’d all spend the night out.

After the breakup, she’d loosened up on that, didn’t care if you smoked out on the fire escape, and sometimes even joined in, it was weird. Weirder than the fact that Colson somehow remembered all this months later.

“I do,” you whispered back, licking your lips, “smoke I mean.”

“Oh,” he softly says and then the blunt’s coming back around. He barely takes a hit before handing it off to you, pushing your hand slightly with his fist.

“Thanks,” you mumble, smoking it in. It’s strong, brings an immediate rush. You close your eyes.

When you open them, Colson’s too close to you. The red lights flash hard in your head and then the car’s stopping in front of their building.

You don’t even hesitate, “Is it wrong if I come up with you?”

His eyes look into yours, it’s quiet enough that you feel the weight of your statement sink in. This is bad, so bad.

He doesn’t say anything but everyone around you is moving, pulling off instruments and slamming doors. He carefully takes your hand, pulls the blunt out from your other one.

“AJ, we’re gonna chill for a while,” he says, towards the front seat, giving him the blunt. There’s a hum and then he’s opening the door, pulling you out just as he’d pulled you in.

For a second, you hesitate and then you’re falling into him. His arm wraps around your hips, pulls you back up on the sidewalk.

“You okay?” his voice is quiet, the world still moves around you both but it feels like you’re the only two people who matter.

“Yeah,” you nod.

“Wanna go home?” he says, and the words hit you for a second before you shake your head.

“No, this is cool,” you tongue out.

You’re both walking into the building then, satisfied with your answers. The manager gives you a once over at the front desk but that’s all before Colson’s thumbing the elevator button.

“What about everyone else?” you murmur.

He looks at them unloading the van and lets out a laugh, fingers tightening slightly against yours as he shakes, “They’re gonna be busy a while.”

You laugh back, try to tamper down the feeling of seeing him full-body laugh for the second time that day. The elevator dings and you step in, he follows.

It’s the same damn elevator as it was six months ago, but there’s something different in the air right now. It’s staticky, thrumming through you and it feels like you’re stumbling right on the edge of something.

The doors close, it’s just you and him. The feeling gets stronger, his fingers loosen against yours. You grip harder and he looks up straight into your eyes.

The door dings open again and he huffs a little, “Forgot to click the button.”

You smile but it feels thin. Your brain is flashing wrong, flashing red, screaming Domi’s name, but your heart is racing, pounding against your chest.

You screw your eyes shut.

He hits the button, the elevator starts going and you step closer to him. His back is against the elevator wall and there’s a calm look on his face, but you can tell he’s nervous, can feel it in the clamminess of his palm where it’s sticking to yours.

“I’m going to kiss you,” you blurt and you don’t even have time to regret the words before he’s pushing into you, lips finding yours within seconds.

They’re warm and softer than you expected. He lets out a groan as you kiss back, and you’re reminded of his cut, the swollen lip he’s sporting now. You move back, rest your forehead against his.

“Sorry, your lip,” you attempt to explain, but he shakes his head, forehead sliding across yours, twisting it.

“I like it,” he mumbles and you smile before kissing him again, feeling his arm wrap around you, pull you closer.

It’s the first time you’ve kissed him, he’s strictly off limits, a forbidden idea, but it feels like everything has suddenly fallen into place. The warning signs dissolve into bursts of serotonin as he makes little sounds, pressed up with your mouth.

The door dings open. You break apart and step out. Is kiss drunk a thing, or are you losing your mind? He grins at you, pulls your joined hands up for a soft kiss brushing on your knuckles.

Your heart flutters right then. If you’re losing your mind, you’re glad it’s with him. Dealing with the aftermath is something you’ll do later, so you push all thoughts of Domi and her complications aside and follow him straight into his apartment, consequences be damned.

-

taglist:  @iamdorka @no-shxt-sherl @bakerkells @findingmyths @rosegoldrichie​ @mayaslifeinabox​ @itjustkindahappenedreally @hnbtx @backoftheroomandnotbelonging​ @sophroniaa​ @enchantedamusedslightlyconfused​ @calum-defense-squad​

[fangirl-1523]

My Sworn Brothers [Luffy x Crossover!Sister!Reader x Ace x Sabo]

A/N: Hey, so I want to write a High School AU of the many, many anime I have watched/ read. Bleach, Blue Exorcist, Devil is a Part-Timer, Durarara, Fairy Tail, Fullmetal Alchemist, High School of the Dead, InuYasha, Kill La Kill, Magi, My Hero Academia, Noragami, One Piece, Ouran High School Host Club, Pokemon, Saiki K, Sailor Moon, Seven Deadly Sins, Soul Eater, Sword Art Online, Vampire Knight, Your Lie in April, and Yu Gi-Oh. And I was wondering who would you like to be apart of your friend? And would you like to have a relation to any of the characters of the world. 

Summary: [Y/N] is the oldest sworn sister to Luffy, Ace, and Sabo. And after finding Ace and Sabo aboard Luffy’s ship, the Thousand Sunny, she explains to them who she is, her other sworn brothers and sisters, embarrasses the three of them (a regular Tuesday for her), and threatens them with a chalkboard for interrupting her. Multiple times. In this story, most of the anime I am into is in the same world (Bleach, Blue Exorcist, Fairy Tail, Fullmetal Alchemist, InuYasha, Magi, My Hero Academia, Naruto, Noragami, Seven Deadly Sins, and Sword Art Online.  I might do a part 2. 

Warnings: spoilers for the above mangas and animes, also, even though this is along the timeline of after the time skip (at some point), I took the creative liberty to have Ace alive during this meeting for a quad family reunion, might be language

Word Count: 1, 668

“How the hell am I suppose to believe that my three idiotic brothers would be in the same place at the exact same time I’m trying to find them?” the girl with [H/C] hair, old enough to be Luffy’s age, maybe a year younger or a year older than him. 

“[Y/N]!!” the rubber boy flung himself at her in a hug.

She fell down on her butt from the impact of the hug. She groaned before pushing the boy off of her and standing up, dusting herself off. “Geez, Lu. I was on a job, just finished, and I heard something about a Straw Hat, a Fire Fist, and a blonde with a top hat that put the mad hatter to shame. I just came to see if the rumors are true.” 

“What job did you have, sis?” Sabo said as he sipped a smoothie created from Vinsmoke Sanji. 

“Well, you see. In the ten years I’ve been gone, I’ve been busy. Both with being lazy and being diligent.” the girl explained. “I am a member of Fairy Tail. Dragon Slayer Magic, particularly fire, water, earth, air, and plant. Requip the Knight. Some space jumping there and vortex opening here.” 

“You got the two mixed up, kid.” Ace said from his spot next to Sabo. 

The girl grinned an evil grin. “Oh, did I, Ace of Clubs?” 

The raven haired pirate groaned at the nickname while Luffy’s crew members wondered after the nickname. Ace kept giving her the don’t-tell-them-anything look with a cut-it-out motion. She, like most people she knew, did not listen to reason. 

“Well, when we were younger, I attempted to teach the pour unfortunate souls that you call Luffy, Sabo, and Ace golf. And we played mini-gold. First hole we went to, the club flew out of Ace’s hand and crashed into the window where the pour lady working the club stand was clonked on the head and fell unconscious. Another fun fact: I’m overly competitive and therefore master of mini gold. Luffy on the other hand... beat my bowling high score of just a little over four hundred points.” [Y/N] explained. 

“THAT’S NOT HOW YOU PLAY GOLF, YOU IDIOT!” Usopp shouted at his captain. 

“Ace was a lot worse. However, on the eighteenth hole, got a hole in one. Although with team sports, I always sided with Luffy ‘cuz he was the baby of the family.” she explained. 

“Never play Volleyball with her unless you’re Luffy.” Sabo warned the Straw Hat Pirates. 

“Could you... possibly.... explain who you are?” asked Nami. 

“That’s an easy and excellent question, m’lady. I am [Y/N] [L/N], the daughter of the Demon King from the Demon Clan, Niece of Solomon, adoptive daughter of the great dragon, The Curse of Depravity, a mage of S-Class ranking, the best older sister anyone can have, a Shinigami, and the Pirate Fairy.” [Y/N] said with her hands on her hips like wonder woman. 

“You’re not wonder woman, dumbass.” Ace muttered. 

She scowled at the boy (who was now physically older than her). “I know that, asshole.” Ace shrugged his shoulders at that. “Anyways, I should get going. I’m here with my teammates. And Salamander will have a cow if he finds out I’m on a Pirate Ship. Which may or may not include Natsu asking you all to fight him at once for his sister.” [Y/N] shrugged. 

“SISTER?!” Luffy screeched. 

“YOU ALREADY REPLACED US?!” Ace and Sabo said in unison. 

“This is why I never took you to Amusement parks or sat next to you on a ride.” she clenched at her swollen ears.  “No, I was merely saying that I have something called [Y/N]’s Council of Brothers. They’re basically a band of boys I feel need my protection, wisdom, and power to embarrass them until they’re six feet under and rotting.” 

“She’s dark.” Nami said. “But can you explain this whole Council of Brothers thing. Because I’m not sure they,” the ginger pointed to the three brothers, “understand.” 

“Alright! I will go over a lesson here!” and suddenly a white board appeared by her side with writing already on it. 

“Where did you get the white board?” asked Luffy. 

“That’s not important right now.” she scowled. “Yes, Sabo.” 

“Was that Whiteboard always there and we just never noticed it?” the blonde asked. 

“No. Ace if this is a question about the white board, I will smack you with the same gold club that flew through that window. All questions about the stupid whiteboard will be answered after I explained everything. Got it?” 

The three brothers grumbled out a, “Yes.”  

“Good. Anyways, to start it off I have two half-brothers. Meliodas and Zeldris.” she slapped a pointer stick against the whiteboard. 

“Did she always have that?” Ace asked, whispering it to his two brothers. 

“I don’t know. I’m just glad someone noticed it besides me.” Sabo murmured back. 

“SILENCE, YOU INSOLENCE FOOLS!” and she threw a frying pan which hit Ace in the head. 

Why does she have a frying pan in her requips? Sabo wondered in his head, not wanting to get hit in the head with anything else she might have to throw at them. 

“Anyways, Meliodas and Zeldris are my half-brothers. Zeldris is the captain of the Demon Clan’s ten Commandments while Meliodas is the captain of Liones’s Seven Deadly Sins of which I am co-captain and the Phoenix Sin of Darkness. To be fair, I look more like my mother and I think the only thing me, Meliodas, and Zeldris share is our dumbassery we inherited from our father. Second off, my cousin is Magi Aladdin since my mother is his father, Solomon,’s sister. Now, that’s enough of my actual biological family. Now, I won’t go into detail about those three. Because you already seem well-acquainted with one another. Anyways, onto the next one. The next one on my list of brothers is a half-demon named Rin who is the son of Satan along with his younger brother, Yukio, but he doesn’t really need protection. next is Kazuto Kirigaya also known as Kirito. I prefer to call him that. He got stuck in a game where if you die there, you die in real life, but he defeated them. next, we have Satan himself, a king of demons, Sadou Maou. He works as a part-timer for a fast food chain which is sad to be honest. Next, we have Alibaba Saluja, a prince and a king’s candidate, also my cousin’s best friend. He wields the fire djinn, Amon. Also, he’s trying to be a gladiator while figuring out his feelings for Fanalis and former slave Morgiana. Next, we have actual God Yato who is a former god of calamity and a current god of war. I think. I’m not quite sure. But he and his two regalia, Yukine and a Nora named Kazuma, but also Kazune under Yato, must be protected by me at all cost. Then, we have Edward Elric, a alchemist missing both a leg and an arm because he wanted to see his mom’s smile again which kicks me in the heartstrings whenever I hear it. His brother, Alphonse, is an honorary member of the Council of Brothers. And he used to be entirely a soul attached to a suit of armor. No joke.” 

“Does no one else notice that they are mostly raven haired or blonde?” Nico Robin commented. 

