#and no lawrence is not a suitable replacement

[uwu-scraptrappy]

"oh I made Adam the fourth apprentice in the lineup-" you IDIOT. There HAS to be one lame boring guy who brings down the mood with his uncomfortable cringefail energy. and its logan nelson.

[floorandwillemijn]

Weaving techniques

Baskets and the technique of basketry can represent the identitiy of a weaver, their cultural practices, and a discovery of art form. They represent different ways of practising everyday life and can inform us on how cultures deal with the need to store, carry, and transport objects (WAM, n.d.).

In Aboriginal weaving practices the most common techniques are looping, knotting, coiling, braiding and twining. Unlike European weaving that is characterised by working on a stationary loom, these hand-making techniques are characterised by their adaptability and portability as people travel across country in groups to collect, process, and gather together plant materials to make fibreworks while sharing skills and stories (Lawrence, 2019).

Twining

This stitch requires the use of three elements. A somewhat stiff woody material makes up the passive element, which helps create the vertical structure of the basket. To create the twining weave pattern, softer, more flexible strips are used. Using two of these strips, one would weave in and out of the vertical rods, mirroring each other. In the process, the two strips are also twisted around each other along the horizontal plane, making a full rotation per two vertical rods (WAM, n.d.)

open/loose twining - allows debris to fall out when the basket is used for carrying food items and allows for air circulation

tight twining - leak proof

Coiling

A coiling stitch begins from a central point and spirals, outward and upward to form the shape of a basket. To create the coil, flexible sticks, such as grasses, are bundled together and then wrapped with stitching. Using a needle, another grass type material, wool, or cotton is threaded around the bundle and through the previous coil to keep it in place. This stitch can also be used to finish off the rim and handles of baskets made from other stitch designs (WAM, n.d.).

Coiling is a common basketmaking technique practiced in most countries in the world. In Australia the looped buttonhole stitch is most commonly used for stitching the fibres together. Aboriginal artists use the most suitable fibre available in their environment for coiling, these fibres are relatively long, water resistant, and produce a reasonably rigid form (Artback NT, 2007).

The coiling technique was traditionally used by a range of Indigenous groups in southeast Australia. By the nineteenth century some of them had already adapted their coiling skills for making western items like handled baskets for sale. Today coiling has almost replaced the classic techniques of looped and knotted netting and twining in many communities in the Northern Territory's Top End (Artback NT, 2007).

In coiling technique bags can be hold together by knotted looping. They can create aesthetic effects in the bags and result in more flexible bags.

Bundle coiling - Bundles of fibre are wrapped and stitched together in an ascending coil. Sometimes the stitches binding one coil to the next are lengthened to join two coils. These longer stitches are arranged to form a pattern on the external wall of the basket, but they also serve to streenghten the overall structure.

Plaiting Stitch

This technique is not commonly used in Australian Indigenous weaving practices. In other Indigenous communities around the world the techniques has been practiced and it's also a technique that we experimented with.

To form this stitch, strips of materials are placed into overlapping columns or rows in a grid pattern. Then, moving across the grid, weave more strips of material over and under the grid, joining the two. Patterns can be created in this stitch by varying the width and colours of the strips (WAM, n.d.)

There are many variants of this design:

diagonal plaiting

Hexagonal plaiting (three sticks interlocing with each other at 60 degrees)

Twill plaiting (under-over-over, instead of under-over)

references:

Artback NT. (2007). ReCoil: Change & Exchange in Coiled Fibre. http://www.artbacknt.com.au

Lawrence, K. (2019). Weaving the Way. Artlink. https://www.artlink.com.au/articles/4793/weaving-the-way/

Western Australian Museum. (n.d.). Intertwined. https://museum.wa.gov.au/explore/intertwined

[m5-6]

Walmart in Wichita Falls Faces Public Scrutiny Over Tree Removal

Extensive Landscaping Alterations at Walmart Location Raises Concerns

The Walmart located on Lawrence Road in Wichita Falls, Texas has recently come under public scrutiny due to the removal of all trees on the premises. This extensive landscaping alteration has sparked concerns about the impact on bird species, aviation safety, and the overall appearance of the property.

City officials, representatives from Walmart, and a USDA Wildlife Biologist with Sheppard Air Force Base have collaborated to address these concerns and find a suitable solution. Despite efforts to mitigate the bird issue, a recent power outage caused by birds sitting on power lines has highlighted the need for further action.

Collaborative Efforts to Address Bird Species Threats

Karen Montgomery Gagne, Principal Planner for the City of Wichita Falls, highlighted a similar issue at another Walmart location on Central Freeway. Concerns were raised about bird species posing threats to aviation safety at Sheppard Air Force Base and potential risks to citizens. In response, stakeholders came together to find a solution.

“We had some success working with Walmart, and we had looked at lighting, is lighting a factor for attracting these birds? Is it the landscape, the habitat that’s on the property?” Gagne stated.

Persistent Bird Issue and Power Outage

Despite efforts to address the bird issue, it persisted, leading to a power outage earlier this year. An excessive number of birds sitting on power lines on Lawrence Road caused the lines to collapse, leaving Walmart and neighboring businesses without power.

“Obviously, we are very cognizant about issues such as all of the birds congregating there during certain times of the year, so that is definitely something we’re continuing to try to address,” Gagne said.

Steps Taken to Rectify the Issue

With most of the birds having migrated for the season, steps are now being taken to rectify the issue, particularly through landscaping efforts. A landscaping ordinance exists for businesses in the city, mandating approval for landscaping plans.

According to the ordinance, the purpose of the landscaping regulation is to improve the quality of life for those living, working, and visiting the city by enhancing the appearance of properties as viewed from rights-of-way, and to assist in attaining increased air quality as it relates to oxygenation and filtration of dust and other airborne pollutants.

Gagne emphasized the importance of landscaping in the city and indicated that the trees cut down were done so in coordination with the city. However, a detailed landscaping plan must be followed, incorporating alternative species that will hopefully be less attractive to birds in the long term.

Gagne assured that replacement landscaping will be implemented, although the specifics are still being determined.

The recent removal of trees at the Walmart on Lawrence Road in Wichita Falls has raised concerns about the impact on bird species, aviation safety, and the overall appearance of the property. Collaborative efforts between city officials, Walmart, and Sheppard Air Force Base have been made to address these concerns, but the persistent bird issue led to a power outage earlier this year. Steps are now being taken to rectify the issue through landscaping efforts and adherence to the city's landscaping ordinance.

Replacement landscaping will be implemented, incorporating alternative species that are less attractive to birds. The specifics of the landscaping plan are still being determined, but the aim is to enhance the appearance of the property while ensuring the safety of bird species and aviation.

© 2024 KAUZ. All rights reserved.

[blackboxoffice]

‘The Underground Railroad’ attempts to upend viewers’ notions of what it meant to be enslaved

by William Nash, Professor of American Studies and English and American Literatures, Middlebury

Above: Making the series changed Barry Jenkins’ views on how his ancestors should be described and depicted. Atsushi Nishijima/Amazon Studios

Speaking on NPR’s Fresh Air, Barry Jenkins, the director of “The Underground Railroad,” noted that “before making this show … I would have said I’m the descendant of enslaved Africans.”

“I think now that answer has evolved,” he continued. “I am the descendant of blacksmiths and midwives and herbalists and spiritualists.”

As a scholar interested in how modern representations of enslavement shape our understanding of the past, I am struck by the ways Jenkins seeks to change the way viewers think about – and talk about – Black American history.

In doing so, he takes the baton from scholars, activists and artists who have, for decades, attempted to shake up Americans’ understanding of slavery. Much of this work has centered on reimagining slaves not as objects who were acted upon, but as individuals who maintained identities and agency – however limited – despite their status as property.

Pushing the boundaries of language

In the past three decades there has been a movement among academics to find suitable terms to replace “slave” and “slavery.”

In the 1990s, a group of scholars asserted that “slave” was too limited a term – to label someone a “slave,” the argument went, emphasized the “thinghood” of all those held in slavery, rendering personal attributes apart from being owned invisible.

Attempting to emphasize that humanity, other scholars substituted “enslavement” for “slavery,” “enslaver” for “slave owner,” and “enslaved person” for “slave.” Following the principles of “people-first language”– such as using “incarcerated people” as opposed to “inmates” – the terminology asserts that the person in question is more than just the state of oppression imposed onto him or her.

Not everyone embraced this suggestion. In 2015, renowned slavery and Reconstruction historian Eric Foner wrote, “Slave is a familiar word and if it was good enough for Frederick Douglass and other abolitionists it is good enough for me.”

Despite such resistance, more and more academics recognized the limitations of the older, impersonal terminology and started to embrace “enslaved” and its variants.

The new language reached another pinnacle with the publication of The New York Times’ 1619 Project. In the opening essay, project editor Nikole Hannah-Jones eschews “slave” and “slavery,” using variants of “enslavement” throughout. However controversial the series may be, it is setting the terms of current discussions about enslavement.

“Enslaved person” – at least among people open to the idea that a fresh look at American chattel slavery necessitated new language – became the new normal.

What, then, to make of Barry Jenkins’ saying he wants to push past this terminology?

In that same NPR interview, Jenkins notes that “right now [Americans] are referring to [Black slaves] as enslaved, which I think is very honorable and worthy, but it takes the onus off of who they were and places it on what was done to them. And I want to get to what they did.”

I think that Jenkins is onto something important here. Whichever side you take in the ongoing terminology debate, both “slave” and “enslaved person” erase both personality and agency from the individuals being described. And this is the conundrum: The state of enslavement was, by definition, dehumanizing.

Above: Caesar, played by Aaron Pierre, and Cora, played by Thuso Mbedu, escape from the plantation where they were held as slaves in ‘The Underground Railroad.’ Kyle Kaplan/Amazon Studios

For artists, writers and thinkers it’s difficult to reflect on the dehumanization of masses of people without diminishing some of the characteristics that make them unique. And once you step onto that path, it’s a short journey to reducing the identity of the collective group – including their ancestors – to one that’s defined by their worst experiences.

Seeing slaves on screen

In some ways, because of the nature of their medium, filmmakers have fared better than their fellow artists at balancing the challenges of portraying the horrific experiences of enslaved people as a whole and elevating the particular experiences of enslaved individuals.

So where does Jenkins fit in the lineage of cinematic depictions of enslavement?

From the start, comparisons to “Roots” – the first miniseries about American chattel slavery – abound.

“Roots,” which appeared in 1977, was the first miniseries on American television to explore the experiences of slavery on multiple generations of one Black family. It also created powerful opportunities for interracial empathy. As critic Matt Zoller Seitz notes, for “many white viewers, the miniseries amounted to the first prolonged instance of not merely being asked to identify with cultural experiences that were alien to them, but to actually feel them.”

Some Americans might remember those eight consecutive nights in January 1977 when “Roots” first aired. It was a collective experience that started and shaped national conversations about slavery and American history.

By contrast, “The Underground Railroad” appears in an age replete with representations of enslavement. WGN’s underappreciated series “Underground,” the 2016 remake of “Roots,” 2020’s “The Good Lord Bird,” “Django Unchained,” “12 Years a Slave” and “Harriet” are just a handful of recent innovative portrayals of slavery.

The best of these series push viewers toward new ways of seeing enslavement and those who resisted it. “The Good Lord Bird,” for example, used humor to dismantle ossified perceptions of John Brown, the militant 19th-century abolitionist, and opened up new conversations about when using violence to resist oppression is justifiable.

A delicate dance between beauty and suffering

Looking at “The Underground Railroad,” I can see how and why Jenkins’ vision is so important in this moment.

