#look. the academy. is FILLED WITH THE EYE MOTIF

[piromina]

FIRMLY believe that his original name was blueberry yoghurt cookie and he founded the academy.

[angst-fairygodmother]

Light Fingers (The Umbrella Academy)

Diego’s vigilantism brings him repeatedly across the path of a young cat burglar. But as he finds himself developing feelings for the thief, he begins to wonder if there’s more to her than meets the eye, and whether they’re really on opposite sides. And as their relationship deepens, it brings with it a plot involving his estranged adopted father, and threatens to destroy all of them.

CHAPTER 9: FOR BETTER OR WORSE

Word Count: 2597 Pairing: Diego Hargreeves x Reader Rating: T Cross-posted to AO3: here

Previous Chapter: Tireless || Masterlist

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“Is there one you’re trying to match?” the clerk asked as Diego stared in bewilderment at the case of rings. 

“Oh. Uh, no. We didn’t really...do things the traditional way,” he explained awkwardly. 

“I see…” the clerk nodded knowingly, in a way that made Diego fairly certain they actually didn’t. “Well, we have some nice simple sets in case you decide to go back and fill in later, or you can buy it now with these ones?”

He pressed his lips together in thought. One the one hand, why get a ring symbolizing something that never happened? On the other, Y/N deserved all of the nicest things he could offer her, nicer than he could actually. 

“Let me see what you have,” he stated decisively, even though it was a decision not to decide until he had thoroughly looked over all of his options. 

At first, everything in the tray that the clerk pulled out looked exactly the same, and exactly like the kind of thing Y/N would hate, all unnecessarily large gemstones and gaudy detailing. And then one, nearly lost in the sea, caught his eye: the ring was solid silver, and made of three uneven, textured bands woven together. He pointed it out to the clerk who raised their eyebrows in surprise but offered it up, explaining that it had been a custom piece the purchaser never picked up. Upon closer inspection, Diego realized that the bands were each shaped to look like a different material: rope, barbed wire, and chain, all intricately braided with knots like roses where the three shapes met. It was perfect, like fate had designed it for you. 

“This is the one,” he breathed, awed by the luck of finding it, actually feeling tears sting at the corners of his eyes.

“An...excellent choice sir. I’ll just box it up for you. Unfortunately we don’t have any that would sit right with that one as a stack, but we do have one men’s band that has a similar braided motif if you’d like to take a look at that and forgo the third?”

He nodded, and the clerk moved over to another case to pull out another ring, this one a solid, flat silver with an engraved “rope” spiralling loosely around it. It wasn’t a perfect match, but it complimented the other well. He had never been one for metaphors, but this one smacked him in the face hard enough to not be ignored. 

He paid the clerk for both rings, not even caring about the price, and checked the time, deciding there was enough to visit the consignment shop down the road and at least find a clean shirt to wear.

~

“Heeey, Daniel,” you said cheerfully. “What are you up to this morning?”

“I was sleeping, since I have a day off for the first time in who knows how long,” your brother answered, voice still cottony from sleep but twinged with a sharp irritation. 

“Great! Can I ask you a huge favor?” you smiled pleadingly at the receiver, even though you knew he couldn’t see you. 

“What did you do?” you could almost picture him scowling as he leaned forward, all professional now.

“Nothing. It’s actually about what I want to do. It’s a long story, and kind of complicated. There’s this guy. I’ve been dating him for a few weeks, but also we’ve kind of had a...thing for almost two years,” you paused marvelling at the realization you had known Diego for so long and yet also that it felt like so much longer. “And we decided to…” you trailed off, knowing that his protective instincts would kick in, and also that he was prone to being judgmental. “Look, can you please, please, please meet us at City Park in an hour and be our justice of the peace?”

“What?!”

“I know that it sounds nuts and that as my big brother you have every right to question my sanity, but, don’t fight me on it. I love Diego, more than anything. Please?”

There was a long pause and you wondered if he had put down the phone, or fainted, or something.

“Are you sure about this?” he finally asked.

You took a deep breath, trying to figure out how to answer that. 

“No,” you finally answered. “I don’t know how to explain. It’s just this…feeling I have. Maybe it’s a mistake, but I’m taking a gamble. Chasing what I want. It’s worth it. He’s worth it.”

You heard a rustling and the slam of a drawer. Daniel sighed. 

“You’re going to need two witnesses.”

“I know, I’ll get that bit sorted. Does that mean you’ll do it?”

“You know I’ll do anything for you, Munchkin. I want you to be happy.”

“I am,” you assured, unable to keep the smile from your face, or out of your voice. “I really, really am.” 

You said your goodbyes and hung up the payphone, trying to hold in the overwhelming joy you wanted to scream to the universe. Continuing down the street, shoulders slightly hunched to the morning breeze, you stopped short when you passed a little boutique, something in the window catching your attention. 

As luck would have it, the owner was just flipping the open sign in the window, and when she saw you looking at the display mannequin, she offered you a small smile and waved you in, as only charming old ladies can. 

~

Your heart was in your throat as you walked briskly toward the park where you were supposed to meet your brother and Diego. You wanted to drag out the distance, afraid that rejection waited for you at the end, that he had decided your whole plan was outrageous and left, maybe for good. But at the same time, you were anxious to get there, both because of the frosty chill in the air, and more importantly, because of the excitement that made you feel like you were about to burst.

Patch kept pace with you easily, her long coat fluttering behind her and a soft smile on her face. Every once in a while she stole a glance over at you, marveling at how beautiful you were in the lilac dress you’d bought, your hair swept back and up by a thousand tiny bobby pins, (on anyone else the look would have been ruined by the black boots laced to your knee, but somehow on you it just added to it) and also pondering whether this was all some elaborate prank. She wouldn’t put it past you and Diego. 

When the gazebo was finally in sight, three silhouettes on its open platform, your feet skidded to a stop. 

“I can’t do this,” you said suddenly, turning to walk away before Eudora caught your arm. 

“What are you talking about, Y/N?” she asked softly, giving you that patented look of concern that made you want to spill every secret and fear you’ve ever held.

“It’s been three weeks,” you cried, tears spilling down your cheeks and making you grateful you hadn’t taken the time to stop for mascara. “And we just decide this morning to…? The first time we said ‘I love you’ was yesterday. This is crazy. He’s crazy.”

“Y/N,” she said, taking you by the shoulders, grounding you with her touch. “It’s alright to be nervous, or scared, or have your doubts. And you don’t have to go through with this if you don’t want to. You get to decide what happens next. So, if you want to walk away, I’ll walk with you. Do you want to?”

You thought for a moment. But any attempt to rationalize or approach the question with logic like you thought you should was drowned out by the sound of laughter, the crinkle of warm brown eyes, the feel of a hand in yours and your heart beating out a rhythm matched to his that seemed to say “I’m home, I’m home.”

You shook your head, swallowing thickly. “I don’t want to run; I want to do this?”

“That sounded like a question. Are you sure?”

You swallowed again, nerves making your tongue feel heavy. “Yeah. Yes. I’m absolutely sure.”

She smiled at you and you couldn’t help answering the expression with one of your own. 

“Good,” she said. “I think we should probably keep moving then, before he has a heart attack waiting.”

You laughed, wrapping her quickly in a hug and murmuring a word of thanks.

~

Diego felt his knees go weak and his stomach do flips as he watched Y/N and Eudora approach up the cracked cobblestones of the park path. She was always beautiful, but now she looked actually angelic in the pale purple dress that trailed down to her calves. He couldn’t believe this was actually happening, even though he had been standing around for quite a while now, rings heavy in his pocket, as he talked with her brother and his wife (people he had met only once before, and now were part of the small group there for the most important day of his life) and they went over how the whole event would play out.  

Part of him wished he had been able to track down Klaus, or maybe extended a temporary olive branch to Vanya, or maybe even Luther, just to have someone there. But Y/N was there. And that was really all that mattered, the two of them. And Patch was as much a friend to him as to her, so it was something. A shabby-looking dark haired man walked past his peripheral vision and he turned his head quickly, hoping beyond reason. Unfortunately, it wasn’t his wayward brother and he sighed. 

Eudora and Y/N finally climbed up the steps, and Diego forgot all about his nerves and concerns when the woman of his dreams smiled at him, slipping her hands in his as they faced each other.

“Hi,” he murmured. 

“Hi yourself,” she countered. “Ready?”

“Never readier.”

Daniel cleared his throat and began to speak.

~

“Thank you for being here this morning, as Diego and Y/N enter into this union, a commitment of everlasting love, respect, and partnership. They join together now not as halves of a whole, incomplete without the other, but as equals, each complete and choosing the other as a compliment to themselves. They have seen each other for what they are, and what they are not, and actively decide to accept and cherish in all that entails,” your brother started. 

You shot him a glare, cutting him off before he could launch into a lecture. 

“Knowing my little sister, and the impromptu nature of today, I am prepared with something of a traditional reading, or we can forgo in favor of the more essential elements of the ceremony?”

You and Diego looked at each other. He shrugged. You rolled your eyes. “Skip the reading.”

Daniel moved on, turning to Patch and Amelia and asking, “Do you, as witnesses to this day, support, encourage, and affirm this union?”

They both looked over at the two of you, nearly lost in your own world and smiled. In near unison, they agreed. Several more formalities passed in something of a blur.

“Do you have rings?” Daniel asked, quirking an eyebrow in an expression nearly identical to the one Diego was familiar with from you.

“I do,” he said, fumbling in the pocket of his jacket, thrown over the rail behind him to pull out the small blue box. “I just hope I picked good ones.” 

You gasped as he opened up the box, showing you the rings he had picked out that morning. Your hands shook as you took it, looking closer at the detailing. 

“Oh Diego,” you sighed, smiling waterily at him. “They’re perfect.”

Daniel whistled lowly, losing his official mask in favor of being just your brother for a moment. “Damn. If I didn’t know better I’d think these were custom-made.”

Diego shrugged, blushing uncomfortably under the dual praise. “Nope, just got lucky.”

“Well, maybe that’s a good sign then, for the marriage,” Amelia chimed in, beaming at the pair of you. “Which we still need to finish…?”

“Right,” Daniel said. “Where were we? Vows!”

“I, Diego Hargreeves, take you to be my spouse. I promise that from this day forward I will regard you as my equal, my partner, and my closest friend. I will love and cherish you above all others. Our decisions will be together, in consideration of your needs and wishes as well as my own. For better or worse, sickness or health, no matter what we are going through, I will be there at your side, with love and support. Until the end of the world. I love you, so much.” He smiled, flashing you a wink before slipping your ring onto your finger.

You laughed, winking right back before reciting the same promises in turn and slipping the other ring onto his hand, keeping your fingers locked together after.

Daniel discretely swiped a tear from his eye. 

“With these rings and vows exchanged, a promise made before witnesses and a symbol of that bond between you, it is my greatest pleasure, by the power vested in me by the state, to pronounce you as married, joined in spirit and in law.”

Diego grinned, sweeping you into a kiss, holding you tight against him, until three voices around you cleared their throats.

“Breakfast?” Patch asked. “On me, as a gift to the newlyweds?”

~

An hour later, you sat beside each other (everyone else having left to go about their day), people passing by blithely unaware that for the two of you life had just changed, both staring down at your interlocked hands and the bands on your fingers. 

“Did we actually just…?” he asked breathlessly.

You laughed. “You were there Diego. You said the words, same as I did.” 

You hesitated, fearful still that he hadn’t intended it to be real, that it had been a joke or a fantasy you had taken too far.

“It’s not too late to undo it, though,” you explained hurriedly. “I mean it’s a weekend so Daniel won’t file the certificate with the city until at least Monday, so we can ask him to just rip it up and forget it ever happened. Or if he does file it early somehow, annulling this kind of thing is pretty easy since we haven’t mingled assets or anything. I just thought...well I don’t actually know what I thought.” Tears started to well up as you stumbled over yourself in your rush. 

He tilted your chin up with his free hand, kissing you tenderly, as if he could pour every feeling and thought in his heart into the one action. 

“I don’t want to undo it,” he murmured, eyes crinkling with mirth. “I just can’t believe we actually got married in the first place.”

“Well believe it. You’re stuck with me now.” You laughed, kissing the end of his nose. 

“There’s no one else I’d rather.”

Your heart swelled at the confession as he pressed his forehead to yours.

“Well, husband, what do you say we go home, spend the rest of the day as newlyweds should?”

He smiled, groaning as he stood and his battered body protested the idea of moving. As you let him tug you to your feet, you felt probably almost as bad as he did, aching from head to toe, the events of the night catching up to you.

“Or maybe we spend it sleeping…” you mumbled.

[zeldahime]

Prompt (list linked in a reblog): You live across from me in our apartments and we smile when we see each other but we don’t really know each other and oh you’re the stripper at my friend’s stag do/hen night fuck this is really uncomfortable

Sapphic!XiYao, 1900 words.

***

Lan Xichen's across-the-hall neighbor, a small, delicate girl named Meng Yao, left her apartment for work at the same time Xichen arrived home most days; her days off were Tuesday and Wednesday, and Xichen's were Saturday and Sunday, but they still managed to see each other nearly every day.

They saw each other and talked often, little tidbits of their lives, but they'd never truly spoken.

Meng Yao knew, for example, nearly every detail of Xichen's sister's love drama, that she was getting married in two weeks, that her and her fiancée's bachelorette parties were being organized so that each bride could have a party they actually enjoyed. Meng Yao did not know, for example, that Xichen was being teased by her sister's fiancée for her own inability to ask her cute neighbor out on a date.

As Xichen left her apartment on Saturday night, ready for a night on the town with Wei Wuxian and company, Meng Yao was locking her own door, in her regular commuting wear.

("You wear jeans to work?" Xichen had once asked her, curious.

"Oh, I change when I get there. Dancing in these would be so impractical." Her laughter was beautiful.)

As Meng Yao had turned around, she looked ready to say something, lips slightly parted. Whatever words she had been about to say stayed hidden behind them, however, as she slowly gave Xichen a once-over and, finally, looked up at her through her eyelashes and smiled. Lan Xichen had never worn anything less casual than a full suit in front of Meng Yao before; standing before her in a tank top that said "...so we're getting DRUNK" and light wash jeans felt almost more revealing than if she were standing in the hall naked.

"It must be your sister's bachelorette party tonight?" she asked, and Xichen blushed to the tips of her ears.

"Her fiancée's," she managed to say in a conversational tone of voice. "Wangji's was last night. We just had dinner, but a-Sang organized a-Xian's, and I am given to understand it will be considerably more exciting."

"I hope you have fun," Meng Yao said with another dimpled smile. Before Xichen could gather her thoughts enough to answer, Meng Yao was already gone, her wave of black silk hair flowing behind her.

***

At first, Lan Xichen thought that Wei Wuxian's solution to the problem of her and Wangji having all the same friends was perfectly fine. One bachelorette party for Wangji on Friday, which would be planned by Lan Xichen; another for Wei Wuxian on Saturday, which would be planned by Nie Huaisang.

Wangji's bachelorette party had gone swimmingly; a nice dinner, with wine for the guests and sparkling cider for the family, understated and quiet and over by eight.

Wei Wuxian's was also going well, if her and Huaisang's smiling faces were anything to judge by. Lan Xichen sipped her virgin margarita and smiled, watching her soon-to-be sister go from a sober friendliness to unmitigated, unguarded, freely-given affection as she cultivated her happiness at her upcoming wedding into a golden glow of love, pulling everyone around her into her orbit. Even Mingjue-jie and Jiang Wanyin, whose perpetual scowls were being ground down into fond smiles, were not immune.

They were entering their fourth club of the night when Huaisang, flushed pink, announced that the party had officially begun, and drug them into what had been listed on the itinerary as "dancing ;)".

There was, indeed, dancing. They were not the ones dancing.

"Wow, SangSang, do you think I could do that?" Wei Wuxian slurred out, attempting a high-kick as the girl on stage began what looked to Xichen like a arabesque penché, before wrapping her working leg around the pole and lifting the rest of her body into the air. Wei Wuxian stumbled into Jiang Wanyin, who rolled their eyes as they caught her.

