#yes this is my own fire oasis yes it is ugly

[putting-pomni-in-places]

Put Pmni in Fire Oasis from My Singing Monsters

Pomni is on Fire Oasis!

[bellatrixobsessed1]

From Chin To Yon Rah (Part 37)

“One day we’ll take a vacation.” Hajime muses one afternoon. 

“Not today.” Azula grumbles. She is a bit more than cranky, her feet are killing her, her back is sore, and the baby won’t stop squirming. Her stomach feels so heavy and, spirits, the baby is crushing her lungs. “Definitely not today.” She winces. 

But this doesn’t deter Hajime from his daydreams. “We can go explore the entire world!”

“I can’t even explore our backyard right now.” She complains. 

“We can go to the desert and find Wan Shi Tong’s Library. Or explore the Cave of the Two Lovers.” 

“Or the living room…”

“Maybe we can cross the Serpent's Pass!”

“I also can’t even cross the hallway”

Hajime laughs out loud, “what about the tundras of the Water Tribes or maybe we can catch an airship to the Air Temples. Visit the Fire Nation palace and Ember Island.” 

“I have been to Ember Island many times already.” And the palace has no appeal whatsoever. “Can you travel into the kitchen and start cooking dinner? I’m hungry.” And tired and suffering.

He kisses her cheek. “What are you in the mood for?” 

At the moment she is in the mood for anything that will satiate the baby. At the moment that thing might be noodles. Yes, she decides, she would like noodles. She voices as much, “with some pepper and vegetable slices.” 

“What kind of vegetables?” 

“Surprise me.” 

He resumes his enthusiastic plans for world travel as soon as the steaming bowl is placed in her eager hands. Agni, the scent is tantalizing. It is much easier to fantasize about travel when she is feeling more cozy. 

“We’ll go everywhere.” He declares again. “Atsu has always wanted to see Agna Qel'a and its hidden oasis.” 

She brings the spoon to her mouth and quirks a brow. “How are we going to go there if it’s hidden?” She asks. 

“We’ll find it just like Fire Lord Zuko did.”

“Well if he can find it, anyone can.” She mutters. 

Hajime chuckles. “So you’re up for it then?”

“I suppose, yes. But first things first…”

“I know.” He smiles. “Sometimes it’s just nice to think a little further into the future.” 

She supposes that it is now that the future doesn’t look quite so abysmal. It actually looks rather kind. Adventure does sound quite lovely. But for now she is content to finish her noodles and have a nap. 

She puts her bowl aside, lays herself across Hajime’s lap, and reaches up to touch his cheek. His skin is so smooth and soft and warm. She strokes her thumb over his lower lip. She thinks that it would be rather quaint and comforting to be buried under layers of blankets with he, their newborn, and Atsu watching the snow fall. She lowers her hand resting it atop her belly and closes her eyes. She imagines that it would be something like this but with the crackling of a fire for heat and the howl of frosty wind for ambiance. 

That night she learns that it is safe to have hopes and expectations for the future. 

.oOo.

“You know what I think you need?” Sokka slings his arm over her shoulder. 

She rubs her tired eyes, “what do I need, Sokka?”

“Well first of all…” He pulls her into one of the tightest hugs that she has had in a while. “Second of all--another change of scenery! Last time you went to the Earth Kingdom. Maybe I can show you the Water Tribes or we can be adventurous and I can have Aang take us on a tour of the Air Temples!”

Azula considers, a change of scenary might be good for her. It was extremely therapeutic to the be in the Earth Kingdom before that was stolen away from her. 

“What about Caihong?”

“She can come with us! Or if you don’t want to worry about her getting hurt or lost your mom can watch her. I think that Cai likes your mom.” 

Azula taps her chin, “my mother is very fond of Caihong.” And she supposes that, after their sappy little heart to heart she can let her watch the child in good conscience. 

“I’d love for Katara to meet the new you.” Sokka muses more to himself. 

“Sokka, you’re pushing it.” She doubts that Katara will take her re-appearance very well, changed or not. And she has changed, she tells herself. She is not cruel, she reminds herself. She is just a woman who will do what needs to be done, be it ugly and sinister or sweet and wonderful. 