In Jenkins’ films “Moonlight” and “If Beale Street Could Talk,” the director made a name for himself as an artist who can push past narrow, constraining visions of Black identity as one marked solely by suffering. His films are not free from pain, of course. But pain is not their dominant note. His Black worlds are places where beauty abounds, where the characters in the stories he tells experience vibrancy as well as desolation.

Jenkins brings that sensibility to “The Underground Railroad” as well.

Critics have commented on how Jenkins uses the landscape to achieve this beauty. I was struck by how the sun-soaked fields of an Indiana farm create a perfectly fitting backdrop for the rejuvenating love Cora finds there with Royal.

In “The Underground Railroad,” slavery – for all its horrors – exists in an environment nonetheless imbued with beauty. The curtain of Cora’s vacant cabin flapping in the breeze and framed by the rough timbers of the slave quarters evokes the paintings of Jacob Lawrence.

Above: Barry Jenkins’ Black worlds are places where beauty abounds. Atsushi Nishijima/Amazon Studios

In other scenes, Jenkins juxtaposes radically different landscapes and actions to emphasize the complexity of these characters’ experiences. For example, Cora works as an actor at a museum, where she plays an “African savage” for visitors; in one scene, she changes out of the costume and into an elegant yellow dress. Walking the clean, orderly streets of Griffin, South Carolina, she transforms into a picture of middle-class propriety.

Scenes portraying the manners and reading lessons offered by the faculty of the Tuskegee-style institute where Cora and other fugitives find shelter demonstrate the allure of these middle-class values. On first glance, it all appears promising. Only later, when Cora’s pushed by her mentor to undergo forced sterilization, does it become apparent that she’s landed in a horror show.

These vignettes are but a few examples of the thoroughgoing power of Jenkins’ aesthetic. Every episode yields moments of beauty. And yet at the flip of a switch, serenity can devolve into savagery.

Living with the recognition that calm can instantly and unexpectedly become carnage is part of the human condition. Jenkins reminds viewers that for Black Americans – both then and now – this prospective peril can be particularly pronounced.

[ceciliablossoms]

Oooh for the event, butter tea with Kaeya? I'm craving some angst rn lol

Butter Tea: "I'm not going to leave you like this!"

TW: Mentions of blood and injury, slight angst to Fluff.

I apologise if this isn't angsty enough. I don't really pay attention to Kaeya so this is probably OOC

-------

Laughter filled the air, the Abyss Mages the two were in combat with cackling with every failure to dodge and block. There were so many of them that the duo was easily overwhelmed within no time at all. It was like cutting off the heads of Hydra, for every, they slew more would appear.

It had started as a simple commission. A small group of adventurers were injured by a "couple" of Abyss Mages while out and about on an expedition. The instructions were simple, to slay the offending monsters. However, it was more of a threat than originally thought.

When they had been asked by Katherine to handle it they had asked Kaeya to come along "just in case". He was smug about it, of course, using the opportunity to flirt along the way. It was supposed to be an easy and done commission then after the two agreed to lunch at Good Hunter. Neither of them had expected it to pan out this way.

As they arrived at the designated location, they were greeted with the two offending mages, one Hydro and one Cryo. Kaeya took the Hydro mage as his vision was suitable and they took the Cryo abyss mage.

The mages were swiftly dealt with and both they and Kaeya were patting each other on the back when two more appeared. These two mages were both Pyro. Kaeya's gaze hardened back into one of seriousness and they two made a move to dispatch the newcomers. But two Abyss Mages soon grew into four, four grew into seven and so on. Soon the two were completely and utterly overwhelmed.

They were certain that they had hypothermia with the number of times they had been frozen and they glanced over at Kaeya as he dealt with 3 Pyro Abyss Mages at once, around his waist circled three large icicles. Some of his clothes were singed but he held his ground well.

There was no end in sight. Eventually, the two ended up fighting back to back with one another. They had chunks of ice on their skin and blood dripped from the side of their head. A large burn was singed into their left forearm. Kaeya was fairing no better, sporting more burns than them both from straight fire and the boiling water of Vapourize reactions. He also sported a shoulder injury from an icicle that was sharp enough to pierce his flesh.

His face was hard set in a scowl as he struck another one down, "One of us needs to go get back up."

"Now is not the time to be a martyr, Kaeya!"

His normal laid back attitude was gone, replaced with a much more serious one. His tone seemed angry, "We are unequipped to deal with this many!"

"I'm not going to leave you like this! If we can't deal with it together, what makes you think you can deal with it alone?!"

"We don't have a choice! Go get some fucking backup! NOW!"

They flinched and with a glare, they sprinted toward the city, dodging fire and ice to the best of their abilities. As they got closer they began calling for the knights. Both Swan and Lawrence perked up at the sound of their voice. When the two saw the state they were in the Knights immediately sprung into action as soon as they explained, Swan checking to see if they were ok and Lawrence running to the headquarters to get more of the Knights.

With haste, they set out with several of the Knights in tow. When they came back most of the Abyss Mages were gone but Kaeya was still surrounded, supporting his weight on his sword but not giving up. He was bleeding

They rushed to him and when they blocked a blow with their sword, his legs finally gave out. They caught him, his blood seeping through his clothes soaking theirs. He tried to get back up but couldn't.

"You're going to get yourself killed." They supported his full weight on their shoulder. The Knights began to take on the remaining Mages as they got him away as fast as possible, setting him in the grass.

He said nothing, briefly losing consciousness. Their panic set in as they put their hands on his cheeks, calling out softly. They teared up he didn't respond. They placed their head on his chest, listening for a heartbeat as he lie motionless. They sighed in relief when his eyes cracked open as he woke back up.

"I warned you, you fucking dumbass." Their voice cracked. Using shreds of their jacket to staunch his bleeding in certain places, they gently slapped his face to prevent him from closing his tired eyes again, "Stay awake." Their voice shook and they noticed his breathing was shallow.

They as they began to field dress his injuries, making sure there were no rocks or chunks of ice in them. Most of them had been cauterized from the Pyro. "I'm sorry for dragging you into this."

"And you do this alone? Getting hurt worse than this?" He chuckled painfully, a slight slur to his words, attitude seemingly back to normal. "I don't think so (Princey/Princess)"

They said nothing until they finished their dressing, guilt obvious in their eyes. They felt horrible. If they hadn't dragged him into this to begin with he wouldn't have gotten hurt.

"Stay here." They muttered guilt turning into anger

They got up and joined the Knights in combat until the last Mage fell. The Knights were, for the most part, okay them taking the brunt of the damage so the boys wouldn't have to.

They limped back over to Kaeya, who was exactly where they left him, the Knights hot on their heels, insisting they stop straining their body. They gave him a worried once over as more Knights began to show up with medical supplies and a few of the sisters from the Church, Barbara included. She was tending to his wounds in alarm. He certainly looked better and was more alert.

They plopped down next to him, ignoring Barbara's gasp of horror, worry across their face, "Are you ok now?

His face grew smug at their concern, slinging an arm over their shoulder much to Barbara's dismay "Of course I am."

They chuckled before looking up st him, "We still on for Good Hunter?"

[outoftowninac]

RING 3 TIMES / LONDON CALLING

1930

Ring 3 Times or Ring Three Times (later titled London Calling) is a play by Geoffrey Kerr. It was originally produced by John Golden and staged by Dan Jarrett, starring Kerr and Donald MacDonald. 

In pre-production, the play was known as Between the Two. 

The comedy centers on two brothers, Willie and George Craft, whose American mother and British father long have been divorced. Willie Craft has been raised in America by his mother, George by his father in London, England. When George appears for a surprise visit to Manhattan, he and Willie soon fall for a designing woman, Anne Hunter. Their mother decides she is not suitable and prevents her from seeing them, and in the process tries reconciling with their father.

The play premiered at Nixon’s Apollo Theatre on the Boardwalk in Atlantic City NJ on June 17, 1930. 

The first performance was held on the day of a primary election in New Jersey. In the senate race, Dwight W. Morrow (R) was in favor of repealing the 18th amendment, abolishing prohibition. Needless to say, Morrow carried Atlantic City, long a bastion of bootleg whiskey and bathtub gin. Three years later, booze was once again flowing across the United States. 

Before the re-titled play arrived on Broadway, it briefly played the subway circuit: Brandt’s Carlton in Jamaica Queens on September 22, 1930. 

A week later it was seen at another Brandt Theatre, this time The Windsor, in  the Bronx. 

Just before the Broadway opening, tragedy struck. 

The play opened October 13, 1930 at the Little Theatre (now the Helen Hayes), the smallest theatre on Broadway. Kerr now co-starred with Charles Lawrence, replacing Donald MacDonald.  It lasted for just 13 performances.

Geoffrey Kerr didn’t waste much time. He was back on Broadway by the end of November in This is New York. 

[dawnflooded]

( hanna mangan lawrence, cis female, she/her, 27) ** ♔ announcing BEATRIZ LEON,  the PRINCESS OF SPAIN ! in a recent portrait they seem to resemble HANNA MANGAN LAWRENCE. it is a miracle that SHE survived the last five years, considering they are IMPISH, SCHEMING, and INGENIOUS. i hope the plague has not changed them. they are INDIFFERENT TO working together with the other kingdoms

·         listening to: lorde - sober ii ( melodrama )

·         there’s this butterfly that looks like a snake and i keep thinking a creature that’s the reverse of that basically describes her; instead of a butterfly pretending to be a viper, she’s a viper pretending to be a butterfly;

·         i think she has a very...gillian flynn type vibe, so this will be fun; 

 Beatriz’s arrival in this world came unexpectedly, happened at the worst possible moment, and disappointed everyone. 

She was born during an ill-advised sea crossing, while their ship was being rocked by a furious storm that darkened the day sky to pitch black.

The sailors above deck watched in dread as the sea was lashed by dozens of lightning strikes all around them. For hours they feared their ship would break apart, or finally be hit and catch fire. Things calmed only at night, and they managed to maneuver the damaged but still functional vessel into port.

All things considered, the birth actually went as easily as such things could be hoped for, and both baby and mother recovered quickly, at least once they made it back on land. But the incident wasn’t without its repercussions – the queen had been so shaken by the ordeal that she ascribed to it significant meaning. 

For years, she’d imagined her second daughter was marked for death, and fearful as she was of losing her, the queen instructed everyone to treat her like a delicate child. For the first years of her life, she was forbidden most of everything, movements restricted to only the safest of locations. She was allowed brief walks around the garden only in the mildest of weathers and never for long. She was kept inside months at a time.

They tried to keep her occupied with lessons and – for her immortal soul that her mother claimed was in such danger – they employed a priest to tend personally to her. Beatriz instantly loathed him and after having to suffer under his yoke for nearly two years, she finally erupted and threw her Bible at him. It hit him in the face at an unfortunate angle, causing him to lose an eye. He parents dealt with the issue summarily, paying him to fabricate another story and sending him out of Spain by the end of the year.

Her insufferable restrictions continued, just with another discipline quietly replacing the time she’d spent with the priest.  She never managed to taste a modicum of freedom for as long as her parents had lived, actually.

She assumes this is why she feels so little every time she catches herself thinking about them.

Of course, by the time the king and queen of Spain passed away, everyone else had already realized there was nothing fragile about Beatriz, so convincing her newly crowned brother to loosen her leash a little was incredibly easy and she was finally allowed to into society. She exchanged the mousy, quiet girls her parents had found for her, for the glittering, snobbish, daughters of nobility, who taught her the language of court.

She thrived, almost inappropriately so, taking into account how recent the losses of her parents were, but Beatriz was always destined to tread the line between propriety and spectacle (even though there is none as those two things are in no way comparable; but if she doesn’t have a way, she will find a way between them). 