The Straw Hat Pirates turned to the three sworn brothers who just shrugged their shoulders at that. “I admit I am guilty for that. But my actual brothers are raven headed and blonde, so that may be the reason. Anyways, off to the next people. Now, this person could make Luffy look like a genius. Sometimes. Natsu Dragneel, a salmon haired fire dragon slayer, is the brother of Zeref Dragneel, the black wizard, and also simultaneously END, the most powerful demon of the book of zeref which makes him one of the top fifteen most powerful demons. Next, we have strawberry boi, Ichigo Kurosaki, a shinigami who I’ve been helping train. He could see the dead and then he discovered his spiritual power, stole the shinigami powers of Rukia Kuchiki, and started to exorcist hollows and send souls to the soul society. Then, we have my favorite band of brothers since they could literally be in a band. Broccoli Boi, Izuku Midoriya, kinda has a power augmentation quirk, best way to describe it without giving too much away, Porcupine Katsuki Bakugo who can blow things up with help from his sweat. Zuko Wannabe Shoto Todoroki who can wield fire and ice. Also, his brother Touya may or may not be Dabi. Then, Pikachu Kaminari Denki who can utilize elctricity, but too much and he makes Luffy look like a genius. No joke. Well… maybe… I don’t really know. Anyways, then we have speedster Tenya Iida. Oh, there’s sharkboy Eijiro Kirishima. He can make himself go as hard as rock, but he has limitations. Then, we have spidertape Hanta Sero that can shoot tape out of his elbows. Then, half-demon InuYAsha who is the son of a dog demon and a mortal woman. There’s also Shippo who is an adorable little kitsune. And I think I got everyone.” the girl looked at her board before smacking it again as she noticed Luffy had begun to doze off while Ace had totally fallen asleep. 

The action alerted the two boys to wake up at once and glare at their older sister. And then, a silver haired undead man with a flying blue cat landed on the floor of the ship. “Thank goodness we found you. C’mon. We got a mission and you and your ‘Team Natsu’ have a job request from the old man and a princess.” 

“So Hisui and Bartra both agree to have us do something, but what is this so-called mission?” asked [Y/N]. 

Ban smirked. “We’re fighting slave-trading pirates.” 

“I want in!” Luffy cheered.

[imreallyhereforportal]