And she thinks that it is time for something sweet and wonderful. “Decide where we’re going and let me know so I can pack accordingly.”

Sokka grins, “I can’t wait! You have to meet my dad! That’s part of this whole relationship thing. I already met your mom and your dad is an asshole so we don’t have to worry about his approval…”

She is torn between chuckling and flinching. Introducing him to her mother is fine and well, he is a charming and clever man. But to be the subject of an introduction? She isn’t sure that she likes the sound of that. 

But then, these humble and terrifying moments were exactly what had given the Earth Kingdom its allure. 

She thinks that distance and brand new places might bring clarity, a new perspective. At the very least, she won��t be able to think too much about her problems if she is freezing her ass off and occupied by coming up with creative ways to stay warm. 

“Raava’s tendrils, this is exciting!” He exclaims. “I can show you the dancing curtains and teach you how to build snow lookout towers!” 

“I can see dancing curtains here.” She gestures to curtains billowing in the breeze. 

He shakes his head, “no, no! In the poles we have these colorful lights and they dance around like curtains.”

“I think that I’ve read about those.”

“Well soon you’ll get to see them! It’ll be great!” 

If she and Katara don’t tear each other to bits before she gets the chance. She doesn’t vocalize her concerns. Instead she asks, “do you think that your father will like me?” It would be nice to have the approval of at least one father. 

Sokka ruffles her hair, “he’ll love you! Especially if you tell him all about your battle strategies, he loves that kind of thing.” 

She wonders if he would be as fond of it knowing that her battle strategies had a hand in landing him in the Boiling Rock. “If you say so…” she doesn’t mean to sound so skeptical but lately things haven’t been so well. Lately it isn’t safe to dream. 

“I promise, you’ll do fine. We can even do some sightseeing before you reintroduce yourself.” 

Perhaps she is about to pick at scabs that haven’t had the chance to heal, perhaps she enjoys tormenting her own mind. She thinks that she must, “do you want to travel the world, Sokka?” 

He shrugs. “Eh...not particularly. I went everywhere with Aang, I’d actually kind of like to just stay in one place for a while. Mostly I just want to go home.” 

Azula nods. She feels strangely relieved to hear as much. Strangely relieved yet somehow disappointed. “But would you do it again?”

“Why? Do you want to?”

She is quite for a moment. “I think so, maybe.” She thinks that this is what Hajime would have wanted her to do. To see the physical world for him so that she has stories to tell when she finds him in the Spirit World.

[bluejayblueskies]

closing circles, shutting doors

Part 31 of Whumptober 2020

Fandom: The Magnus Archives Characters: Jonathan Sims, Martin Blackwood, Annabelle Cane Tags: Whump, Angst, Major Character Death, Bittersweet Ending, Manipulation

Read on Ao3

“Jon, no.”

 Jon looks pointedly at the collapsed stone that had once been the Panopticon; deep, buried beneath layers of rock and shattered glass, lies a man who had been far, far too easy to kill. “Martin, we don’t really have many other options at the moment.”

 Martin doesn’t look impressed. “Can’t you just- just know our path? You were able to get us here just fine.”

 “Because we had a goal, a- a direction. Now…” Jon tries to Know—what they need to do to fix the world, what domains they’ll have to cross, what burdens they’ll have to bear. The Eye looks back, and gives him nothing in return. Perhaps it isn’t keen to relinquish a world built for its benefit and remade in its name. Or perhaps it, too, simply does not know how to cause its own demise. “… I- I can’t Know where to go if we don’t have a destination.”

 “Perhaps then you would be keen to hear what I have to offer,” Annabelle says benignly, the webs laced over one side of her head just visible beneath the brim of a deep purple cloche hat with a tiny woven spider on the side. “Unless, of course, you would prefer to simply… wander.”

 Martin’s glare could freeze the ocean. “Don’t pretend like you actually want to help.”

 “I am not pretending.” Annabelle’s light smile morphs into mild annoyance. “If I wanted to hurt you, I could have done it in Salesa’s little oasis when you were cut off from your patron. Believe me when I say that there is only one way that this story ends, and it is with my help.”

