#hubris quilting

[scribefindegil]

once you've committed to a Hubris Project (especially one without any deadlines) there's really no going back. just asked myself "Do I really want to hand-embroider hundreds of individual salt grains as a background texture?" but like. yes. the answer is yes. I already sewed two thousand triangles. nothing can stop me now.

[egophiliac]

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THE HEADCANONS!! jade and kalim are my favorite characters and they in particular gave me so much joy. out of curiosity, whats your favorite way to knit? :) -the previous anon

I do continental and I will forever be a magic loop stan (magic loop >>>> dpns and I will die on this hill). I used to be a REALLY prolific knitter, always had something cast on, and there was one year where I somehow managed to make several pairs of (ravelry link) Fireweeds socks in the space of like a month for holiday presents. but I have early-onset arthritis and it started to really hurt my fingers, so I fell off and don't do nearly as much anymore. :(

mostly what I do these days is mini projects, like little lace panels or doll clothes/accessories that I can finish relatively quickly. I might not have the time or ability to do, like, full colorwork socks anymore, but I still like making stuff!

[thehotpilot]

it’s me and my rotary cutter again the world

[cyprinella]

Me: cuts out a bunch of quilt block pieces and has three goes at laying them out. Finally hit on one I like. Need to start piecing

Also me: oooooh, look at this completely different pattern! I bet I could get this done in like three days.

[thewhumpcaretaker]

⚜ Marquis of Los Angeles: Ch. 2 - Domination

ཐི♡ཋྀ Thank you for the beta-read, @evrensadwrn! ཐི♡ཋྀ

Summary: LaCroix briefs Vincent on the new world he has just entered into, with the expectation that he will be an obedient ghoul. But Vincent is still struggling to gain the upper hand.

Author's Note: I made myself sad writing this - I want Sebastian to turn from Whumper to Caretaker already!

TW: mind control, emotional manipulation, strangulation, kidnapping

It was not LaCroix’s habit to keep his subordinates close to him. If it was wise to keep enemies close, then it was wiser to keep envious inferiors at such a distance that they had no opportunity to become enemies. Ghouls ought to have no knowledge of their master’s weaknesses, and no importance as anything other than pawns. They ought to view him as a solitary, impenetrable figure, above even their understanding. But Vincent Bisset de Gramont proved himself an enemy from the start, and therefore, an exception.

LaCroix repeated that name in his head and smiled, rolling it and playing with it, along with the bullet in his palm which he had decided to keep as a souvenir. Vincent had become so incensed when LaCroix refused to use his title that he determined on the spot never to use it again. The man had to be taught a lesson. “You are no Marquis any longer, let alone an ‘Autem Imperator,’ Vincent. Those titles have no meaning here. You will learn new titles. ‘Prince.’ ‘Regnant.’ ‘Domitor.’ And they will belong to me, not to you - as do all things where we’re going. Know your place.” He leaned back into the quilted suede of his seat, letting starlight and the dimmed glow of the cabin play across his features to what he hoped was a mysterious and intimidating effect.

“Your hubris knows no bounds, Prince,” Vincent spat back, clutching the arms of his seat as if his wrists were lashed to them. “They’re looking for me even now. Do you think you can walk into a High Table duel and make off with the highest ranking –“

“No one is looking for you, because no one knows you’re missing. Everyone who saw me believes they saw a kindly priest who said his respects over your body before helping that fellow – The Harbinger, I believe you call him – lay you to rest in a casket for your mortician to carry away. Tomorrow, that empty casket will be buried.”

A flash of panic before his pretty green eyes lit up again. “The mortician will – “

“The mortician wasn’t your man. He was mine. I sent a local friend to take his place, and to oversee the proceedings. You’re as good as dead, Vincent. I’m dreadfully sorry.”

He went as ghostly white as his travelling companion then. He remained very quiet while Sebastian explained to him the meanings of those important titles he’d mentioned, as well as other relevant words such as “Masquerade” and “Camarilla” and “Ventrue.”

LaCroix’s hope of entertainment during the flight was very much fulfilled. Vincent made for a captivating (if pitiful) image, with blood still smeared across his forehead and wetness sparkling in his eyes. LaCroix couldn’t stop staring at him and wondering whether he’d really cry or not. It filled him with a strange mix of sadism and sympathy that kept the Prince continuously in suspense. It sent him inexplicably trembling to hear Vincent say, “You’ll have to forgive me, Sebastian, I’m just so confused. Please…help me understand everything.”