Portal Secret Santa 2019

Hey @the-real-baberaham-lincoln!! Happy Holidays and a Happy New Year!! I really REALLY hope you like this lil’ Chelley one-shot. I took some “creative liberties,” apologies hehe. Merry Christmas, I’m so sorry I’m late. hugs and kisses x infinity

~~~~

Resonance

“Agh - no! Dammit, God...n-not that I’m not happy to see you! Of course I am! I just...thought you wouldn’t be back...until later.”

That certainly wasn’t a greeting Chell usually met on her way through the door. Typically Wheatley’s eyes would light up, inflating with delight and, sometimes, relief, as he lifted his gaze from whatever he’d been doing. And then the corners of his lips would follow in that dazzling, toothy grin, and he’d open his mouth with the cheeriest “Hullo!”. He’d watch her for a moment, like he had no intention of moving. And then he’d remember his legs and stand so that he could welcome her properly. Wheatley would envelop her in a short hug, or perhaps offer a kiss to her temple. Or he’d take what she held in her hands, ridding her of burdens. 

That was their routine. And, quite frankly, Chell missed it now, having been expectant of it, disgruntled and damp as she gripped her sopping purse. The files inside were doubtless ruined. She’d been angered by that earlier, but now her concern landed on her tall, lanky, clearly bothered partner standing in their kitchen twenty feet away.

Wheatley didn’t seem to have noticed her current state. He appeared preoccupied with an urge to bang his head against the wall. 

“I - ugh, well, cat’s out of the bag now, I s’pose,” he said gruffly. Wheatley gestured to the table in front of him with a wave of his arm. Chell’s confusion only increased as she noted the several glass cups poised in a line before him. There was absolutely nothing remarkable about them from where she stood. Chell stared at Wheatley for a second, waiting for him to elaborate, but he avoided her gaze, glaring at the glasses like they’d offended him. Huffing silently, Chell moved to take her coat off. 

“I mean, it’s not the end of the world. I was going to show you eventually anyhow, so it’ll do, but I’d meant for more time - OH!”

Chell spun around at his sudden outburst, coat in hand.

Wheatley gaped at her. He stuttered, stopped, then traversed the room in great, heavy strides, reaching with both hands. One of them was closed around something. “I - I didn’t notice…” He took her bag and placed it on the carpet beside them. When he turned back, he fiddled with the trinket he’d been holding before tossing it onto the couch behind him.

Chell watched as it reflected light from the ceiling lamp, but she didn’t see what is was.

Wheatley went to grab a hanger from the closet while she crouched to untie her squelching boots. She heard him try again, “I didn’t see you’d gotten rained on. Don’t know how, it’s quite obvious, actually, what with your hair dripping and that scowl on your face.”

She looked up at that. He was smiling at her lightly, over his shoulder. Chell narrowed her eyes in return, but he recognized her mutual teasing.

Wheatley disappeared once the coat hung in its usual spot. As she finished tugging off her boots, he rounded the corner back into view, equipped with a large bath towel. He approached her and began to wrap it around Chell but she stopped him with a raised hand. She wasn’t in the mood for a scrubbing, if that’s what he planned to do.

Eyeing him gratefully, Chell unfurled the towel herself. “It didn’t rain,” she stated plainly. Not while she’d been out. “Some car drove over a puddle.”

“Must’ve been quite the puddle,” Wheatley supplied. His smile faltered at the look she gave him. “And - and how dare it, right? Totally against social etiquette, to be such a big puddle on the side of the road. And how dare that driver! Should’ve known better, whoever they were, or at least been more careful. Anyway, besides that, how was your day?”

Chell shrugged. Nothing special, though she’d been let off early. She was still a bit drenched, droplets trailing down her face and back, but that was subject to change. Standing by the entryway of their home, warm and drying and Wheatley close by, it wasn’t all that bad. Though, she definitely needed to examine the contents of her bag.

It could wait. She was still perplexed by Wheatley’s initial welcome. “What were you doing?” she asked.

“I - me? Well, I, uh…” he looked at the ground imploringly, like it would aid him with the rest of his words. A few instances passed where Wheatley seemed to be making up his mind. Chell didn’t rush him. Ultimately, he met her gaze, determined. “Come see.”

He led her almost all the way back to the kitchen before stopping with a quiet “Oh!” and returning to the couch, grabbing whatever tool he’d thrown down earlier.

Chell took the opportunity to examine the table more closely. About a dozen glasses sat in a neat array, and they appeared to be filled with water. A metal spoon lay close by. As he approached, Chell understood that Wheatley had retrieved a second spoon, now held in a closed fist. He looked at her a bit nervously, chewing his lip and wringing his hands. Chell tried for an attentive but casual disposition, wringing out her hair with the towel.

He understood. “Right, so, I’ve been trying to, uh, learn something. Well, more like figure it out myself. ‘Cause, I sort of discovered, I guess you could say, that when you tap a spoon against one of these glasses-” he stopped to demonstrate, a chime coloring the air “-it lets out a note. Yeah, I thought that was curious, and - this is the interesting part - when you fill the glass with some water-” he tapped another glass, and another note sounded “-you get a different one.” As he shared, Wheatley’s voice danced with barely-suppressed excitement. He’d clearly forgotten about his nerves. “And so, I was thinking, ‘Why not keep doing that?’ Y’know, filling the glasses with different amounts of water, ‘cause that was definitely the critical factor in making the note change. So I did that, and...” He let his actions explain, tapping three glasses, a grin on his face.

Clink. Clink. Clink. Chell was no expert on music, but the pitches were obviously a sequence from some scale. Wheatley was right - it was interesting, and quite impressive, for Wheatley to have measured out the exact water amounts that produced the right notes. It didn’t escape her, though, that he must’ve been banging flatware on their glasses to have learned about the chiming noises.

Wheatley’s attention was still fixated on the arrangement in front of them. “And so I uh...well, I’ve been practicing. Something. And I’m not sure if it’s ready, to be honest, I wasn’t sure when I’d be showing you, but...” He smiled sheepishly. He glanced at the funnel in the towel where she’d been collecting hair and squeezing out water, then back to her. “Now might be as good of a time as any. Hopefully.”

Wordlessly, he grabbed the back of a chair and sat down. Wheatley acquired his other spoon from the table, one in each hand, and looked over his ensemble of glass cups. Chell took a couple steps back to give him space. From this trajectory, she could see how each glass had been filled to a different line. Wheatley watched her as she shifted, hunkered down and close to his instruments before she offered an emphasized nod. Of course, Chell figured what she was about to hear, and she felt more than a little intrigued to see its execution. A look of heavy concentration flooded Wheatley’s face. He brought a hand up, the spoon shaking slightly in his grasp, hesitated, and brought it against the glass’s side.

Chell recognized the tune with about four clinks. Greensleeves. Interesting choice. It was a beautiful piece, one Wheatley knew she enjoyed, delicate but cleverly rich, the kind of music that would prompt her to choose a spot on the wall and watch it unseeingly. It had some sort of calming effect that coaxed her out of thought. Not many things could manage it. Chell usually heard Greensleeves on piano, soft and deep. This rendition was not much the same.

This was sweet. Stirring and light with each bump of the glass. Chell gazed at Wheatley, the maestro, as he persuaded every note from his orchestra, slowly but surely. The water would shake upon playing its part, but Wheatley didn’t. After his initial tension, his face relaxed, and his hands worked easily. He must’ve practiced thoroughly to gain such confidence. Or maybe he was in his element with music.

Given the nature of the instrument, Chell had expected some of the notes to come out harsh, maybe even abrasive, or perhaps the tempo to slow further, but nothing of the sort happened. She allowed herself to embrace the sounds as she did when she heard the song on the radio. Subconsciously, Chell trusted she could give herself up to the music, and Wheatley wouldn’t falter.

He played thirty-two measures, the renowned beginning of the piece, before his final note rang, clear as the rest. Wheatley looked at her nervously as Chell woke from her voluntary trance, but she saw the relief brimming in his eyes. She knew why. He hadn’t known if he could do it, if he could carry her from reality into a state of peace, even as her hair dripped and the towel weighed down on her. He hadn’t known if his idea was even all that interesting, but he’d tried to make something special for Chell. His song choice proved that. 

It’d been short, but it’d definitely been memorable. A gift. 

Eventually, Wheatley spoke up. “So, what do you think? Did you like that?”

Chell responded by crossing to his side of the table, sitting across his lap, and wrapping the towel around both of them. Their own little peace, like the one he created for her. Every day. She smiled brightly and told him she loved it before sealing her words with a kiss.

[miomediator]

Dave as a Rogue of Space

Analysis and thoughts on Dave’s inverted classpect, the Rogue of Space. Along with an introspection surrounding multiple aspects.

Sprite assembled on FarragoFiction’s doll maker, then photoshopped by myself :] Yes, I saved it as a jpeg for authenticity.

Author’s note: I am a beginner at classpecting and putting my thoughts on paper, so to speak. So the following will be messy, self indulging, open to changes and additions.

When we think about classpecting, we mustn’t neglect someone’s relation between their True Calling and inverted classpect, as they are two sides of the same co1n.

Re-contextualization: Vulcan posted on Twitter an interesting message, which I replied to and it followed-up by a conversation:

« dave would have been a better space player and jade would have been a better time player »

I’ve found that this thought needed more attention and a deeper analysis, so I fuss in my head and look on the internet all the elements that would support it, along with how would dave work as a Space-bound person. Then this is when I remember that dave’s inverted classpect was a Rogue of Space.

I will focus especially on Dave in this theory, as several people already posted about Jade’s inverted classpect, a Seer of Time.

Let’s do quickly the classic way, taking a look at what Rogue and Space entail.

Rogue: The one that steals their aspect or through their aspect for the benefit of others. 

Space: creation, beginnings, visual arts, the setting, physical objects, matter, locations.

Dave’s always inclined to act in a passive and service-minded way. 

If the Knight echoes to the warrior/butler archetype, then the Rogue is linked to the outlaw/stealer archetype, both class sharing a sentiment to help others. 

The Rogue in a mischievous and illegal way, the Knight in a more lawful and noble way. Though if we are honest, that doesn’t make Dave a saint or Roxy a scoundrel. They both remain on the Chaotic Good alignment :)

Now, we have to look at what a Rogue of Space, in general, could do. I have listed a few abilities I found coherent.

Including:

Dave stealing apple juice bottles, more juice for him. Even though it’s not very passive of him, players are allowed to be active and passive, it’s natural and part of their dynamic.

Creating portals, allowing people to get from a point A, to a point B. He would literally steal space for the benefit of others.

Handing objects to their friends like if it was Christmas in here. It could be things linked to creation or creativity, like a drawing.

Taking matter from an object to give it to another one, making the latter bigger.

Stealing matter from the ground to create walls, shielding the team from an attack.

Switching places between two things or persons, could be very useful during battle, confusing the enemies and allowing the team members to gain ground.

Vulcan original idea came from the Extended Zodiac site. While he meant the actual signs that both Jade and Dave would have, I took a look at those who would fit them if they were originally Time-bound and Space-bound, Jade and Dave respectively.

Jade’s and Dave’s inverted signs

Now Dave came out as the Sign of the Builder, which is interesting to ponder on!

During the Sburb session, he was the server player of two of his friends, Rose and Jade. Using the flow of time at his advantage, he helped them during different sections of time. Which also means that he was building both of their houses, allowing another step closer to victory.

Additionally, according to a great analysis (I need to find the link, I can’t find it anymore) expending a player’s house in Sburb symbolizes expanding one’s mind.

It could implies that Dave along with the Beta teens, helped his friends being less homestuck, or « headstuck ». Which wasn’t the case at first for the Alpha teens, since they didn’t have the required amount of Grist to do so.

Vulcan:

« Dave spent the entirety of his session helping his team out, so I would also interpret "builder" as him building up his team for the session? »

Dave doesn’t see himself as « the strategist », relaying this role to Rose. In my opinion, he didn’t view it with the right angle. While I won’t see him as a leading player, I would say that he is more a « supportive strategist » if that make sense.

TT: But now I know for sure Dave isn't behind this plan. 

TT: It's too complicated. 

GA: I Dont Understand 

GA: Who Better To Coordinate Such Events Than The Knight Of Time

Quote from this page

If time is about progression, and more specifically the session’s progression in Sburb, then Space is about the setting and environment!

Yes, Dave is good at making things happening time-wise, but he greatly helped Space-wise!

He managed to make Rose enter in the Medium, to be physically there. While he was jumping throughout the timeline, he had to be in different places. At a certain point, while he was gathering money for Terezi, he was also with Jade collecting frogs. There is this notion of Space, by the simple fact of being in several places to help his friends, along with the concept of loneliness.

Dave, like the others, was isolated. His room is his sanctuary, no cameras, no Bro allowed. And while he used music to occupied himself and "kill time", he is tied to visual art as well. His comics and photography.  Photography:

Dave hanged his ironic photos near his window. His closet was used as a Dark Room. We can see his bonds with his other family members, Rose with the light (photo, window), and Roxy with the concept of secrecy and darkness. Which can also be interpreted by Rose's own inversion (photo revealed in the dark, then exposed to the light where everyone can see it) but that’s a story for another time. A selphie is also a physical representation and conservation of the Self. It’s one of the elements that was born from Dave’s narcissism. It’s interesting to note that taking an analog photo captures a moment in time, to end up stuck as a physical flat object ;)

Comics, shittiness and reality:

Back to his art, it can be seen as attached to two aspects: Space for the creation and creativity, and Heart for the sense of representation of Self (Bro and their tensed relationship subconsciously externalized). 

We'll focus on the former. Dave's has an interesting way to narrate his stories. It's random, unpredictable, messy, crude and very genuine. We saw Jade and Calliope drawing. Jade draw well, without been too invested in her art skills. Calliope is very talented and has a nak for storytelling. It's about the setting. If we were to create a pyramid made of characters invested in art setting, dave would easily appear at the bottom. He said himself that "art skills are overrated" and strive to draw as shittidly as possible. It's his brand! Quite literally in the Alpha universe.

Both Space and time are the most important aspects, because they shape reality itself. 

Through the mean of the Alchemiter, Dave picked two objects (Space), catchalogued them, which turned into datas (Light), become ideas (Hope) then make them into another brand new physical object (Space). It’s a circle of creation, that go through other aspects! With the SORD….. it’s curious to see that, by it’s very own nature of shittiness, Dave has a hard time holding it. The weapon is present in the realm, yet not quite tangible. A paradoxal realness brought to existence. A little bit later, he created the SBAHJIFIER. Not only it finally combined two of his beloved hobbies, photography and shitty comics, it allows him to shape and create things with his own personal self and vision of the world as well.