She felt as though the entirety of Europe was at her feet, and so she reached towards it, finding the most outrageous reasons to travel to different places. Ostensibly under the tutelage of the Spanish ambassadors from various courts, to learn new languages and customs, actually there just for the joy of exploring. She’d always been a little too greedy, but she’d tried very hard to at least be smart about it. Beatriz always knew which things to keep private, and she’d carefully constructed a reputation of empty boldness around her public persona that made numerous rumors slip away like water off a duck’s back.

It was just pure chance that she was in Spain when the seriousness of the situation dawned on all of them. All thoughts of moving on soon having fled, Beatriz tried not to let old resentments flare up when finding herself confined again. At the beginning, she kept herself busy, organizing all sorts of events, soirees, informal parties and game nights, striving desperately to keep boredom at bay. That only lasted a few months, after that the events grew rarer and rarer. In order to survive five years cooped up inside, Beatriz reached out to her sister, certain Sofia was the busiest among them, and most likely to have some task or another for her younger sister.

Now that the fires are out and the plague has slowly crawled away, now that she is finally out of Spain again, she’s eager to make up for as much time as she is able.

WANTED CONNECTIONS:

PRE-ESTABLISHED RELATIONSHIPS: maybe your country was one Beatriz visited (I’m thinking of capping her number of trips at four; I’ll add them here as I plot) and they know each other from before the plague started. She would have travelled in between 19-22, so 8-5 years ago. This is basically open for anything: friendships, rivalries, flirtations etc.

POSSIBLE BETHROTHAL: Beatriz had such a hard time during the plague that she honestly wouldn’t mind never returning to Spain again, so she could be described as at least open to the idea. But she’s also not emotionally invested in the venture, so she’s more likely to want to test them and treat it like a game. But she wants to make sure her future husband has a suitable temperament, after all, before committing to anything.  

ANYONE/ANYTHING: really, she’s just so…666% extroverted. She’s been talking to the same people every day for five years. At this point she’d talk to anybody.

[tuscanwalker]

August 29, 2021: That Most German of German Cities

Greetings from Nuremberg. Caught the train around 10 this morning after a hotel breakfast that brought back memories. Kim and I always load up on fuel at breakfast as we rarely have a place to buy lunch. Today I had the typical walking breakfast of breads, deli meat, cheese, a boiled egg (or two), muesli with yogurt (never milk), juice, fruit, some raw veggies and coffee. If I don’t start walking soon, I will be rolling down the trail.

I arrived in Nuremberg to find my hotel (Victoria) was right beside a major gate through the old city wall (most of which is intact). Built in 1898, the Hotel Victoria is unspeakably old and beautiful outside, yet sleek and modern inside. All of this for about the same price as Air Canada charged me to choose an exit row seat on my flight here.

After dropping off my luggage, I headed out to explore, orient myself and grab some lunch. I spent about 5 hours simply wandering about, with a bit of little guidance from Rick Steves and Larry Bailer. It was interesting to me that, as the old town was almost totally destroyed by bombing in WWII, the residents have restored only those buildings that were realistically salvageable while replacing the rest with modern but architectural sympathetic structures. All in all, this has created an almost Disneyesque, but still very attractive, ambiance. It was also interesting that, for a clearly tourist oriented town, it seemed very quiet today. I don’t know whether this is because of COVID or because many things are closed on Sunday.

For lunch, Mark Lisac (who knew that so many people I knew had been to Nuremberg?) recommended that I try a “3 im weckle” (3 finger sized nuremberger sausages on a bun). Locals swear by them and I must admit that they are mighty tasty, but I only hope that I don’t have a coronary from all the cholesterol.

While there is no Cathedral in Nuremberg (no Bishop), there were several churches that were suitably impressive. Like all the churches and many public buildings here, the sculpture is breathtaking but instead of marble like Italy or France, here they are carved from wood.

The 15th Century Church of St Lawrence was one of the first churches to renounce Catholicism during the Reformstion. When it was decided, the city fathers (who paid for most of them) made it conditional on retaining its beautiful Catholic artworks. In other churches, they were destroyed for being icons (graven images that “thou shalt not worship”).

The 13th Century St. Sebaldus is named for the patron saint of the city and is a Romanesque Basilica style church (no transept) that was later modified to include Gothic elements.

Next I visited the Imperial Castle (the Kaiserberg) which was LGB’s very good advice. This was one of the homes of the Holy Roman Emperor who moved among a string of Castles keeping his eye on the Empire and his nobles. He kept his Imperial Regalia (crown, orb, lance etc) in Nuremberg for over 350 years, but the original is now in Vienna with only a copy here. Unfortunately, while it is large and impressive, one can only visit a very limited numbers of rooms and, as his furniture travelled with him, it is unfurnished and somehow less Imperial as a result.

Along the way, I saw a lot of other interesting things like the Chain Link Bridge, great public art, the Holy Ghost Hospital and the home of Albrecht Durer (Renaissance Artist and native son). For me, the most fun was the aptly named Schoner Brunei (Beautiful Fountain). Fun because pulling one down on one of the gun barrel-like tubes diverts water from the spray and creates a drinking fountain. I even had my picture taken beside it to counter my wife’s frequent complaint that I never appear in the blog or our photo albums.

Anyway, I have bored you enough today, so I will leave you with a little teaser. Tomorrow is museum day and I know how much all my friends love it when I hit the geek button and wax lyrical about some obscure historical event or artifact🥱. I hope you are looking forward to it as much as I am😂.

[bbclesmis]

Andrew Davies on Les Miserables: ‘I’m rescuing it from that awful musical’

Give Andrew Davies a piece of classic literature and he will show you the erotic desires and deep-rooted anxieties that lurk beneath. Think of the passions he unleashed in the nation’s living rooms when he sent Mr Darcy for a dip in his full-blooded 1995 adaptation of Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice, or the consternation he provoked when he inserted a spot of incest into War and Peace in 2016.

Yet even to Davies, a new adaptation of Les Misérables – which he claims “will rescue Victor Hugo’s novel from the clutches of that awful musical with its doggerel lyrics” – posed a challenge. Perhaps the biggest question was how to represent the sexuality of its two principal characters: Jean Valjean, the prisoner who breaks his parole (played by Dominic West); and his nemesis, Javert (David Oyelowo) the policeman who hounds him until the end of his days.

Over tea in central London, Davies tells me that he was surprised to discover that, in Hugo’s 1862 novel, neither character mentions any sort of sexual experience, leaving the 82-year-old screenwriter wondering, at least in the case of Javert, whether it was indicative of a latent homosexuality.

“His obsession with Jean Valjean represents a kind of perverse, erotic love,” Davies says. He doesn’t stop there. In capturing the febrile atmosphere of post-Napoleonic France, he also shows how the innkeeper’s daughter Eponine (Erin Kellyman) expresses her desire for the earnest student Marius (Josh O’Connor).

“One of the best things Hugo does is to have Eponine tease Marius with her sexiness because he is a bit of a prig,” says Davies. “So I have introduced a scene where Marius, even though he is in love with Cosette [Valjean’s adopted daughter], has a wet dream about Eponine and feels rather guilty about it. I think it fits into the psychology of the book.”

Another problem that needed solving was Cosette, “a pretty nauseating character in the book”, whom Davies has made “strong and optimistic, rather than just an idealised figure who doesn’t add anything at all.” In the past, he has spoken about how he has turned the more saccharine depictions of 19th-century womanhood he has found on the page into women with the power “to disconcert men”, by injecting into them a little of his own mother’s character. I ask if she also makes her presence felt in Les Misérables. “I don’t think so. Was she like Madame Thénardier?” he wonders, referring to the sometimes violent innkeeper’s wife, here played by Olivia Colman. “No, that would be awful. Although she was quite keen on smacking people. The women in this book are not terribly complicated.”

I suggest that this might not sit well with modern viewers. “Well, I suppose Fantine goes on one hell of a journey,” says Davies, effecting a cod-American accent. “She develops a sort of animal ferocity and that is all because of how she has been treated.”

Davies’ childhood sounds rosy by comparison. No sooner had he started at his Cardiff grammar than he wrote a naughty poem about two of the modern language teachers, which went around the whole school in samizdat. He recites it for me:

He kissed her, she kissed him      

back.  

He took her knickers off and put    

them in a sack.

She took his underpants and put    

them in her bag.

He said: “Excusez-moi, but may I    

have a shag?”

After that, his writing career settled into a slow burn. He studied English at University College London, then moved to Kenilworth, where he met his future wife, Diana Huntley (they have been married since 1960 and have two children) and began teaching literature at the Coventry College of Further Education. He wrote the odd TV play and a whole host of radio scripts – sadly, now all deleted. One 1972 play about wife swapping, Steph and the Single Life, received complaints from those who denounced it as “obscene, disgusting rubbish”.

More solid success came to Davies in the Eighties, most notably with his greatest original work, A Very Peculiar Practice, based on his experiences at Warwick. Heavy on existential gloom, it concluded with the campus being sold to a private American company, which turned it into a defence research base. Never has a series ended to quite such a peal of mirthless laughter and its extraordinary scheduling (9pm on BBC One) was, thinks Davies, a mistake.

At that point, it was hard to imagine that Davies would, a few years later, be the person to turn costume drama into sportive heritage TV. His Middlemarch came first, in 1994, and was followed 18 months later by Pride and Prejudice, one of the most popular TV series of all time. I wonder how he feels about Nina Raine’s forthcoming small-screen adaptation.

“I am very excited about it,” he says. Then he adds, “even though I wish her all the best, I hope it’s not as popular as my one. It gives me so much pleasure when people say, ‘I was feeling rotten and so I just went to bed and put on Pride and Prejudice’. People use it to get over bereavements – I’m better than a priest!”

This is not arrogance. Davies may be sharp, naughty and ironic, but he is embarrassed by anyone who makes a fuss over him. He worries that this month’s documentary about his work, Rewriting the Classics, is “a bit effusive”, and he seems too pragmatic to be affected by writerly insecurity. Is he sensitive?

“I am much less sensitive than I used to be. I remember being cast down when I had a play that went to Broadway,” he says, referring to 1980’s Rose, which starred Glenda Jackson as a schoolteacher and closed after only 68 performances. “Column after column was spent saying how terrible it was. I couldn’t eat solid food for a week.”

He had a similarly bruising experience with the film industry. A decade ago, Davies admitted that he was disappointed that his movie career had not been more buoyant (Bridget Jones’s Diary was a rare success). Talking to me now, however, he is more sanguine.

“And that’s because the writer is king in TV. In film, all the stories that people say, that they pay you a lot of money and treat you like s---, are true in my experience. I have been sacked from several movies without being told. You meet someone at a party and you say you are working on a picture and they’ll laugh and say, ‘No, you’re not.’ It’s not terribly nice.”

Two more Davies adaptations will be shown next year – of Austen’s fragment, Sanditon, and of Vikram Seth’s epic A Suitable Boy. He would love to adapt more 19th-century classics (Dickens’s Dombey and Son and Trollope’s The Barchester Chronicles are top of his list) but before that, we can look forward to his version of the Rabbit Angstrom novels by John Updike, an author whose perceived misogyny might not seem an obvious fit in today’s cultural climate.

“There are a lot of grim things said about Updike at the moment, but he is a wonderful observer of how we all behave,” says Davies. “I don’t think writers are there to be role models, they are there to say what the world is like from their point of view.”

If the number of irons he has  in the fire makes it sound as though Davies is spreading himself too thinly, he displays an air of toughness despite his advancing years and a recent double hip replacement. “I don’t feel old. I had my one-year check-up yesterday and my surgeon pronounced that he was pleased with his work. My hips are good for another 10 years.”

As well as his prolific adapting, I wonder whether Davies has the desire to tell the story of his own life. “I really ought to,” he says. “I would like to start with my parents’ lives, in the early days of their marriage, because something went wrong there.” I ask why and Davies lowers his voice almost to a whisper.  “I think it’s probably something to do with sex.”