He was coherent enough to ask intelligent questions though, and always seemed to latch onto those subjects that were a little too top-secret for a first conversation with a ghoul, whilst sighing that he was just so confused and scared. Clearly, he knew his way around a syndicate like the Camarilla and went straight for the vital information. When at last the Prince tired of this game and started to inquire about Vincent’s own organization, he refused to divulge anything.

It confused Sebastian a little. Every other ghoul he’d ever created had hung on his words in an ecstasy that totally drowned out the loss of their former life. They typically begged to repay him for saving them and fell over themselves to please him until he was either amused or disgusted. They certainly didn’t issue desperate pleas and threats about returning to their old life, or try to ply information out of him, or protect their old secrets. But Vincent? Well…there was no doubt that Vincent was affected by Sebastian. Sometimes his eyes lingered on LaCroix as if he wasn’t quite able to look away. But the look there wasn’t puppy love, it was…horror. Hatred. As if Vincent was looking at an old grudge who had wronged him grievously. Something wasn’t right.

He wasn’t in deep enough, that was all. He’d only taken the first sip of vitae – two still remained to form a full blood bond. And he was hardly a pliant individual, that much was evident. For now, Sebastian supposed he’d have to secure the ghoul’s cooperation via commands. “Vincent. When I ask you a question about the High Table, you will answer me directly, honestly, and without embellishments. Do you understand?”

A glazed, vacant look replaced the pitiful one. “I understand.”

There, good. Sebastian let out a breath, only just realizing how tense he had become, and began his inquisition.

He knew a little about the High Table already. It was not so different from the Giovanni, but even larger by membership the Camarilla, and impressive for a human construction. It was difficult to be anyone significant in either the human or kindred underworld without running across the High Table’s activities at some point. But the Autem Imperator (Sebastian might not call him by his title out loud, but he wasn’t forgetting it for an instant in his own mind) offered a unique view of its proceedings. Within minutes, LaCroix knew who held each seat, how communications passed between members, how those communications might be intercepted, into which countries their influence had spread (it was most of them), and even where the Elder resided.

It had been no idle tip, he realized, that suggested he should pay a visit to his home country and rest in the basilica that day. It had been, in fact, pure gold in the form of an anonymous email. He almost passed it up as an attempted ruse or ambush, even with all the power promised by the stranger on the other end. But it also spoke to a Masquerade violation, and even the Nosferatu could not trace it. The sender must have had a contact, someone who could encrypt on their level. So he went personally, just for 24 hours, with the resolution that he would return to the safety of LA as soon as possible.

Remembering at last to the original purpose of his visit, LaCroix asked his ghoul one final question, shortly before landing.

“Do you have an associate who would go by the initial ‘C’?”

Even under domination, he rolled his eyes. “Of course I do. You’ll have to be more specific.”

Sebastian held out the message on his phone. “Who could this have been?”

“Is it true that you can help someone live beyond death? If you really are I’ve been told you are, then come at once, to Paris. Come to the Sacré-Coeur Basilica just before dawn. If you’re lucky and I’m unlucky, you will find a man there who cannot escape death any other way. If you keep him alive, he will offer you knowledge and power equal to your own, pertaining to a human organization you may know as the High Table. Take him away from me, change him, disappear him, I don’t care. Only save his life and make him happy, and you will have my eternal thanks. He does not know, and will never know, what he means to me.”

- C”

“My bodyguard, Chidi.” His voice was strained almost to the breaking point, and his eyes still fixed on Sebastian’s phone even after the email was closed. Sebastian had no questions about whether he was faking his tearfulness this time.

“A ghoul of your very own, of sorts! Where can I find him?”

Vincent closed his eyes for a moment before mustering an answer. “…He’s dead.”

“Ah, splendid. That saves me a great deal of trouble.”

And then Vincent did what no ghoul, whether on one sip of vitae or three, should have been capable of doing. He sprung forward and closed hands around his domitor’s neck.

.¸¸.*✧*.¸¸.*✧*.¸¸. ཐི♡ཋྀ.¸¸.*✧*.¸¸.*✧*.¸¸.