He modifies the object, changes its realness to fit his own desires. Does he work as a Witch of Space at this moment? Or maybe robbing the first appearance and realness of the object, recycling into something else. Wouldn’t that fit the role of a Rogue of Space in some way?

A young Space-bound lady look with disgust at the real shittiness of a SBAHjified Statue of Liberty, created long ago by director!dave in the Alpha universe.

If Dave, as a Rogue of Space, could reach his potential in a Sburb session, he would have a great power over shifting reality. The sord….. as a handy healing item, turning enemies weapons into a shitty near non-tangible objects, taking photos of cumbersome and/or heavy objects, to be able to alchemize them later. Let’s not forget all the juice he could get ^^ rogue!dave is a fearsome opponent, you better not cross his path if you want to stay alive and in high-resolution. This is it for my analysis! What did you think? Leave your thoughts in the notes of this post! A huge thanks to Vulcan, who without him this post wouldn’t be existing :) Until then, appreciate the shittiness, it’s as valid as any other art quality.

[dugdale100]

Sam Smith: Love Goes Live at Abbey Road Studios was a global livestream broadcast on the day of Sam Smith’s new Album release.

Director Paul Dugdale writes: We took a few creative liberties for Sam's livestream, making it a fusion of performance and documentary, to appear more like a bespoke live-streamed film rather than straight up, live to air gig. At this point, Sam had spoken relatively little about the album and its genesis, and because it was the first time many of the tracks were being performed live since Sam had recorded them, we liked the added depth and supporting context this part documentary format offered the new songs. Black and white verité footage was intended to be a conscious step out of the Abbey Road hub, and also a juxtaposing approach in terms of coverage, with the rehearsal footage fully embracing a documentary style, off the shoulder approach, to contrast with the relative elegance pursued for the main capture in Abbey Road studio 2. Myself and Sam’s creative director Lee Lodge discussed the merits of filming in Abbey Road studio 2 and had a mutual desire to preserve the character of the 4 walls and embrace the environment as a character in the performance. Huse Monfaradi’s spot for Paolo Nutini track Iron Sky (also filmed in Abbey Road Studio 2 2014) is amongst my favourite ever live captures, and I loved the rawness that Huse brought to it by not hiding Paulo's performance behind any over elaborate lighting production or depth of field so tiny you could quite literally be anywhere. It was just the perfect ‘undistracting' canvas for an extraordinary solo performance, all the while being set in the hallowed walls of legend and history giving the authenticity of the performance even more credence. I loved that. Like Paulo, Sam is a jaw dropping performer so we just wanted to create an environment where Sam could do what they do best, and us not get in the way of the raw emotion that comes with that. Our film is book ended with 2 theatrical lighting moments where we essentially take the room away so that all of the focus is on Sam and their voice lit by a single back light. Beyond that, for the other 11 tracks, the identity of the room was vital for us and I wanted to pursue an aesthetic which felt more like we were privately peering in on Sam and the band rehearsing in the iconic room rather than a consciously designed 'global livestream'. Besides the start and end, one early decision was to not have any lighting in shot, BUT still have the ability to see the whole room on big geographical wide shots to get maximum character of the space. Lighting designer Tim Routledge who put together Sams pervious tour was key in executing this challenging brief. Having found a solution to make the room look… well… normal, we then wanted to introduce several punctuation points where we would fuck with the space a little bit, but crucially- without hiding it. These came in the form of these moments of synesthesia where for 5 of the tracks we bathed the room in a deep colour, to remove the reality of the moment while never removing any of the character of the room. It's the same space but seen through a different filter, though all accent colours are from in the room lighting. I heard an amazing quote from Damien Hirst once where he said you could walk down the same road for 20 years with very little changing but one day a huge tree might have fallen across the road. It's still the same road, the tree was always there, but because you're seeing it slightly differently, in that moment the environment feels completely different. I guess this was our attempt at that. The colour accents gave us an opportunity to punctuate the piece as a whole, breaking up the normality of the aesthetic while never stepping on the authenticity of Sam’s performance or compromising it still looking 'very Abbey Road’. Seeing relationships between the players and Sam, and often letting long camera moves play out in the edit hopefully leant into this idea of realism and capturing a moment. Sam’s character and incredible performance sits front and centre of the piece, and we were conscious to keep moments between songs quite loose to allow Sam’s unguarded and unfiltered personality and passion to be seen by all. Sometimes the rough edges can be some of the most valuable bits. Producer Simon Fisher pulled off one of the most lavish video village locations of all time housed in Abbey Road Studio 1, so for a short while during Sam’s performance, we could all imagine we were rock stars too.

[fialleril]

Snippet anon: tysm! I'm good with pretty much any verse, but I do have a bit of a preference for something angry and cathartic, although I'd be happy with anything really.

Well it just so happens that angry and (hopefully) cathartic is my specialty, so!

This is a snippet of Anabasis that’s pretty far along in the story (the bit I’m currently working on, actually), and it’s not in final form so some things may change when I (finally) post the full fic. But hopefully you will still enjoy it.

If anybody is for some reason scrupulously avoiding spoilers, probably don’t read this one?

The bit where Anakin interrupts a meeting of Senators concerning the “Outer Rim Development” bill in a...rather creative way.

Warnings for discussion of slavery, implied abuse, serious injury, scarring, and limb loss.

Orn Free Taa and his entourage arrived half an hour early,but Obi-Wan and Yan were there to meet them. Padmé saw the scowl the Twi’leksenator tried to hide and wondered. Had he been hoping to find her alone? Andif so, why? Or did he think that their presence meant she had the support ofthe Jedi in her cause?

Did she have thesupport of the Jedi? That was a startling and uncomfortable question to have,particularly so close to a vote. The Order had no legislative voice in theSenate, of course, but as the Senate-Jedi liaison, Yan would be given theopportunity to speak on any proposed bill. And there were still enough senatorswho remembered the days of the old Republic, and for whom the Jedi would stillspeak with the voice of moral authority.

But Padmé and her supporters, the majority of themwell-known as leaders of the Rebellion, had a moral authority of their own. Andthis was, ultimately, a moral issue. She just had to make the full Senate seethat.

Taa had brought nine other senators with him, none of whomPadmé could say were unexpected. He’d probably expected her own choices, too.This was an act for the sake of appearances. There would be few surprises here.For just a moment, Padmé allowed herself to resent the necessity of a meetingin which everyone already knew the foregone conclusion.

But her annoyance was pushed aside as the last of Taa’scontingent filed in followed by Taa himself, and with him two of his aides:young Twi’lek women, demure and silent, goosebumps standing out on theirexposed skin. They followed in Taa’s wake and made eye contact with no one.

Padmé’s stomach twisted. He’sa slaver, the memory of Anakin snarled in her mind.

But Anakin himself wasn’t there. He’d packed away all of histools after their…discussion, and the last she’d seen him, he’d been headed tothe shower. But that was almost an hour ago now.

She caught Sabé’s eye and nodded minutely. The handmaidenslipped soundlessly out of the room, noticed only by the Jedi, whose expressionsremained perfectly neutral, and Padmé returned her attention to welcoming herguests.

Bana, Fang, Yarua, and Giddean all arrived together, in ashow of strength that certainly didn’t go unnoticed by Taa and his cronies.Riyo Chuchi came ten minutes later, uncertainty all too obvious in herexpression. But she was there, which counted for something. Padmé hadn’t beencertain she wouldn’t back out at the last minute. Pantora had held interests inthe Outer Rim in the past.

Mon Mothma was the last to arrive. She was in mid conversationwith an audio-only comlink as she stepped off the lift. Her hair and her simplewhite robes were pristine as always, but she still gave the impression ofsomeone with far too much to do and not nearly enough time in which to do it.

“Yes of course, Chancellor,” she said, quietly but not soquietly that it could be missed by anyone else in the now silent room. “I willsee to it momentarily. Yes. Yes, Senator Amidala’s meeting. Not more than twohours, I think. Yes, that’s right.” She slipped the comlink into a pocket andnodded briskly at the assembled senators. “I’m terribly sorry to have kept youall. I hope you haven’t been waiting long?”

“Not at all, Senator Mothma,” said Orn Free Taa. He soundedperfectly cordial, but he looked as though he’d swallowed something rancid.

Padmé caught Fang’s eye and saw that he, too, was trying notto laugh. Mon’s entrance had been masterful.

And now it was simply a matter of getting everyone settledcomfortably, exchanging all the necessary pleasantries, and seeing that herguests were provided with refreshments.

That was when things got…complicated.

“Can I get you anything?” Dormé asked the two Twi’lek aides(whose names, Padmé now realized, she didn’t know; Taa had never bothered tomention them).

The women glanced at each other nervously, darted their eyesin Senator Taa’s direction, and then looked at the floor.  They said nothing.

“Perhaps a glass of water? Or a cup of Naboo floral tea?”Dormé pressed.

“Please, don’t trouble yourself,” Senator Taa said, waving acareless hand. “Just you hurry with the other drinks, and then we can begin.”

Padmé bristled. Who was he, to order Dormé about as thoughshe were a servant and not an experienced political attaché in her own right? Totreat his own aides like –

Dormé caught her eye and shook her head sharply. Padmé bither tongue. She wondered where Anakin was. He would not have stayed silent.

But Dormé knew well how to speak without words. She slippedsilently out of the room and returned a few moments later with Sabé and Artoobearing a tray of drinks. Sabé met Padmé’s eyes and nodded once, then turnedback to the guests with a polite smile that could only mean trouble. She andArtoo began passing out the drinks, but Dormé took two steaming mugs of floraltea from the tray and approached Orn Free Taa’s aides. She didn’t once look atthe Twi’lek senator.

“I took the liberty of making some floral tea,” she told thetwo women with a smile. “It’s a specialty of Naboo, offered to guests.”

Padmé was watching the two intently, and she saw the exactmoment when one of them reached a decision. Her eyes sparked and she lookedDormé in the face as she reached forward to take the cup. “Thank you,” shesaid. Her voice was soft but there was durasteel beneath it.

Padmé should have called the meeting to order. She shouldn’thave allowed Taa or anyone else a chance to react to Dormé’s hospitality. But shewas too stunned by what she’d seen. The look on the Twi’lek woman’s face wasintimately familiar to her.

It was the way Anakin had looked, just before he turned hislightsaber on his master.

“Senator Amidala,” Taa snapped. “If you’re quite finishedwasting our time, perhaps we can discuss the matter we’ve come here todiscuss.”

Her mind still occupied by the defiance in the woman’s face,Padmé answered, “I think we already are.”

An explosive silence followed.

“I beg your pardon,” Senator Taa said, low and dangerous.Ask Aak and most of his other supporters were openly glaring at her.

Padmé felt a hot, sharp spike of fury low in her gut. It wasn’ta new feeling, but something ferocious in her that had been burning since that worldshattering moment in the Emperor’s throne room. It was frozen in her memory, anunspeakable place of terror, desperation, and sudden clarity, where politicsand appearance were meaningless and the acknowledgement of humanity became aweapon.

And Orn Free Taa was no Palpatine. Padmé remembered Anakinand his talk of surviving the storm, and thought she understood it more fully now.After such a fierce storm, what was a little wind?

She wasn’t afraid. There was nothing Taa could threaten herwith. There might be political fallout, but she could deal with that. Therewould certainly be consequences to her senatorial relationship with Taa and hisallies, and they might be far-reaching. But she could face all of that. Shecould fight it.

Perhaps some of Anakin’s uncompromising anger had taken rootin her. Certainly what she was about to do was far from a proper, measuredpolitical response.

Padmé couldn’t stop herself from smiling as she held OrnFree Taa’s gaze steadily. It was strangely liberating.

“I believe you understand me perfectly, Senator,” she said.“We’ve gathered here to discuss the existence of slavery within this Republic.Both in the Outer Rim Territories, and here in the Core as well.”

Even Mon Mothma was staring at her in surprise. Riyo Chuchi lookedalmost frightened. But Padmé was untouchable now.

Taa drew himself up in sneering affront. “The Republiccannot be held responsible for the activities of gangsters in the Territories,”he snapped. “And your allegations – ”

“Are perfectly accurate. As you know very well, Senator Taa.”

Padmé looked up sharply. Anakin was standing in the doorway.Someone – she thought it might be Senator Chuchi – gasped audibly, but shedidn’t turn to check. She couldn’t look away from Anakin. No one could. He stoodthere like a black hole in space, their eyes inescapably drawn to him.

He must really have come from the shower. His hair was stilldamp and curling at the ends, softening his face. And he wasn’t wearing ashirt.

The diffuse light of Coruscant midday filled the room, andin it Anakin’s scars stood out with livid violence. They crisscrossed his arms,shoulders, and upper torso, ending abruptly in a discolored, unnaturally smoothstretch of skin covering most of his stomach where the bomb wasn’t. The controlpanel set into his chest neatly bisected a long red burn scar. Light glinted offof the durasteel of his left arm and the warmer metal of the panel.

Padmé was uncomfortably aware of the fact that she knewexactly what each of those controls did. That she knew the code that wouldallow her to adjust his life support – or to shut it all down.

“I’m very sorry to interrupt, Senators,” Anakin was saying.That was an obvious falsehood in spite of his almost perfectly sincereexpression, but it hardly mattered. Padmé didn’t think anyone was reallylistening. His mere presence spoke loudly enough.

“But I thought, perhaps, that your conversation mightbenefit from an Outer Rim perspective,” he continued. “And as Tatooine has norepresentation in the Senate…”

That was true, Padmé realized with a start. Shame followedquickly: this was a truth she’d never given any real thought to before. And shedoubted her fellow senators were giving it any consideration now. Not withAnakin standing there, dressed in his scars and seemingly the only comfortableperson in the room.

Dooku broke the heavy silence with a soft chuckle. “I dobelieve you’re underdressed for a meeting, Anakin,” he said. The nervouslaughter of several others followed.

Anakin blinked, making a show of looking down at himself insurprise and then embarrassment. He even flushed slightly, something Padmé hadnever seen him do before.

“I’m so sorry,” he said, shooting them all an abashed smile.Padmé bit her lip to hold back a laugh. Not a politician, indeed.

“I’ll just, uh,” Anakin said with exactly the right touch ofawkwardness. And he turned to leave.

This time there were several gasps. Even Padmé sucked in abreath. She’d seen the scars on his back before, but never in the unforgiving lightof day.

Anakin walked out of the room with his head held high,shoulders squared. He didn’t wait to be sure they were watching. He knew he hada captive audience, and he made his exit look perfectly natural, evenunthinking. It was all the more effective for that.

Padmé wished she could see his face. In part because, nomatter how she tried to deny it, the scars on his back still left her deeplyunsettled. But mostly because she was almost certain he was laughingsoundlessly to himself, and she wanted to share the joke.

But the moment Anakin was gone Orn Free Taa stood in a huff.“It’s clear to me that this meeting was not planned in good faith,” he sneered.“I will not stay here and be insulted. Good day, Senators.”