Lan Xichen did not hear what a-Sang thought, but she was reasonably sure that Wei Wuxian could not, in fact, do that.

They were herded by an enthusiastic Huaisang and a member of the staff into "the bachelorette suite," which Xichen was reasonably sure by the expression on the face of the.... maître'd? was actually more commonly reserved for groups of cisgender straight men than groups of queers with four genders between them.

The decorations in the room were clearly chosen by Huaisang, consistent with the rest of the night's theming: black and scarlet and gold, with penis-shaped balloons even though neither of the brides had those, and a banner hung behind the stage with "Last Fling Before The Ring" printed in the same cursive font as their matching shirts.

A maypole with white and gold ribbons stood alone on the stage as they sat in the chairs, arranged in a U, with Wei Wuxian at the center and a-Sang and Jiang Wanyin on either side of her. Mingjue-jie and Jiang Yanli sat on either side of their siblings. Xichen thought that sitting between Mingjue, who was clearly confused, and Wen Ning, who looked as awkward as Xichen felt, would be the best way to hopefully avoid the largest part of the attention.

As the music began, their dancer walked out onto the stage, wearing a long, sleek silk robe with a flower motif, her hair held in place above her head with a matching lobster clip. She approached the center of the stage, face pointed down, and body held still.

The music began, and four counts in, she snapped her head up, and began to move.

Meng Yao.

With a snap and a flourish, her robe fell to the floor and heat rose in Xichen's face at her neighbor in skin-tight leather, twirling one of the maypole ribbons around her finger. Xichen definitely should not be seeing this. If Meng Yao wanted her to know that she worked in such a place, she would have told her. But to get up and leave in the middle of a performance, especially in such a small audience, would be the height of rudeness. If someone she knew left while she was performing a recital, it would shake her.

So she stayed and tried not to be aroused as Meng Yao drew the ribbons off the pole, delivering the first to Wei Wuxian with a teasing kiss on the cheek, to the rest of them -- finally, to her, with the barest touch of her fingers against Xichen's jaw, tilting her face up as though for a kiss and then pulling away, leaving a trail of electricity in her wake. Xichen crossed her legs and recited all 3000 rules of the Lan Academy for Girls, the periodic table of elements, all mutliples of 12. She was, unfortunately, completely unsuccessful in thinking of anything distracting once Meng Yao began to dance on the now-ribbonless maypole. Which, in retrospect, was clearly not a maypole at all.

Very fortunately for Xichen's sanity, even while drunk Wei Wuxian had no desire to do anything that might in her mind count as cheating on Wangji, and she finally connected the dots.

"SangSang," she whispered very loudly, "this is a strip club, isn't it? We should go home, SangSang-- a-Cheng! Hi! We should go home before Lan Zhan catches us, a-Cheng, we're breaking the rules and I care about this rule, a-Cheng."

Jiang Yanli, bless her heart, was on her feet and helping her giggling sister out of the club immediately, and gradually everyone else cleared out as well, until it Xichen was the only one left. She wasn't sure her legs would work when she stood up.

"I'm sorry about.... this." Xichen said to Meng Yao, as she sat primly on the edge of the stage. "I understand tipping is customary but I'm not sure...."

"Usually small bills as I dance," Meng Yao said quietly. "Don't worry about it, SangSang will make sure I get what I would have earned. We have a standing deal."

"Ah."

Awkward silence settled over them as they continued to sit in a room filled with dick-balloons.

"I am a dancer," Meng Yao said suddenly. "I didn't lie to you. I did ballet until I was 16, and I still --"

"This is dancing," Xichen said. She met Meng Yao's eyes, disregarding the blush she felt renewing itself under her skin. "Just because it isn't ballet doesn't mean it's somehow not dance." Meng Yao's eyes went wide, almost perfectly round, before she looks at the ground again.

"Would you like to see? Your friends had me for the next hour and a half, and I don't need to go out on the floor tonight. With events like this we get the rest of the night off."

Xichen nodded. "If you want to show me. I'd like that."

Meng Yao smiled slowly, and put her discarded robe on one of the chairs. She didn't turn the music back on. Instead, she stood on the stage, counted to eight, and simply moved.

She went slowly, her mastery of every muscle in her body evident as she held positions that should overbalance her, sensuously tracing over every curve and line with a delicate hand. She bent her body in ways that Xichen didn't know were possible, with the grace of an angel and a sweetly seductive smile on her face. She spun herself around the pole using only one hand to support herself.

Xichen's legs were crossed very tightly at the ankle as she reminded herself to appreciate the dance's artistic merit. It was not difficult to do so -- it was a beautiful and physically demanding thing, executed with technical precision. It was also extraordinarily sexy. Which, she supposed, added to its merit further.

Then, coming off the pole, Meng Yao smirked, and Lan Xichen's breath caught in her throat as she curtseyed, skin shiny with sweat and hair slightly mussed in its clip. As Xichen sat stunned, Meng Yao's smirk faded, and she suddenly grabbed her robe and hurriedly put it on, reaching for the door.

"Well, I hope that was a good demonstration, Lan Xichen," Meng Yao said. "I suppose I'll see you... eventually. At home."

"Wait," Xichen said, before Meng Yao could leave without somehow knowing that this didn't have to change anything, didn't have to cast them back into strangers. "I'm going to call a rideshare. You take the bus home, don't you? You can ride with me. We're going to the same place."

Meng Yao's hand paused over the doorknob. "I still have to change back into street clothes."

It wasn't a no.

"I'll wait," Xichen promised. "I'll wait for you to be ready."

They traveled in electric silence. Lan Xichen's throat was dry, and she understood now why people called this feeling "thirst," and her crush on Meng Yao seemed so heavy in the air between them that it truly was a wonder she had agreed. When they reached their apartments, Xichen could barely stand to say goodbye.

So, when she opened her mouth, goodbye was not what came out, but "Would you like some tea?"

Meng Yao smiled one of her fragile, genuine smiles and said yes.

[precure-stuff]

AiParade episode 28 Rewrite

Episode 28- Gothic Emergency

At Starlight Academy, Yurika is watching as Kaede puts up bat stickers with the other students. Akari and Yume are helping carry the food from Aine’s bakery. Hinaki and Juri are throwing black feathers around the school. The camera pans up to the banner, ‘Loli GoThiC Showcase’ Maya Yumekoji shows up in a black limousine and nods in approval. Yurika rushes to meet him. “Was it you who came up with this?” He asks. Yurika shakes her head.

“Actually that was Sumire. I didn’t see this coming either.”

“Interesting. I think I’d like to thank her myself.” Maya says. Yurika takes him backstage where they spot Yume looking concerned. Yurika moves forward and pushes past her. She finds Sumire laying in Akari’s arms. Hinaki and Juri are fanning her as Mio dials a doctor.

“What’s going on here?” Yurika gasps

“Yurika,” Akari says, “Sumire has a fever! She can’t perform.”

Twilight Etranger plays (second OP)

Yurika stands over Sumire who is now in a sofa covered in a shawl. Maya sits down and tells Sumire that he’s proud of her event even if it doesn’t happen. Akari insists that they should postpone but Sumire furiously shakes her head. “No…” she heaves, “We can’t stop. Even if I can’t sing. Someone else can do it.” She rests her head again and falls asleep.

“Understood!” Yurika says. She takes out her phone and writes down a few numbers. “If we’re going to make this work we’ll need other models to fill out time as we get other idols to perform. You girls take care of the models. I’ll find the girls who can perform myself.” Yurika leaves the room and Akari picks up the list.

“Ran, Sora, Maika…They can model at the start of the event. Apart from them, we should use all the idols here to pad the runtime.” Akari says

“No. I won’t allow simply anyone to wear Loli GoThiC. Only the strong should wear such clothes.” Maya responds.

“But!”

“I have to meet each and every model before they can wear my brand.”

Akari reluctantly agrees and asks Hinaki and Juri to start calling their numbers with her. Outside, Yurika is in a taxi on her way to Dream Academy. She heads straight to the design course where Sora turns to her. “We need your help.” After explaining the situation, Sora calls her friends Raki and Koharu to help as well.  Raki brings along Relect Moon and Alicia, noting that their brands remind her of Loli GoThiC so they should be able to wear it with ease. Koharu brings Lily. The idols start to chat as Yurika tries to focus. As the noise builds, Yurika gets more and more disparaged, wondering how to salvage the event. The thought of failing Sumire and the brand bring her down. The other girls quiet down as they notice Yurika’s tears. Yurika looks around. She wipes her tears away and stands up.

“I want to be left alone with Koharu, Sora and Raki. Lily and Alicia as well. Call Maya here, now!”

Back at Starlight Academy, the event has started and with no one to judge who wears what, Akari simply has any idols wearing the coords. “Are you sure this is okay?” Hinaki asks. Akari doesn’t answer as she panics.

“We just need to buy time until Yurika comes back.” Akari replies

Time passes and the audience seems bored.

“Akari, we have to stop,” Juri says.

“But Sumire wanted this to work,” Akari says with tears in her eyes. Yume rushes in with a smile.

“Reflect Moon is here! They can do a live and interview afterward.” She announces. Reflect Moon perform their solos in their respective JLRs and the crowd gets excited.  Yume goes on stage to interview them. Backstage, Akari rushes to check on Sumire.

“I promise we’ll save your event.” She whispers to herself.

At Dream Academy, Maya is sharing some of his scrapped designs as Sora, Raki and Koharu struggle to unite them into a cohesive coord. Yurika, Lily and Alicia are practicing a unit appeal. The tension is high and Raki feels exhausted as she’s never needed to work this fast before. Koharu notes that without Maya’s old scrapped designs, this would be impossible. Raki steps back for a second and stretches. She spots Alicia and Lily’s bags.

Raki picks out their Aikatsu cards and compares them to the old designs. “If they’re all going to wear these, they should have their individual flavours mixed in.” This catched all their attention. Maya is taken aback and smiles. The three designers split brands to examine the motifs.

Back at Starlight, Madoka has the mic and is nervously stammering before the audience. “Today we’re here for Loli Gothic…that’s Sumire’s brand.” She turns to see Yume encouraging her and continues, “Moving onto other things she likes. Let’s give it up for…Sumire’s best friend Akari and Sumire’s unit partner Rin.” Yume rushes Madoka off stage as Lonely Gravity starts playing. Akari is wearing the Topaz Command Coord and Rin is wearing the Neon Line Coord. The crowd recognizes the song from their drama and loudly cheer. There is no appeal. As the live ends, Mio notes that this isn’t much of a showcase anymore. After this, Aine come forward to interview the girls on what working with Sumire is like. The crowd sees through it, but remains interested. The interview concludes and they announce a break. Akari is exhausted and checks on Sumire who has been watching the event on a TV screen in her room. She asks where Yurika is and is told she plans to show up later. Akari takes a rest on the floor near the sofa as Madoka calls Maya.

“How much longer till Yurika gets here?”

“We need half an hour.”

“The break should be over in half that time.”

“We can’t make it there any faster.” Madoka informs the rest away from Sumire and asks them what to do. Mio says they have to extend the break and they agree.

“The event here was to celebrate a gothic brand. If I perform once more, we should have enough time.” She wipes the sweat off her forehead.

The break ends fifteen minutes later than expected. Eternally Flickering Flame starts playing with Akari in the Monster Cat Coord . The crowd rushes back to hear Yurika’s song. Akari feels relaxed as the crowd is enjoying her song.  Halfway, she attempts her appeal and fails, she gets up again to complete the song. “She’s pushed herself too far.” Madoka notes as Akari comes backstage. As the crowd solemnly claps, Maya finally arrives. The girls all heave a sigh of relief.

The stage lights turn off. As the lights hover around the audience, Checkmate appears on stage. The crowd goes wild as Yurika thanks them for waiting. She calms herself and nods at the girls backstage. She mouths thank you at them and the live starts. It’s Kindan Hide and Seek The appeal is Checkmate Flight. As the song ends, the girls announce that they’re a new official unit. Everyone is taken by surprise. In the limousine, we see Sora, Koharu and Raki sleeping with stray strings scattered on their uniforms.

Checkmate and Maya walk into Sumire’s room and she wakes up. Yurika takes Sumire’s hand and tells her event was a success. Sumire smiles as Maya tells her he’s proud. The episode ends with a still of the three of them in the room.

[doctorcanon]

Fire Emblem Redux

I got bored at work and started brainstorming how things would turn out if there was more of an emphasis on the three House Leaders as a unit rather than opposing forces. I named them Edelgard the Immovable, Claude the Untouchable and Dimitri the Unstoppable because I’m a loser. Also Rhea is the Bad Guy here. Just some important world building stuff, y’all know how this works by now. Despite the focus on all three of them, the story will likely focus on Dimitri and the Blue Lions because I feel like out of the 3, his characterization and overall development was the weakest. Also while I’m not a fan of Edelgard in game, I LOVE writing her. Morally gray ladies all the way. One of them is going to die. I won’t decide until I write the damn thing.

Dimitri, Edelgard and Claude are all close friends, reunited after 10 years. This causes some complications because they are now very different people.

Classes are divided into skillset, not region. Golden Deer: Ranged Fighters, Blue Lions: Melee Fighters, Black Eagles: Mages.

Steampunk/Victorian Era. Normally I hate the Steampunk aesthetic but the motif of gears and clocks is a little too good to pass up.

The Officer’s Academy is normally a two year program.

Rhea might be the Archbishop but Seteth is the headmaster and is referred to as such.

This is the first time Dimitri has been in the public eye since the Tragedy of Duscur. There is a lot of pressure on him to act accordingly.

Edelgard looks very different than she used to and isn’t very good at explaining why. Dimitri knows good and damn well that it’s not hereditary.

Claude is clearly the glue that holds their friends together being their voice of reason. He doesn’t seem to have changed much to Dimitri but Edelgard thinks otherwise.

Members of other houses are aware of and have had contact with each other. For example the noblemen and ladies of various houses are often forced to correspond with each other through courting or otherwise.

The acceptance of the Ashen Demon into the Church of Seiros has caused quite the stir. Some nobles aren’t exactly thrilled to have their children be taught by someone who used to work for them. The Ashen Demon is a powerful asset and now The Church has the boy in their employ. Bandits all over can breathe a sigh of relief for Seiros has tamed the Demon.

It’s extremely difficult to switch skillsets. Students like Sylvain, Marianne and Ashe have to do a lot of extra work to access those budding talents.

Punishments for transgressions are really harsh. Even something as simple as breaking curfew will resort punishment ranging from lashes to public humiliation. Most students are very reluctant to break the rules.

The name of the Goddess has been lost. It is blasphemy to speak her name.

Social conventions limit young women from being close range fighters. Hilda and Ingrid are considered to be very odd but highly respected. Hilda doesn’t seem to care though.

If a young woman accepts an offer of marriage during her education, she has to leave the academy.

Cavorting is not allowed on the premises.

Golden Deer teaches a number of ranged and stealth tactics including firearms. There is an emphasis on mounts as well. These are likely the deadliest students.

Black Eagles teaches rigorous classes in Faith and Reason. You have to be very intelligent to handle these classes. It’s not uncommon for students in this house to suddenly burst into tears due to stress.

Blue Lions focuses on fighting and melee both mounted and not. These are the toughest students. They go through the harshest conditioning out of the three classes.

Food is extremely important to Garreg Mach. That’s why they catch their own fish and grow their own plants. They rarely receive shipments from outside the monastery. Even the snacks in the Marketplace are highly regulated.

Garreg Mach is pretty much a standing army. Even the cooks can fight. Rumor has it that the Head Chef is quite a force to be reckoned with.

Basic Unarmed and Dagger combat classes are mandatory but the Blue Lions are not allowed to participate in sparring. Though they are sometimes made to spar against each other for the others to observe.

Injuries are treated in the monastery’s infirmary. Usually students are given leave from activity after an injury, but the breaks for the Blue Lions are significantly shorter. Basically, if you’re not on bed rest, you’re back in action. No exceptions.

Overall, the Golden Deer house is the easiest to deal with usually filled with the nicer, well rounded students.  Whereas the Black Eagles are probably the worst considering the nature of their work. The Blue Lions have the most troublemakers. One might say that the other classes enjoy watching them get punished.