It took Vincent much longer than it should have to recall that Sebastian didn’t need to breathe. By that time, he was already being dragged off by the enormous, visibly supernatural thing that Sebastian had introduced as “The Sheriff.”

“Get this brainless lump off of me!”

“Hey,” The Sheriff grunted. Vincent paid him no mind, and continued addressing LaCroix with exactly as much civility as he deserved, all the while straining against the boulder-heavy hands holding him back.

“You will not SPEAK to me that way and you will not – “ Fuck, he hated the way his voice was shaking… “You will not speak of my bodyguard’s death as – as ‘splendid!’”

“And you will not speak to me at all until you can behave yourself!” LaCroix retorted. “SILENCE!”

The voice seemed to go out of Vincent’s throat. All his resistance had been used up in the outburst and he sunk numbly back into his seat.

LaCroix was panting, a shaking hand against his neck. He adjusted his tie and recovered himself enough to laugh. “Imagine trying to strangle a vampire! And the one holding your life in his hands, no less. You’re one to talk of brainlessness. And just when I was beginning to respect your cunning.” Vincent opened his mouth and nothing came out, so he spat in LaCroix’s face instead.

“Oh for god’s sake - You don’t speak AND you don’t move!” Vincent smiled as he watched LaCroix wipe at his face with a handkerchief, scowling. But another wave of terrible compulsion spread through his limbs, and then he was paralyzed.

It was such a strange feeling, being “dominated.” It was the same magnetism that drew him to LaCroix when he first laid eyes on him (that must be the “vitae” he had spoken about), but stronger, and more concentrated. Making him capable of magnificent feats, making him motivated, drawing his focus, making things important to him. As if a power was bursting out from inside of Vincent. It wasn’t so unlike being high, and not wholly unpleasant. But it was not his to control, not a part of him. It was LaCroix’s, and he hated it for that, and he hated LaCroix for that too. Maybe, if he just held onto that hatred…

But LaCroix’s conversation with his Sheriff broke his concentration. “No, I don’t want him in a cell, much less his own apartment. He’s not fully dominated and it’s a security risk. I don’t understand it, but I need to maintain a tight hold over him even if I have to do it by manual override. He stays in the penthouse, with me.”

If The Sheriff understood that, he conveyed it only by grunting.

Damn it. Any chance to get out of LaCroix’s grasp was slipping away. Again, he struggled to protest, but it was useless. He couldn’t speak. His own body was refusing him. It felt traitorous and alien and there was no one to help him, no one looking for him, no Chidi ever again and absolutely nothing he could do. If he had a voice, he would probably be screaming, he realized. But instead, for the second time that day, he floated on a sea of bloody misery, gasping worse and worse by the second. As the jet went into final descent, its weightlessness hit him in the stomach and drove home a second wave of fear.

LaCroix was watching him, leaning over him, speaking to him, in much the same way one might speak to a broken printer shortly before kicking it. He lay a hand on Vincent’s chest to feel his shallow heartbeat and the very core of Vincent’s being rebelled against the way that it soothed him.

“Why are you not calm? You shouldn’t be feeling this way, I don’t understand why it’s not working…” He fixed LaCroix with the most hateful stare he could manage without moving his facial muscles. Why do you think, you useless fils de pute? He felt tears rolling silently down his cheeks. Fine. Good, even.

Again, LaCroix’s magnetic voice overpowered his will with a rush, even more hideously blissful than before. Perhaps it was more in harmony with him than the last had been... “Be calm, Marquis. I command you. Don’t be so afraid.”

And all the wild contents of his heart slipped away into a soft, empty, merciful void.

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Image Sources: One | Two

[greenunoreversecard]

Kai general and Romantic headcanons

A/N:sorry if I got any of the characters wrong, I was using a combo of wiki/Google translate as I don't speak any of the languages mentioned. Pls let me know if I got any info wrong, i will gladly go in and change it to make it right.

General:

Half Indian and half Chinese.

His and nya's last name is 鄭 (Zheng), but he says it's Smith bc when they where younger he got in the habit of lying about his name so he Didnt have to deal with CPS.

His ma is from Visakhapatnam in Andhra Pradesh, and was a practicing Hindu. Ray is from the 云南 (yunnan) province, and was a practicing theravida Buddhist. Ray is ethnically from the 傣族 (dai people, also spelt Tai in english)

Before his parents dissapearances, they both brought him to their hometowns, and actively taught him both cultures and religions, which he continued to learn about and even teach Nya about after their dissapearances.