“That’s a great shame,” Mon Mothma said gravely. “I’m sureAnakin didn’t mean any offense. He’s still recovering, no doubt.” Even Mon, whohad mastered the art of appearance, still looked deeply unsettled, and shedidn’t quite manage to hide a grimace. Anakin’s message hadn’t only been intendedfor Taa, after all.

“That’s hardly any excuse,” Taa sneered.

“I understand your dismay, Senator Taa,” Padmé said, shapingher own fury into an overly sweet smile. “But surely the issues your billaddresses are important enough to warrant discussion, and we can hardly holdthat without you. I’m sure we would all like to see a Republic that upholds thefreedom of all people as a central value. Don’t you agree?”

She’d all but said he didn’t earlier, and no one in the roomwas likely to have forgotten it, least of all Taa himself. That would onlyserve to make his position more untenable.

“No doubt,” Taa said sourly. His gaze shifted briefly to Monbefore turning once again on Padmé. “But we will find no solutions here, whenyou are so clearly uninterested in engaging in an honest dialogue, SenatorAmidala.”

Padmé bristled. He’d written a bill titled “Economic andSocial Development of the Outer Rim Territories” as a pretext for the continuedtacit acceptance of slavery, and he was accusing her of being unwilling to engage in dialogue?

But, perhaps fortunately, Senator Yarua who spoke before shecould. His interpreter, a small, chromed droid hovering on repulsors, translated.“My people know only too well the pain of slavery. I will not disguise thatfact, and I will not condone any ‘dialogue’ that considers the issue in any wayopen to debate. But I would like to believe that we are all gathered here witha similar purpose. And I would hope that you share that view, Senator Taa.”

Taa’s eyes flashed to his gaggle of supporters. Ask Aaklooked ready to leave himself, but the others seemed more uncertain, and IsterPadie looked openly nervous. Padmé could easily see why. Yarua’s words had definitivelybacked his contingent into a difficult political corner. And with the Jedithere observing, silently withholding any input in a pointed display ofimpartiality, a false move on Taa’s part had the potential for much greaterconsequences.

Of course Anakin chose that moment to return. He had an excellentsense of dramatic timing, she’d give him that.

“Oh, Senator Taa, are you leaving?” he asked from thedoorway. “I do hope I didn’t scare you off. I was so looking forward to talkingwith you again.”

Everyone else turned once more to stare at Anakin, but Padmékept her eyes on Taa. He had a decent sabacc face, but it always took a momentto settle, and in that brief, unguarded period his expression was anunencrypted data stream.

She saw disgust, fury, and a distinctly hunted look. He wastrapped now and he knew it. There would be no way to leave with any dignityafter a statement like that.

“Of course not, Lord Vader,” Taa said with a barelydisguised sneer.

Now Padmé did look at Anakin. He’d dressed once more all inblack (and for the first time she wondered if he actually owned clothes in anyother color) and, strangely, he made absolutely no effort to hide his flinch atthe name.

“I’m sorry, Senator,” he said, stepping fully into the room.“I don’t believe we’ve been formally introduced. I’m Anakin Skywalker.” And heoffered his left hand in the traditional Twi’lek form of greeting.

There was a subtle stir of surprise from Orn Free Taa’s twoaides, something Padmé, who was intimately familiar with the small gestures ofher own handmaidens, noticed immediately. The women’s eyes were fixed onAnakin’s extended hand. Padmé followed their gaze and saw something new there:a symbol carved into the metal, a circle broken into seven pieces. The markswere too deep and too deliberate to have been accidental scratches, and thoughthe design meant nothing to Padmé, it was clearly something the Twi’lek womenrecognized.

Grudgingly, Taa accepted Anakin’s hand. Whatever his aideshad seen in the sign carved there, it was apparently lost on him.

Anakin flashed his unnerving society smile again, releasedTaa’s hand, and stepped back to stand beside Padmé’s chair.

Padmé frowned. There was something wrong about that: Anakinlooming silently beside her, the only person in the room without a seat. She’dseen that same tableau played out far too often with another politician fromNaboo.

“Sit down, Anakin,” she said, moving closer to Bana andpatting the newly open space beside her on the sofa.

Anakin turned to look at her with surprise that was all tooobvious. Padmé offered her best attempt at a reassuring smile and patted theseat again. He hesitated a moment longer, then sat gingerly beside her,straight backed and stiff limbed. In other circumstances, she might havelaughed: she’d rarely seen him look so painfully awkward.

“Now that we’re all settled, I hope we can have a productivemeeting.” Fang’s words might have sounded biting, but he said them socheerfully that no one, not even Orn Free, found it prudent to object. “This billrepresents a matter of particular import to the people of Sern Prime, as we liealong many of the Outer Rim trading routes. I think we are all familiar withthe policies of the Empire with regard to the, ah, use of sentient resources.”All eyes turned to Anakin, and he met them with a blank face and a raisedeyebrow. Fang allowed the pointed pause to drag on just past the edge ofcomfort before continuing. “And I am concerned, Senator Taa, at the similarityof some of the language in your proposal.”

“I am as well,” said Mon. “Perhaps you could explain yourintent?”

Orn Free Taa huffed and blustered a bit before launchinginto a canned policy speech that was both generic and littered with statementsthat took a strikingly creative approach to the truth.

Anakin let him get all the way through it before saying,“Yes, my Master used to say something very similar. Prosperity requires order,and that requires a strong hand. People given too much freedom and control oftheir own lives will inevitably fall into decadence and lawlessness. As theRepublic did.”

He said it with all the earnest surety of the man she’dfirst met over a year ago, the man who took his Master’s word as absolute truthand offered those words up by rote to any question she’d asked. She hadn’theard him speak that way in months now. There was an unthinking subservience inhis tone that made her wish Palpatine were still alive, if only so she couldempty another blaster cartridge into his face. Even that might not be enough.

“And I suppose a willingness to accept a certain amount ofcollateral damage is a requirement for a stable society?” Padmé bit out. She’dmeant it to be dry and mocking, but the words emerged soaked in a bitter fury.“In the name of furthering prosperity, of course.”

Even Anakin looked startled by her vehemence. But he kepthis voice light and gave her just a hint of a smile as he replied, “Of course.”

[sarahjart]

UNIT SIX// PROJECT- COMPETITION TIME- EXPERIMENTING WITH FORMAT

After the Hato briefing, the next step was to experiment with different folding techniques with an A3 piece of paper in order to see which would be the most interesting to use for my zine. I started off by taking lots of paper and folding them into various shapes, including the classic zine duck fold, concertina style zig-zags and some more unconventional shapes. Next, I looked at the formats I had made and the  sketchbook work I had done for the primer and tried to combine them into a ‘theme’ best fitting for both the format as well as the drawings I had made. I focused on the idea that had been presented in the brief: making something I found interesting to draw, interesting for other people to consume as a publication.

 1. Unconventional Triangle Fold

I made this triangle shape purely by playing about with the paper, meaning that there are a lot of strange small folds which would make choosing this format difficult due to it making my life harder! Looking at the shape of the format, I decided that it could be a sandwich- because it is sandwich shaped- and inside have all of my drawings of people eating at cafes and McDonalds that I made during the first half of the primer task. Therefore I made this design’s theme ‘Places to Eat’ 

Below is an example of some of my primer task drawings placed onto the format. If I had gone forward with this design I would have altered the drawings to better fit the triangle shape. 

I didn’t decide to go with this design because, as I have already said, the format is difficult to replicate and wastes a lot of the space because of the way it is folded awkwardly. I also find the theme and my drawings for this theme to be quite boring to look at. There is no suggestion of any wider meaning or anything else to take away for the audience from this publication. This was the first to go. 

2. Simple A3 fold in half twice to create two page booklet 

This is the simplest fold I made out of all the mock-ups. It also has the broadest theme- people in places. This would allow me to put all of my different drawings  from the primer into one booklet. However I thought that again like the triangle fold theme, this wasn’t very interesting for the prospective audience- its just images of people with no real meaning or further interest. The simple format limited the amount of drawings I could put on it. I felt limited by this one and therefore took it no further. 

3. Classic Zine duck fold

This one was made by using the traditional zine duck fold- the one where you cut a slit in the middle and push it into a multi-page booklet shape. This is the only one to properly resemble a booklet format. The booklet form made me think harder about the cover and theme. During my sketches for the primer task I drew on location- while doing this I was overwhelmed by the feeling of being alone in a crowd, feeling lonely and yet surrounded by people. I decided that this theme worked well with the drawings I had made, and integrated them into the booklet in the form of a crowd of heads. 

I planned to use the risograph limited colour palette to my advantage in this case- colouring a single head to single it out from the crowd to represent the sentiment behind this theme. I liked this mock-up very much, and was very inspired by the theme I had come up with. I didn’t end up going with this format because as I brought this idea forward, I had better ideas. I do think that this concept would have worked well however.

4. Concertina Style

During the primer I had made some drawings of people on the train during my commute. Looking at the concertina format, I was very inspired by the idea of using the parallel tube seating arrangement- where the people are sat in rows- and applying it to the long format of the concertina. They fitted really well! 

I also wasn't to apply the ‘alone in a crowd’ theme to this one since I also often feel that on the train. I was very excited about this format- and decided to develop it further. 

5. Concertina Train!! 

Looking at my previous mock-up, I was hit by the inspiration to take the concertina format and turn it itself into a train! This would mean I could display it stood up and stretched out accordion style and it would give the illusion of being a train. I loved this idea- and quickly decided to run with it. 

The cover of the zine would be the front of the train- with the destination screen displaying the name of the publication. I put ‘Alone in a Crowd’ as a place holder. I had a problem with the shape of the format vs the shape of the train- I needed to do tube style seating- however the front of a tube train is more of a rounded cube, not a rectangle. Therefore I had to take some creative liberties and take the outside of the train from the aesthetics of national rail c2c trains, and still use the tube style seating inside. I don’t think it impacts on the look of the piece at all. The outside of the concertina would be the outside of the train- with people’s heads visible through the windows (below). 

It would then open up to the inside, which would be people sat inside the train! I like the idea that when you unfold it, all the people appear on their own separate folded rectangles- alone. Then when the zine is folded into its train shape, these people are pressed together inside- in a crowd. This would represent my theme in a subtle way. 

The next step was to refine this mock into something that better represented would the real thing would look like. 

[swamiamarjyoti73-blog]

Swami Amar Jyoti

It's an strong and inspiring application, paticipants validate. Hence, it supplies the people a better comprehension of what activities are likely to be held on a specific day. This visualization practice let me get to my present-day state.

Today Sant Nirankari Mission is really a famed organization. Kriya Yoga is associate degree integration of particulars of this myriad diverse systems of yoga training found all through Earth. SPECIAL NEEDS Assistance will be furnished.

A couple of months before his graduation he left school to find the rest of his education from the entire world. These letters were the supply of guidance for his disciples who didn't have the chance to satisfy their Master. It's given a high amount of authority.

The Downside Risk of Satsangs

View, also international yoga festival of India celebrates girls devoting two or three days solely for ladies' ability. And that is precisely why among those essentials of AA is you must turn to over come the custom of drinking. Glorifying the significance of SatsangGunatitanand swami asserts that we should seek out such Satsang if we must eat the loaf.

It is half. Mooji remained with Papaji. You must go back to your chair if you're not selected.

He instructed me to comply with a remedy. Dharmas are also defined by them, although they use the saying rita for the notion. So, reside in accord to every life brings to us and the type of non violence isn't to despise any sort of lifetime.

You're new to yoga or if that is the trip to this ashram, we recommend our Sivananda Core Courses, which give you an ideal mixture of education and moment that is free. In addition, we ask you to share within the Sivananda Yoga Classes offered by the ashram. No matter the allure of Yoga span much past the physical.

A fantastic Master is a person who educates the wisdom the ideal Knowledge and love of God. The guidelines of the Buddha are as easy as this, When you're walking, understand which you're walking. It's that you some times might arrive at its right essence or may recognise.

I will need to embrace Nothingness. Words aren't add up to have. There exists a Silence that impersonal.

The technique is self-inquiry. It's not simple to keep up that creative flow, in the occasion that you can accomplish it will end up incessant prayer, deep meditation, through every vicissitude, maybe not as you sit in meditation but while you dwell, while you talk, as you eat. If your goal isn't only to expand your consciousness but in addition to improve the awareness of earth your meditation practice may be type of Seva.

The illusion of one's life makes you feel you're essential, and that you are some one. What's yearning for expression I'm not sure, however there is undoubtedly a impulse and my heart pour on to the picture. There are attempts to seek unity that are useless because the seeker that is distinct appears to be the most dualism from which it's trying to escape out.

Everybody is riddled around. There's nothing it's naturally gift. You are unable to become such a thing.

Thus the sweetness within this religion is there is certainly an end to your own suffering away. The majority of people today fear since they don't wish to proceed hurt, mingling. You're not letting go it isn't happening.

Top Choices of Satsangs

From that point I began to loose my perceptions in a manner that I would become confused to decide on a item. The absolute best thing we all may do, it's to boost our awareness as to comprehend the intention of individuals also to take a position. You'll understand that the world that is full is loads of contaminants.

We now need to trust we can detect free. Despite the very fact that you will find your self with a brand new new human body every moment a great deal of the defenses are recreated through thought. The motivation behind the job.

In the West there exists a cultural overlay which is frequently utilized to learn someone. Mind's liberty has to result from the usage of understanding. So there's a lively transmission that's if one really is vulnerable to an energetic change afterward at satsang available.

The world offers one of the part of the full time affecting all types of thoughts. You experience so they experience that you're part of these plus others are part of you when you cause the truth of others. The dominant societal groups additionally provide hijacked the democratic path of action.

The War Against Satsangs

Each path is totally unique, divine and ideal to every person. It nude of shape. The preceding opinion from the book as an example, was produced in conditions that were wonderful.

She'd like to go on to a city and begin some thing of her own. With the very first, I wished to go more mysterious instead of the military stuffhence the look of the muse guiding the player. Technique is a method of coming to a statement.