[pillowfluffs]

Soulmate!Wonho // Chapter 2

Pairing: Wonho X Reader (female)

Genre: Soulmate!AU, fantasy, fluff, slight angst

Summary: After learning some things while writing back and forth with your soulmate a few nights ago, things get even more stranger.. Here’s to a new chapter in your life, however! But some strange figure might cause some.. complications..

Author’s Note: Yay! It’s officially been a week since Chapter 1 came out! I’m so excited for you guys to read this new chapter so please enjoy! And I suckk at summaries ;-; so my apologies, but please leave feedback, it’s much appreciated! But as mentioned before, I will be posting a new chapter on Saturdays 5:30pm Eastern Standard Time (U.S. Time) ((4:00pm Central Time // 2:00pm Pacific Standard Time)) Please Enjoy chapter 2!

You sat in your EP (enhanced placement) runes class, next to the window. The room was illuminated in a dark light from the cloudy skies outside. You sat next to the window which stretched from the ceiling to the ground. Tall pines and the woods were your view as you looked out and since it was a few more months until the end of the year, all the classes had small projects and assignments to do. Busy work for those who needed the credit to have a passing grade in the class. Your grades were “beyond exceptional” as the headmaster told you yesterday towards the end of your lesson of demoniaco, but you still had to attend classes for the last few months for attendance, but you didn’t really need to worry about the end of the year exam either. Your grades were proof enough of your mastery to the knowledge you absorbed so far.. You were of course proud of your achievements so far in college so you sat there in a dark blue quarter zip with no motif on it and black sweatpants, spacing out every now and then as you looked outside. Boredom filled you as small chatter of off subject things filled your ears and a movie played on the projector. The students used this time to study for other classes and finals or just to relax for the time being. The room was set up so all the students’ desks were on steps so there were about eight rows and each row as you went to the back of the room was raised by two steps and the desks themselves weren’t really desks either, they were long tables which curved along with the room. Each person had their own desk area. The last row looked down to see the front of the room along with the professor.

Professor Emanuel Demsky sat at his desk grading papers and entering them instantly into his computer. He was gifted with memoriam faciunt, the talent to allow the caster the ability to manipulate memories, but it also granted him significant memory capacity. He was considered one of the most powerful professors at the academy as this magic also allows the user to create new magic by combining spells from the other magic which the user has memorized before. Although he was deemed one of the most powerful, if anyone were to see him, they’d probably think he was a broken one; someone with a gift, but a very weak one and usually not full. Any gift could be broken but the holder cannot be able to use the power to the full capacity. An example would be the gift of invisibility, but only turning invisible about half way, which is very useless in this world.

You eyes grew heavy from the early wake and lowered your head into your arms, staring into the world outside as small pitter patters hit against the glass and a low rumble of thunder grew louder every few minutes. All the sound in the room including the talking in the back and the documentary on ancient runes in the front, were drowned out and all sort of merged to one sound quietly in the background as your ears focused on the rain and thunder outside. You watched the rain bounce off branches and leaves before your eyes shut and sleep enveloped you. The last thing your mind thought of was Wonho, vague images of what he could look like based of what you learned.

From the room’s furthest back row, in the far right corner, a man sat there and watched you as your slowly fell asleep into slumber with stone eyes. He sat there though the period, watching and absorbing every detail he saw. The way you breathed when you slept as your back rose and sunk, how your hair spread out over your arms and desks area. He was a somewhat tall guy, wearing a black long sleeve with a white shirt beneath, the bottom of the shirt peeking out with dark blue jeans and a light brown leather jacket with white vans’ slip ons. The bell rang and he noticed how you were still sound asleep in your seat. He sat patiently, waiting for everyone to leave the room as the professor continued to work diligently at his desk. As everyone made their way out the door, he stood up, picking up his backpack, slinging it over his left shoulder and making his way over next to you. He went down two rows and went to the very left end of the sixth row where you were, his shoes silent against the thinly carpeted ground.

You slept peacefully, hearing nothing including the low rumbles and cracks of thunder, the hum of the air conditioning right above your head.  You had no other class today, including the headmaster’s as the he went on his annual council meeting, so no class with him for the next week or two. The council are a group of mages who are considered the most powerful in the world. You felt a few tickling marks beginning to form on your right thigh as you knew Wonho was drawing. You began to stir in your sleep, beginning to wake up as the tickling wouldn’t stop. A smile grew on your face as you were waking.

He sat in the seat to the right of you, facing you, watching your every move. “How precious you are..” An eerie smile grew upon his face as he leaned his head against his right hand. He opened his left hand, a silver, almost black steam flowed out of his hand as it grew closer and closer to you as you began to wake up.

You sat up and opened your eyes, a warmness spreading through your body as you yawned and stretched. You turned to your right and gasped at the sight be. The bell had already rung and everyone was gone except for you. Luckily as mentioned before, you had no more classes so you were free to go wherever you wanted. You got up and left, saying a farewell to the professor who only waved in response without looking up as he entered grades to a previous test into his computer. The rain rained harder than before, same as well for the thunder; louder.

In a dimension separate from the world, outside of existence,  he looked through and watched you, an eerie smile smile on his face as he lay comfortable in his own little world. Though a pang of worry bloomed as he didn’t want you walked through the rain.

You walked out of the enchanted language building and made your way through campus back towards your own dorm. The rain did not bother you one bit as you just walked through, but that was only because the rain never touched you, except for the bottom of your pants which were slowly becoming soaked as you walked through puddles. You were manipulating the weather around you. The tickling sensation paused as you got up to leave the room earlier but it had returned once again but on your left thigh this time. “Ah, this tickles!” You reached down and scratched your left thigh, with a giggle, but it was no use; the tickling continued as you walked across campus. You pulled out a dark blue pen as you decided to always keep one on you since the events of last night with your soulmate. You wrote on the back of your hand “it tickles, can you draw or write on the wrists instead?” you smiled as you walked without looking. You weren’t paying attention to where you were walking before a pair of hands firmly grasped you by the biceps.

“Woah, careful there,” you gasped as your heart jumped at the strange man before you with a peculiar smile as he peered into your eyes, almost dropping the pen in your hand. He stood a half a head taller than you, his brown hair blowing gently in the breeze, gazing into your eyes. His hands slid down the sides of yours and he held you as your power expanded so now he was no longer in the rain as well. For some reason, you don’t know why either but you just couldn’t break the stare of his eyes with yours. “You almost walked straight into this tree,” he broke the silence. “Are you okay? I didn’t mean to startle you, I just want to make sure you’re okay.” He released his grasp on your arms with a kind smile and lingering touch.

“Oh, yeah, I’m fine, thank you.” You closed the pen cap, tucking it away into your pants pocket. “I was just drawing on my arm.” You shied away with a gentle smile, looking back to your hands, pulling your sleeves over your hands and looked back up. Your heart jumped a tad at his face as it was now closer, your smile fading. You were able to see all the details in his face; his prominent cheekbones, the way his rose colored lips were shaped as if he was a statue, carved from marble, how his hair was disheveled, the ends just above his eye lids. His eyes were a dark earthy brown which you were entranced to, as if you were under a spell. You weren’t going to lie but you felt a bit uncomfortable from such closeness. He was looking at you as if you were a significant other, a look filled with adoration and love but you had never seen this man before you. He seemed around your age, if not older, but that was just your opinion based on his height and looks.

“Well, be careful from now on, and watch where you’re going.” He gave you a quick smirk as he reached up and tucked a stray of your hair behind you ear, gliding his fingers tips down your cheeks. He leaned against the tree you were about to walk into, his height shortening a bit. “Where are you heading to?”

“Uh, I was just heading back to my dorm.” You bit your lip, you couldn’t help but feel a bit scared. For some reason, you felt powerless. As if you were in some sort of orb of a space which absorbed all the power you had in your body. You vision was beginning to blur longer you maintained eye contact. You attempted to use the last of your ability to mimic his, but nothing happened. No cold rush ran up your spine as you stood there. “Who is he?” For the first time in your life, you couldn’t absorb the ability of the person before you. If you had any warning alarms, they were being triggered right now.

“Are you okay? You look a bit.. Pale.” He pushed a strand of hair behind your ear, rubbing your cheek with the pad of his thumb. His right hand in his pocket tightened into a fist. His plan was going accordingly his way, and he made sure it was full proof. “You will be mine.. No matter what...”

“I have to go,” you mustered all the energy you had and left him. All the energy in your body you used for your abilities were gone, as if a dripping sponge was put through a wringer, drying every last drop out. The rain patted against your body as you walked faster, unable to use your ability. You turned around hoping to see him no longer there, but to your fear, he stood there leaning against the tree, watching you and eye contact was made right away. He pushed himself off the tree and started slowly approaching you. You turned back and made your way faster back to your dorm. You didn’t turn and  look back the entire way, it didn’t feel safe.

“What a tease she is.” He watched over you through his pocket dimension, ab amused grin stretched upon his face. He was a broken one and he didn’t have a soulmate. But when he saw you, he knew he had to break the natural laws of the universe. He wanted you all to himself; take you away from your soulmate as soon as possible because your destined day to meet could be any day.

You shut the door behind you, using the peephole to see if anyone outside, but saw no one. You locked the door and walked over to your bed and sat. You sat there doing nothing, wondering what you could do. Your room was quite spacious fortunately. Upon entering the dorm, the first thing you saw was the bed. Your bed, when you first moved in was against the right wall and the desk facing the left wall in the corner. And when you entered and turned left, there was a large bathroom with two toilets and two showers; one for you and one for the other person, well usually but since your room was at the end of the hallway, you had the bathroom all to yourself. You adjusted the furniture to your liking when you first moved in with the help of your neighbors so now the desk was facing the wall you faced when you first enter, allowing the natural light from outside to come in. Your bed was against the left wall and your head was next to your desk, in the left corner. The space where your bed once was was now a relaxation area; you brought in a black lounge chair and a jumbo sized black bean bag. Your mom insisted on being extra comfy so she bought you a cool gray rub, soft at the touch and a mini coffee table to place on the rug. You didn’t really have a theme but if anyone were to see your dorm, they would simply assume a dark theme. Now you felt stuffy and out of place in your own room. Your clothes were drenched from the rain outside, which continued harder than ever. You made a quick change of clothes, changing into a black hoodie this time and gray sweatpants. You grabbed your backpack and filled it with some of your EP runes and EP charms textbooks and left to go anywhere. You cracked the door open and peeked outside the door, turning your head left and right, luckily seeing no one in sight to be seen nor heard, but just a muffled laughter from your neighbor across the hall from you. You hadn’t really seen any neighbors of yours since the first day, but you didn’t mind; they were kind and kept to themselves. You closed your door, locking it and head to the stairwell. You walked down three levels and went outside, cautious and ready to change into a shadow mode from your demonic abilities to avoid the guy. You pulled your hood up, pulling the strings so the hood would close around your face masking you, using your ability from your pocket on the hoodie to shift the rain away from you. You walked swiftly and faster across campus. No one was outside due to the rain so if they did see you from inside, they wouldn’t know it was you which was ideal since you were known to be a pyrokinetic, an enemy of water.

The campus was substantial with openings here and there, but it was also littered with small groves here and there. Normally on a sunny day, there would be numerous amounts of other mages outside; studying, working out, sparring, anything. No matter what season it was, the campus was as magical as seen in pictures on the website; it was a prominent tourist attraction to anyone and everyone during breaks when students weren’t on campus.

You were sooner than you thought at the front gate of the school which was open but still heavily guarded. The guards simply looked at you then looked away; they wore contacts which scanned bodies for an ID card or if they were a guest, the guest tag. No matter where it was, they could scan and find it. If you didn’t have one on you, they would question you before leaving but you were not likely to get back in. Unlike your orientation day, the barrier was no obstacle for you those entering or leaving. As long as students had their ID card somewhere on them, they could get in and out with ease. ID cards were the key to everything at Mapnerry, literally. They got you into the school, buildings, computers, and more. The rumbling of thunder filled your ears as your walked as you walked along the sidewalk down a short hill towards a street full of life. There were numerous restaurants and bars, a mall where mages walked though daily. Many students often came here to have fun along with other activities similar to those done on campus. Mages of all kind walked by you with umbrellas and ponchos while the road was only slightly congested with cars. You walked down the road toward the corner, untying the strings to your hood, pulling the small opening to your face open. You turned left and entered the Espresso Express, one of the cafes in the mall, which was your favorite since it wasn’t as popular, meaning there were less people but a good amount would make them busy. It was a slight building huddled despondent among the tall apartment buildings where upperclassmen usually lived off of campus.

A warm breeze brushed your face and the fresh smell of roasted coffee filled your nostrils, causing you to suddenly feel bubbly and as if you were home on the inside. Unlike outside, the interior was warm and cheery, with bright lights and colorful murals on brick walls. Once you walked in, you passed booths where the seats were cushioned with black leather pillows. Edison light bulbs dangled over each table, illuminating the dark yet cozy cafe. It was only dark due to darkness outside from the storm since there were large windows which stretched from the ground to the ceiling. The retro styled cafe was partially full with mages socializing, students studying, even some business men tending to some meetings.

Almost all food restaurants were run, managed, and owned by culinary mages with abilities which allowed them to create and/or produce astonishing foods from the finest or repugnant of ingredients.

What you loved about this cafe was that in the level above, the cafe expanded into a spacious dining area. It was truly the quietest part of the cafe. You made your way upstairs, passing multiple students seated at their own single tables as finals were near approaching. Their tables littered with small pastries and coffee cups. You walked up the wide chestnut wood stairs, your hand gliding over the banister handles. There was only a handful of people towards the lighter side of the room and one on the darker side with their light on. The entire level was majority windows so they were sitting where there was better light. You went to the darker side in the far left corner and sat on the cushioned seat, placing your bag next to you. You spread out your books and notebooks, ready to do some heavy duty studying, adjusting the light so the brightness wouldn’t strain your eyes with a knob on the corner of the table. In the silence, you heard quiet music, but the peculiar thing was that it was very close to you. The nearest person was to your right in the other corner, which confused you even more about where it was coming from. It took you a moment until you realized it was yours and dug through your backpack, finding your phone to be on and playing music the entire time.

“Oh shoot,” you said to yourself. You paused the classical music only for a low battery notification to pop up. “Great, and of course I didn’t bring my charger,” you sighed. You shut off your phone, turning the ringer off and tossing it back in.

He sat there quietly, concentrated on the EP necromantiae textbook before him. Necromancy was the study of using the ability of necrokinesis to manipulate the dead, allowing the user to utilize magic revolving around the dead. “I should have taken EP animancy,” he mentally scolded himself for taking this challenging class. “I should have listened to Hyunwoo.” He sighed, rubbing his temple and closing his eyes as they were straining for hours. He leaned back against the plush cushion, throwing his head back and reaching for the brightness knob, turning it down a notch. He breathed calmly for a few minutes before he looked back up, looking around the room. He looked outside and saw how much darker it had been compared to this morning and that it had begun raining for awhile now, he just never noticed. He stood up and stretched his body as a yawn came out of him. “I need another coffee.” he thought to himself and got up, leaving his things neatly in his space, unafraid of anyone stealing his things since there was no one close to his space except for a girl sitting to his left in the far corner. He wore gray joggers, a black t-shirt with a black hooded jacket, and black ankle rain boots.

You saw a figure move through the room, but you assumed it was the guy to your right and pushed the thought away. You blocked out all the sound you could and any possible distractions in your peripheral vision, but you couldn’t help but think of the weird guy from earlier. You were pretty sure you had never seen him before but he spoke to you as if he already knew you. You yawned and began rubbing your eyes after sitting for about twenty minutes, continuing to feel drained from the moment you met him. You saw through your fingers as you rubbed and for a brief moment, you saw him. You moved your hands, looking around the room, but no one was there except for the same people on the far side of the room. “Pull yourself together, Y/N.” You slapped your cheeks lightly, opening your mind back up. “You’re starting to see things,” you sighed leaning back although you could have sworn you saw him just now in the same exact clothes, just staring at you from a few tables in front of you. You shook your head and  pulled your book closer, focusing on the text before you, writing down notes you believed to be significant.