When he was 14 he bought a small boat and him and Nya rode it across the costal line, and he promised Nya one day when he was older he'd bring the both of them to their parents hometowns.

He's a Buddhist.

He speaks so many languages.

Like so many

He's fluent in Thai, mandarin and cantonese chinese, telugu, urdu, hindi, Punjabi, arabic and ninjago-ian(idk whatever language ninjago speaks)

Also trying to learn Indonesian.

He also knows yunnan dialect bc his dad would speak in it more often than not

Absorbes info like a sponge

He likes to quilt

He always wears a golden bracelet He got from his moms jewelry box after she left.

Likes to draw but is bad at it, so he colors coloring books

Introvert

He may act all confident, but he really isn't. super insecure

Soooo good with hair

Like, has all the stops. 10 step hair care routine

rivals Zanes cooking skills.

When working out focuses on building rather than lean muscle.

Mother friend

has dragged all of his friends into the water splashing festival.

Fatal flaw is loyalty and kind of hubris (it's conflicting, ik with the insecure and extreme pride, but like- it makes sense in my head. Inferiority/maybe superiority complex.)(it makes sense bc this is such me behavior. Imagine hating yourself but thinking ur the baddest bitch alive)

Likes to stare at fire

If he can't sleep he'll make a small bonfire to stare at and think

insomnia

Chronic cigarette smoker

Romantic:

Hes more show than tell

Def acts of service (me frfr)

Although, he is very cuddly.

Not in public, though. Maybe infront of the other ninja if it was a rough day

Loves to rock you gently from side to side when yall are hug

loves to give you temple kisses

He's very gentle with you, treats you like glass

You wil prolly say ily first, and he'll go;"🧍‍♂️...cool?"

He has mommy and daddy issues, but HEAVY on the mommy issues. Have fun with this hyper-independant fuck who can't accept help without feeling like a failure even though they need it (I'm not projecting you are)

Goes all out for holidays and anniversaries.

Doberman/German Shepard vibes tbh

When it's just you two he doesn't feel the need to fill the air with meaningless chatter, so if he feels safe enough to just share air without talking feel honoured and cherish it bc that means he actually trusts you.

A little rough around the edges, but will remember that thing you said 5years ago on ur first date

Most dates are chill inside and take a nap

But sometimes if he can he takes you on the town or someplace fancy

Also likes to show you his favorite childhood spots

[tj-crochets]

Hallo, I have a quilting question for you! I'm going to start my first quilt soon and I have like a very specific pattern I want to make (for sentimental reasons) that I cannot find Anywhere Like I have a quilting book that has something similar but has weird spacing between the squares. I personally feel like there Should be a Pattern Somewhere (1/3 sorry) So I was wondering if either A. you or your followers have seen this quilt pattern before and can tell me where I can get it, or B. if you think it is the height of crafter hubris for me to try and make my own pattern for my first quilt (I don't super want to do that but the pattern SEEMs very simple to me) and maybe if you had some tips for how to do that, or could point me towards a resource that does? If that's too much don't worry about it though, please (2/3) This is my little sketch of the quilt, by weird borders on the pattern I have, I mean like it’s a full sized quilt that only has like nine of these patterns on them because there’s a huge amount of weird rectangle sashing between all of the patterened squares. I mean truly even if you know what this pattern is called that would be helpful. My book calls it butterfly crossing, but there are 0 results when I try and find patterns called that. Anyways, truly thank you for reading all of that, I expected that message to be shorter. <3

[ehwesson]

If you are in need of an example of man's hubris, let it be me

I started this 10ftX12ft oversized king quilt for my wife a year ago and said "shouldnt take more than a month". I was WRONG! I did half of it backwards or upside down. my 40 year old sewing machine couldnt barely handle this amount of fabric at once. and now I dont even have a setup remotely close to the size i need to photograph this thing.

Anyway, here it is on my living room floor with my brother for scale.

[kannabelestranged]

Committing (for the minute at least) to the idea of quilting a 15th century dado panel I came across on @nobrashfestivity 's blog.