Ben Lawrence, The Telegraph, 22 December 2018 (x)

[lovelilijazunde]

60 follower special

well well well, somehow i went a whole day without registering that I hit 60 followers, and then 61, and thusly should celebrate for it!

I decided to give you: a country I created! There is other stuff for it too, but I didn’t get images of them :( 

Warning: it’s long

Enjoy!

FACTS:

Create-A-Country

Note: all English spellings of the places and names have been implemented for the ease of the reader. We fully understand that Americans find it difficult to understand our written language, so we have translated into English as best we could.

Uzplauxvil (oose-PLOW-ville). The citizens are called Uzplauv. It was based off a mixture of the Latvian word for “flourishing”, uzplaukums, and the French word for town, “ville” because some of the first settlers of this area were French and Latvian, as well as English, Scandinavian, and German. The pronunciation is French-based.

Founded in 1790 on what is now the Canada/Minnesota border, it replaces the state of Minnesota and most of Ontario, as well as Wisconsin, half each of Illinois and Indiana, and shavings of Manitoba. It contains all five Great Lakes and the Headwaters of the Mississippi. North to South, it stretches from a point equal to the tip of Kentucky to Hudson Bay. East to West, it stretches from the Easternmost edge of Manitoba to the Western border of Quebec.

Uzplauxvil is landlocked, though there are many lakes contained inside of it, and it adjoins Hudson Bay. It contains a boreal shield in the North, with the Great Lakes-Lawrence forest region in the center, as well as prairie in the Southwest, coniferous forest in the Mideast, tallgrass aspen parkland in the Midwest, and deciduous forest in the Southeast. At the very Northmost stretch, there is a section of Hudson Plain. There are no mountains, only forests and plains.

The weather is cold and snowy in the winter, and warm in the summer. It gets colder the further north you go, and rainier the further East you go. It also rains a lot near the larger bodies of water. Those areas are also prone to thick fog in the fall and spring, as well as early mornings in the summer.

Most people in the Minnesosk region live around lakes, since there are so many of them there. People in Wixing, Bayside, and Dallirt tend to gravitate towards the central Great Lakes, just as Ryokin and Shlavto people tend to gravitate towards Hudson Bay. And of course, in all districts the people also center around the capitals of each district. Other than that, the population is pretty evenly distributed, with plenty of farm settlements and old logging settlements that turned into towns and cities spread across the districts.

In Uzplauxvil, there is a wide variety of work done, but a lot of it is centered around healthy logging and mining processes, as well as a booming trade in fishing. Since Uzplauxvil has so many lakes, and so many of them large, even though they are a landlocked country they still are a lead in quality fishing industry. Uzpluaxvil is very nature-based, and though this is a product mostly of the main religion, Quatrysm, it is truly a part of everyday life in Uzplauxvil. As a result of this, Uzplauxvil is regarded as the most eco-friendly developed country. They revolutionized hydroelectric power, and found a healthy substitute for coal and oil to fuel their wonderful system of elevated train tracks. They are amazingly quiet, as to disturb as little wildlife as possible. Uzplauvs have made many environmental-protection laws as a result of their belief that all creatures are equally important. Uzplauxvil has only one language. It is unique in the way that it is written. To the ear, they are speaking English, perhaps with a slight French accent in the North and West areas. But, written down, it is a mystifying alphabet of 37 letters. However, it a phonetic alphabet, with each letter having a specific sound, so it is simpler in that manner. Uzplauxvil is also unique in their numerical system, with completely different symbols than the traditional. Thus, the signs are completely indecipherable to someone who has not learned the language, and it would seem even more confusing that the inhabitants do not speak in gibberish, and instead in perfectly normal-sounding English. The alphabet is easy enough to learn. The numerical system is quite a bit harder, especially if you start out as a non-Uzplauv. There are definitely some challenges to living in Uzplauv, mostly concerning  the nature-based society. Lots of people think that Uzpluaxvil should focus less on the environment and more on technology. Unfortunately, this is in opposition to their eco-friendly approach to life and religion, so thankfully this is not a generally popular idea.

There is one major religion in Uzplauxvil, even though there is freedom of religion. Since it is the religion practiced by the royal family and most government officials, is is naturally the most popular and widespread. The major religion is called Quatrysm, with the practitioners called Quatrysts. It is unique to Uzplauxvil, and is the worship of four goddesses, the Quatrys: the goddess of animals, Nkumn; the goddess of families, Calmangh; the goddess of weather, Shavook; and the goddess of plants (such as harvest or lumber), Korytir. They make up the major four aspects of life. There is also a host of smaller gods and goddesses who serve the Quatrys. They are the gods and goddesses of more everyday things such as apple trees, blacksmithing, and clouds. This belief system influences the people to be more considerate towards nature and the world around us. It has also affected our modern technology, limiting the use of pollutant-creating transport systems and factories. There are four smaller important groups: the such as the Arts: gods and goddesses of the theater, music, writing, and tactile art. The religion has no food restrictions, but you must say a blessing over every meal you are presented with, because something had to die to gift you with the bounty. Many Quatrysts are vegetarians or vegans as a result of this, and, like Europe, they eat far less meats than vegetables as opposed to the U.S.A.

The other religions include the beliefs of the Anishinaabe and Dakota native americans who originally lived in the area, as well as different sects of Christianity, Islam, and Judaism.

My country is governed by a Queen, a Council, and a Cabinet. 

The Council is made up of elected overall heads of each district. Their job is to address issues in the Queendom and provide laws and solutions to be approved by the Queen. They focus on making sure the needs of each district are met. 

The Queen position is hereditary, with the former Queen handpicking the most worthy of her female relatives as the new Queen. The qualities that a good Queen possesses must include a sense of justice, compassion, wisdom, a cool head under stress, common sense, and a sense of equality. She may choose any relative younger than her, including sisters (Marquess), aunts (Baroness), cousins (Duchess), nieces (Earless), daughters (Princess), granddaughters (Queenling), and grandnieces (Lady). These positions pre-Queen are mostly title only. They still have to work to put themselves in positions of power and to become landowners. This is to create a sense of humility and equality with the common people, and to create a system where anyone can advance. 

It is possible that if a suitable female candidate cannot be found, that a male would ascend the throne, but it has only happened once, after the reign of Queen Judith the Progressive in 1890. There were fewer girls born into the royal family at this time, and most of them were spoiled and deceitful. Thus, faced with limited female options, Queen Judith appointed her nephew, Earl William, to the throne. He became known as King William the Just, and was a wise and fair ruler. 

Any candidate must have passed the Maturity Test before she can ascend the throne, and often she takes it before beginning her training.

Common people are appointed to the Cabinet and Council, and the idea is that any future Queen should rule for the people, not the power and politics. Before becoming the Queen, the Queen Candidate must undergo vigorous training and tutoring by the Queen and the Queen’s advisors. She must be able to run a country as soon as she is crowned, so this training process takes years. Knowing this, the Queen usually begins to train a candidate as soon as possible. If the Queen dies without having handed over her throne, the paperwork would be horrendous, and the Cabinet and Council would have far more than their fair share of work. In the case of an unstable or unfit Queen, the Council and Cabinet will vote to impeach her. The Queen can pose or veto laws, and has the final say in any and all High Court cases, though she is reigned in by the judge and jury. 

The Queen may marry whomever she wishes to, though it is traditional to marry an Uzplauv.

The Cabinet is appointed by the Queen and approved by the Council. The Cabinet is made up of the heads of particular parts of the government such as Treasurer, Strategist, Armorer, Judge, Cook, etc., each of them representing their entire profession as well as leading them.

Since Uzplauxvil is split up into several districts, there are smaller Cabinets and Councils within each district. In each district, the council members are made up of the Heads of each town, with the cabinet members being the same positions as the Cabinet members, just at a local level, and deferring to the Cabinet members.

There are no political parties in Uzplauxvil. Every district is focused inwards, so that is as close as they come. This is based on the Uzplauv government looking at what happens to countries with political parties, and strongly discouraging that type of behavior there.

ALPHABET AND NUMERICAL SYSTEM:

NATIONAL ANTHEM:

[ask-joeydrewstudios]

Another Reality (Part 1)

(Hello, Mun! I’ve been wanting to write a fanfiction for this AU for awhile, but once I heard the blog was shutting down, I finally decided to start. As a result of my lateness, this fanfiction is not finished. I guess I’ll be sending the rest to your other blog, if you’re interested. This is literally the first time I’ve ever submitted something online, so if I did something wrong, I apologize.)

(Where do I begin? Mun, I’d just like to thank you for all the laughs and heartfelt moments this blog has provided. It was a creative, unique idea to have a “happily ever after” AU, and continues to be. I haven’t been here since the beginning; I only got into the Bendy and the Ink Machine fandom about a year ago, and found your blog a few months later. But I can say that this has been, by far, one of my most favorite blogs here on Tumblr. I love your original take on all the characters, and their unique designs. You are an amazing artist and even more amazing human being. I wish you the best of luck in all your future projects, both fandom related and not.)

(Now back to the fanfiction. I’d been entertaining the idea of the studio employees of this AU ending up in the game studio. I decided to write that, but only for Chapter 1. It gets pretty “angsty” later on, but I tried to mix in some humor as well. I’ve never written anything so dramatic before, so we’ll see how it turned out.)

((Note: This fanfiction was written rather hastily, so I’m sorry if the pacing seems too fast. The way I headcanon the AU studio is that it’s a mix of the studio before the game was remastered and the studio after it was remastered, meaning the ink machine is in a small room at the far end of the main hallway, like the original, but everything else is like the remastered version.))

Joey Drew glanced over at his dozing head animator, Henry, before quietly laying down his pencil, setting aside the papers he’d been writing on. Slowly, he pulled open his desk drawer and withdrew his book of dark magic, careful to make as little noise as possible. He had no wish for Henry to discover him in the act of practicing spells; the cartoonist, while not actively trying to prevent him from performing said rituals, did not necessarily approve of them, either.

The head of the studio adjusted his glasses as he flipped through the pages of his book. He’d been so busy lately with the cartoons, which were quickly gaining popularity, that he hadn’t had time for practicing his spells. Joey had finished most of his work for the day, and decided he was deserving of a quick break.

Henry had come in about ten minutes ago, stumbling slightly as he’d opened the door, rubbing at his eyes beneath his glasses. Joey shook his head, looking over at the young man, now fast asleep in his armchair. That boy needed to take better care of himself; he’d been working for almost two days straight on the latest cartoon, ignoring Joey’s and his wife’s protests. Henry’s work habits had improved much since he’d married Dianne, but clearly old habits die hard. Well, Joey thought, At least he finally had the common sense to go lie down.

Joey turned his attention back to his book. He had had this book for so many years now, and still he felt he hadn’t untapped all the secrets it held, hadn’t explored all the rituals it had to offer. Thumbing through it, Joey waited for something to catch his eye. He stopped when he reached the page with an intricate summoning circle sketched on it. Joey always found himself coming back to this particular passage, but had never made the time to try it out. Grinning, Joey opened one of his drawers and took out some candles, matches, and a large ink pot. He had the time now.

The text said something about it being a gateway. The book was written all in Latin, and was extremely old and had suffered some water damage, leading to many of the words having faded away. Joey could only just make out the incantation. Taking up his ink pot, Joey began to copy the circle down on the floor of his office. The ink he was using was not the regular ink found at the store. It was cursed ink, the kind used to bring Bendy, Boris, and Alice to life.

Joey deftly finished copying the diagram, years of experience guiding his hand. He was just reaching for the matches, when a shout he knew all too well reached his ears.

“JOEY!”