 “Martin,” Jon says, with no small amount of reluctance, “I believe her.”

 Martin’s mouth opens, clearly ready to fire off another protest, but then he meets Jon’s eyes and apparently sees something genuine in them because he pauses and, slowly, begrudgingly, says, “Fine. Fine, let’s- let’s just get on with it then. The sooner we do this, the sooner the world goes back to normal.”

 Annabelle smiles tightly, with no remaining humor. “Excellent. Then follow me.”

.

There isn’t a basement at Hilltop Road anymore—not really. Now, there’s just the crack—that tear in reality, one that itches at the back of Jon’s mind as he stands just at the edge of it, staring in with eyes that search the darkness for any semblance of order and Eyes that cannot see past a world that they have claimed as their own.

 “Careful,” Annabelle says, her voice smooth and controlled and just a bit teasing. “Get too close, and you’ll fall in.”

 “Isn’t that rather the point?” Jon says quietly, not looking away from the yawning pit of unknown quantities in front of him. He feels that tug, one he hasn’t felt in so, so long. To learn. To know. To take a mystery in front of him apart bit by bit, removing what has been hidden and laying it bare.

 It’s been such a long time since he’s been able to be so purely, deeply curious. And he’s missed it like a drowning man misses air.

 “Quite,” Annabelle says with a smile that feels the opposite of friendly. “But there are so many paths to take—would you know which to choose, Archivist? Which threads to pull?”

 “And you would?” Martin says. He’s stood further back than Jon, halfway back up the stairs to the main part of the house; his face is shadowed, but Jon can still see the sour expression on it.

 “Yes. That is what I specialize in, after all. And this is still quite a significant place of power for the Mother of Puppets, despite the… influence of other forces. Though, we’re not so different, are we, Jon? A Spider has so many eyes, after all. So many events, so many paths, so many different ways to traverse a web—and only one Eye. Choose one route and you can see everything, yes, but choose the wrong one?”

 Annabelle snaps her fingers, a crisp sound that echoes through the basement for far longer than it should. “So, will you follow the path I choose for you, Jon? Or will you choose your own and hope it doesn’t condemn you?”

 Martin’s mouth is pressed in a flat, nervous line. “Jon, you can’t possibly be considering going through with this. It- it’s the Web, for Christ’s sake. Jon?”

 Jon’s still looking down, and down, and down. He thinks… he thinks there’s something there, just out of sight. And he so, so desperately wants to see. “I… I have made so many choices,” he says slowly, not taking his eyes away from the swirling depths below. “Some made in ignorance, some in fear, and some… some in anger. But none of them mattered, in the end.” He blinks, and he sees Tim, eyes ablaze with determination born of pain and loss as he holds a detonator aloft amidst glitching colors and nameless things of skin and wood. He sees Sasha—or, rather, the thing that had consumed and replaced her, leaving him with only false memories and a deep, itching paranoia. He sees Daisy, lost to that which she tried so desperately to resist, and Basira, left with nothing else to do but fulfill a final promise. And it aches, to think of loss, and to suffer the guilt that accompanies it even now, when he’s finally admitted to himself that choice is not so important as consequence. So, he knows that he means it when he says, “There’s never really been a choice, has there? I- I broke the world, and so I need to be the one to fix it. Whichever path that takes me down—that’s the one I choose.”

 “What?” Martin’s voice is shrill with disbelief. “How- how do you even know that she’s- she’s not just going to- to send you down the wrong one, to let the world stay this way? Not every avatar is as- as keen to see the world back to how it was as you are, Jon.”

 “No,” Jon agrees, finally looking away from the open doorway whose threshold he is stood upon. “But the Web was never going to settle for second place, was it? I can’t imagine a puppeteer enjoys having its strings pulled by another.”

 Annabelle’s smile is thin. “It has been lovely, getting a chance to talk again, Jon. But I’m growing impatient. Will you or will you not do what I ask? The choice is, of course, yours.”

 “No,” Jon says. “It’s not. But I will.”