So far I have begun drafting the pattern on Rhino and so far I have learnt to park my hubris at the door and that no, I do not know better than an artisan from the 15th century. When I gleefully called out to @nightsand142 that I thought I could fix what I saw as an awkward repeat in the pattern what I didn't know was that to get to that point I had completely broken the overarching rhythm of the repetition. Something that I only realised after many more hours fiddling and dissatisfaction.

The pattern when I thought I was fixing it . . .

A main issue being that I couldn't find a way to make a section of the pattern sit nicely on a rectangle.

And then, if I follow the reference properly . . . . .

It is BEAUTIFUL. The way that the repeats come together and create rhythms and shapes and lines of interest that I couldn't see even in the source image . . . GORGEOUS. Truly the greatest path to understanding and respecting a piece of art is imitation. There is so much movement to it.

I am in love. Which is good, because the next job is to figure out how small I think I can make the pieces without driving myself completely insane.

[fayewoodss]

im curious to see some of your quilting work?

OF COURSE!!!

So, to be honest, I'm more of a soft sculptor turned contemporary quilter. I rarely traditionally quilt, and even when I do, I love to bend and break the rules. I'll go ahead and link my professional website here with some more detail into my fine art overall:

https://averyschantzfinearts.com/

Now, onto quilting!

My recent recent piece is "Deep Blue." It's a 12x12 square of two beautiful whales, with most of the quilting being hand-done, and lots of embroidery work.

It's a little wonky and wrinkly because of my lack of care for traditional quilting, so that is an intentional choice. I can be much cleaner with sewing and quilting, I just like for my work to have that handmade quality and a touch of naivety.

These are works from my last year in college. The first piece was my first time playing with quilting and we were talking about what is/can be a flag. A lot of my most personal work deals with maps and map making because I grew up moving around every 1-3 years and have always pondered with the concept of being "from" somewhere. I ended up painting on it for the final piece, but I have destroyed the evidence because I hated it. I plan to redo this one someday and actually use grommets to make it a real flag. (And I have a painting series I'm planning surrounding maps of residential midwest/rural America.)

This next quilt was a pain in the ass because I had to do it twice out of my hubris. My first run through has many mistakes and issues that overwhelmed me, so with a week left in the project, I scrapped it, started over entirely, and again: hand-stitched many of the details. The hand stitching doesn't show well here because I picked embroidery floss that matched the fabric, and sadly I don't have detail shots. The piece is currently in storage, but I could easily get to it.

I wanted to put udders on the letters but ran out of time. 😔 I would love to revisit this and do more farm animals.

Finally, and most recently, I have my ragdolls!

Runaway Ragdoll is my own designed toy that ties into location and belonging. I have too many pictures to share all of them here because it is a product I sell. They are an interactive art project where those who buy a doll are encouraged to take it out with them to fun places, photograph it, and send the photos into one of my Instagrams (runawayragdollco), hopefully creating a project that people can connect with as they have a fun, cute little toy that can be shared. It's based off a larger doll I made during the lockdown year at my school where I was trying to get myself out of the dorm. The idea was to leave the big doll around my city for people to interact with, but Covid restrictions and weather prevented that. So, I made the little dolls.

The project is a little dead right now because all of my sales have only veen close friends and family as you can't get any reach on most social medias nowadays unless you're doing fan art or common art tropes. Now that that's bad at all, but trying to sell truly original work is a challenge. I do need to add more about the dolls' actual purpose and story on my website. I'm also working on making a card to be packaged with them with the projects mission statement and travel prompts with the doll. I'm hoping to get into some more art fairs soon and sell the dolls there.

Also, the construction of the original doll is not the best, so I do plan to make a new one in the future that reflects the current smaller dolls and incorporates more quilting techniques (because damn I rush a few part with hot glue ngl).

But yeah, that's my quilting/fiber arts stuff!!! 🤩

[fiberfantasies]

OkaySo

my mother and i are going on a trip to the u.s. pacific northwest (oregon, wa., maaaaybe up into canada). we will be camping.

i want to have a wool blanket sweater.

i do not have a wool blanket sweater

i do have materials, skills, and a touch of hubris

materials: a considerable amount of out of style wool skirts and blazers that i've been deconstructing for the fabric

so, do i make this attempt in the week before i leave?

style options:

- bog/banyan style

- use existing (acrylic) blanket sweater as a pattern

fabric style options:

- quilted style, where squares of fabric are sewn together to make yardage

- piecemeal style, make the different parts of the sweater from different skirts/jackets (1 sleeve 1 color, back out of 1 or 2 big pieces, etc

OR do I just give in and wear a wool blanket as an ancient style cloak??