He stood in line, waiting to order his third round of coffee. He watched his hand, admiring his soulmate’s handwriting. While he waited, he drew onto the back of his hand, below his soulmate’s handwriting, a rose.

“Next please.” He was cut off by the barista. “What would you like to order?”

“Hi, could I get a medium americano?” The barista put in the order. He stood at the same height as him but just a tad shorter The cafe was somewhat fuller compared to this morning.

“And would that be all?” His voice was monotone, most likely a recently graduated mage working hard to earn money to pay off student loans and debt. His eyes looked like he could have fallen asleep then and there while standing.

“Yes.” He handed the barista his card. He looked to the rose, anticipating to finish.

“Name for your order, sir?” The barista handed back his card along with a receipt and a copy for him to sign. Holding a cup in the other hand, ready to sign a name.

“Wonho.” He swiftly signed, returning the pen and receipt back. He pulled out his pen from before, continuing to finish the rose as he walked to the right of the main counter to the waiting area. This area was somewhat cooler than the register since it was closer to the door.

You sat fully focused on your notes before you. To be honest, you didn’t really need to study due to your highly exceptional academic levels. Even your professors had told you that you didn’t have to go into class anymore nor take the final at the end of the year, but you insisted. You wanted to be on the same academic level as the other mages and treated equally, but now that you really thought about it, you really didn’t have to study as of right now. You stood from your seat, stretching your body, loosening the tight muscles. Fortunately for you, you didn’t think you would get to it but now you did. You packed away your textbooks neatly and pulled out a book your father had gotten you as a going away gift and you never really had the time to read it. The book was called The Everything in Nothing by one of your favorite writing mages, Elizabeth Harmon. In this world, there were many types of mages such as good ones and bad ones; not every world is perfect. There were mages who made a living taking jobs and going on missions and quests such as Y’N’s father and mages who used their ability to do things such as open a restaurant or farm. The cover of the book was leathered with the title indented into the center. A brown leather book with a latch, made to look similar to a magus liber. It was stunning how much production value was put into Elizabeth’s books. Right when you opened the book, you suddenly got a bit light headed.

“Woah.” You caught yourself, grasping the table as a balance. You sat still for a minute, the dizziness going away. You swallowed feeling your throat dry. You went to your backpack, digging through only to find no water. “Guess I have to buy something then,” you sighed getting up and grabbing your wallet.

“Order for Wonho,” the female barista called, her voice bright and perky.

“Thank you.” Wonho reached for his coffee, continuing to draw a rose. He took the cup, making his way towards the sugar and cream counter. He opened the lid and a warm breath of americano coffee filled his nose.

Your head tilted to the side as the rose drawing had paused. “I wonder what he’s doing..” You thought to yourself as you approached the stairs. “What will it be like when I do meet him?” You began down the stairs.

He closed the lid, heading back up towards the stairs. He held his hot coffee in the hand he was drawing on. All the petals had been finished and now all he had to do was draw the stem. “Almost done~” He began on the first step.

The finished flower took your breath away. You brushed your finger over the finished flower as you walked down, not paying attention. Your body bumped into someone, causing your heart to jump in your chest, and the next thing you felt was something hot on your body but luckily your hoodie was thick enough so it didn’t hurt you.

“Ah, ow.” You stumbled backwards, landing on your bottom against the stairs. You felt embarrassment heat up your face as a small pain radiated from your back and bottom as you were face to face with the man before you.

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry!” The man’s body hovered above yours. His arms were around your body, holding himself up. He was finely built and his muscles evident through his shirt. “Are you okay?” He pushed himself up, offering his hand to help you up.

“I’m okay.” You took his hand and he pulled you up as if you were a feather. Your hand was miniscule in his soft yet large hand.

“Again, I’m so sorry, I wasn’t paying atten-“ His words paused as he caught a glimpse of your hand. “A rose.” He held your hand in his, inspecting the rose. He didn’t say anything, looking at it, brushing his finger over it.

“What about it?” You stood on a stair above, matching his height, mixed emotions stirred within you. You looked closely at his facial features; how the ends of his black hair meeting his eyelids. He looked at you then, his dark eyes drilling into yours. You watched him movements, anticipating what he would do next.

He turned his hand, holding yours, showing the identical unfinished rose. “Is this your handwriting, Y/N?” His voice velvety in your ears, a soft smile growing on his face. He stood there with light eyes filled with wonder.

You felt your heart stopping and racing at the same time. “You’re.. My soulmate?” You bit your lip, preparing for the next answer, trying to restrain a smile. “You drew the rose?” You glanced back down, gesturing to the rose and looked back up to his. You’ve always wondered when you would meet your soulmate and how you would meet them one day in the future, but you guessed today was your destined day.

“I guess I am,” he smiled, nodding his head. He pulled you into his arms. “And you’re mine?”

“I guess so.” You smiled. A rollercoaster of emotions rushed through you as you looked your soulmate in the eye. The two of you stood there for a minute or two, taking in each other’s features, still holding hands. “Wait, the coffee.” His face was soft, his skin milky with his plump cheeks and rosy reddish and pink lips. His teeth perfectly straight and white though you noted that when he talked, there was a tiny lisp, but it was very cute.

“Oh, right.” He released your hand, scratching the back of his head. “I’m really sorry about your clothes.” He looked down to see your coffee stained sweatpants. “I have a spare change of clothes in my bag ‘cause I was going to go to the gym to workout, but you could wear them if you’d like.” He stood there with his right  hand remaining on the back of his neck as his weight was supported on his left leg and his left hand tucked into his pants pocket.

“It’s okay,” you sighed, looking down to your clothes. “I’ll most likely have to walk up to my dorm to change and maybe come back again.” You were a bit bummed now that you really thought about it. The heat of the coffee still present. You looked down at your clothes, the smell of coffee filling your nose.

“Please? I really insist, especially if you’re going to come back.” His voice earnest as he walked passed you. He stood two steps above you at a base set of five steps.

“What about you?” You looked down his body, seeing a coffee stain on his clothes as well but not as big as yours.

“I’ll be fine, don’t worry about me,” he smiled as he waved it off.

You bit your lip once again, contemplating. “Would it really be okay? I mean, I am his soulmate after all.. Wait, even if I did, wouldn’t they be too big on me?” You stood there, looking up to Wonho for a moment. “Can I try them on?” You tilted your head as your hands formed sweater paws, gripping your sleeves in your hands.

“Of course, come with me.” He gestured for you to follow him back up. “So you attend Mapnerry as well?” He broke the ice walking back up the staircase. His voice was affable, fitting his personality perfectly. To you, he seemed as if he could pass as a giant muscular teddy bear or bunny.

“Yeah, I’m a first year. You too?” You sped up, catching up to his pace and walked next to him back  into the room. You stood a whole head shorter than him, but you found this height difference comfortable.