Nobody gets anywhere with this with a professional in the event you meditate 30 decades. Stay inside this imageless seeing. To learn more, see om-hcc.

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The Upside to Satsangs

Fiber may be the plant which can't be digested or absorbed in the body's section. It will become part of you. He provides material which has not been published anywhere else before.

As within this form you may possibly have begun to understand the formless, this could be the opportunity of having the individual form. It might happen that you just come to listen to an excessively large selection of wisdom and tips . It looks in many forms to fulfill the time.

OK, I took just only a newspaper. You require Audacity applications and a cassette deck that you're in a position to get at no charge. Not only will this not address their problems but it is going to be a waste of time for people.

The world has you that the remaining part of their full time influencing all types nonsense of thoughts. You don't exist. Please arrive, so that the others aren't disturbed.

The Satsangs Stories

Swami Tattvavidananda can be a pandita in both a contemporary and classical feel. Nevertheless, it shouldn't be put to use since an Mantra. I'd say I could whole heartedly indicate Swami Atmananda Udasin to anyone who's truly thinking about getting up to sum up this.

Darshan is a sort of worship. It's very similar to space. It is perhaps not.

One who doesn't believe in God's existence, or more broadly speaking, a person who isn't religiously inclined. Fear not, you won't sink. There's a Silence that impersonal.

The third technique is self-inquiry. There are quite a lot of ways and ashrams of meditation and meditation to select from. Itself doesn't awaken now.

His way isn't to espouse a certain creed except to impart a spiritual lifestyle. In the event that you possess Him, you're the man on the planet! The quest appears impossible given it's abandoned.

Consistency is among the best virtues. Feeling like you will need nothing. The facts isn't a matter of work or belief.

I haven't ever asked other people about her or his life. Most people now fear relapse because they do not wish to move hurt. They fear since they dont want to get hurt mingling.

The Hidden Treasure of Satsangs

Since I had been mindful of this 14, there was a sudden effect of recognition. You are not planning to learn happiness, if you seek approval from others within this entire world. It is possible to re-gain the ability to see by recognizing that you aren't the thinker.

Reserve the package trips to learn more if you're intending to spend your holidays this calendar year . Proceed to the circles locally, head to events and gatherings at which you believe you'll locate the form of friends you wish. For the main one of the best places is Savandurga.

It looks Colorado if you ask me. The Personal Fitness Training arena is growing really overwhelming and so confusing that most of men and women wind up doing the specific same exercise regimen over and over again given that they just do not understand what things to accomplish to find the physical activity solution which is ideal. Meeting with other folks seeking life's greatest Truth is now called Satsang.

New Step by Step Roadmap for Satsangs

Form Ayurveda treatment, including massages, herbs, oils and the diets, we additionally pay attention to meditation and Yoga. And this is among AA's essentials is that one must turn into a Greater Power for its strength to over come the practice of drinking. Yoga is different postures or breathing techniques, it's really a lifestyle.

Some developed a lot of other medical issues or allergy problems. The aim of the Ego Defence Mechanisms is always to safeguard the ego from stress or to deliver a refuge out of Opening the Heart the situation it cannot currently cope with. Really a religious person needs to be forbearing, and humble.

He taught me to comply with an alternative. As jiva or being it is known In this condition. Many folks experienced this opening that was divine throughout the usage of hallucinogens.

It was not a void although it is likely to call it the void. We all proceed to someone who's an authority relating to it when we'd like to learn the piano, and French. It contains two activities.

There isn't any actual issue of mind a Saint can not solve. There https://en.search.wordpress.com/?src=organic&q=benefits of satsang are many opinions on this blog linked to taking care of H4 visa and different alternatives. Anything you want or might ever need will be in precisely the appropriate place at the moment.

You believe that you're looking for Guru in actuality Guru will be usually the one on the lookout for you and finding you personally. There will not be considered a translation within this section.

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The Debate Over Satsangs

The challenge is basically really because we're on the lookout for it. Most logical choice is to encounter work via H4 EAD. An region of the endeavor is to be aware of the suitable conduct.

This tendency could create the sort of environments that are hothouse that can acquire prone to abuses. If you've got an energy field around which will make an reality that is unbalanced. Make an effort to walk around as much as possible and obtain an notion of their values.

We are specialized in giving folks who've been touched through Satsang using Mooji in is essential support. Try to keep in mind this all of the moment, what satsang actually is. Into the point for each operation everyone brings their A game' within this cast.

Women and Many men believe being kind and sweet is a symptom of enlightenment. There's no great basis for one to be here and to be alive. The time being struggle allows you to believe you're great, which isn't mandatory, that isn't correct.

Seva chances are limitless Once you involved with the planet. None the less, the yoga pros are always there to assist you. This is for the advantage of the disciples that don't have the opportunity.

Not that you're not honest however there are distinct aspects along withit. Enclaves of Appalachian civilization could be found in a couple of these communities. There are a whole lot of great schools in Rishikesh, but while the clinic grows very popular, there are, in addition, lots of apps which are interested in Westerners' money.

All of this will be to earn money. There's no certification for this . It's the Shabd practice.

It turned out to be a fun to invite Richard Sylvester here. Beauty is not a thing. I feel that you endeavor to live as far as possible together with love and should check on your own.

The friends were concerned. This can be the reason why we speak about such things as Adya cites. That you or Show don't need to share with you any such thing.

Proceed past the sorrows of the world, you're freedom itself. Mooji has lots of followers throughout the entire environment. You might think you are essential, you have come to earth to perform deeds that were amazing, or to get educated.

Choosing Good Satsangs

Let us look at the earthly records. Other cast members get embroiled with the answer and question session too. Kelly-anne did wind up being sexual together with Swami.

Listed here would be those which are my favourite educators and you're able to discover numerous their discussions on YouTube. Through this sense they're far less abstract than pictures. Initially it's amazing to acquire business with stories, since there are too many.

But, consult with the articles about Challenges Ahead A couple are given below. Stay inside this imageless seeing. Reading occasions at Vine Cottage might be the solution.

International Yoga Festival is a great chance to introduce Yoga in your lifetime. The advantages of the increased compliments will probably likely be immeasurable but there'll be no outer reflection with this. Radhasoami teachings center upon a kind of meditation practice.

You can not be separated by God or understanding that's hopeless. Ostensibly you are aware you never know and I really don't know is intellect. At his pleasure, he would visit with the delusion of unreality or else he would merge from the Lord of the self.

I really need to adopt Nothingness. Words aren't corresponding to have. It's the reality that is ideal.

The energy that enables us practice meditation. A Sivananda asana class comprises a succession of 1 2 asanas that are thought of as the asanas to clinic. Itself doesn't wake up even today.

The Satsangs Pitfall

You're not here accidentally. It arouses a treasure of the appropriate age. You may understand for yourself as it will be obvious that you're not suffering anymore when you're awake.

It could give benefits that are fiscal and forces. Who I'm yet and transcends the physical I experience physicality within this body each daily.

He instructed me to obey an alternative. They also define dharmas, although they typically use the saying rita for your own thought. The period nonduality is only that.

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[ravensong67-blog]

Seeing California’s Missions Today

Indigenous Oaxacan Folklorico dancers perform outside of the San Gabriel Mission during a community festival.

Matthew Gush Robert M. Senkewicz*

When I left my native New York City to begin graduate school in California almost five decades ago, many things about my new home region struck me as strange. It seemed odd, for instance, that a local Safeway supermarket had the same kind of tiled roof as I could see on Mission Santa Clara, a scant three blocks away. And it seemed unbearably grandiose to call a local street, whose defining characteristics appeared to be used car lots, gas stations, and strip malls, El Camino Real, which I soon discovered meant the Royal Road. But I eventually realized that missions and Spain were apparently crucial parts of California’s popular identity. Combined with another never-far-from-the-surface part of that identity, the Gold Rush, my new home seemed to be constantly trumpeting a kind of California exceptionalism. Things happened here, everything seemed to say, that never happened anywhere else in the U.S. California is different—and by “different,” what’s clearly meant is “better.”

A visitor to the northern most outpost Spanish Mission San Francisco Solano observes the reed and adobe construction of the awning.

I began to wonder about that exceptionalism, but the doubts really came into focus when I was writing my dissertation on gold rush San Francisco. It seemed that the social processes alive in that 1850s instant city were quite similar to developments and tensions that were simultaneously occurring in places like New York, Boston, and Philadelphia. The vigilantism that wracked the city twice (in 1851 and 1856) during this era seemed to have more in common with Eastern violence than with “we’re going to have to take the law into our own hands” vigilantism in places like Montana or other frontier venues.

After I finished with gold rush San Francisco, like a good historian, I went back in time. I ended up focusing on California and the Southwest before the U.S. takeover. And here I saw California exceptionalism strongly at work. Even some scholarly work seemed to be written with scant regard to the origins and foundations of Spanish California. Those origins stretched back over three centuries, but you would never know it by learning that San Diego had been founded in 1769 by a party led by two individuals who seemed to materialized out of nowhere, Gaspar de Portolá and Junípero Serra. And the fact that California had once been part of Mexico was apparently quite embarrassing. This embarrassment was solved in textbooks by focusing almost exclusively on Anglo-Americans who began to arrive in California in the 1820s and began to bring culture and civilization to this benighted region.

Visitors to Mission San Francisco de Asís are reflected in the glass of a model demonstrating what the grounds of the mission might have looked like during the height of religious conversions, early 19th c.

Parishioners pray following a mass at Mission San Juan Bautista. (Reinforcing community bonds.)

A child’s artistic representation of Junípero Serra, underscoring the skewed understanding that school children come away with having gone through the Mission Studies unit in elementary school. (Outside walkway, San Gabriel Mission.)

Popular understanding of California’s pre-U.S. past still suffers from two crucial absences: the absence of context and the absence of people.

First, context. The U.S. state of California was one of the last regions to experience settler colonialism in a Spanish Imperial context. That colonialism had a long and varied history. The Spanish presence worked itself out differently in the Valley of Mexico, the highlands of Peru, the sugar islands of the Caribbean, the Southern Cone, and the arid regions of what is now northern Mexico and the southwestern United States. The indigenous cultures the Spanish invaded and disrupted were radically different and the combination of resistance and strategic accommodation varied region to region. Survival often depended on flexible and creative strategic alliances with other groups and, at times, with dissident elements of the invading group. As was the case with British colonialism along the eastern coast of North America, not all colonial officials saw eye to eye, and indigenous leaders attempted to exploit those differences. European maps showed huge regions as controlled by “ Spain,” but this was hardly the case, as large and powerful indigenous peoples from many regions persisted well into the nineteenth century.

A Polynesian wedding service at Mission San Luís Rey de Francia. (Transcending initial purpose of the missions by becoming sacred space to new ethnicities, meanwhile ironic that these were also other colonized peoples.)

A visitor to Mission San Luís Rey de Francia prays with statues of Jesus Christ and the Virgin Mary. (Contemporary Pilgrimage site.)

A Franciscan Padre makes his way behind the main altar at Mission Santa Inés. (Original traditions.)

A priest ministers to a packed mission church at Mission San Juan Bautista. (Latino Community gathering space.)

California was heir to all of these developments and the Spanish colonialism that took root there was diverse, messy, and at times contradictory. It was anything but a story of Spanish control and indigenous acceptance. The extensive writings of the Franciscan missionaries in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries bear eloquent testimony to the fact that, even in long-established mission compounds, missionaries knew that they could never assume that external conformity implied indigenous acceptance of subservient status. This part of the story was completely ignored during the “Spanish revival” era, when self-sacrificing, heroic missionaries and happy, contented Indians dominated the narrative. The assumption that California was exceptional meant that California identity could exist in blissful isolation from the issues and tensions that dominated the rest of the Spanish Empire.

Second, people. One of the most striking things about the photographs and paintings that were created concerning the California missions during the latter part of the nineteenth century by artists like Carlton Watkins and Edwin Deakin, is that they were generally bereft of people. The focus is on the structures, generally in various states of disrepair, but hearkening back to their days of glory and prosperity. In this, these later artists were quite different from artists who portrayed the missions who had had actual experience with them. People like Louis Choris, Ferdinand Deppe, and Edward Vischer always foregrounded indigenous, Spanish, and Mexican people in their portrayal of the missions. They knew what contemporary pastoral ministers will be happy to tell you: The “church” is not the building, but the people.

The logical, and sad, outcome of all of this was the fourth grade project that Matthew Gush describes in his introductory essay that follows this one. The focus of that project for elementary school children was on getting the buildings right, the angles precise, the bell towers in the correct place, that sort of thing. When I first learned of this project many years ago, I was as puzzled as I originally had been when I saw that supermarkets looked like churches. After all, we had never made sugar cube models of the Empire State building or the George Washington Bridge when I was in grammar school in New York. When the nuns at St. Columba on West 25th Street showed us New York pictures, they were always pictures of people—of immigrants crowding onto the deck of a boat and weeping for joy when they first saw the Statue of Liberty, of crowds in Times Square celebrating the end of World War II, or of Lou Gehrig saying goodbye at Yankee Stadium. The message was that New York was its people. That was a quite different message from the one that was contained in the fourth grade exercise, that California was its buildings.