[scribefindegil]

Clamshells Appliquéd: 99%

[nonasuch]

So as a follow up to the take a photo and make quilt question it is not a good choice for a first quilt?

It depends on your confidence level, and also your hubris level.

[cyprinella]

NA-NA-NA-NA-NA-NA-NA BAT QUILT!

Bat quilt for my husband finally finished. The border is half-square triangles from the bat construction off-cuts and hubris. The flannel on the back glows in the dark.

Pattern by Cluck Cluck Sew: Bats #191

[ghostshipglamour]

Please help me use my last store discount for evil:

[enkindler1]

Shivering in the tent. Harry Potter Fanfic scene

Harry had once grown used to the cold. But nature, it seemed, decided to punish his hubris ten-fold. The sharp pain of his fingers had spread up his arms and into his torso, as if ice crystals were growing within his skin. Movement was slow and painful. Every effort exhausting. Every breath blew cold air onto the even colder dew around his nostrils.

Harry wondered if muggles might have survived this extended exposure.

Hermione might have been on a similar track before her voice came from a pile of blankets and scarfs.

“Ron, how did your parents manage the cold when you were kids at home?”

“Are you comparing my home to this blasted tent?!” Ron snapped.

“No Ronald I am looking for a magical solution. How do magicals usually deal with the cold?” Hermione snapped back.

“How should I know? We only ever use this tent during summer when its warm.” Ron replied hotly.

Hermione let out a harsh sigh. They were all at their limit for patience.

“I know that Ron. Muggle homes rely on central heating. Plumbing that creates heat and spreads it over the house. Obviously your home doesn’t have that -” Hermione had kept her tone calm until Ron stood and interrupted her.

“What, so you think we had to huddle together because we couldn't afford your muggle plumbing?” He yelled.

“What?! No?!” Hermione remained in her bundle. “That’s not what I am saying at all!”

“We don’t need your muggle garbage! We are perfectly fine without all that!” Ron was still yelling, his face turning red.

At least he will be warmer now. Harry thought to himself, grimly.

“Ron that is exactly what I mean! You don’t have plumbing at home because you don’t NEED it! The Burrow is obviously better equipped to deal with the cold. I want to know how so we can fix this!”

“I don’t bloody know! Mom would sometimes cast a heating charm but we have tried that! On the coldest nights she might conjure more blankets!” Ron was still yelling, but Harry couldn’t see how his words had warranted the volume. “It was never this bleeding cold. Even in Hogwarts it was never like this!”

Ron finally fell back into his chair, utterly miserable.

“Ron,” Harry offered gently, “pass me the locket. You have had enough.”

Ron was back on his feet, instantly scarlet, and yelling at Harry.

“You think you can handle the locket so much better than I can?! We hear you moaning at night wearing it. You aren’t so fucking special you know!”

The embarrassment hurt but Harry was far too cold to be angry. Where Hermione and Ron grew agitated in discomfort, Harry resided himself to it. His voice remained low, monotone. He just didn’t have the energy for shouting.

“You wouldn’t be this angry without the locket. Hermione asked you a question but you bit her head off. Take the locket off and help her think of a solution.”

Ron seethed for a few moments, seeming to grow angrier before eventually pulling the horcrux from under his jumper and throwing in Harry’s direction.

“Have it then, you want it so damn much.” he spat before taking his seat again.

The locket had hit Harry’s chair and fallen to the floor at his feet. Leaning forward to pick it up disturbed layers of clothing and blankets, exposing him to sharp cold air. Impossibly heavy and torturously cold to the touch, Harry kept the locket on his lap instead of wearing it.

A few awkward and cloudy breaths passed before the pile of quilts emitted Hermione’s voice again.

“The dorm rooms in Hogwarts have chimneys. Common rooms have huge fireplaces. Some of the class rooms and hallways too.”

They returned to an awkward silence for quite some time. It was Ron, now calm, that offered up some insight.

“There aren’t fires everywhere, but even in those rooms I never noticed ice on the windows.”

[Scene intended to open up a discussion about insulation charms, transfiguring the walls, something]