He watched you and your soulmate from afar, a fiery resentment beginning to grow. He had a change of clothes on wearing a white hoodie with black jeans and sneakers. “Looks like there will be some.. Complications in my way.” He clenched his jaw as one of his eyes glowed red and his other glowed white, his magical energy radiating off of him though no one could see him.

~~~~~

Previous Chapter // Next Chapter

Masterlist

[rocketwerks]

Virginia Trust Company

AKA, Virginia Mutual Building, Tredegar Trust Company

821 East Main Street

Built, 1920

Architects, Alfred Charles Bossom, Carneal and Johnston

VDHR 127-0249

December 2018

The grandest triumphal arch in Richmond.

December 2018 — showing window bars

The Virginia Trust Company building is a pure expression of America s Neo-Classical Revival rendered in heroic proportions. Its facade is in the form of a Roman triumphal arch with an overall height of ninety-one feet. Located on Main Street, in the heart of Richmond's financial district, the building is handsomely framed by the Neo-Classical First and Merchants tower on the east and by the Miesian-style Ross Building on the west.

(National Portrait Gallery) — Alfred Charles Bossom

Leaders of the Neo-Classical. Revival include the architectural firms of McKim, Mead and White, and John Russell Pope. The architect of the Virginia Trust Company, Alfred Charles Bossom (1881-1965), was as able as his more towering contemporaries, but his oeuvre has received little study. Bossom was born in London and was educated at the Royal Academy Schools. He came to America in 1903 and set up an office in New York City where he practiced until 1926 when he returned to England. 

[RVCJ03] — General offices of the Chesapeake and Ohio —  801-809 East Main Street

During that period he received commissions for buildings throughout the country; his Virginia works include the former headquarters building for the Chesapeake and Ohio Railroad, the Union Bank of Richmond (demolished 1935), as well as the Virginia Trust Company. The associate architects for the Virginia Trust Project were Carneal and Johnston of Richmond.

(VDHR) — 1977 nomination photo

Though considerably lower than either of its neighbors the grand scale of the Virginia Trust Company prevents the building from being dwarfed. Constructed of white granite with terra cotta ornament, the facade, which is reminiscent of the Arch of Titus, consists of massive piers supporting a fourteen-foot-deep Corinthian entablature above which is a twelve-foot attic. The attic is broken by two slight projections directly above the arch. The arch itself is some forty-eight feet high from street level to soffit and is approximately twelve feet deep. 

December 2018

The soffit is ornamented with three rows of coffers each having rosettes. The spandrels have foliated borders with foliated wreaths encircling the bank's seals. The scrolled keystone features a female figure in full relief, from which the head unfortunately has been lost.

December 2018

Other ornament on the facade includes anthemion bands at the impost blocks and at the top of the entablature, and foliated bands along the architrave. In the entablature frieze is the inscription: "VIRGINIA TRUST COMPANY", and in the center panel of the attic is the inscription "FOUNDED 1892 / ERECTED 1920."

December 2018

Aside from its great arch the bank has five openings on the facade. A small window at the base of the east pier lights the president's office; a corresponding doorway at the base of the west pier opens into the building's main stairwell.

December 2018 — showing main entrance, which now says The Tredegar Trust Company

In the stone screen at the base of the great arch are three openings: the main entrance which is surrounded by an architrave and topped by an entablature inscribed: "VIRGINIA TRUST COMPANY", and two small unornamented windows on either side. 

December 2018 — showing bronze frame

The arch itself is filled with a great window with panes separated by bronze mullions. The panes can be opened by use of a complex but ingenious hand-operated mechanism. The area of the window below the arch is set in a bronze frame ornamented with rich arabesques in relief.

December 2018

The bank's interior consists of an enormous banking room, fifty feet high, which occupies the majority of the interior volume. The walls of the room have a gold marble rusticated base above which is a series of fluted pilasters framing scored plaster panels. 

December 2018 — showing pilasters

The pilasters employ a simplified Corinthian order. Its entablature features a frieze richly ornamented with anthemions and scrolls. Crowning the whole is a magnificent gilded plaster ceiling of extraordinary richness. 

December 2018 — showing coffers and rosettes

A tour-de-force of Classical decoration, virtually every surface of the coffered ceiling is ornamented with some form of ancient motif. Accenting the whole are the elaborate rosettes in each coffer. The center of the ceiling is occupied by a twenty-three-foot square surrounded by a lush border of fruits and foliage in relief. 

December 2018

Within the border is a Corinthian entablature from which springs a glass octagonal dome. A large metal chandelier hangs from the domes center. Two similar chandeliers provide additional light.

December 2018

On the floor, the center of the room is a public space containing two stone desks. Around this space is a gold marble screen composed of Tuscan piers supporting a plain entablature. The bays in the west side of the screen frame tellers' cages, on the cast the screen separates the public from an open office area formerly furnished with mahogany roll-top desks. 

December 2018

Opposite the main entrance the screen has a center doorway topped by a segmental pediment. Immediately through this opening is the safe deposit vault.

December 2018

Above the vault and filling in the rear portion of the room is a mezzanine which projects in the center above the vault. In the center of the mezzanine's balustrade is a handsome clock. On the rear wall above the mezzanine is a large arched window flanked by smaller rectangular windows. 

December 2018 — director’s room

Located under the mezzanine are various offices including the Tudor-style directors' room paneled in mahogany with an elaborate strapwork plaster ceiling. Additional office space is located on the two floors above the banking room. 

December 2018 — ceiling of the director’s room

This area is reached by the stair in the west pier. More offices, as well as four large vault rooms, are on the lower level. Storage, utility, and furnace rooms are in the sub-basement. In all, the building has six levels.

Except for the loss of the original furniture, the building stands virtually unaltered and in an excellent state of preservation. (VDHR)

December 2018 

This building is architectural eye-candy on steroids. Everywhere you look there is marvelous attention to detail, sometimes in forms that are easy to pass over. In his book Architecture in Downtown Richmond, Robert P. Winthrop observes that the granite rondels and bronze plaques on the facade depict labradors which are guarding the building. At the time it was published in 1981, he believed it to be perhaps the only place in Richmond where dogs are used in architectural ornament. [ADR]

(Virginia Trust Company is part of the Atlas RVA Project)

Note

The pictures shown here were made possible through the generosity of Vakos Companies, which manages this historic property. Rocket Werks thanks Christian G. Waller, Senior Vice President of Vakos, who granted permission, and Logan Tollison and Cas Bradshaw, who together conducted a tour of the building. This kind of public service, providing the Richmond community a window into a hidden gem, is not something that always happens, but it is always appreciated when it does.

Print Source

[RVCJ03] Richmond, Virginia: The City on the James: The Book of Its Chamber of Commerce and Principal Business Interests. G. W. Engelhardt. 1903.

[randomnotesofmyown]

Psycho-Pass (7-8)

Episode 7 - Symbolism of Bletilla Striata

Ouryou visited her bedridden father. She thought to herself, "Everyone here is the same. They don't notice anything. They don't say anything. And they don't think anything. They are merely a shell of their former selves and soon they will disappear like the melting snow. This epidemic leads innocent people to their death. And yet its pathogen will never be eradicated. This is a disease called serenity, a form of death that people have wished for."

Ginoza, Kogami and Tsunemori at the park where the "artwork" was found. Ginoza decided to take Kogami off the case because he couldn't allow a detective who was not able to put aside his preconceived notions to be a part of the initial investigation. Kogami walked away. Ginoza then ordered Tsunemori to keep an eye on Kogami so he wouldn't do anything stupid.

Ginoza and the others discussed the similarities between the artwork case and the specimens case while Tsunemori watched Kogami doing his combat training.

After the training session was over, Kogami and Tsunemori started talking about the specimen case, enforcer Sasayama and the circumstances of his death. Kogami said the it looked like the culprit intended to send a message

Tsunemori asked if any leads from the specimen case could be of use to the new case, Kogami said yes and showed Tsunemori a pixelated photo of a man named Makishima.

At Oso academy, more students had gone missing. 

"Ouryou Rikako. Okubo was really crazy about her, right? Rikako seemed to show some interest in her as well. If you ask her, she might know something."

Ouryou in her bedroom reciting a quotation from Kierkegaard that her father liked, "'Because man is superior to animals, in other words, because man is the self, and the spirit, man can be in despair.'" Then, she went to give her own reflection. "Unless you know despair, you cannot know hope. My father used dismembered bodies as the subject of many of his drawings. That's because they symbolize the contradictory nature of the self. I had great respect for my father. He was aware of his obligation as an artist and continued to focus intently on using his creations to enlighten people. I think even now that he was indeed a great artist. Especially because of that, I really can't forgive him for abandoning that duty halfway through. Yesterday, my father passed away. He's been as good as dead for a while, but finally even his heart gave in. But I'm okay. I'm not sad. I' his daughter, will carry out my father's duty together with you guys. Don't you think that's wonderful? It's exciting...right, Yoshika?"

Makishima in his house having a conversation with his guest. They talked about the benefits of stress before psycho-pass check was introduced. "For some time, it's been understood that moderate stress has beneficial effects. For example, it stimulates the immune system. As they say, it's a motivation in your life. You can even call it a reason for living. However, once Psycho-pass checks became routine, people have found their sense of stress numbed so much that patients who can't even recognize stimulation itself started appearing. Once that happens, they're the same as living corpses. Soon their autonomic nervous system stops functioning on its own and their vital functions shut down."

Makishima continued to point out Ouryou Rikako's father also suffered from eustress deficiency and discussed his works.  "He was a genius in drawing cruel, vivid nightmares using girls' bodies as motifs. However, he himself was a man of quite strict morality. Well, it's not uncommon for there to be a disconnect between the creator and the impression their creations give. But in Rouichi's case, there was a firm ideology there. According to him, by becoming firmly aware of the cruelty that's hiding in the dark depths of the human heart, humans can foster the common sense, ability to reason, and goodwill that can control that cruelty. He defined his creation activities as enlightening people about that. However, the spread of psycho-pass assessments ended this role that he had decided for himself. People don't have to control themselves anymore. Instead, they can now maintain their mental health through machine assessments. I heard...that Rouichi welcomed this technology. Whatever the means was, his ideals of humans having a healthy and sound mind has been realized. As a result, though, his mission had ended and his life lost its meaning."

He became addicted to the stress care technology. "As a result, he became a living corpse who couldn't even sit up on the bed, huh?" Makishima's guest pondered.

"It's as if Ouryou Rouichi was killed twice. First, his talent was killed by science and technology. And then, his soul was killed by society." 

"I hope she finds some meaning beyond revenge, though."

While Makishima and his guest made this long conversation about Ouryou Rouichi and Ouryou Rikako, the music played in the background was identified as Beethoven's 9th symphony - Ode to Joy. And there is this entry at Wikipedia describing this music as a protest anthem through the years.

Ouryou Rikako called Choe Gu-Sung. Then she packed and went to what appeared to be a lab and entered. She started creating her third artwork with Yoshika's body.

The second artwork was found in a park.

Ouryou Rikako was painting as Kawarazaki Kagami asked her about Okubo Yoshika. Kawarazaki walked over to Ouryou and saw her painting

Ouryou stood up saying

And she injected something to Kawarazaki

The girl instantly collapsed to the floor.

When Kawarazaki came to, she found herself tied up and gagged, lying on the floor facing the naked body of Okubo Yoshika in a glass container filled with chemicals.

Ouryou appeared behind her. "A touching reunion with your childhood friend. It's an emotionally stirring scene, isn't it? It really makes me cry. I want to reenact this moving scene in a place more and more people can see it. Having such thoughts may indeed be the fate of an artist. "

A desperate gagged scream.

End of episode 7.

Episode 8 - And then, silence

Makishima and Ouryou Rikako talked about the targets she chose, the education policy at Oso Academy and where Ouryou would display her artwork next.

The agents were gathering evidence at Oso academy.

Tsunemori and Kogami discussed their take on the spiecemen case and the artwork case. Tsunemori thought the culprit would be the same person but Kogami thought otherwise. Kogami explained that in the spiecemen case, the victims's bodies were dismembered in ways to convey messages, and the locations they were found varied. But this time, both bodies were found in a park. The setup is boring. 

Kogami concluded that they lacked something critical: originality.

"To Toma Kouzaburo, murdering people was just about preparing materials. Up to that point, it's the same in the current murder case. But from that point, the ways they worked on the bodies are totally different. I get a totally different picture of the culprit. He's highly intelligent and is assigned to a job with a high income by Sibyl's judgment. But he's quite young, or he's someone whose mental age is young. Considering the bodies didn't show many indignities of a sexual nature, we can guess that he wasn't abused as a child." Kogami ended his profiling of the culprit and then requested to go out, Tsunemori said she would have to come along.

Kogami and Tsunemori headed to Tokorozawa Correction and Rehabilitation Center (所沢矯正保謢センタ－) to talk to an artist inmate. He showed the inmate photos of recent artworks. The inmate commented that they looked like works done by Ouryou Rouichi. The two agents had no clue who Ouryou Rouichi was. The inmate showed them one of the artwork by Ouryou Rouichi that he had in his collection.

And added that they sold for good money because they contained firm fundamental themes.

Kogami thanked the inmate for his help and turned to Tsunemori, asking if the name Ouryou brought up anything. Tsunemori found that a student at Oso academy had the same family name. 

Kogami headed straight to the Oso Academy, located Ouryou and pointed a dominator at her.

The teacher who tagged along Kogami tried to stop him from firing and Ouryou seized the opportunity to run. She escaped.

The agents inspected Ouryou's drawings. Kagami's friend saw it and identified her friend.

The agents gathered at the control room, checking footages to locate Ouryou Rikako. Ginoza asked how Kogami found out about this suspect. "The culprit this time decided where to exhibit bodies based solely on whether or not it catches people's attention."

The retrieval of footage with Ouryou Rikako done, and Kogami spotted one image of the girl that was on her own, unaccompanied by others.

After hearing the reply that the camera was at the garbage disposal facility behind the dorm, Kogami headed to that location immediately. The other agents followed him.

It was completely dark inside. Then someone switched the lights on and they saw another artwork.

In the teacher's room, Makishima replayed the recording of Kogami's deduction and was impressed. Makishima's colleague approached, addressed him as Mr. Shibata, and asked if he was interested in music as well. Another colleague rushed in and told everyone in the room that students' bodies were found. Everyone ran out of the room, leaving Makishima alone. He tempered with the CCTV recordings.

Kogami realized it. Yet he managed to reconstruct the audio part of the damaged footage.

Ouryou was still on the run. She asked Choe Gu-sung if the route she was on was the right one. No reply. She looked back, and found no one. Then she got a call from Makishima. "Just in case, I'd like to ask you a question before this is all over. Ouryou Rikako, do you yourself realize how you came to disappoint me? " Ouryou had no clue. "Well...if you don't realize it, then I guess you can't even reflect on it. As I suspected, it seems that I can't expect any more growth from you. It's unfortunate. At first, I thought you had a bright future. " Ouryou asked what Makishima meant by that. "I think this is a line by Tamora, the Queen of Goths. 'So should I rob my sweet sons of their fee. No, let them satisfy their lust on thee.'" Ouryou's mobile phone network died.

"'The hunt is up, the morn is bright and grey. The fields are fragrant and the woods are green. Uncouple here and let us make a bay.'" Makishima continued quoting the Queen of Goths. 

"'They told me, here, at dead time of the night, a thousand fiends, a thousand hissing snakes, ten thousand swelling toads, as many urchins, would make sure fearful and confused cries.'"

Ouryou hid in the dark, relieved at the sight that the thing (electric hound) walked past without noticing her. She stepped right into a trap.  

"'Listen, fair madam: let it be your glory to see her tears; but be your heart to them as unrelenting flint to drops of rain.'"

Rikako tapped open her father's photo on her phone. An electric hound found her.

"'So, now go tell, and if thy tongue can speak, who 'twas that cut thy tongue and ravish'd thee. Write down thy mind, bewray thy meaning so. And if thy stumps will let thee play the scribe.'"

As Ouryou was being pursued and injured by the hound, Makishima's guest hummed the tune of Ode to Joy.

Makishima's guest appeared in front of Ouryou Rikako

The man said coldly that "you don't have to worry about that." Then he fired.

After Rikako died, Makishima made a request that information about Kogami be gathered, adding that Kogami's insight and ability to grasp were quite interesting.

End of episode 8.

Comment: Episode seven: It seems Makishima's view was that the technology had become all-encompassing in every aspect of human life that humans no longer have to make decisions on their own, that since everything had been taken care of, humans got reduced to living things only. And he wanted to rebel against that system, he wanted to see how humans cope without that system, maybe that's why Ode to Joy was used as the background music when Makishima made that long speech about Ouryou Rouichi's art and how he lost his life's meaning to science and technology.

Episode eight: Makishima spent a great part of episode eight quoting Tamora, a villain from Shakespeare's Titus Androinicus. I googled and found that this villain was very consumed with the thought to revenge against Titus Abdroinicus, the general who captured her. And she made elaborate plans to carry out her revenge on everyone mattered to Titus. So it seems a major theme on Makishima's mind was revenge. And as with Mido, when Makishima got bored with Rikako, he discarded her without mercy. And he's guest, a hunter with two electric hounds, hunted Rikako down, injured her, and then killed her with a shot to the head. Merciless, manipulative, vengeful, with utter disregard of life, such are the components of Makishima's personality.

[khaelisfics]

Across the Universe

Fandom: Doctor Who Pairing: Ten x Rose Rating: G

Read on AO3

The small boy born on Gallifrey knows his soulmate is somewhere, sometime, out there. The small girl born on Earth doesn't know her life has always been tied to another.

The small boy just needs to find her. The small girl just needs to wait for him.

> New Soulmate AU that’s basically inspired by different prompts from @timepetalsprompts and @doctorroseprompts! This is very different from what I’m used to writing, but I hope you’ll like it! :)

The bright yellow leaves of the wheat caressed his palm, tickled his skin. Sometimes, his small fingers would hook around an ear, unwillingly plucking out a few grains. He didn’t mind. He knew the grains would give birth to new plants, eventually. His feet, protected by a thin layer of grey cotton that matched the material of his dirty tunic, ploughed the dry earth at each step. He wished he could run faster, and he wished he hadn’t been unlucky to be born with a defect that had gifted him with crooked knees. If he managed to pass the examination, graduate, and thus be granted with a few regenerations, maybe he would regenerate into a better body. A healthier one. And a prettier one, too. He hated his face. He had never thought much of it when he was younger, but as soon as he had started going to the Academy, he had become self-conscious. A downpour of scorn and mockery at his snub nose, his big mouth, his hollow cheeks and his thick eyebrows had rained down on his fragile shoulders from the moment he’d stepped in his classroom. It had taken a mere few days for his effervescent and joyful character to be smothered down with a dark veil of diffidence and modesty.