Fortunately, this fourth grade project has been discontinued in California schools. I myself hope that its abandonment will lead to the abandonment of another California cottage industry: Picture books, travel guides, and brochures that are filled with “honey shots” of mission façades set against a pure blue sky, bell towers dominating the landscape, and incredibly lush gardens. These productions, in other words, are filled with images of California’s missions that bear absolutely no resemblance to the actual missions that existed from 1769 into the 1840s. These pictures, just like the fourth grade project, do not offer any indication that the California missions were overwhelmingly indigenous locations. Two priests, a handful of soldiers, and hundreds or thousands of native peoples populated the spaces. These venues were places that were as varied, diverse, and contradictory as the three centuries of Spanish colonialism that gave birth to them had been. They were places of pain and joy, of suffering and hope, of violence and survival, of death and birth. Matthew Gush’s photos, which deliberately focus on these places from unusual angles, invite us to enter these locations from different places of our minds. He includes the people who currently worship in these churches, and whose presence demonstrates that the California missions continue to be re-created anew in each generation. Matthew does not tell us in his essay why he decided to begin photographing these missions, but I for one am very glad that he did.

A contemporary offering to a statute of the Virgin Mary.

Candles burn in individual votive offerings to loved ones. (Mission San Gabriel, an active place of worship.)

Members of the Mission San Carlos Borromeo de Carmelo parish congregate following a Sunday service. (Contemporary community consisting of wealthy white folks.)

Notes

Photography and image descriptions by Matthew Gush; essay by Robert M. Senkewicz.

This is part one of a diptych on the California missions. For part two, see Matthew Gush, “RE-Present: Seeing California Missions Through A Contemporary Lens.”

Matthew Gush is the university photographer at California State University, Fullerton, and is the Boom California 2017-2018 Photographer in Residence. For more of his work see https://www.humanexp.co/.

Robert M. Senkewicz is professor of History at Santa Clara University. With Rose Marie Beebe he has written a number of books on pre-U.S. California, including most recently, Junípero Serra: California, Indians, and the Transformation of a Missionary, and a contribution to Steven W. Hackel, ed., The Worlds of Junipero Serra Historical Contexts and Cultural Representations (UC Press, 2018).

Copyright: © 2018 Matthew Gush and Robert M. Senkewicz. This is an open-access article distributed under the terms of the Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International License (CC-BY 4.0), which permits unrestricted use, distribution, and reproduction in any medium, provided the original author and source are credited. See http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/.

Source: https://boomcalifornia.com/2018/07/31/seeing-californias-missions-today/

[billydmacklin]

Finishing the Side of the House: THE BIG REVEAL!

WELL. This has been a long time coming. About two and half years ago, I embarked on what’s likely the biggest renovation that my house will see under my care, and it was a DOOZY. The goal was to bring the south-facing side of the house back to some semblance of how it was built, which meant demolishing two additions, adding windows (prompting a complete demo of my kitchen, and partial demos of my bedroom and den), insulating, restoring the original clapboard siding and various trim details, re-roofing a bay window (twice!), a ton of prep and paint, adding downspouts…it was a lot of work. Most of it was completed during that first summer, but then the remaining to-do list sort of languished as I attended to more pressing matters. At the end of this past August I was able to dive back in, and over the course of about 2 months I got most of those remaining items completed! There’s still work to be done, but those things could take years and I want to show you what I did NOW!

Did you know that there’s an archive function on Google street view? I did not know! So this is what the Googlemobile captured on its way through Kingston after my house had been put on the market but before I ever saw it! Check out that crazy antenna toward the back of the roof! This was also before the listing agent had a crew of painters quite literally slap a fresh coat of paint over everything (you can imagine how well that’s holding up), which to their credit did fool me into thinking the exterior was in better shape than it actually was. Lol whoops.

Then I moved in, and a few months later had the roof replaced and the fire escape demolished.

Later on I replaced the chainlink fence, demolished that boxy addition off the back, and added a little bit of landscaping. Which left us here! THEN THINGS GOT CRAZY.

More than one person walking by literally asked if we were tearing the house down—that’s how dramatic it looked at times!

I sort of love this photo. That bay window looks so BLEAK. The clapboard is about half new and half old. As in the past, all of the siding was removed, planed, primed, and usable pieces were put back up. I’m not sure why I’m using the passive voice because THAT WAS ME. I DID THAT. It’s a little cuckoo crazy but it feels like the right thing to do, and the old siding boards maintain more character than the new ones do. It would have been nice to have enough stock of old siding to use it exclusively, but I didn’t.

I did take some creative liberties, either where I just had no clue what was here historically or thought I had a better idea. The two new kitchen windows (bottom right) are an example of the former. I don’t feel like they’re especially right, but I was trying to take into consideration the second floor dormer window, which was likely added in the 1930s and isn’t the most elegant thing in the world.

Another departure from history was increasing the size of the cornerboards, which are originally 4″ on this house. What can I say! I like a wide cornerboard on a Greek Revival house! The front/main section of the house now has 12″ wide cornerboards, while the back kitchen addition has 8″ cornerboards. Once the other sides of the house are done, I’ll add some trim to the tops where the cornerboards meet the fascia, which is how they’re typically done to give the appearance of a pilaster.

Speaking of cornerboards, one decision I’m very happy about was to drop a wide “cornerboard” between the main house and the kitchen addition to kind of subtly delineate the two structures. The siding actually was continuous between the kitchen and the rest of the house underneath the vinyl, so it was tempting to stick with that…but I had this eleventh hour idea that I really thought would work, or look completely dumb, so I went for it and I’m glad I did. To me it’s just enough to restore the proportions of the original house without getting too crazy, you know?

Lastly, the windows! Originally, the “window” to the left of the bay and the one directly above it were both faux windows—trimmed with a casing and sill but with a set of closed shutters rather than a window. Purely decorative! People think this is nuts but I SWEAR a) it’s how the house was built and b) it’s actually how a lot of houses were built—you might see it more often than you think! Next time you see an old building with one or two shuttered windows, it might be because there’s nothing behind those shutters!

So anyway, I made the upstairs faux window into a real window, and moved both of them a smidge to the right of where they were originally so that the spacing between all the windows would be more even.

Then I proceeded to take two years to get around to actually modifying the shutters and installing them, so it feels like the whole town knows there’s just housewrap behind them. That being said, literally as I was screwing in the last screw on the shutter hinge, someone walked by and asked why I was shuttering just that one window…so. JUST MAYBE nobody is paying as much attention to me and my house as I am paying to me and my house.

SO ANYWAY.

It was all really intense, you guys. I really didn’t want this to look like the product of recent work (especially major work), so getting those details right was extremely important to me. Moldings had to be recreated, the new windows had to blend with the old, and preserving as much remaining original detail as possible was the name of the game. The whole time I tried to think about how I might react to seeing this house if I didn’t own it…would it look like a new (tasteful, hopefully, at least) renovation, or just a nicely preserved 19th century building? The goal was definitely the latter and…I think I did it?

My, how those little pear trees have grown! Let’s run that back one more time.

Before.

And after!

Before…

During…

After! I don’t miss that skinny enclosed space one bit. The dining room used to be kind of dark and dreary, and now it’s all bright and cheerful! This house already had good natural light, but these changes allowed that to be true in every room and that makes it SO worth it to me. I very rarely turn any lights on inside until the sun goes down—they just aren’t needed.

Recreating the third side of the bay window took some serious patience and even more serious head-scratching, but I’m REALLY happy with how it came out. There are some imperfections if you’re really inspecting it, but I’m considering them part of the history. A professional carpenter might have done a better job, but hiring one would have been too costly and…well, it’s just not the story of this house. It’s not a museum piece. It’s my home. And I do my best with what I’ve got.

In the past when I’ve painted the house I’ve tried to do two colors (bright white trim and less bright white clapboard) in two finishes (flat for clapboard, semi-gloss for trim), and I was never especially happy with it. More and more I noticed that my favorite white houses seemed to be using just one paint for everything, so that’s what I did and I’m so happy about it. It would have been more period appropriate to use a less bright shade of white (evidently they couldn’t make paint THIS white back in the day), but the aforementioned slapped-on paint on the cornices is very white and repairing/repainting those completely is a project for another time, and I wanted it all to blend. Also bear in mind that the front of the house is still covered in vinyl and pretty much untouched, so this keeps everything looking relatively uniform in the meantime. So, white it is!

I can’t give you a color because I got a little frustrated with the color and finish, and ended up combining a few different paints which resulted in a mix with a really nice satin sheen. I wrote down the “formula” so I can recreate it for future painting, but this is what happens when you have a billion half-used cans of paint leftover from lots of projects. I think the color would be similar to Ben Moore’s Simply White mixed at half-strength.

The painting alone felt…ENDLESS. My neighbors started making fun of me after a few weeks because HOW ARE YOU STILL PAINTING THAT HOUSE?! WHAT IS SO WRONG WITH IT?!

Well…enough that it took a very long time, that much I know! I tried to do a REALLY GOOD JOB so I really hope it lasts a long time. Like long enough that I can afford to hire a good painter next time and sit on my ass instead.

I’ve found a couple of shutter hinges in the yard, and you can see where they were mounted on the original window casings. House of Antique Hardware sells very similar reproductions, and I’m really happy with how nicely they match what was here! Someday I’d love for all the windows to have shutters, but for now that’s kind of a pipe dream.

My smoke bush was so tinyyyyyyy.

The shutters themselves I bought new (ordered through The Door Jamb locally), but I had to cut down the length and increase the width. I also added a bead detail to the center, which most old shutters have on the rabbet.

Originally each shutter had two hinges, but they just looked kind of naked so I added a third to the middle. Look at me being so naughty! Original shutters would have probably been black or dark green, but I thought that would look too jarring while the rest of the windows are shutter-less.

The next phase of exterior work will be dedicated to restoring the windows! Four of the original windows still have the aluminum triple-track storm windows, which I’ll remove one by one as I restore the windows behind them. That window on the right was under the cover of that solarium addition for the last century+, so it’s actually in good shape but desperately needs new glazing and paint—it kinda kills me I couldn’t get that one done this fall, but it’ll still be there in the spring. At some point I’ll get around to the little basement windows, too—I think they’ll look much better in black! I’ll also have to repoint the stone foundation down the line, but let’s just pretend I won’t. There’s always something to do.

1950.

2014.

2018.

Thank you for your patience with me, house. I hope you like your fresh new look.

You can read all about this project from start to finish by clicking the links below! I put them in chronological order and everything.

Restoring the Side of My House

Matching My Historic Windows

The Wreckage: Part 1

See Ya, Second Floor Bay Window Thing!

Found in the Wall!

The Solarium is Gone!

The Bedroom Has a Fourth Window!

Finishing the Side of the House: Part 1

Finishing the Side of the House: THE BIG REVEAL! published first on https://carpetgurus.tumblr.com/

[carygarman980]

Finishing the Side of the House: THE BIG REVEAL!

WELL. This has been a long time coming. About two and half years ago, I embarked on what’s likely the biggest renovation that my house will see under my care, and it was a DOOZY. The goal was to bring the south-facing side of the house back to some semblance of how it was built, which meant demolishing two additions, adding windows (prompting a complete demo of my kitchen, and partial demos of my bedroom and den), insulating, restoring the original clapboard siding and various trim details, re-roofing a bay window (twice!), a ton of prep and paint, adding downspouts…it was a lot of work. Most of it was completed during that first summer, but then the remaining to-do list sort of languished as I attended to more pressing matters. At the end of this past August I was able to dive back in, and over the course of about 2 months I got most of those remaining items completed! There’s still work to be done, but those things could take years and I want to show you what I did NOW!

Did you know that there’s an archive function on Google street view? I did not know! So this is what the Googlemobile captured on its way through Kingston after my house had been put on the market but before I ever saw it! Check out that crazy antenna toward the back of the roof! This was also before the listing agent had a crew of painters quite literally slap a fresh coat of paint over everything (you can imagine how well that’s holding up), which to their credit did fool me into thinking the exterior was in better shape than it actually was. Lol whoops.

Then I moved in, and a few months later had the roof replaced and the fire escape demolished.

Later on I replaced the chainlink fence, demolished that boxy addition off the back, and added a little bit of landscaping. Which left us here! THEN THINGS GOT CRAZY.

More than one person walking by literally asked if we were tearing the house down—that’s how dramatic it looked at times!

I sort of love this photo. That bay window looks so BLEAK. The clapboard is about half new and half old. As in the past, all of the siding was removed, planed, primed, and usable pieces were put back up. I’m not sure why I’m using the passive voice because THAT WAS ME. I DID THAT. It’s a little cuckoo crazy but it feels like the right thing to do, and the old siding boards maintain more character than the new ones do. It would have been nice to have enough stock of old siding to use it exclusively, but I didn’t.

I did take some creative liberties, either where I just had no clue what was here historically or thought I had a better idea. The two new kitchen windows (bottom right) are an example of the former. I don’t feel like they’re especially right, but I was trying to take into consideration the second floor dormer window, which was likely added in the 1930s and isn’t the most elegant thing in the world.

Another departure from history was increasing the size of the cornerboards, which are originally 4″ on this house. What can I say! I like a wide cornerboard on a Greek Revival house! The front/main section of the house now has 12″ wide cornerboards, while the back kitchen addition has 8″ cornerboards. Once the other sides of the house are done, I’ll add some trim to the tops where the cornerboards meet the fascia, which is how they’re typically done to give the appearance of a pilaster.

Speaking of cornerboards, one decision I’m very happy about was to drop a wide “cornerboard” between the main house and the kitchen addition to kind of subtly delineate the two structures. The siding actually was continuous between the kitchen and the rest of the house underneath the vinyl, so it was tempting to stick with that…but I had this eleventh hour idea that I really thought would work, or look completely dumb, so I went for it and I’m glad I did. To me it’s just enough to restore the proportions of the original house without getting too crazy, you know?