Sighing, Joey set down the match box and got to his feet, groaning slightly (being old was not fun). Couldn’t Sammy try to be a little more quiet? He checked to make sure Henry hadn’t woken up at the sudden outburst. Thankfully, the animator was still sound asleep. Joey quietly crossed his office and opened the door, shutting it gently behind him.

Angry shouting awoke Henry from his slumber. He recognized the shouter to be Sammy (When wasn’t it Sammy?) ranting about Bendy, and something about Susie. Henry sighed. He hoped Bendy hadn’t tried to prank Sammy again. Pranking Sammy was an exceedingly bad idea, but the prank backfiring and accidentally getting Susie was even worse. From what he was hearing, that was exactly what happened. He could hear Susie trying to calm her boyfriend, and could just detect Joey’s soft, measured voice through the noise.

Henry rolled his eyes and tried to block out the sounds. He let his eyelids droop shut, but not before something caught his eye. Peeking an eye open, Henry looked down at a summoning circle on the floor. Really, Joey? Had Joey actually been performing a ritual right under his nose? Henry sat up, reached for his glasses on Joey’s desk to get a closer look.

The circle seemed more complex than the other ritual circles Henry had seen, with various designs crisscrossing each other. Henry knew next to nothing about demonic rituals, other than what Joey had told him. Actually, now that he thought of it, he probably knew more than the average person did due to his boss.

Henry decided to let it be, and proceeded to take his glasses off and begin to snuggle back into the cushions, when he heard a whisper. Frowning, Henry replaced the glasses on his nose, staring intently at the circle. Had it just said something? Henry listened closely. There was definitely a whisper emanating from the circle. The animator got to his feet, knowing he should tell Joey. The whispers grew louder. Henry couldn’t make out what they said, but the voice sounded familiar. With a start, he realized it was his voice.

Henry stood silently for a moment, too confused and surprised to move. As he stared at the circle, the ink seemed to spread. Henry blinked a few times, rubbed his eyes. No, the ink was definitely moving. It was spreading across the circle, swirling around. A tunnel began to form, steadily elongating till Henry saw a light at the very end.

Something about this tunnel held Henry in some sort of spell, and he could not bring himself to tear his gaze away. His own whispers echoed in Henry’s ears, unintelligible but urgent. Without thinking, Henry stepped toward the dark puddle. Warning bells sounded in his head, yet he could not bring himself to heed them. He stood on the edge of the circle, gazing into the abyss. His foot rose slowly, almost of its own volition. It kicked something, sending it into the tunnel as it did so, but he didn’t care. His foot sunk into the ink, bringing the rest of him with it. Distantly, Henry heard Joey’s voice calling for him, but he didn’t turn to look.

  “I’ve had it up to here with that demon brat, Joey!”

Joey glared at Sammy coldly. The head of the music department didn’t seem to know how to stop shouting. Susie was trying to hush him, bringing an ink stained finger to her ink stained lips. Bendy had set a pale of ink up above the music department, attempting to drop it on one of the musicians, most likely aiming for Sammy. From what Joey had heard, and could clearly see, that ink had instead poured on Alice’s voice actress.

“Either you teach him a lesson or I will!” Sammy glared daggers at Joey.

“What do you mean by that, Lawrence?” Joey met Sammy’s glare coolly. He admitted that Bendy could be troublesome sometimes, and deserved a good chastising, but he wasn’t about to let Sammy start threatening his son. Sammy seemed to realize his mistake, for he sputtered for a few seconds, searching for something to say.

“Sammy,” Susie intervened, her voice gentle but firm, “I think Joey understands your feelings on the matter and will see to it that Bendy is suitably reprimanded. Now, please, shut up.”

Sammy looked startled for a moment and looked down at his girlfriend, who was giving him a stern look through her stringy, ink-drenched hair. Joey sighed and nodded his thanks to her, which she returned. It was commonly known around the studio that Sammy would do anything for Susie, and that was an admirable trait. Sometimes he pushed it a little far, though.

“I’ll go talk to Bendy as soon as I, ah, take care of some business.” Joey assured, turning back to his office door, pausing before he opened it, “And Susie, you may of course go home and clean up.” Susie smiled her thanks.

Joey nodded then turned the knob and entered his office, to see an ink tunnel having formed where he’d painted the circle, and Henry right on the edge of it. Joey could only stare for a moment, before calling out to Henry, who was actually stepping into this mysterious tunnel.

“Henry!” Joey leaped for the animator, but he was already falling down the tunnel, and into the brightness at the end. Sammy and Susie both burst into the room, alarmed by Joey’s cry.

“Joey, what- Holy heck!” Sammy’s eyes landed on the tunnel, and he took a step back, “What in blazes is that?”

Joey was staring intently at the tunnel, unable to speak for a few moments. What had just happened? How could it have happened? He hadn’t even begun the ritual! Joey was suddenly aware of whispers coming from the tunnel, reverberating in his ears. He stumbled away from them, backing into Sammy and Susie.

“Joey, what’s going on?” Susie’s nervous eyes searched Joey’s face for an answer, an answer Joey didn’t have.

“I-I don’t know.” His gaze was fixated on the tunnel, “I didn’t do anything. I only painted the circle. This shouldn’t have happened! Henry…” Oh goodness, what had he done?

Joey glanced desperately around for his ritual book; it would have the answer to how to bring Henry back. It had to. When he didn’t see it, Joey was immediately filled with dread. It had to be here. He frantically searched under the armchair and by his desk, but it was nowhere to be found, which meant only one thing: it had fallen into the gateway with Henry.

After a brief moment of panic, Joey came to a decision, “I’m going after him.” He stepped toward the ink, a deep sense of calm and resolution suddenly washing over him. Henry was like a son to him, and Joey wouldn’t be exaggerating if he said he wouldn’t know what to do should anything happen to him. He was the reason Henry had fallen down this ink tunnel, and he would be the one to bring him back.

“You can’t just jump into some ink tunnel not knowing where it leads.” Susie protested, “We need a plan.”

“The plan is to go in, get Henry and the ritual book, then find a way back.”

“That doesn’t sound very well thought out.”

“There are no other options!” Susie jumped slightly at the harshness in Joey’s voice. Then, seeing the desperation in the older man’s eyes, her tone softened.

“Alright.”

“ ‘Alright?’ ” Sammy interrupted, looking at Susie in disbelief, “We’re seriously letting Joey jump into a freaking hole in the floor?”

“Do you have any better ideas?”

When Sammy remained silent, Susie turned back to Joey.

“Go.” she said, simply.

Joey nodded, prepared to jump in, before turning to his employees, “No one is to follow me, understand?” Susie nodded, and Sammy glanced between the two of them before nodding slowly. Joey turned back to the ink tunnel, and, before fear could overtake him, he jumped.

  What the heck just happened?

Henry lay on his back, staring up at the ceiling of the studio. He had been falling down a tunnel of ink till he’d flown up and out of the tunnel, landing painfully on his back. Now here he lay, too stunned to do little more than blink. After a few moments, Henry remembered he had arms, and he used these arms to push himself up to a sitting position, while adjusting his glasses. Turning round, Henry saw the strange tunnel he’d just fallen through, on the floor just a foot from him. Henry had had many strange experiences in his life, but this definitely was the strangest. Even that one time Bendy had turned him into a cartoon didn’t seem so weird compared to this.

Henry got shakily to his feet, surveying his surroundings more. He was at the entrance to the studio, but Henry immediately realized it had changed. There were no sounds, no one speaking other than the whispering portal. The studio was never this quiet. There was a large amount of ink dripping from a section of the ceiling, creating a large puddle on the floorboards. That hadn’t been there this morning. What was even more peculiar was the glowing ink on the walls and floor. That definitely hadn’t been there this morning.

Henry studied this strange ink, first looking down at the large amount that seemed to have been painted across the floorboards. At the end of this long stretch of ink was written in large letters “DON’T TURN ON THE MACHINE”. Henry could only assume whoever had written this was referring to the ink machine. His eyes roved over the writing on the walls. Two sections were devoted solely to tallies. One part read “TURN BACK”, painted over a Bendy poster, and another read “I’M SORRY BUDDY”, over a Boris poster. In the room that led off from this hallway, Henry could see a large sign for Joey Drew Studios, with moving film reels behind it. Over the “Studios” part was written “NOTHING”, so that the sign seemed to read “Joey Drew nothing”. Henry couldn’t even begin to wrap his head around all he was seeing. All the writing was so ominous. Why would anyone write this in the studio? Was this even the studio he knew? Where was he?

Panic began to set in, and Henry found himself turning back to the ink tunnel; if it could send him to wherever this place was, then surely it could send him back home. As he prepared to walk back through, Henry spotted Joey’s book of dark magic lying on the ground. He remembered something had fallen into the tunnel before he did, but he hadn’t spotted it until now. Henry picked it up, and held it close to him. Suddenly this book of devilry was the most precious and comforting item in the world.

Henry took a deep breathe, about to step into the gateway, when he saw something falling through it, rising up toward him. No, not something, someone. Joey!

Joey flew threw the tunnel, arching through the air before slamming into Henry. The two men crashed to the ground, the ritual book flying from Henry’s grasp. The pain Henry felt at the collision did not override the relief and joy he felt at seeing Joey.

“Joey!” he cried, pushing his glasses back into place.

“Henry!” The older man struggled to sit up, enveloping the animator in a tight embrace the moment he did. Henry returned the hug with equal warmth, letting all of his fears melt away, even just f

or a moment, to allow himself to feel safe and comforted.

Joey pulled away from the hug first, adjusting his askew glasses, “Are you hurt?” he asked, eyeing Henry up and down.

“No. Are you?” Joey didn’t talk about it very much, but he was growing old, and falling through a tunnel and smacking into someone else before hitting the floor probably did not do his aging body any wonders.

“I’m fine.” Joey assured, attempting to stand before wincing and sinking back down, “Or at least I will be.”

Henry nodded understandingly, seating himself beside Joey. The two men sat in silence for a few seconds, allowing their nerves to settle. At last, Joey turned to Henry, his icy blue eyes wide and earnest, “I’m sorry this happened to you. I didn’t think this would - or could - happen. I should have been more careful.”

Henry smiled wanly. Joey had done a lot of what could be considered bad things in his life, such as summoning creatures from ink, but he’d never done anything with malicious intent. He always owned up to his mistakes and always tried to make amends. Sure, he was a little too careless sometimes, but it was hard for Henry to hold a grudge against the man who had given him his dream job, who was always there for him, and who he considered to be like a father to him.

“I forgive you.” Henry said, simply.

Joey searched Henry’s gaze, and, apparently concluding he’d meant what he said, smiled back.

The studio owner then eyed their surroundings, his brow furrowing, before spotting his book. He went to get up and grab it, but Henry beat him to it, and handed the book to him. Joey flipped through the pages impatiently before stopping on a page with a sketch of the ritual circle Henry had seen just minutes ago in Joey’s office.

“This’ll be our ticket home.” he said, pointing to the diagram.

“Can’t we just walk back through the tunnel?” Henry asked.

“The portal probably only works on one end, and since no one knows how to bring us back on that end, we’ll need a second ritual circle to get us back to our studio.” Henry frowned, and experimentally tried to put his hand through the tunnel they’d come through. Sure enough, some invisible barrier prevented him from doing so.

“Now all we need is ink…” Joey mused aloud. Henry knew they couldn’t just use normal ink; they needed ink directly from the ink machine. Henry glanced over at the message on the floor. “DON’T TURN ON THE MACHINE”.

“What do you make of these messages?” Henry asked, gesturing to the glowing ink surrounding them.

Joey frowned, “What messages?”

“These ones.” Henry said, gesturing again. Joey looked about them a moment before turning back to Henry, a puzzled expression on his face.

“I don’t see anything.”

Now Henry frowned, “How do you not see anything? They’re literally glowing.”