That was why he liked it. Running through the fields of bloomed wheat in the summer, where the plants were high enough to mute the sneers and the laughs, far enough to keep the disdainful faces out of sight. Peaceful. Comforting. Liberating.

His lungs expanded, filled with fresh air, and he accompanied the frightened chirping of the birds taking flight at his approach with a loud hoot of his own. His bowed legs wailed in protest when he took a sharp turn on the right, but it was another kind of pain he was too used to to care. The deafening sound of the leaves brushing against his head and of the wind blowing in his ears suddenly died down, as soon as he emerged from the edge of the field and stopped dead in his tracks, bending forward with his hands on his deformed knees. The only sound that remained was the heavy puffs coming out of his mouth, the pounding of his double-heartbeat in his skeletal chest - a heartbeat he had trouble getting used to - and the blood rushing in his veins to keep his muscles oxygenated - he also had trouble triggering his respiratory bypass system when he needed it. Unfortunate, but then again, fortune had never quite been watching over him ever since he’d been born.

His eyes lifted up to observe the dark, tiny entrance to the cave he liked to call his refuge, and a smile tugged at his lips. With a giggle that had a scared mouse scurry away in the field behind him, he spurred his legs into a trot that took him to the cave. The hole that pierced the rock at the bottom was the only way to penetrate into its confined intimacy, and it was just large enough to let his skinny body slither through it. His hands entered first, fingers finding purchase around smooth stones anchored in the humid earth so that he could pull the rest of his body inside. It was dark, only lit by the thin stream of light coming through the slit in the rockwall, but he knew his way around that cave like the back of his hand, if not even better. He groped his path to the oil lantern he had hung on a hook-shaped stalactite, bowing his head or bending it on the side whenever he had to avoid treacherous lengths of rock falling from the ceilings like sharp blades. His fingers went to the small wooden box tucked in the makeshift belt he had tied around his waist to hold his too-large tunic in place - an uncouth rope he had stolen on a bag of vegetables. The box was carved with Gallifreyan motifs he was quite unable to translate, and he flicked the small lock open with his thumb. He carefully picked one of the few matches he had left, stroke it on the side and used it to inflame the burner.

Shadows danced on the asperities of the walls - sometimes, his hearts would stutter in his chest at the impression that someone had managed to enter his refuge, but it was always short-lived. No one ever came. No one would ever come. He adjusted the size of the slow burning flame and gave an appreciative hum when he was satisfied with the dim light shedding its orange color in the cave.

He sat on the small cushion he had snatched in the library of the Academy, in front of the improvised desk made of a simple wood plank. Out of habit, he rolled the moth-eaten sleeve of his tunic to reveal his forearm. He loved seeing that mark there. A nacre, intricate pattern that reflected the soft light of the lamp. It was desperately still, and just as hopelessly flat and dull. Nothing like the marks all the others displayed with frivolous pride. It was supposed to shine, the lines were supposed to move under his skin, give the smooth, pale expense some relief. Signs that his soulmate was waiting for him somewhere. But, not unlike everything else that happened in his execrable life, something was amiss with his soulmark. He had looked for answers in books he couldn’t read, scrolls he couldn’t decipher, engravings he couldn’t make sense of - and, quite plainly, it hadn’t helped with his matters. He had almost given up on the hope for a better future when the Sage of his village had visited him on a dark winter night. They had sat together, face to face, by the fire roaring in the fireplace. And he’d listened to her. She had told him about the story of The Overseer, one of his ancestor that had walked Gallifrey at a time when the planet was only in its early decades. The Overseer had worn a mark just like his, that had remained dormant for centuries. He had travelled every mountain, every forest and every desert, in search of his soulmate, never to find them. One night, moments before he’d been about to commit the irreparable, a beautiful creature from another world had knocked on his door. His soulmate.

And it was on that night that he had decided never to let hope slip away from his fingers again. He had a mark. He had a soulmate. He didn’t know where they were, when they were, but he knew someday he would find them. He even considered himself lucky to have been blessed with an outworlder soulmate. It made him special. And that was the only thing that kept him going, the only piece of knowledge that would get him through the Academy curriculum and allow him to pass the final examination. And then, when he’d finally be a Time Lord and be gifted with his very own Tardis, he’d set out to travel the universe and find his soulmate - if they didn’t find him first.

He opened the heavy book on the wood plank, a small cloud of dust  rising in the air that made him forcefully rub his nose with the back of his hand to keep a sneeze in. Then, he picked up a blank piece of rough paper and his favorite, and only, quill. A jet black feather, so long that its tip tickled his jaw when he was writing, that ended with a golden nib sizzled with one of the few Gallifreyan symbols he knew of - a symbol that roughly translated into Doctor. That quill was the only object he had inherited from his Time Lord father. He treasured it like a relique, even though he had found out long ago that it was just a worthless trinket, probably bought on a market in the pauperised neighbourhoods of the Citadel. And that was why he had decided that, when he’d finally be a Time Lord himself, he would chose a title that could be paired with his legacy. The Doctor. Fitting, he thought, given that he wanted to help people, heal them, make their life easier than his own. A title well-chosen he hoped he’d be worthy of - and to achieve this goal, he had to work.

He flipped through the hundreds pages of his book, some kind of Gallifreyan bible the gathered all the secrets of his language. Oh, he knew how to speak it, when it came to answering questions in his lessons he was always the first to blabber without end on the subject, and he could understand almost everything, save for a few words of vocabulary that were rarely used, even by the Elders. But he wanted to read it, and write it.

Often, he would dream of learning everything that could be learnt about the universe, the secrets safe-guarded among the stars, reading about them in the columns of books piling up in the endless library. After all, he couldn’t risk disappointing his soulmate. He had to be able to talk about their home planet, lest he’d make a fool of himself, or even appear to be a rude and simpleminded alien.

And then, some other times, his soft and maudlin nature would take the upper hand, and he’d imagine writing down passionate odes and romantic poems that he would get to recite to his soulmate on the day they’d meet. After all, he couldn’t risk offending his soulmate with poorly chosen words. He had to be able to caress her soul and prove himself to be a kind and gentle lover, lest he’d ruin the only chance he might get at seducing them.

So, his hold tightened around his quill and his index ran on the yellowed page of the encyclopedia, before it stopped on the one word he’d been dying to learn for days. Dozens of circles, some full, some cut in two, some interlacing to create intricate rosaces. Dots that needed to be perfectly placed beside or within circle lines, thin segments that needed to be perfectly angled, with no other tool than the thick tip of his quill. He had always heard that it was a complex emotion, quite possibly the most complex of all, so he hadn’t been surprised to find out that this word was one of the most difficult to write. But he wanted, needed to master it. How could he demonstrate his love to his soulmate if he couldn’t write the word, let alone read it?

His first tries were hesitant, the lines jagged and uneven, the ink blotting all over the page in a mess of dark spots. Of course, a compass would have made the task easier, but, of course, his had broken the week before and he hadn’t managed to gather enough credits to buy a new one - he would have gladly thieved one from the classroom, if only the teacher didn’t keep his vulture eyes on him at all times.

He kept trying, his hand gaining confidence minute after minute, the tip of his quill brushing against the paper instead of chiselling rivulets of black ink. After more than an hour, his wrist started to ache, and the flame from the oil lamp started to quiver, as if to warn him that it wouldn’t be long before it’d give its last breath. He didn’t give up. Soon, an impressive pile of used paper stood on the corner of his plank, and he picked the last sheet of paper to give the accursed word one last go.

His brow knitted in a frown of concentration, he wiped his clammy hands on the coarse cotton of his tunic and he bit the tip of his tongue between his teeth. He took a deep breath, and started drawing the outer circle of the word. He didn’t need to, because he had had enough time to learn the symbol by heart, but he still kept stealing quick looks at the book, just in case his anxious mind wanted to trick him. It took long minutes of nibbling his lower lip, cursing under his breath and abusing the corner of his page with sweaty fingers, but he eventually pressed the tip of his quill one final time. The last dot.

He dropped his black feather on the floor and lifted the page up to see it under the dying light of the lamp. His eyes flew from the paper he was holding to the open page of the book, once, twice, joy starting to bubble in the pit of his stomach as he realized that this last attempt was his best so far. Not only was it its best, but when he ripped the page of the book and stuck it behind his own to observed the differences by transparency, he realized that it was also perfect. A perfect calligraphy that could have put most of his tutors to shame.

“I did it!” he shouted as loud as his throat constricted with joy would allow him to. “I finally did it! Soulmate, I love you!”

He jumped to his feet and danced around his very own refuge with his achievement tightly pressed against his chest, his mind roaring a song that filled him with a felicity he had never had the pleasure to experience. Through his excitement and the heavy tears of joy rolling down his cheeks, he didn’t see the soft glow that shone from his forearm for a fraction of a second.

The ten-year-old boy from Gallifrey missed the one moment his mark came to life for the first time in his morose existence, unaware that this tiny fraction of a second was a pin at the juncture of his timeline, and that of his soulmate. The very first time their lives would coincide in the immensity of time and space, and the last time for a few centuries.

“I’m the Doctor, and I love you!” he giggled, dropping down on the humid earth.

He lied there for long minutes, the precious piece of paper cradled in his arm, as he tried to imagine what his soulmate would be like, would look like, would smell like, a fond and happy smile splitting his face in two. The flame of the lamp died in a soft breath, a murmur of relief and delight.

***

The heavy pink duvet felt too hot and she kicked it off her body with a disgruntled groan. She had never understood why her mother always deemed necessary to bury her under so many layers of sheets and covers that she more often than not ended up shoving away anyway. She was still hovering above the thin frontiere between shallow slumber and awareness, and she nestled her face deeper in her pillow, hoping sleep would get the better of her before she could wake up completely. The dim light of the moon filtered through the pale blue curtains of muslin that framed her window, just enough to tickle her eyelids and tear another groan of discontent from her mouth. She rolled on the other side, a yawn threatening to dislocate her jaw, and she willed her body to relax into the mattress. She didn’t fancy the idea of being tired the day later - it would be ill-advised to sleep-walk at her own birthday party.

That last thought had tiny bubbles of excitement rise in her stomach, and it only made falling back asleep all the harder. With a sigh of defeat, she opened her eyes and pushed herself into a sitting position against the headboard. A quick look at the robot-shaped alarm clock on her bedside table told her that it was five to midnight. Five minutes until she would turn ten years old.

She slid down the bed and tiptoed in silence to the window - the last thing she wanted was to wake her mother up and imperil the big birthday party she had planned. Without a sound, she sat on the window sill and pressed her nose against the cold glass of the window, looking up at the dark canvas of the night sky, sprinkled with hundreds of twinkling stars, the moon a tiny ping-pong ball that seemed to float over the far end of the capital city. She really hoped her mother had bought her the telescope she’d been asking for for weeks. Her fascination for the stars and the universe had no end, and she often imagined what it would be like to go up there, among all those little lights that seemed so close and were yet so far.

Another quick glance at the clock. Two to midnight. When she pressed her nose back against the window, she noticed the condensation that came with her breath. And she realized that she was humming. Her eyes grew wide under the fear that her mother might hear her, and panic seeped into her veins when she found it impossible to stop singing. She couldn’t even understand the lyrics to that song, couldn’t remember ever hearing it before, but her voice kept rolling down her tongue and flowing past her lips, against her best will. She clasped her hands above her mouth and retreated back to her bed, pressing her face against a heart-shaped cushion to keep the noise down as she fumbled around to draw the heavy duvet back over her body.

One to midnight. Her heart leapt into her chest when a second voice joined hers. A soft voice, a merry voice, probably belonging to a kid her age, most certainly a boy. Her eyes travelled around the room to find him - as if he might have hidden under her bed or inside her cupboard during the day and had waited until that moment to make a surprise apparition for her birthday. But there was no one in sight. The voice sung louder, so loud her body vibrated at each powerful syllable they ended up singing in chorus - and it was only then that she understood that voice wasn’t coming from the room. It was coming from inside her own head.

She could do nothing but listen to that voice, to the melody of the song, the beautiful words echoing against her skull in the most perfect and magnificent music she had ever heard. Before she could stop them, tears begun to fall freely from her eyes, and her stomach swooped with a feeling she had never felt before. The song grew in intensity, building up in powerful harmonies that caused the next lyrics to flow past her lips in a choked sob. And, just as suddenly as it had started, it stopped.

Chest heaving and breath short, she looked at the alarm clock. Midnight.

If her arm hadn’t been trapped under her pillow, she might have seen the lines glowing under skin for a fraction of a second. But she missed it.

The ten-year-old girl from Earth missed the one moment that marked the beginning of something she was galaxies away from imagining, the one moment that pinned the exact time and place when her timeline crossed the one of the owner of the voice. The first time in her life, and the last time for a whole decade.

“Happy birthday, Rose Tyler,” she murmured to herself, gathering her legs close to her chest.

She wiped the tears that refused to dry on her cheeks with the back of her hand, and she went back to sleep. Unaware that lightyears away, millions of years in her future, a small boy her age was falling asleep on humid earth in a dark cave.

[arplis]

Arplis - News: Archaikomely Punching Bag Set

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Arplis - News source https://arplis.com/blogs/news/archaikomely-punching-bag-set

[animationnightsny]

What do animators and filmmakers need to know about animation in VR? What does the pipeline look like when working with game engines? How should they prepare their animations for the VR storytelling Medium? Learn from the following panelists:

Bruna Berford is a VR animator working for Penrose Studios, a startup based in San Francisco. At Penrose, Bruna helped bring to life the beautiful and unique Allumette, a VR film which held its World Premiere at the 2016 Tribeca Film Festival. Before joining Penrose, Bruna worked as an animator at Oculus Story Studio (Henry) and as a cinematic artist at Telltale Games (Minecraft Story Mode and Game of Thrones).

Kevin Young Qu is a rigger and animator who wokred at Penrose Studios as a Character TD on their VR film Allumette. He has a Bachelor of Fine Arts Animation degree from the Academy of Art University in San Francisco. His primary focus is character rigging and 3D animation. He has worked in games, film, and VR projects, and has a solid understanding of the the different production pipelines. His range of knowledge includes characters and props rigging, nCloth simulations, MEL/Python scripting, 3D modeling and topology, and 3D animation.

Tyler Hopf is an SVA faculty member who teaches a class called Virtual Reality Design in their BFA Computer Art program. Tyler has worked on VR projects at Samsung, Framestore and IrisVR, a VR startup based in NY.

Cat Gulácsy is a talent manager at The Mill. The Mill has been creating world-class visual effects built on creative excellence and cutting-edge technologies for over twenty four years. From the design of simple characters to the creation of sports stadiums filled with thousands of CG “fans”, their supervisors, producers, and artists support all stages of production, from pre-visualization and conceptual artwork, shoot supervision, 3D, 2D, and color grading through to delivery of the finished project.

Tom Westerlin is a creative director with an emphasis on emerging tech and a drive to connect brands and users through authentic experiences. He is spearheading Nice Shoes’s VR and AR projects where he gets to combine his talent and passion for gaming, design, production, and directing, having successfully launched the Milo Garden VR experience at the 2016 ANA Masters of Marketing Conference as well as the 360 degree music video, Sideshow. Nice Shoes Creative Studio offers integrated design solutions to broadcast, film and commercial clients. Their work combines creative vision and storytelling with excellence in execution, and resulting in work that is impactful, inspirational and provoking.Nice Shoes Color & Finishing artists specialize in look development - the art of crafting a unique visual language with a full spectrum of color to speak to viewers’ emotions.

Moderator: Kiira Benzing is the director and producer at Double Eye Productions, a film and new media company that she founded in 2009. Double Eye Productions is dedicated to telling inspirational stories. Kiira is a storyteller crossing the mediums of theater, improv, documentary, fiction and virtual reality. Her work melds intimate, character-driven portraits with high concept, abstract motifs and a magical edge. She is inspired by blending genres, she brings my imaginative flair to filmmaking and creating new forms for storytelling. Directing credits include: Matterspacetime (short), Cardboard City (VR), Double Portrait (hybrid mid-length in post production), Finding The Wave (web series), and The Wave Maker (feature documentary in post).

[buzzybeesinlove]

If you’re still taking prompts, can you do something with the running motif of Blake helping Yang’s arm tremor? Love your writing :)

yes, absolutely my friend! thank you so much for the prompt <3 and thank you for enjoying what i do you’re so sweet.

im gonna place this on their first night in atlas at the academy in volume 7 :) it’s kinda not canon compliant because i know when they spoke in that truck about adam, indirectly anyway, it was yang that was saying they had no choice and blake didn’t like that they had the choice at all - things like that, buttttt i dont care im doing this anyway lol i hope you enjoy it!

Things were... Different.

Blake wasn’t sure what kind of different, at the moment. One minute, she and the team were battling Grimm in Mantle, then the next minute they were arrested by Atlesian military, and then finally saw Ironwood again after so long, as well as Penny, and were now given their own rooms and clothing in the Academy and it was just... a lot.

Blake puffed out a breath as she looked herself over in the bathroom mirror, a slight frown on her lips at her reflection. There were bags under her eyes from lack of sleep, and a worn-out look on her face and she sighed, glancing down at her hands placed on the sleek marble top of the sink counter.

There weren’t many thoughts raging in her head at that moment, but there was one her mind kept going back to no matter how hard she tried to be rid of it. It was there ever since that waterfall, ever since she and Yang...

Blake shook her head and let out a shaky breath, looking up when she heard a small knock at the bathroom door. She swallowed thickly at the flash of red that ingrained itself into her mind, but pushed it away for the time being as she turned herself towards the door.

“Yeah?” She called, and she heard someone shuffle their feet outside.