Lastly, the windows! Originally, the “window” to the left of the bay and the one directly above it were both faux windows—trimmed with a casing and sill but with a set of closed shutters rather than a window. Purely decorative! People think this is nuts but I SWEAR a) it’s how the house was built and b) it’s actually how a lot of houses were built—you might see it more often than you think! Next time you see an old building with one or two shuttered windows, it might be because there’s nothing behind those shutters!

So anyway, I made the upstairs faux window into a real window, and moved both of them a smidge to the right of where they were originally so that the spacing between all the windows would be more even.

Then I proceeded to take two years to get around to actually modifying the shutters and installing them, so it feels like the whole town knows there’s just housewrap behind them. That being said, literally as I was screwing in the last screw on the shutter hinge, someone walked by and asked why I was shuttering just that one window…so. JUST MAYBE nobody is paying as much attention to me and my house as I am paying to me and my house.

SO ANYWAY.

It was all really intense, you guys. I really didn’t want this to look like the product of recent work (especially major work), so getting those details right was extremely important to me. Moldings had to be recreated, the new windows had to blend with the old, and preserving as much remaining original detail as possible was the name of the game. The whole time I tried to think about how I might react to seeing this house if I didn’t own it…would it look like a new (tasteful, hopefully, at least) renovation, or just a nicely preserved 19th century building? The goal was definitely the latter and…I think I did it?

My, how those little pear trees have grown! Let’s run that back one more time.

Before.

And after!

Before…

During…

After! I don’t miss that skinny enclosed space one bit. The dining room used to be kind of dark and dreary, and now it’s all bright and cheerful! This house already had good natural light, but these changes allowed that to be true in every room and that makes it SO worth it to me. I very rarely turn any lights on inside until the sun goes down—they just aren’t needed.

Recreating the third side of the bay window took some serious patience and even more serious head-scratching, but I’m REALLY happy with how it came out. There are some imperfections if you’re really inspecting it, but I’m considering them part of the history. A professional carpenter might have done a better job, but hiring one would have been too costly and…well, it’s just not the story of this house. It’s not a museum piece. It’s my home. And I do my best with what I’ve got.

In the past when I’ve painted the house I’ve tried to do two colors (bright white trim and less bright white clapboard) in two finishes (flat for clapboard, semi-gloss for trim), and I was never especially happy with it. More and more I noticed that my favorite white houses seemed to be using just one paint for everything, so that’s what I did and I’m so happy about it. It would have been more period appropriate to use a less bright shade of white (evidently they couldn’t make paint THIS white back in the day), but the aforementioned slapped-on paint on the cornices is very white and repairing/repainting those completely is a project for another time, and I wanted it all to blend. Also bear in mind that the front of the house is still covered in vinyl and pretty much untouched, so this keeps everything looking relatively uniform in the meantime. So, white it is!

I can’t give you a color because I got a little frustrated with the color and finish, and ended up combining a few different paints which resulted in a mix with a really nice satin sheen. I wrote down the “formula” so I can recreate it for future painting, but this is what happens when you have a billion half-used cans of paint leftover from lots of projects. I think the color would be similar to Ben Moore’s Simply White mixed at half-strength.

The painting alone felt…ENDLESS. My neighbors started making fun of me after a few weeks because HOW ARE YOU STILL PAINTING THAT HOUSE?! WHAT IS SO WRONG WITH IT?!

Well…enough that it took a very long time, that much I know! I tried to do a REALLY GOOD JOB so I really hope it lasts a long time. Like long enough that I can afford to hire a good painter next time and sit on my ass instead.

I’ve found a couple of shutter hinges in the yard, and you can see where they were mounted on the original window casings. House of Antique Hardware sells very similar reproductions, and I’m really happy with how nicely they match what was here! Someday I’d love for all the windows to have shutters, but for now that’s kind of a pipe dream.

My smoke bush was so tinyyyyyyy.

The shutters themselves I bought new (ordered through The Door Jamb locally), but I had to cut down the length and increase the width. I also added a bead detail to the center, which most old shutters have on the rabbet.

Originally each shutter had two hinges, but they just looked kind of naked so I added a third to the middle. Look at me being so naughty! Original shutters would have probably been black or dark green, but I thought that would look too jarring while the rest of the windows are shutter-less.

The next phase of exterior work will be dedicated to restoring the windows! Four of the original windows still have the aluminum triple-track storm windows, which I’ll remove one by one as I restore the windows behind them. That window on the right was under the cover of that solarium addition for the last century+, so it’s actually in good shape but desperately needs new glazing and paint—it kinda kills me I couldn’t get that one done this fall, but it’ll still be there in the spring. At some point I’ll get around to the little basement windows, too—I think they’ll look much better in black! I’ll also have to repoint the stone foundation down the line, but let’s just pretend I won’t. There’s always something to do.

1950.

2014.

2018.

Thank you for your patience with me, house. I hope you like your fresh new look.

You can read all about this project from start to finish by clicking the links below! I put them in chronological order and everything.

Restoring the Side of My House

Matching My Historic Windows

The Wreckage: Part 1

See Ya, Second Floor Bay Window Thing!

Found in the Wall!

The Solarium is Gone!

The Bedroom Has a Fourth Window!

Finishing the Side of the House: Part 1

[cellerityweb]

Constructing Alfheim in God Of War

On the official PlayStation website, the weekly “ArtStation Art Blast” concentrates on creating Alfheim in God of War. Check out the beautiful artworks and let them give you a deep insight into the development of the first realm you get to explore outside of Midgard.

Spoiler warning!

From here the entire content is provided by ArtStation Art Blast.

A radiant, beautiful light constantly beckons you closer and closer in the middle of this strange realm. At the same time, you see a lingering darkness emerge throughout your adventure here as you see the Dark Elves fighting against the Light Elves. This is complemented by the architecture you come across, which is gorgeous, arch-laden, in marble and towering high over you. Then, a twisted, glowing red hive awaits you at the center point of your journey… a stark and patched together contrast to the beauty that you’ve witnessed. These are some of the strange, yet fascinating dichotomies you experience venturing through Alfheim, the first realm you get to explore outside of Midgard.

Everything Begins and Ends at the Light

Alfheim was the first realm the team worked on after designing Midgard and it would set out how fantastical, yet grounded the other areas of the game would become. Although in popular culture, certain areas of Norse mythology have been explored, many of the actual realms had not been well-represented and would challenge the team to approach this with a sense of thematic consistency while weaving in our team’s own unique flair. Luke Berliner, our lead environment concept artist, recollected the first directive of the game, stating, “There was a lot of creative liberty in defining what the realms meant to us.”

The first pillar of designing this realm became the Light of Alfheim, where Kratos and Atreus would journey to in order to power the Bifrost. Much like the Mountain in Midgard, the light would be a centerpiece that would continually direct you towards where you were heading. “Cory, our creative director, had this idea of a central light source that was the only light source in Alfheim, feeding into the narrative hook that you needed the light to progress.” The team started to toy with a number of ideas that would center around that. For instance, there was a lot of interest in showing off how life and death, one of many dichotomies that would appear, were big parts of the realm because the lake was supposed to represent the Lake of Souls.

Another fascinating artistic challenge that the Light of Alfheim affected was the foliage. All around Alfheim, as you venture through by both foot and boat, you experience varying tree shapes and otherworldly environment art. Much like everything in this area, even these trees are affected by the Light of Alfheim. Luke explained, “Early on, the trees, the environment looked like as if it was growing towards a singular light source and that would look very different than Midgard or any other place. I really liked the singular idea of that light source and how an entire ecology has grown around that in a unique way combined with a more fantastical architecture.” This idea led to interesting concepts where the team played with the region’s fauna and how that would react to having a light source centralized as a beam.

The team would narrow this down even further to the exact tree types they were inspired by,  which were different, depending on the realms that they were working on. First would be exactly those types of trees that would show off an ancient, yet elegant environment that would contrast well with Midgard’s environments.  “One of the things that we looked at were different, really old growth trees,” Luke said. “Things like a bristle cone, pine trees, and old olive trees…things that have kind of grown for a really long time and have an interesting form to them.”

Our Sr. Environment Artist, Erik Jakobsen, then took those concepts and translated them into the 3D in-game environment, although the process wasn’t so simple due to the complex nature of trees chosen.  “These amazing trees, stretching towards the light, were definitely one of the first things I remember from Luke. This being the first realm you travel to made it difficult to strike a balance between real and magical. What looks good in a single beautiful concept sometimes needs to be tested out in 3D to get the balance correct. Leaves that are too red or too white may throw off the other level elements.”

Although difficult, the end result was a very cherry blossom-like feel to the trees, but with a darker tinge that wasn’t as pronounced in the original concept artwork. Luke mentions, “It was interesting because the concepts had the notion of a lot of this, but in 3D, slowly, everything kind of evolves. So, you got the more beautiful leaves in the 3D space and so things come into their own on the environment side.”

The Collaborative Design of Elvish Architecture

From the environment, the team moved onto the next complex challenge – the architecture and building structures worthy of the two warring elven factions. Much like the foliage, the team was grappling with how to differentiate the structures of Alfheim against the earlier Midgard environments that the player had experienced. The team would utilize both the ‘time period’ of the game being pre-Viking and its relation to the other realms to start designing the construction. Luke recollected, “We were trying to figure out – what makes Alfheim narratively even unique and different from Midgard. A lot of the architecture in Midgard was very square stone and blocky. And we thought maybe we should use more traditional Viking knotwork, saying that these types of things existed in the other realms, and slowly filtered into Midgard to create what we know as Viking design or the Viking inspiration that we know of today.”

Much like with the trees, this concept was not easy to completely translate into the 3D space and required lots of collaboration between the entire team. The first section of the challenge started with understanding Viking knotwork – known for its intricate curves and lack of straight lines. “The challenge was that everything had a curve. Viking knotwork is not modular like most architecture is,” Erik mentioned. “Luke and the concept team had a lot of really great concepts, but they do not show every angle we see in-game. A curve has to be balanced, land into the next shape and flow into the next curve. I had two great artists work with me on the level – Charleen Au and Sarah Swenson, and eventually, we developed solutions for all those damn curves!”

The next step for the team was to create distinct locations and make sure that everyone on the team was on board. The trench, which was the main section that you venture into to get to the Light of Alfheim, originally started out very differently, before ending up with a more futuristic/fantasy-like set of movement options. At one point, it even had three different trenches overall, rather than the singular one it ended with. Erik remembered, “I did an original mock-up of the trench going down into the lake, which looked different than it did in the final game. But I remember that Andrew Chrysafidis, our level designer, suggested having the doors open to reveal itself like an elevator.” This ended up being a major concept that was utilized throughout the entire area of Alfheim in collaboration with the concept and 3D environment art teams.

These collaborative processes would continue throughout the entire creation of Alfheim, each with its own set of challenges and successes. The main Alfheim temple, for instance, brought along the challenge of integrating a lot of cloth, while also trying to work with level design in building a fun gameplay scenario. Luke mentioned, “We decided to make it look fabric early on, which posed a lot of challenges for environment art to make it look different. Just to get the fabric to behave properly over the design space – there’s quite a bit of work that went into that.”

Erik added, “Part of it was fitting the level design back into it because it was one of the first levels that the team as a whole had to work through constantly. So, trying to fit that intent and hold the integrity and still fit it into the design space was tricky.” The end result, though, was a very unique and distinguishing temple that was much different than the other realms, thanks to the technology and collaboration behind it.

One other collaborative challenge came with the Hive, where lighting brought major changes through its creation, bringing in a challenge unlike those encountered in the other sections of Alfheim. The team had to think about how these changes would affect the overall design and feel of getting to the Light. “Originally, the light was just supposed to be white or a light blue,” Luke recollected. “But Cory had always wanted this Hive over the Light, and then he wanted the light to be able to be dimmed and then go on brighter. Because of this, Erik and I chatted about making the Hive glow similar to a lampshade, tinting it red which would permeate to the entire exterior of the temple. Because of this, when you remove the Hive and go back outside,  there’s a huge state change and you feel like you accomplished something in a grander way than if it was just brighter.”

Erik remembered the difficulty of two lighting states: “The lighting system is powerful but also a dense interconnected web of layers. If one area of Alfheim gets nudged, the entire web shifts and needs to be readjusted. Multiply this complexity by the two states – the captured and the freed lighting.”

Conclusion

Alfheim is a realm brimming with two sides constantly at war with one another that translated not only literally into the game, but also into its design. Although you may come into Alfheim with the expectation of a straightforward, beautiful realm, you come away with perhaps more conflicted feelings on the warring factions and the two sides that continually appear throughout the heroes’ journey here. “It’s intentionally confusing between the Light and Dark Elves – who’s good and who’s bad and what you should and shouldn’t be doing,” says Erik. Your expectations of the situation continually get toyed with as you, perhaps, unintentionally change the landscape of Alfheim.

“You change the course of the realm, so you see that continually reflected through the environment. You’re not just visiting, but altering the course of Alfheim, even if it is to just get what Kratos and Atreus need or want,” Luke concludes.

Make sure to visit ArtStation to view our team’s Art Blast for God of War.

Source: 80.lv

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