Joey continued to look confused, which irritated Henry. He didn’t like being the only one seeing the messages, seeing as how he didn’t know what that meant.

Joey’s head tilted slightly as he considered his apprentice, “What do these messages say?”

Henry explained to him all the markings he was seeing, and the older man stroked his chin thoughtfully.

“Interesting…” he murmured to himself. Henry didn’t understand why Joey found it so “interesting”, but decided not to ask; he wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

Joey seemed to remember the whispers coming from the tunnel, and he turned slowly to face them, a look of surprise on his face.

“Is that-”

“Me? Yeah, it is.”

Joey stared at Henry silently for a moment, before turning back to the portal.

“I wish I could understand what you’re saying.”

“So do I.”

Joey stared wide-eyed at the gateway for a few more seconds, before snapping back to the matter at hand.

“Well, regardless of the warning not to, we need to turn on the ink machine in order to get home.” Joey rose slowly to his feet. He rubbed at a spot on his back, and grimaced.

“That’ll smart for awhile.” he said, half to himself. Turning to Henry, Joey smiled slightly.

“Let’s go.”

  Sammy could not believe what he was seeing. Many a strange thing had happened in the years since he’d begun working at the studio, but this definitely surpassed them all. Well, apart from that one time Bendy had turned him into an ink monster for a few days, but other than that, this was definitely the strangest thing that had happened.

Susie and he stood as far away from the ink tunnel as they could without leaving the room. The whispers were still audible over here, but were not nearly as… tantalizing. Something about those whispers sounded familiar, but Sammy couldn’t place why. They also seemed to have a sort of lulling effect, and Sammy and Susie had to repeatedly stop themselves from advancing toward the gateway. At last, Sammy decided to just turn his back to the tunnel; the whispers were less prominent this way.

Darn it, Joey. He cursed to himself, Why do you have to go mucking about with this stuff?

Susie noticed Sammy’s consternation, “Are you alright?” she asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Susie gave him a knowing look, and Sammy crossed his arms. He would never, ever, say it, but he had come to actually like his boss, even though he could be a total idiot sometimes. And he’d always respected Henry for his work ethic and for the fact that he always minded his own business. The music director grudgingly admitted to himself that he cared for both of them, something Susie could understand without him having to put it into words.

“Hey, Mr. Drew!” Wally’s voice snapped Sammy from his thoughts, as did the janitor’s hurried footsteps, “Mr. Drew, there’s a pipe leak- sweet cheese!” Wally ran into the office and immediately backpedaled when he saw the tunnel, hugging the wall.

“Wh-What is that?” The janitor turned to Sammy and Susie, steadily inching closer to them.

“It’s a hole in the floor.” Sammy said drily, too disgruntled to explain.

Susie rolled her eyes at Sammy and explained the situation to a flabbergasted Wally, who had made his way over to them and stood close to Susie.

“Henry fell into this… tunnel, and Joey went to go rescue him.”

“… So, we’re just waitin’ now?” Wally asked, his eyes flicking from the tunnel to Susie and back again.

“Basically.”

Wally nodded slowly. Sammy sighed. As if the situation wasn’t bad enough already, now they had to deal with Wally. Could this day get any worse? Bendy rushed into the room. I’ve got to remember to stop asking that. The ink demon looked scared, and Sammy figured he was probably seeking Joey for protection, which he often did when Sammy was mad at him.

Bendy squeaked when he saw Sammy, made to leave, then paused when he noticed the music director wasn’t even looking at him. Cautiously, Bendy stepped into the room, squeaking again when he saw the portal on the floor.

“What happened?” he asked, his pie eyes wide, “Where’s Papa Drew?”

Susie smiled gently, crouching down so she was at eye level with Bendy to give him the news.

“He and Henry fell into that ink thing!” Wally cried. Susie turned to glare at him, while Bendy’s usually smiling mouth drooped into a frown.

“When are they comin’ back?” he asked. Sammy watched as Susie searched for an assuring answer, stuttering a bit. He decided to interject.

“They’ll be back soon.” Sammy looked down at the ink demon. Bendy looked up at him, no longer afraid of his wrath. Sammy had to admit he wasn’t really angry with him any more; too much had happened in the past several minutes.

“You’re welcome to wait for them with us.” Susie said.

Bendy nodded and seated himself, facing the portal. Sammy and Susie shared a glance, each silently asking the same question: What do we do if they don’t come back? Out of the corner of his eye Sammy saw Wally move, but was too absorbed in his thoughts to turn and look. If they don’t come back- No. I won’t think about that right now. Sammy found his hands moving to his pockets, reaching in for his cigarettes and lighter. Smoking usually helped calm his nerves.

Sliding out a cigarette and placing it in his mouth, Sammy flicked open the lighter, bringing it up to the end of his stick.

“Um, Wally, what are you doing?”

Bendy was looking behind Sammy and the music director turned to see Wally right on the edge of the ink tunnel. Oh, shoot! “Wally!”

The lighter fell from Sammy’s grasp, flipping closed, the cigarette falling to the floor as he dove for the janitor. Wally was descending into the ink and Sammy clutched his arm. Wally’s weight and the pull of the portal was too much, though, and Sammy was soon diving in as well. Dimly, he heard Susie shouting his name, felt her hands on his upper arm. Then they were all lost to the ink and whispers.

  The deeper into the studio they went, the more uneasy Joey and Henry became. It was all too clear no one else was here, and hadn’t been for quite some time. However, two of the rooms off the main hallway had lights on, one of them being Sammy’s upstairs office. Music suddenly began to play from behind the door. Joey and Henry had shared a nervous glance before Joey had timidly said, “Hello?” No one answered, and the music soon stopped. They’d tried to open the door, but it was locked. Ink dripped in worrying amounts from various sections of the ceiling; Joey was surprised the ceiling was still holding up. If all this wasn’t eerie enough, Henry discovered more hidden messages. Over the directory was written “DEATH IN EVERY DiRECTION”. There was a message just beyond it, that Joey could see quite clearly. “DREAMS COME TRUE”. That was his slogan. Why had someone written his slogan on the wall in ink? Who had done it? Henry told him there was another secret message just above it that said “NOT ALL”. “NOT ALL DREAMS COME TRUE”. What did this mean?

Obviously this universe’s version of the studio was radically different from the one Joey had founded. But why? If there was an alternate studio, there must be an alternate version of him. Joey couldn’t imagine any version of him would let the studio fall into ruin; the success of the studio had always been his top priority. And what about these messages Henry was seeing? Perhaps, Joey mused to himself, Only Henry can see them because Henry wrote them. That would make sense, if it was written in magical ink. But then Joey found himself at the same question of “Why?”. Why would Henry write these messages? Who was he trying to warn, if the only other person who could read it was another Henry?

Joey shook his head. There were no concrete answers as of yet. He needed to focus on the mission at hand: getting home.

The way to the ink machine was different than their world. The area off the hallway leading to it was blocked off by what looked like a garage door. That’s not good, Joey thought, We’ll need to open it to access the switches for the machine. Instead of this hallway directly leading to the machine, it turned right, and there was a chart at the far end of the hallway labeled “Ink Output Schedule”. Joey saw that it had been signed “T.C.”. He could only assume that meant Thomas Connor. Did this studio have all the same employees as theirs? What had happened to them? Had they all quit?

They turned right, stepping over a large pipe that extended across the floor. And soon they beheld a large room, split into two levels, with them on the upper part. Chains extended down from the ceiling to the lower level. Here on the upper level was a lever, and some sort of power generator. To the left was a trunk and a shelf. A railing was placed on the other side of this level, probably to make sure no one fell. The ink machine was nowhere in sight.

Joey just stared in awe at his surroundings. He wasn’t sure why this whole area was necessary, or where the ink machine was, but it was fascinating seeing his studio designed differently.

Henry murmured something.

“What’s that?” Joey asked, absently.

“ ‘THERE NEVER WAS A CHOICE’.”

Joey frowned, turned to look at the younger man, “What?”

Henry pointed to the floor, “Another message.”

Joey instinctively looked down where Henry was pointing, even though he knew he wouldn’t be able to see anything. He’d have to remember all these messages, so he could come to a conclusion later as to what they meant.

Henry walked over to the railing, looked down at the room below.

“I don’t see the machine.” The young man eyed the chains and the large hole in the floor, “Maybe it’s attached to the chains.”

Joey didn’t see the reason behind the chains needing to hold the machine. He guessed it was so that it could move to the different levels of the studio, though Joey didn’t think that was necessary.

The studio owner glanced about him, “How do we get to it…?” He eyed the lever, then the power generator.

“This lift could use a few dry cells.” Henry voiced Joey’s thoughts aloud.

“There’s one over there.” Joey went and grabbed one off the shelf. Henry checked the inside of the trunk, and withdrew another. The two men carried their loads over to the power generator, sliding them in place. Joey grabbed the lever, yanking it down. Instantly, the chains began moving as they worked to bring something up.

“Let’s see what’s hiding down there…” Henry said, quietly.

Sure enough, it was the ink machine, but not the ink machine they knew. This one was designed differently, with a pipe running down it, and an altogether sleeker look. Steam issued from either side, making Joey jump slightly. He pressed himself up against the railing, trying to get a closer look. He wondered how efficiently this ink machine ran compared to the one back in their world. Was it a newer model? Joey wanted nothing more than to study this alternate machine.

“Uh, Joey?” Henry’s voice jarred Joey’s thoughts, and he backed away. Right, right, getting home is our main priority.

The two of them headed out of the room, Joey casting glances back over his shoulder.

When they arrived back at the main hallway, Joey saw the roll up door that had closed off the area with the switches had been opened up, and the door to the breakroom had opened as well. But how? There was no one else here. At least, no one they’d seen. I’m beginning to think this place is haunted. And as the thought crossed Joey’s mind, he realized this notion wasn’t entirely not plausible.

“Come on.” he said, motioning to Henry. It wouldn’t do to dwell on things that could not be explained, as of yet. Henry glanced at Joey, before following him into the new hallway.

  This section of the studio was just like their world’s studio, except for the occasional hole in the wall. Henry was glad to see not everything was changed, but it was eerie at the same time. How could two studios, so similar, be so different?

They turned right, past the desk and chair nobody ever used, towards the old break room, which was where one of the switches was and where Joey performed the ritual to curse the ink. Henry stared at the far wall, reading yet another secret message. “DON’T BE SCARED”, it read. Don’t be scared of what?

A plank of wood fell from the ceiling and clattered to the ground. It wasn’t so much the the fall itself but rather the resounding noise the plank made as it hit the floor that caused Henry to wince. Joey looked surprised, but other than that made no reaction. Henry looked back up at the writing on the wall. It was as if whoever had written it had known the wood would fall. Add that to the list of strange things that had been happening.

Henry reported the message to Joey, who paused, before nodding, telling him to keep him posted. Hopefully Joey will be able to make better sense of these messages than I can.

They reached the intersection, and Henry turned right, heading for the break room, but something caught his eye in the room to the left. He turned to look just as Joey gasped, a small cry escaping him. Henry looked into the other room and saw Boris - dead - strapped to a raised table, his rib cage splayed open with a wrench jammed between them and his eyes crossed out.

Henry could only stand there, staring at the corpse. Horror filled him, overtaking his mind. He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t think. Boris was dead. Boris was dead.

The two men stood frozen for a few moments, until Joey stumbled forward, inexplicably drawn to the dead wolf. Henry wanted to do something, to pull him away, but his limbs refused to move. Joey approached Boris, staring up at the body. His legs could no longer carry him, and he sunk to the floor, kneeling before the corpse, his ritual book falling from his grasp. A horrible noise escaped him, and Henry realized it was a sob, a terrible, heart-wrenching sob. And suddenly Henry could move again, and he was running to and kneeling beside his boss. A golden message shone on the floor, but Henry couldn’t care less what it said.