“You okay? You’ve, um, been in there for a while.” Ruby called back to her through the doorway, and although she was grateful for her leader’s soft voice and comforting nature, she couldn’t help the slight disappointment that filled her that it wasn’t a certain other person.

Blake took another breath and ran a hand through her long raven locks, flicking her ears on her head. Briefly, she made a mental note for the next morning to look into a hair cut - maybe.

“Yeah. Coming out now.” Blake replied, making good on that statement shortly after when she walked to the door and swung it open, revealing Ruby in her Atlas themed pyjamas, a worried look in her eyes as she took in Blake’s state. Blake flicked her eyes past Ruby for a second, taking note of Weiss lounging on her bunk in the room, staring off into the distance while she slowly but surely unravelled her hair from its side ponytail.

There was a severe lack of a warm presence in the room, and Blake’s eyebrows furrowed, but before she could even ask Ruby or Weiss, she felt Ruby’s hand on her shoulder and she shot her eyes back to her. Ruby smiled gently at her and nodded her head towards the door to the dorm.

“Yang went for a walk. I... Think there was a balcony not far down the hall.” That was all Ruby provided to her before she squeezed her shoulder and brushed past her to walk into the bathroom, shutting the door behind her. Blake blinked and tried not to seem eager as she made her way to the dorm door.

“Don’t stay out too late. We have a busy day tomorrow.” Weiss said from behind her, and a smile twitched at the corner of Blake’s lips at the motherly tone Weiss took on, rather than the snarky, know-it-all tone she used to have - a far cry from who she used to be.

All of them were a far cry from who they used to be.

“I know.” She replied softly, and with that, she opened the door and stepped out, the door sliding shut behind her. Blake looked down the hallway, left and right, and there wasn’t much to see, but something tugged her down the left end of the hallway - something in her heart that pushed her that way, and so, she followed it.

Sure enough, not far down the hallway, a room opened up to the left side of her that seemed to be a lounging sort of area amongst the dorm rooms, couches and chairs and tables galore, with several bookcases pressed against one wall. At the back of this spacious room, there was a set of glass double doors leading outside to a balcony, and as she gazed out, she could make out the clear image of her partner leaned over the railing of said balcony, looking up at the sky and hiding her arms from view.

Blake felt her heart pick up at the sight of her and she licked her lips, slowly but surely making her way through the room until she stood at the doors. She outstretched her hands and slowly opened up the doors, the crisp, bitter air of Atlas rushing to greet her. She shivered a little while she stepped out, curling her arms around herself as the doors slid shut.

“Yang?” Blake called softly, and Yang jumped a little, swiftly turning around to meet her eyes. She was still in her clothes from earlier that day, looking much warmer in that jacket than Blake was in the thin material of the Atlas Academy pyjamas they were issued. 

Yang gave her a tiny smile.

“Hey.” Yang replied, and Blake’s heart thumped in her chest when she gestured for her to come closer. Her cheeks warmed up as she did just that, almost squeaking in surprise when Yang wrapped her prosthetic arm around her waist, gently pulling her into her side at the railing.

The warmth was immediate and she relaxed her shoulders, leaning herself against Yang’s side and laying her head on her shoulder, smiling appreciatively as she looked up at the cracked moon in the sky and the stars littering the night.

“You... Doing okay?” Blake asked tentatively, and she felt Yang tense slightly next to her. It was brief, but it was unmistakable and Blake raised her head to look at her again, her ears lowering a little. “Yang?”

Yang sighed and glanced to her, her arm tightening around her waist. Blake looked into her eyes, the lilac swirling with so many conflicted feelings that Blake didn’t know what to address first. So much had happened over the past day or so, so much the both of them had to do, and although Blake couldn’t get the thought of him out of her mind, she wasn’t sure if Yang felt the same way.

Yang was silent for a bit longer, and Blake expected her to brush off her question, to tell her that they should go to sleep and deal with it another day.

But then she seemed to crumble in front of her and Yang leaned into her side a bit heavier, looking away from her and down towards Mantle below them, her lilac eyes sad and her eyebrows crinkled.

“I think so...” Yang said softly, and Blake leaned in closer to her to hear her better, ears pinned sadly to her head. She didn’t say anything, allowing Yang to gather her thoughts and say whatever was on her mind.

Yang’s silence persisted yet again, but Blake waited patiently. She was startled when Yang clenched her eyes shut all of a sudden, shaking her head and letting out a shaky breath into the chilly night air, a cloud forming from her exhale.

“I can’t stop thinking about it.” She finally said, and it clicked in Blake’s mind what she meant immediately - not much more needing to be said for her to understand. 

Yang’s arm had dropped from around her waist to lay on the railing in front of them again, and Blake reached out to her prosthetic hand, laying her own hand over top of it, squeezing gently. Yang opened her eyes and looked to her, an unsteady look on her face and slight melancholic look in her eyes. 

“Me neither.” Blake replied, and Yang deflated a little, her shoulders sagging almost with relief. Blake watched her for another moment, waiting for Yang’s reply. 

“Have you... Ever...?” Yang started but stopped, shaky and weak, almost strained. Blake furrowed her eyebrows at her, but squeezed her hand again to encourage her to continue, the limited amount of words not enough for her to understand. Yang licked her lips and looked down to their hands. “Have you ever... Had to do that? To someone?”

The air was knocked from Blake’s lungs but she kept her breathless gasps inside of her, instead leaning herself on the railing to support herself. She took a few breaths to calm herself, and she felt Yang’s shoulder press into hers - warm, safe, comforting.

Yang was there. Yang was with her. They were okay.

Blake took another deep breath before she finally answered.

“Not myself, no.” Blake whispered in between them. “I had seen... Him do it, before, other members of the White Fang too, but I could never...” Blake trailed off as it dawned on her that that statement wasn’t true anymore - she could do it, and she had.

But not because she wanted to.

“He was... Terrible, Yang.” Blake said with a shudder, mind flitting back to everything he had said and done to her over the years, everything he took from her and tried to continue to take. She looked out at the midnight sky once more, steadying herself with the feeling of Yang’s body pressed against hers. “He hurt me in so many ways, and was planning on doing it again and again.”

She broke off again, shaking her head, ears pressed to her head still.

“I just wish it didn’t come to that.” She finished her thought after a few seconds, continuing to ground herself in the moment with Yang - in the present, instead of the past. 

A slight rattling against the steel railing caught her attention and she shot her eyes over, and her heart sunk when she saw Yang’s eyes somewhere faraway now, looking off into the distance, her left arm... Shaking uncontrollably and she saw the despair on Yang’s face, the need to hide the arm from Blake, pulling it away from the railing to stop the rattling.

“Yang.” Blake breathed out in a sad tone, not wasting anymore time and reaching over to her partner, holding the shaking hand in both of hers. It was just like at Brunswick, in the barn, but Blake knew better than to say what she said back then. No, she had better words now.

The shaking subsided as she held Yang’s hand, her thumbs caressing her skin as she started to speak again.

“It’s okay.” Blake murmured, and her gentle words seemed to break through to Yang, her lilac eyes glancing over to her, and Blake could see the red rimmed around them with the telltale sign of tears gathering. Blake’s heart cracked even more and she tugged on Yang’s hand, turning her body so they were properly face to face, her amber eyes looking up at Yang.

She leaned up and pressed their foreheads together gently, lilac and gold locked on each other with Yang’s shaky hand in between the warmth of their bodies.

“He’s gone.” Blake said, and she felt Yang’s hand shake a bit more, but her grip tightened around it. “And as much as I wish we didn’t have to do what we did... He wasn’t going to stop coming after me - after us.” She took a breath and raised her left hand to cup Yang’s cheek, her right hand still clasped on Yang’s hand. “I feel... Sick, every second, that we had to make that choice but...” She sighed gently, taking in the tear that travelled down Yang’s cheek, her thumb quickly swiping it away. “We aren’t monsters, Yang. You aren’t a monster. And we’re both okay. And we can... Be here, for each other, and hope that we never have to do something like that ever again.”

She briefly wondered if those words would be enough, or if they were too much. She wondered if Yang would push her away again, wouldn’t want to be open about something like this again.

But her doubts were chased away when slowly, but steadily, the shaking in Yang’s hand subsided completely and her partner’s shoulders relaxed again. Yang looked into her eyes and nodded slightly, taking a deep breath.

“Okay.” Yang breathed out, her breath fanning out over Blake’s face. “Okay. We... We’ll be okay.”

“We will.” Blake squeezed her hand tightly. “We’re protecting each other, just like we did back there. And we’ll be okay.”

Yang nodded again, and Blake felt relief envelope her at some of the colour returning to Yang’s cheeks and eyes, her body relaxing even more. After another beat, Yang sighed and leaned away from her, Blake already feeling the loss of her heat as she stepped away, sniffling a little and letting out a watery laugh.

“I need to nap for a thousand years.” Yang said, and Blake smiled at the attempt at a joke, a light giggle escaping her lips. Yang’s eyes lit up at the sound of her laugh, and Blake vowed to try to keep that light in her partner’s eyes for as long as possible - even if she had to laugh at a few bad jokes.

“Let’s head back in, then?” Blake replied. She interlocked their fingers and tugged Yang a little towards the doors, looking back at her with a gentle smile and flushed cheeks. Yang looked back at her with a warm grin on her face now, and she nodded, allowing Blake to pull her along through the doors and back towards their dorm room.

It wouldn’t go away over night. It was something that would stay with them for as long as they live.

But they had each other to get through it. And they always will.

[wallpaperpainting]

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Frisbie accelerating from West Forsyth Aerial Academy in 2019 and is a apprentice at UNC Chapel Hill and is majoring in art history/studio art and all-around studies.

“I was consistently absolutely acerb complex with the accessible academy art program, so I took art from actually preschool to 12th grade,” said Frisbie, 18. “My art agents acquire actually aloof been incredible.”

While in her inferior and chief years in aerial school, she said she progressed “out of accuracy into added of a bright alive style.”

She primarily does portraits and is alive on accumulation altered media and stylistic elements to “elevate a annual aloft aloof actuality about concrete representation of someone.”

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“I’m aggravating to accomplish it added about application the animal face as a agent for a broader message,” Frisbie said.

She has done a self-portrait advantaged “Water and the Spirit.”

“The accomplishments and aggregate is abundantly from my head,” she said. “I acclimated affectionate of a bound blush palette and a Latin inscription and aloof a lot of motifs throughout the painting to arm-twist the abstraction of ablution and the abstraction of creation.”

Contemplative expressions appearance up in a lot of her works, including in the self-portrait.

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Frisbie was one of bristles winners in a 2019 ArtPop antagonism through a affiliation amid ArtPop Street Gallery, the Arts Council of Winston-Salem and Forsyth County, Lamar Advertising Co. and Adams Outdoor Advertising. As a result, “Kiera,” a full-body annual created by Frisbie can be apparent on billboards in the Triad through June 30.

Ultimately, Frisbie wants to become a babysitter of art in a museum, but she still affairs to abide creating her own pieces as able-bodied as commissioned artwork.

“It’s aloof such a allotment of who I am,” she said.

She loves this adduce by Pablo Picasso: “Every adolescent is an artist. The botheration is how to abide an artisan already he grows up.”

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Q: How would you alarm your art?

Answer: Aback I attending at my portfolio, it seems affectionate of all over the abode because I appearance myself as a apprentice of myself and of the world, so my art is consistently changing. But there are a few things that my works acquire in common: I assume to be absorbed by a neutral, attentive announcement (on the animal face, the changeable face and my own face), by the able implications of brushstroke and adroit color, by hands, hair, and eyes.

Q: How acquire you acquired as an artist?

Answer: I feel like about every artisan starts with this attraction for artful

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[yespoetry]

A Review of Dean Kostos' ‘The Boy Who Listened to Paintings: A Memoir’

By Michael McKeown Bondhus

Early in Dean Kostos’s memoir of bullying and abuse, a childhood art teacher takes him and a couple of other kids out to the countryside to paint landscapes. In what’s clearly a formative moment, Kostos describes how his teacher complimented him on his “ability to find secret colors—a [farmhouse’s] rosy, ash-colored roof, which other students simply painted gray.” As it turns out, “finding secret colors” is a key to the book as a whole.

To describe The Boy Who Listened to Paintings (Spuyten Duyvil, 2019) as a memoir about trauma would be like describing the Mona Lisa as a painting of a woman—accurate, but oversimplified. It would also be reductive to describe it as a book about art’s redemptive potential. Given the book’s exquisite craft—its images, its motifs, its repetitions—it would be better to say that The Boy Who Listened to Paintings is, in its own way, a painting. And a poem. And a memoir.

It does not take long for the reader to be plunged into the depth of Kostos’s pain. Mercilessly bullied at school and trapped in the role of peacemaker between his feuding parents, he describes an adolescent suicide attempt that was disrupted by his hearing the Beatles’ “Eleanor Rigby” playing on the radio. Lennon’s plaintive lyrics “All the lonely people” resonate with the teenaged Kostos, as they might with any marginalized person, but Kostos takes it beyond simple identification—“With the words of the song pouring into my ears, my mind thought beyond words. The music filled me the way watercolor drenches paper.” This type of lovely synesthesia pervades the book as he realizes that “one ally would be there when everything else abandoned me. Beauty: leaves shot through with veins. Beauty: a brush dripping with color. Beauty: light streaming from a painting. Beauty: a song keening from my radio. I decided to live.”

While his suicide attempt is undoubtedly one of the most poignant moments in the memoir, less immediately visible is Kostos’s oddly beautiful description of the neckties he had used to construct the noose: “Neckties. I had a dozen: striped, paisley.” There is nothing florid about this description and it could easily be overshadowed by his subsequent epiphany about beauty, yet something about the simple image and its poetic syntax resonates. Perhaps it’s because it is so characteristic of this young man to recognize style and pattern even in such a critical moment. Though some might see this as “glorifying pain,” the writer’s ability to draw beauty out of his suffering is what saves him time and again.

Kostos eventually has himself committed to the Institute of Pennsylvania Hospital (known colloquially as “the Toot”)  to escape the extreme bullying he’s experiencing at boarding school. The bulk of the memoir is focused on his time in the Toot, the people he meets there, and his many encounters with “secret colors.” For example, one inmate Kostos encounters is the delightful Peggy, a patient he describes as “the clown lady” because of her orange wig and colorful bubblegum wrapper bracelets. Peggy comes across as something of an unconscious poet, describing snow falling into the Toot’s courtyard as “God’s dandruff falling jumbly from a tumble of white sky.”

In recalling events, Kostos shifts from Peggy’s observation to the following narration: “Many of us got up to admire the snow clinging to trees and houses…everything had been blanketed—immaculate, quiet. The therapist had us make snowflakes to decorate the ward with for the next holiday, Christmas.” Gently guiding us through three images—snow as dandruff, snow blanketing the earth, snowflake cutouts, Kostos reveals subtle gradations of white as if painting for the reader “a rosy, ash-colored roof, which other students simply painted gray.”  

A similarly well-crafted moment occurs later in the memoir. After experiencing a traumatic event involving one of his friends in the Toot, Kostos writes

I toweled off and walked to the ward for the first time that day. Reaching the dining room, I was silent. A blurry sensation pushed through my body. Everything got on my nerves: the dissonant sound of the TV and its canned laughter, somebody arguing with a nurse, the smell of greasy food. Dad’s words played in my head like a confusing static. After picking at a dinner roll, I drifted back to my room.

Again, the subtle art of these lines reminds the reader of Kostos’s background as an extensively published, award-winning poet. Quiet rolling r’s and softly hissing s’s pervade the passage as Kostos “drifts” between ward and room, dissociated, dully registering sounds and smells through a haze of grief. The near synesthesia of a “blurry sensation push[ing]” and “words like static” invokes both mental illness and his earlier observation that “colors had sounds and vice versa,” a discovery that allows for “a new way of seeing.” And it is, as this “new way of seeing” ultimately carries him through his dark nights of the soul.

Though there are many memoirs about abuse and trauma, what sets Kostos’s apart are its painterly and poetic sensibilities. While skimming The Boy Who Listened to Paintings to write this review, I found myself noticing motifs that I hadn’t on my first read. It was as if reading the book was akin to looking at a painting close-up, while skimming allowed me to step back and see how all the lines and brushstrokes worked together to create a deceptively simple whole. Not surprisingly, Kostos packs a lot of narrative and emotional content into this slim book, but by attuning their eyes (and ears) readers will also be strongly impacted by this wonderful memoir’s many “secret colors.”

Michael McKeown (formerly Charlie) Bondhus is an Irish-American writer. He's the author of Divining Bones (Sundress, 2018) and All the Heat We Could Carry (Main Street Rag, 2013), winner of the Thom Gunn Award for Gay Poetry. His work has appeared in Poetry, Poetry Ireland Review, The Missouri Review, Columbia Journal, Hayden’s Ferry Review, Bellevue Literary Review, and Copper Nickel. He has received fellowships from the Virginia Center for Creative Arts, the Sundress Academy for the Arts, and the Hawthornden Castle International Retreat for Writers (UK). He is associate professor of English at Raritan Valley Community College (NJ).  More at: http://charliebondhus.com.

[kithas]

Memories

Another Pokémon Reborn-based fanfiction! It happens in the same continuity than the other one (HERE) but I guess it’s also self-cointained and a One-shot on its own.

I’ve posted it on Archive of our Own, HERE, and in Reborn’s forum, HERE, too.

Synopsis: Going back to Reborn City never fails to bring back painful memories of the past.

---

The place could have been bigger. A lot bigger. There were plenty of candidates to fill it. But, no. Avani was glad the cemetery were small and secluded. Deep into the Beryl Ward, the calmest ward on the City, and surrounded by trees, only an iron fence, its gate always opened for everyone who wanted to honor the dead. People who had to be there already knew where the Beryl Cemetery was, so there was no point on marking it into the map. An, so, Avani was able to feel the still atmosphere, the chill air, as if time didn’t dare to pass through that area. A few flocks of Spearow and other small flying Pokémon, some Meowth that entered from the mountain at night… It was a nice place. Full of memories. – I know, I know. – The Ground-type leader muttered to the tombstone, which only answered with its silence. – There has been an eternity since I was here last.

At first, when dust settled, Avani thought of making Beryl Ward her residence first. It had everything one could have wanted: The place, the mountain field, the sights, even a Gym she could have redecorated for her type. Once Reborn was made anew, Beryl had become a good ward, a quiet ward, and once, Avani had thought she could get peace up there. But she was wrong. Maybe it was her fault. To think she could live with her regrets, just like that, with memories of him mere steps away from growing again, big and dreadful like a Tangrowth out of control. People think Beryl Cemetery is empty, but it’s actually full of memories. And they still live inside the people who are still alive.