Henry’s arms wrapped around Joey, offering what little comfort they could. Joey didn’t seem to notice, his watering blue eyes trained on Boris. Henry squeezed his eyes shut, trying to hold back his own tears; one of them needed to stay strong.

The two men remained in silence for what seemed an eternity, before Joey spoke, his voice low, “Who… would do this?”

Henry didn’t have an answer, and he didn’t trust his voice to speak without shaking.

Joey had finally wrenched his gaze away from Boris and was staring down at his hands, “How could I let this happen?”

Henry took a deep breath before speaking, “It’s not our Boris.”

“But he’s still Boris. There’s a Joey in this world, and he let this happen. He…” Joey’s voice broke as he covered his face with his hands.

Biting his lower lip, Henry gently withdrew his arms from around Joey, shifting himself so that he was partially facing the older man.

“Joey,” he said, softly. Joey didn’t look up. Henry breathed in slowly, calming himself before he continued, his voice stronger, “Joey, this isn’t your fault. Whoever did this, whichever Joey let this happen, is not you.” Joey continued to sob quietly into his hands.

Henry realized that no amount of comforting words would make this moment any better. Joey had just seen the disemboweled corpse of his son. Yes, this Boris wasn’t their Boris, from their world, but it was still Boris. It didn’t matter whose fault it was. Boris was still dead. His son was dead.

Scooching back beside Joey, Henry wrapped his arms about him again, and this time Joey leaned into him, giving himself to his anguish. Henry held him tighter, letting his own tears fall.

And so the two men remained, whispers echoing about them, the Boris corpse oblivious to the tears being shed for it.

  Susie fought to keep herself from shivering. She was still drenched from the ink Bendy had poured on her, and the chill of this… other studio combined with the wetness set her teeth chattering. Sammy noticed this, and wrapped an arm about her, not caring that he was getting ink on his own clothes. Susie smiled at her boyfriend gratefully.

The three of them (her, Sammy, and Wally) gazed about this strange new studio. Neither Joey nor Henry were in sight; Susie hoped they were alright.

Sammy was glaring viciously at Wally, “Well, Franks, I hope you’re happy. We’re trapped in some alternate studio, with no way of getting back, and it’s all thanks to you.”

“Hey!” Wally cried indignantly, “It’s not my fault! I didn’t know the tunnel was gonna start whisperin’ at me. You guys shoulda warned me!”

“Let’s not argue.” Susie said, already sick of their bickering, “We need to find Joey and Henry.”

Sammy cast one last glare at Wally, before turning to Susie, sighing, “Let’s go, then.”

The trio had tumbled out of the portal a mere minute ago, with Wally landing first, flat on his face, Sammy landing on top of the janitor, and Susie forming the apex of their strange little tower. It had taken them some moments to regain their bearings and to disentangle themselves from each other, but they’d been quite surprised by their surroundings once they had. Now they advanced through the silent hallway leading toward the ink machine, becoming more wary with each step.

“Joey?” Susie called softly, her voice seemingly too nervous to speak louder, “Henry?”

Sammy paused when they reached his office, opening the door. It wasn’t much different from his office back in their world, with a desk taking up most of the space, a radio, and a shelf, except this shelf contained bacon soup. Nobody at their studio enjoyed bacon soup except for Bendy and Henry. How old is this stuff? Susie withdrew a can from the shelf, checked the expiration date, her eyes widening when she saw the soup had expired almost three decades ago. How long has it been since anyone worked here?

“ ‘He will set us free’?” Susie turned to see Sammy reading off a paper on his desk, brow furrowed. The music director turned to look at his girlfriend, “Did I write that?”

Susie didn’t have an answer for him. Since there was another studio, it was conceivable that there could be other versions of themselves. For some reason, the thought made the voice actress uneasy; she wasn’t sure she could handle meeting another version of herself. This studio was already so different from theirs; wouldn’t its employees be different, too?

Gently, Susie laced her arm through Sammy’s, led him out of the small space. Wally surveyed the room more closely once they’d stepped out, his eyes alighting on the small radio on the desk. Before either Susie or Sammy could protest, Wally had turned the dial. Music blared from the radio, making them all jump. Cursing, Sammy shoved past Wally and shut it off.

“Can’t you ever use your brain, Franks?” Sammy scowled at the janitor.

“I wanted to see if it still worked.” Wally said defensively, “I didn’t think it would be so loud…”

Sammy gestured to the radio, “The volume is turned all the way up, if you hadn’t noticed.”

“Oh.” Wally looked sheepish, “Well, maybe Joey or Henry heard it.”

Or something else did. Susie shook her head, trying to ignore the fanciful notion.

The three continued to progress down the hallway, noticing the ink machine wasn’t directly at the end as it was in their studio. They were just nearing the break room when soft footsteps could be heard in the section opposite it. The three of them halted, and Susie licked her dry lips, tasting ink, before calling timidly, “Joey?”

“Susie?” Henry’s low voice made Susie sigh in relief, and she walked forward just as Henry turned the corner, Joey right behind him. Susie’s smile faltered as they neared, seeing their faces. Henry’s eyes were red rimmed, his mouth set in a tight line, as if he was trying to hold himself back from crying. Joey clearly had been crying, and his puffy, red eyes proved that. His breathing was shaky, and as he came up to meet her, Susie could see tears still sliding down his cheeks.

“Are you alright?” she asked of them immediately. Neither of them could meet her gaze.

“We’re fine.” Henry looked up at Sammy and Wally, before turning to Susie, “Why are you here?”

“We fell in by accident.” Susie explained.

“She means Wally dragged us here.” Sammy added, earning a harsh glare from Susie.

Wally crossed his arms, “I didn’t ask you to try and save me.” The voice actress tried to communicate to the two of them with her eyes that now was a very bad time to argue. Sammy caught her look, and seemed to finally notice that Joey and Henry were upset. He frowned, nudging Wally slightly before he could continue the squabble. The janitor looked confused at Sammy’s sudden silence, before he too saw the reason behind it.

Henry sighed, rubbed at his eyes beneath his glasses, “Well, we need the ink machine to get home. We were just about to start the ritual when we heard the radio turn on.”

The animator made to turn back the way he’d come, but stopped to glance at Joey. The older man hadn’t said a word, had barely even looked at them. He seemed lost in his own world, which wasn’t unusual for him. But the utterly morose look on his face wasn’t like Joey at all. He looked like he was within moments of an emotional break down.

“Joey,” Henry’s voice grew quiet as he addressed his mentor, “do you want to wait a bit?”

Joey turned to his apprentice, before drawing a long, quivering breath, “No. I want to go home.” Henry nodded, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder before walking off in the direction of the ritual room. Susie shared a confused and concerned glance with Sammy and Wally. What could Joey and Henry have seen to affect them in this manner? Susie had a sinking feeling she was about to find out.

(That’s it for now! I hope you all enjoyed this. It might be a bit too depressing for the end of the blog, but oh well. I never was good at writing fluff. Farewell, Mun! I’ll be seeing you on your art blog.)

(( Oh wow, I think this is the longest one submission i’ve ever gotten xD I like how you write the characters, you’ve got their personalities down pretty well, and even though a few people have done the ‘AU characters end up in the canon universe’ idea the whole ‘people reacting to the dead boris’ thing never gets easier to read :^) it hurts every time. if you continue to write this please feel free to @ my art blog, i’d love to see more! thanks for the fic!! <3))

[peaky-yamyam]

Stress Relief - Part Three

<< Part One | < Part Two | Part Three | Part Four >

“Don’t forget my mother is coming round later this evening,” Lawrence announces over the breakfast table, as if the impending visit from my mother-in-law hasn’t been weighing on my mind for weeks. “There’s a new dress in your room, I’d appreciate it if you were to wear it later. I made sure it’s something appropriate.”

I can already picture it; plain, heavy fabric that hangs almost to the floor, with a high neckline and cinched waist. Old fashioned and the furthest reach from current trends.

“Katherine, are you listening?”

“Of course,” I mumble through gritted teeth.

“Good,” Lawrence replies, shoving his last spoonful of eggs into his mouth as he stands. “And I know that it’s difficult for you, but control your temper this evening.”

Before I can stop myself my mouth opens. “Or what?”

“Or what?” Lawrence parrots, slamming his palms flat against the table. “Or what, nothing! Except the fact that I expect my wife, who I’ve given everything she’s ever wanted, to behave when she’s around the woman who has welcomed her into the family from day one, despite her rightful hesitations!”

His threats are thinly veiled, and I know without a doubt that he means them so I bite back the retort that I never wanted him to marry me, nor has his mother ever been anything other than a demon towards me and take a slow sip of my tea.

“Don’t you have work?” I ask after a long silence.

Lawrence straightens and adjusts his jacket before walking out the door without a reply.

Over the past few weeks I’ve trained myself to not think of Alfie. In the visions of our kisses I’ve replaced his face with that of other men, those so unobtainable to me that I won’t be tempted, and as a result my imagination has grown bored. But in the silence Lawrence leaves, my mind involuntarily throws back the image of Alfie lifting me onto the table in front of me and the stubborn way in which I reacted, and before I have time to contemplate it, I’m at the front door swapping my house coat for a more suitable jacket and walking across the street. As I knock on his door I wonder if I’ve made a mistake, whether voluntarily subjecting myself to Alfie’s presence will this time destroy my resolve completely. Before I can dwell on it though, the door opens and Alfie stands before me.

“Well if it isn’t the lovely Mrs Detective Inspector,” he says, crossing his hands in front of him. “To what do I owe the pleasure? Come to accuse my lovely boy of attacking your cat again? Or maybe you’ve come to finally release yourself of the burden of self control? To-”

“I’ve come to apologise,” I interrupt, relishing the uncontrolled flash of surprise across his face. “The way I behaved when you came to my house, offering me compensation, was unacceptable. It was rude and uncouth and I know better than to behave like that. So I’m sorry.”

There’s a ghost of a smile on his lips as he rubs his hand roughly across his chin. “Oh love there’s no need to apologise for the way you behaved, none whatsoever,” he says stepping to one side of the doorway. “Come in.”

“Excuse me?”

“Well I don’t know a way to say it much clearer than that love. You. In. Now.”

As if under a spell I step into his hallway. This wasn’t what I had planned to happen, however considering it, I’m not sure I would have been happy with any other outcome.

Alfie’s home is the mirror of my own, dulled by the curtains that remain drawn, but the layout so similar that I’m sure I could walk the place with my eyes closed.

“Sit,” Alfie orders, pointing to a tall backed chair in the sitting room that I drape my coat over before following Alfie’s command. “Where is he?”

“Who?”

“The Detective Inspector,” he clarifies, taking a seat in front of me, reclined as if this were the most natural thing in the world.

“Work.”

“All day?”

“Until five.”

“Will he miss you if you’re not back?”

“Normally, no-”

“But today?”

“Today we have company,” I reply, attempting - although failing - to keep the disdain from my voice.

Alfie leans forward, pointing a finger at me before it comes to rest on his pursed lips. “See that there, that was interesting. You darling, are very expressive aren’t you? So who is it? A colleague of his, some nonce he went to his posh school with? Ey?”

“It’s my mother-in-law.”

With a small smile, Alfie lowers himself back into his chair, mumbling “mother-in-law,” before returning to silence.

I watch as his fingers scratch idly through the hair across his chin and cheeks, the silence stretching on until it becomes unbearable and my senses return, crashing over me like a wave. I shoot up from my chair and snatch my coat. “I should leave. In fact, I don’t even know why I came here in the first place.”

“Does she make you angry, your mother-in-law?” Alfie says, ignoring my declaration. “More so than normal of course, we both know what your temper’s like don’t we.”