Taka should have been alive. He was the one that was right at Team Meteor. Didn’t ask for his life, his father, his destiny. Didn’t ask for his partners in crime, but learned to live with them. To put a façade and to make himself seen as another bad guy. If he had done what was supposed of him, if everyone acted as they were supposed to, Taka would still had lived. Things would have been different. Maybe he could have convinced his father and his people, make them change their ways… No. Team Meteor was Team Meteor. I was no use to think like that, to think what could have been. Not again, Avani had promised herself she wouldn’t do that again. The point was, she had broken her promise a lot lately.

– You probably wonder what am I doing in the city, after all this time. – She opted for talking to him like he was an old friend. In some ways, he was one. – Well, at first, I thought it had nothing to do with you, or anything else. But, now… I don’t know. I came here to see my people, after all.

This morning

The starting point was the poison. Maybe a virus or just a change in the water composition on the pond back home, by the mountain. The Pokémon in the water were falling ill, and when her own Gastrodon managed to be out of combat just before a Gym match (luckily, Avani had a replacement), she knew it wouldn’t just go away. And there she was, back in Reborn City, with a sick Gastrodon and making her way to Azurine Nature Center, where the scientists would probably have a solution for the problem. – Look, I’m not saying people don’t have the right to have a good time. – Victoria was saying, gesturing, nervous. – But what about the Academy? You know it’s supposed to be an isolated place to know yourself? What’s with that? - Come on, Victoria, It’s not like they made the Academy into a holiday resort, right? You still have your place. – Heather replied, one hand around Shelly’s shoulders, and the other busy with an ice cream. – People deserve a place to wind down, after all. The city’s a busy place, you know it better than anybody. Don’t tell me you’ve never wanted to take a few days off. The beach is perfect for that.

- I wouldn’t feel relaxed with all those people going around with their beach umbrellas and their towels, and all those Pokémon teams free to roam around the sand. – Victoria didn’t allow herself to be persuaded easily. – I can’t believe Adrienn did let this happen just like that. - I don’t know, it’s nice. – Shelly intervened, always calm and always conciliatory. Since she was with Heather she was better than ever, but some habits were more difficult to let go than others. – It might be a little noisy… - Victoria gestured a “thank you”. – But I think the city needed this. It feels nice, you know? To relax and know you’re not responsible, even if it’s only for a while… - So you are with her in this! She took you there, didn’t her? – Victoria made a face. – I trusted you, young woman, and that’s how you repay me… - The three of them laughed. The age difference seemed to have become some sort of practical joke since Avani’s last visit. - So, what do you think, Avani? – Shelly turned to their friend. – Do you think it’s a good or a bad idea to have a holiday Reborn southwest of Peridot Ward? – The Ground-type leader felt their eyes on her. - I’m sorry, I thought I saw somebody. I don’t know. I think that people deserve a place of rest, and a beach… But it’s also true that I wouldn’t want a tourist attraction back in Tanzan’s mountain range.

- Oh, come on. – Heather said. – You can’t not pick a side. Tell the truth, people deserve their beach.

- I’m sorry, kids, but Avani’s on my side. – Victoria took her friend’s back. – I’ve known her longer than you, and I think she’s… - A loud noise cut her words short, followed by a shake. Around them, the Coral ward people looked around, scared, but Shelly was the one who first identified it. - The smoke…. – A big column of smoke rose from the north of Reborn City after what could only have been an explosion. Right around the Grand Stairwell. And the same thought formed inside everyone’s minds. – It’s happening again… - Shelly said, in a whisper, eyes fixated on the smoke. – The smoke… Heather’s dad…  Team Meteor is… - No. – Heather was the first one to jump in to shake her partner out of it. – It’s not, you hear me? I’m here, Shelly, do you hear me? I’m right here, I’m with you, and I won’t leave you alone again, you hear me? – Taking Shelly’s trembling hands between hers, Heather looked up to Victoria. - Yes, we’ll have to deal with whatever happened. I’ll go fetch city officers, Avani, and you… Where is she?

Now

The chirping around Beryl Cemetery made her feel at calm with herself. Feel like all her worries had taken a step back and let her breathe for once. – I know, keeping tabs with each other, being true to oneself… - She thought time would somewhat help her to come to terms with everything. But, to be true, she was still that mess deep inside, that house of cards threatening to fall down at the first blow of wind. She then felt somewhat like Titania was right when she ran out to the desert just to flee from the past. But sometimes you don’t get the luxury of forgetting. – Sometimes past comes back just to bite your ass.

This noon

Avani hadn’t wait to see what was happening. She knew the smoke and the explosion could only mean bad things. Did Julia lose control again? Did one of her Gym fights go where it shouldn’t and one of the Electrodes had… She ran through the streets, keeping the possibility of Team Meteor out of her mind. That was the first time she thought of all that situation. The things she couldn’t change. The people waiting for her at the Cemetery. If there was something trying to take that peace away again… The shopping district in Obsidian Ward, the Opal hall with some of the Grand Hall’s workers looking outside, confused. She didn’t have time for that. She didn’t have time for it being too late. The fear was there, like a claw grasping her heart. A breath taken from her. A cold feeling through her gut. If Team Meteor had come back…

It would usually end in a false alarm. But not here. Not in Reborn City. After taking the Espurr that tried to flee the crime scene, Avani looked at the one who started it all, and felt a clear shiver through her spine. The worn-out grey outfit, with the X-shaped motif clearly visible, the four-colored familiar pattern… The Meteor Grunt stood on the top of the Grand Stairway, just between the Grand Gates and the hole his bomb had helped create. – How cute. Do you think you can help? You can maintain this city for what it is? – The voice the man showed his deranged state of mind. Avani looked at the injured people, left and right of the Stairway (luckily nobody seemed to have been fatal) but she didn’t look more, because the sun shining on the steel distracted her. He unsheathed his Aegislash, and between the sword Pokémon, the injured civilians, and the Team Meteor, that was the point where the memories came back to her again. That time in the Water Treatment Center, when another person wielding an Aegislash showed how savage could a human be against the ones of his kind. The blood on the WTC was gone, but the images weren’t.

She saw the Aegislash being unsheathed, her reaction was more an impulse than a thought: Beifong, her Excadrill, wasn’t fully out of the pokéball when the first quake shook the whole Stairways area. It wasn’t happening again. Not Team Meteor. Not a human Aegislash wielder. Not a terrorist threatening Reborn City’s peace.

Now

- That’s when I thought of you. – Avani kept talking to Taka. – The first time, down the WTC, we weren’t in a good state of mind enough to stop Titania from going haywire, and look where it got us. – Ironically, while that was the first time Taka had to confront Titania’s Aegislash, that wasn’t the place where he met his maker. But it was that Aegislash. – I just wanted to make sure it didn’t happen again. I always thought it actually boosted Titania’s feeling, being like it is a Ghost-type. And I thought it also had something to do here. So, I had to defeat the guy and the Aegislash.

This noon

After Aegislash flew out of the Grunt’s hand and fell to the ground’ defeated by Beifong’s Shadow Claw, the Meteor Grunt seemed somewhat disoriented. For an instant, Avani thought she had done right and it was the sword Pokémon possessing the grunt and boosting his bad feelings. But then, the Espurr Avani still held growled, in fear, and the man went again with it. A Malamar, a Gengar straight form his shadow… The good thing was that the fight helped to stop Avani’s feelings made her lock into her fight instincts without allowing her to remember anymore. It wasn’t the strongest enemy she had faced, not for a big stretch. Girafarig was easy to take down, and Gengar was finally out thanks to a last effort from Golurk before passing out. But when Avani tried to take out Mamoswine to deal with the Grunt’s Palossand, she realized something unprecedented: half her team, usually close-by at her belt, was missing. It was no error. The pokéballs had not fallen out. She hadn’t forgot to take them; she was actually intending to try and go to the beach Heather and Victoria were arguing over before. Somebody had taken her team, and when she turned back, she felt herself a fool: It was the Espurr, who ran at full speed towards North Obsidia Ward, about to get lost into the crowd. Avani started to pursue the Pokémon, but she felt the waves of energy before the Earth Power attack exploded just before her, knocking her into the ground. That’s where the Espurr stopped and turned back to her. And the “Meteor Grunt”, behind, started talking again. – What, you didn’t know you can’t flee from a Trainer Battle? Humans are truly stupid… - The Espurr in front of her, with half her team with its little hands around it, and the towering Palossand with the trainer behind her. – That’s why I think y’all should let us get the wheel. I mean, can you do this? – The man moved closer. – Just a wandering bum from the shelter, and old Meteor Outfit I found on 7th Street, and we’ve already put in check all Reborn City and given them a grim reminder. – It was the Espurr, it had been the Espurr from the beginning. – I’ve spent almost years planning to do this, you know? Recruiting all those thugs and convincing them to fight along with me… It was easy moving around the city, you know? The only times people talked to me were when they were saying how cute I was. – It was kind of strange to hear those words from a grown-up human, from where Espurr was talking. Avani tried to get up, or to take out another of her Pokémon, but a Shadow Ball from the Palossand exploded right over where her left hand was a moment ago. – That’s why we never understood who made you humans the bigwigs of all this battles thing. You, the little, weak and puny normal-type beings who actively refuse to engage in them and let us do the dirty job… Well, from now on, it will be different. – The little Pokémon went around where Avani was, and got close to the hole. – Now that I’ve opened the door from where our psychic-type friends were enclosed, from the sacred sanctuary where the power is stored, you weak ones will have to yield. – Looking at the Espurr, Avani would have sworn it was smiling maliciously. The Gengar went out of its shadow-form just to support the idea with its big grin. - ¡today the era of Pokémon starts again! ¡Rise, comrades! ¡Come out of the hole you’ve been all your lives, and…

The words were cut short when something big and winged swiped the small pokémon out of thin air, with a deafening Buzz. The Espurr started crying when the flying pokémon took it high, and the possessed grunt cried too. – No! Don’t do it! Take your claws off me! – The Yanmega spinned wildly with the pokémon firmly grasped into its jointed appendages, until it stopped, righ in front of its owner. – Well done, Heather! – Said Shelly, who had already catched up to the battle. Her girlfriend kissed her on the cheek, and Shelly laughed. – Well done, other Heather! – Avani finally got to stand up, and realized she was not alone anymore, as a lot of trainers had gathered all around them, all of them prepared to stand up for her. The Espurr meowed, trying to make them feel sorry for it, but everyone, and specially higher-ups from Reborn League, had seen how things were.

The fake Meteor Grunt let a scream out and kneeled, hands over his head. – I’m sorry! – Le said, almost crying. – I don’t know what’s happening here, this outfit is not mine! I don’t affiliate with them anymore, please, don’t shoot!

Now, at last

Avani looked around. Was something around? It was probably some Meowth loitering around after something shiny, after all, it was getting dark. – Turns out, that Espurr was actually behind it all. Just a superpowered pokémon with an unusual ability and a tendency to crime. It lost its original owners in the chaos the city was when you… - She sighed. – When Team Meteor was winning, and, well, all those things leave a mark. – That had been the third time she had thought of the past. Sometimes she remembered feeling resentment towards Taka and Mr. Copperman Lumi and Eve, and all those people who defected from Team Meteor, because those too, had lend their power to sink Reborn City. But then, if failures were everything that mattered in people, all those good things they did would be in vain. Life was worth living. Corey was wrong.

- After the Espurr was discovered and defeated, the situation de-escalated. Palossand and the other pokémon were returned to their pokéballs, the poor guy is safe and sound, being made a check-up at the hospital, and the other victims are recovering well. I think. The only thing left is what to do with the little guy. In one hand, it is a pokémon. But, in the other, it’s a criminal. Ah… I’m glad it’s not up to me. -  It was in a cage for now, and Reborn City would take care of it form now on. The only thing left for Avani to decide, was what to have for dinner in the Spyce. After all those memories from the past, she finally noticed she needed to have new memories, with her friends.  

That was her reason to be there, after all that time, finally facing Taka’s tomb again. I’m here again, she wanted to say. I’m not afraid of memories anymore. She was. But this time, she knew she was not alone. She turned around, and was about to go towards the gates, when a faint voice, Taka’s voice, replied. “Bye”. Avani froze in site. “Bye”, the voice repeated, softly. “Bye”. Shaken for a minute by the implications of that voice, Avani turned again, only to find, much to her relief, a small pokémon, just a little bigger than a Spearow or a Pidgey, landed in a low branch near her. “Bye”, the Chatot chirped, and Avani smiled as one does when meeting with an old friend. – You were with him the whole time, did you? – The Chatot chirped again, and a small flock of smaller Chatot landed around him. Yes, Avani thought. Old memories stick around the most, and it’s no easy feat to get out of them. But, sometimes, our friends are there, to remind us we are not alone.

A few hours later

The cell zone of the jail was dark and it smelled bad in there. Troublemakers, drunkards, thieves, were placed there temporarily while awaiting their trial, and for the time being, the criminal Espurr was no different. The pokémon looked around with his big purple eyes, leaning against the bars, wondering which of those people would be easier to make help him escape, when a sudden noise made him look to the door, from where the light slipped through from the police station. – Okay, ma’am, take your time. That damn ball of fur is in there. – The white-haired girl Espurr was about to defeat before was there, with her penetrating glare that rivaled over Espurr’s, and her hands in her pockets. – Oh, great, you’re here to laugh at me, don’t you? – The Espurr rolled his eyes as high as he could. – Who am I kidding, you cannot even understand me, can you? - In fact, I can. – The visitor surprised him with a grin. Was she listening such a long list of profanity when they defeated him? – I only wanted to say how fun it was to see you struggling to get all that people’s attention, what you really craved. - Hey! – The small pokémon took offence. - What? You had a pretty good spot with that guy, and you blew it. Literally. You know why the og Team Meteor did as damage as they did? Because they didn’t go for a quick and flashy show once they got their hands in some power. They infiltrated, they made a net under the city, and then started knocking down Reborn City from the insides. Then they got flashy. That was strange. When Espurr had faced the white-haired ground leader, Avani, she didn’t seem to be the scheming type. – Come on, girl, I am no legendary, cut me some slack, will you? Besides, if you let me try again, I will try better next time, deal?

- The point is, my dear Espurr, you won’t. Because all you want is to get flashy and get seen. It must have been alone, with nobody to look at you for so long. Do you want to know how I know? Because that game you’re playing as a newbie, some of us are already playing as masters. – The young woman with Avani’s appearance stepped back again and turned towards the halfway closed door to the cell ward, with one last stop to look down on Espurr. – You know what they say, little one… - In an instant, the figure flashed, and instead of Avani, the shocked Espurr saw and old woman with a cane, and the Zoroark who actually was smirking at him, before turning back to the fake Avani. – “We’ll meet again, don’t know where, don’t know when…”

[303magazine]

After years of construction, The Source Hotel is finally ready to open on Brighton Boulevard. As the second Zeppelin property of the same name, the new spot riffs from its sibling next door. Walking inside you’ll notice its distinctive design motifs of industrial materials and clean lines that The Source made distinctly theirs more than five years ago. On the second floor, the marketplace concept is once again replicated with a highly curated selection of restaurants and retailers filling the space. On the outside, the two couldn’t look more different, mainly because one lives inside a brand new building whereas the other occupies a 138-year-old foundry. But beyond that, the spirit of the sister Sources remains the same.

See below to get an inside look at the brand new spot, featuring 100 hotel rooms, eight retail vendors, an art gallery and several restaurants — including Safta from James Beard award-winning Alon Shaya, a high-end barbecue joint, Smōk and The Woods — the very first Denver location of New Belgium + rooftop bar and restaurant. The restaurants and Market Hall officially open Saturday, August 17 whereas the hotel will host overnight stays starting September 1. Stayed tuned for more on each.

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Market vendors include the following. Descriptions provided by The Source Hotel: 

Station 16 Gallery (Montreal, QC): Station 16 Gallery is a contemporary, urban art gallery out of Montreal that features a roster of artists who are influenced primarily by street art and graffiti. With the opening of their first US location, Station 16 Gallery will offer unique events, along with limited-edition prints and a host of innovative and exclusive art pieces by local and international artists. Station 16 has partnered with Juxtapoz news stand to feature a gallery of underground artists who influence the fashion, graphics and new art people see today through print publications.

Beet & Yarrow: A floral and gift shop specializing in distinguished seasonal and specialty products. Beet & Yarrow’s artistic background fuels the inventive and playful culture of their studio. From detail-oriented graphic designers, gardeners, and botanical hobbyists to ceramic artists, their team draws from diverse interdisciplinary pursuits to create inspired floral arrangements. Embracing imperfection and the unexpected, there’s “a little bit of grit” in all of their floral conceptions.  

BarberX: BarberX wants to set a new standard for the American men’s haircut experience.  A departure from the kitschy overdone “classic barbershop” trend and an alternative to foofy female-oriented salons, BarberX is a sleek minimal space where you can get a great haircut for a reasonable price – which includes a New Belgium beer. For a few extra bucks, get sheared by one of their Master Barbers, who are trained at the world-famous Old School Barber Academy in Rotterdam, which is run by BarberX partner Reuzel, a Denver-based men’s hair care company that is taking over the market.

Eyes Open: An inventive retail experience, showcasing some the highest quality fashion, design and lifestyle products in North America, each with its own unique concept but linked by a focus on craftsmanship and offering a truly comprehensive and cohesive shopping experience. In addition to its thoughtful retail experience, Eyes Open will host unique events that strive to further build a sense of community within Denver and beyond.

Independent Shops:

Poketo (Los Angeles, CA): A lifestyle brand ‘born out of the desire to infuse the everyday with aesthetic intentionality’ offering design-conscious goods meant to cultivate and inspire a creative lifestyle;

Winter Session (Denver, CO): High quality, unisex waxed canvas and leather goods, handcrafted locally with a focus on traditional craft techniques.

Retail Kiosks:

Malin+Goetz (New York City, NY): Award-winning apothecary brand with featuring face, body, and hair products with a focus on plant-based, simple ingredients for women and men;

Native Eyewear (Longmont, CO): High quality, durable, stylish sport sunglasses, polarized sunglasses and performance eyewear for men and women;

Vinyl Me, Please (Denver, CO): A record of the month club that strives to help people explore music on a deeper level with the belief that an album is much more than something owned but a full sensory experience; offering past and current albums for onsite purchase as well as a comfortable listening station.

All photography by Brittany Werges, unless otherwise noted. 

[PHOTOS] Inside The New Source Hotel + Market Hall After years of construction, The Source Hotel is finally ready to open on Brighton Boulevard. As the second Zeppelin property of the same name, the new spot riffs from its sibling next door.