“Yes,” I snap, trying not to bite at the obvious lure he’s aired.

“And why is that?”

Alfie isn’t the person I should be telling this to, but with a deep breath I ignore my better judgment. “She’s never thought I was good enough for her son and she makes sure to tell me all the reasons why, every time I see her. And the way Lawrence grovels at her feet makes me sick, it’s pathetic but she loves it, revels in the fact he loves her more than he’ll ever love me. She chose the decor and the furniture for our house you know? Picked every detail, and Lawrence allows her to. In fact he welcomes it. He’d probably let her choose his clothes if she were so inclined…” I manage to catch myself before I spiral out of control and pause for a second before concluding, “so, there are a lot of reasons she makes me angry.”

Alfie nods, unblinking eyes still watching me as I drape my coat over my arm. “Weren’t you leaving?”

“Excuse me?”

“You got up, said something about not knowing what it was that made you come here in the first place, snatched your coat and everything. Nearly knocked the bloody chair over in your haste.”

“Yes bu-”

“Get out then.”

I almost laugh at his absurdity. “I’m leaving, but not because you’ve ordered me to. I’m leaving because I chose to leave before you started asking me questions about my mother-in-law, questions you have no right to be asking, nor should I be answering!”

“Make sure the door’s closed properly on your way out, wouldn’t want my vicious dog getting out now would we darling?”

With a scoff I swallow down any response and leave, making sure to slam the door harshly as I go.

[mrwinborn]

Chapter 1 Fieldwork: Acid Breath Be Clappin’

History: Listerine was created in 1879 by American chemist, Dr. Joseph Lawrence. Moreover, the more interesting story is that it was named after Dr. Joseph Lister, a British surgeon who’s credited for discovering that carbolic acid can kill germs. Thus, making Dr. Lister the first doctor to discover a method for treating infected wounds without resorting amputation. However, due to the fact that carbolic acid can be rough on human skin (causing irritation, burning, and numbness), the medical field soon switched to boracic acid as a suitable replacement. Subsequently, rendering carbolic acid to primary being used as oral antiseptic (i.e. mouthwash). Funny enough, Listerine was originally marketed as  

Manufacture Location: Listerine was originally developed in St. Louis, Missouri by the Warner-Lambert pharmaceutical company.

Impact: Listerine has impacted my life because having mouthwash keeps my mouth clean, my breath fresh, and my face kissable. I’ve also has multiple oral surgeries before. Meaning that if carbolic acid’s usefulness wasn’t discovered, those procedures could’ve been life-risking and I would’ve left my teeth crooked!

People Involved & Their Experience: To reiterate, Listerine was created by Dr. Joseph Lawrence, whose foundation was laid by Dr. Joseph Lister. Prior to the pioneering of carbolic acid’s antiseptic utility, medical professionals didn’t know how to stop infections without chopping your limb off in order to keep it from spreading. Meaning that there’s a possibly that folks could’ve lost a limb for every boo-boo that they’d ever received in their lives. Additionally, prior to Listerine, the death rate for amputation procedures was 40%, and that’s a scary thought! However, after the development of Listerine, those rates dropped to 3%. Lastly, just as a fun fact, before Dr. Lister discovered carbolic acid’s curing effects, Listerine’s original purpose was to serve as a cure for The Clap (gonorrhea)! 

[stylebylakyn]

How to Dress a Girl Group

Can we talk?

I’m happy for the return of girl groups, I really am. While we’ll never replace DC3, SWV, Dream or, hell, even Eden’s Crush (that was Nicole Scherzinger’s group before the Pussycat Dolls), it’s nice to see a bunch of girls who can’t stand on their own solo feet (except Normani Kordei) find each other and make some cute songs. But, whoever is styling these girls is….well….bad. I get it, the identical outfit thing is played out and Miss Tina Knowles, I mean Lawson, isn’t taking orders for cow print or camo two piece sets with matching bandanas anymore. But, come on girls, you can do better than this.

Today, I’m going to dress a fictional girl group of three—the magic number of success.

Debut Performance

Whether it’s on the Late Show, or the Tonight Show, or Last Week Tonight with John Oliver, for some reason, every group needs their debut. And since SNL is too busy booking—really, U2? Uh, well, since they’re busy, it’ll have to be at 11pm on a weeknight after Jennifer Lawrence has told some story about disrespecting sacred rocks or something. This is where the girls establish their personalities: There’s Sporty, there’s Posh, there’s…Girly. With a homogeneous color scheme and some consistent elements in each outfit (the bodysuits and matching shoes), here’s 3 looks suitable for a Cheetah Girl, each (minus Galleria ‘cause Raven is really tripping these days). Each look is simple, so you can focus on their harmonies and not all the notes they missed (it’s their first performance!).

GRAMMYS Red Carpet

We’ve finally stepped up from the EMAs, VMAs, Young MAs, and the AMAs and are in the big leagues now. The GRAMMYs. This is a great red carpet because it’s less stuffy than the Oscars but more high brow than the, like, Billboard Awards. You can be quirky and fun but don’t get too crazy: Beyoncé is here and you WILL NOT embarrass me! I kept it coherent again with a similar color scheme, but still with outfits that show their posh, sporty and feminine styles, respectively.

Album Cover

Just be naked.

Before you call it a cop out, hear me out. Think of how dated this album cover will look in just a year.

The most iconic album covers now are just super stylized art, (Rihanna’s Anti, any of Kanye’s covers after Late Registration) or a name on a background (duh, Beyoncé). By being naked and highlighted to hell, the girls get facial recognition without distracting audiences with their super trendy Fashion Nova outfits, and a stripped down feel that will convince the world they’re really singing. 

[bimengusllp]

The Application of Value Engineering in Construction Projects

§  The concept of value engineering was developed by Lawrence Miles

§  This concept was devised as a result of the material shortage of certain finished products during the Second World War

§  The only problem was the manufacturing process was running at full capacity through the shortage of goods.

§  Lawrence Miles worked for General Electric or GE

§  As he was not able to obtain any replacement material, it was quite necessary to obtain materials at maximum capacity

§  Value engineering began with a team-based approach

§  As it was more inclined towards engineering, the term “value engineering” was apt

§  Instead of value engineering, value management was adopted in a broad and higher-order description

§  Thus –

§  Value Management(VM) - was defined as a larger spectrum of value techniques

§  Value Planning (VP) – was defined as the planning phases of the project

§  Value Engineering (VE) – techniques applied during an engineering phase of the project

Value engineering involves various parameters viz.

§  Identify various elements of a product or service

§  Analyze functions of an element

§  Delivering alternate solutions for a function

§  Assessing various alternate functions

§  Allocating costs to alternative solutions

§  Developing alternatives to drive high success rates

What is the definition of Value?

Value can be defined as product, service, or project performance. A good value product can be taken as a product with good performance.

What is the meaning of Value Engineering?

·         Value engineering deals with focusing on a product or service at the most competitive pricing

·         Value engineering deploys a combination of analytical and creative techniques to identify other ways to achieve objectives

·         Value analysis or value engineering tends to make the product or process effective and profitable through the initial design phase. It should be noted that the technique of value engineering should never compromise product or service quality

Areas of application

·         Automotive

·         Aeronautical Engineering

·         Civil Engineering

·         Defense

·         IT R&D

·         Etc

The Value Engineering Job Plan

The VE phase consists of the –

Pre – Study

·         Collect User Attributes

·         Create data file

·         Determine various factors

·         Study the scope

·         Build various data models

·         Evaluate team composition

Value Study

Information Phase

·         Finish Data Package

·         Modify the scope

·         Who are the owners?

·         What is the requirement of these individuals?

Function Analysis Phase

·         Function analysis based on identification, classification, cost, value index, and study.

Creative Phase

·         Quantity of ideas by function Create a spectrum of ideas with the widest possible range

Evaluation Phase

·         Select and rate alternate ideas

·         Best ideas will be used for the development

Development Phase

·         This phase focuses on development viz. benefit analysis, data packages, implementation plan, and final proposals

·         Recognize unique ideas

·         Support and perfect your ideas

·         Prepare an accurate cost estimate

·         Analyze the risks

Presentation Phase

·         Present various reports viz. Written and Oral

After Studies

·         Complete the following changes

·         Implement the changes

·         Monitor the project status

Significance of Value engineering in the Construction domain

·         The value aspect is measured in terms of cost and performance

·         It can also be measured for other aspects like time, productivity, energy, etc

·         This methodology is also applicable for construction projects and other soft areas viz, construction processes, healthcare, etc.

·         Value engineering for construction projects like buildings, factory construction, sewage plants can be applied on a project-to-project timeline

·         Every construction project is a onetime capital project, and value engineering must be applied in the initial phase of the design phase

·         If there are changes in design, then it can be achieved through lesser redesign, lower implementation cost, schedule impacts, and more

·         When value engineering is applied to construction engineering, it has clear benefits from a development point of view

·         It aims at increasing value based on cost and time

·         Maximizing a project function and reducing cost generates a “good value” for clients and developers

·         In the design phase, the project team reviews the proposed project and performs functional analysis, defines key criteria, and provides alternative solutions

·         The value engineering process consists of a workshop that includes the integration of –

·         Information – Gather information during the initial phase viz. project objectives, key criterion, and defining value

·         Speculation – Maximize function whilst reducing operating cost

·         Evaluation – Brainstorm ideas that can or cannot be used

·         Development – Workable proposals created on ideas that have passed the evaluation phase

·         Presentation – Making a final presentation of the findings

Reasons for increased or poor costs and increased quality

·         Information inadequacy

·         Presence of temporary conditions

·         Inaccurate findings or beliefs

·         Very few ideas

·         Technology changes

·         Time Constraints

·         Lack good coordination

BENEFITS OF ADOPTING VALUE ENGINEERING FOR CONSTRUCTION PROJECTS

REDUCTION IN CONSTRUCTION COSTS

·         Construction projects have high function costs, these costs need to be reduced without sacrificing construction quality or using low-quality materials

·         If materials are old, then better quality materials have to be adopted with an economical solution

Finishing the project before time

·         Finishing the project on time can leverage significant cost reductions. It is not necessary to boost the production speed, but the process can begin earlier

Mitigating Mistakes in Project Drawings

·         Value engineering uses 3-Dimensional projects to maintain the quality of the project

·         Projects with errors can pose a negative value and are not suitable for the application, whilst projects with no or minimalistic errors are categorized as a positive effect in comparison to a negative effect

·         A 3-dimensional project prevents errors to be mitigated in the architecture phase itself

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[usnatarchives]

Records Reveal Winter Olympics History

By Kerri Lawrence  |  National Archives News

When people think of the Winter Olympics, the National Archives and Records Administration might not be the first thing that comes to mind. But did you know that the agency is custodian of several patents related to winter sports played in those Olympic games?  

For example, in July 1893, Joseph B. Hamilton of Springfield, Massachusetts, applied for a curling stone patent for “a device for playing the game of curling.” According to Archivist Bob Beebe from the National Archives in Kansas City, Hamilton’s patent is for a curling stone with ball bearings that it rolls on so that the game of curling could be played on any suitable surface, eliminating  the need for an ice surface normally used in curling.  

Curling, which originated in 16th-century Scotland, involves two teams of four competitors gently hurling a 44-pound granite stone on a rectangular ice surface. The 2018 Winter Olympics will mark the first time coed, aka mixed doubles, curling teams will compete.

Patent documents dated June 1965 show that Frank T. Gatke of Illinois also created a curling stone. This one, similar to the more traditional granite stone used in modern curling, had replaceable parts replacing the more traditional curling stone that was made from Scottish granite.

Read more and see patent images of curling stones, Bob-sleds and even the Zamboni at National Archives News or visit our dedicated Olympics page for videos and many other resources.