 Martin looks stricken. Annabelle just looks pleased. She tells him the way in crisp words that leave no room for discussion—an instruction. Something to find. Something to bring back. Something to ‘close the circle’ she says, with a small smile akin to that of someone who’s just told a joke and finds themself very funny indeed. Something that can only be done alone.

 The door opens, and Jon steps through.

.

He can’t breathe.

 There’s no fear here, no Sight, no Eyes upon his back, and he can’t breathe.

 The door is shut, and refuses to open.

 Jon sits in a basement, faintly illuminated by sunlight that filters in through a small window near the ceiling, on a floor that is just a floor and against a wall that is just a wall, and feels the first parts of himself begin to slip away.

.

Jon is swallowed by the dark in a shuddering, twisting sensation that makes Martin dizzyingly nauseous, and his eyes squeeze shut in an instinctual effort to relieve some of the pressure.

 When he opens them again, it’s… it’s wrong. It must be, because there’s no pulsating darkness, no crack running through a concrete floor—just a floor, and just that musty darkness that one finds in the basement of a home that has not been inhabited for a very, very long time. Martin blinks, once, then again, like that might bring it back—that fractured reality, through which Jon had slipped in search of an answer, through which he was meant to return—

 “What,” he says in a voice pushed almost to the edge of breaking, “did you do?”

 Because Annabelle’s still standing in the corner, her eyes fixed on the floor with something close to remorse but missing the mark in every way that matters. She’s there, and Martin’s here, and Jon isn’t.

 She looks at him, one corner of her mouth slanted downward, and Martin snaps.

 “What did you do?” He takes a few angry steps closer, stops, and tries desperately to calm his increasingly rapid breathing. “Where- where did it go? How- how is Jon supposed to come back if there’s- if there’s no door, how can he- how, how can he… what have you done?”

 In a voice carefully neutral, Annabelle says, “What I had to. There has only ever been one way to rewind the clock, Martin. One way to set things back on the correct path. And it can’t happen in a world where there’s still an Archivist.”

 “What?” Martin takes a small, stumbling step backward; his foot catches on the corner of the stair, and he barely catches himself on the handrail. His wrist bends painfully, but he barely notices. “You… you knew he wouldn’t be able to…?” His mind is a swirling mess of terror and anger and agony, a million different words battling for dominance. All he manages to say, after a few moments of failed efforts, is: “You- you’ve killed him.”

 “No. I’ve removed him.” Annabelle’s face is twisted into something resembling pity, but like that of someone who’s only heard it spoken of in hushed, disbelieving whispers. It’s an ugly thing; Martin wants to rip it from her. “Living or dead, Jon would still serve his purpose in maintaining this world as it is. An Archive’s heart need not beat, after all. Were he to die, he just would have been reborn anew as the Eye saw fit. The only way to restore order to the world was to remove him completely.”

 “No,” Martin says, barely a whisper. “No, no, no.” Then, louder: “Bring- bring him back. I- I don’t care if things don’t change, just- just bring him back!”

 It feels terrible to say—that he’d rather see the world continue to writhe in agony than lose Jon before he’d even known to say goodbye. But it’s how he feels all the same. That small spark of hope, just before Jon had stepped over the precipice and fallen in, that there might actually be a way to fix things just makes the hurt that much deeper.

 “I can’t.” Annabelle turns away from the floor, away from Martin, toward the stairs. “That’s not how this works. This place has always been a one-way journey, Martin. There is no reopening a door that has been closed—not here.”

 She begins to cross the room, to ascend the stairs, and no, no, this can’t be it, this can’t be all that Martin gets. He reaches out and grabs at her wrist with a sudden rage. “Don’t you fucking look at me with- with whatever you’re calling pity and tell me that you can’t bring him back! You did this, you- you have to fix it!”

 Annabelle’s eyes are cold as she affixes them to him, in a way that freezes his muscles and arrests his motions beyond that of the rise and fall of his chest and the rapid-fire beating of his heart. She removes her wrist from his stiff hand with ease and says, flatly, “No, Martin. I don’t. I’ve done what I had to, and Jon has done the same. There’s nothing left to do but wait for the world to fix itself.”

 And then she’s gone. Martin’s not sure how long it is before he can move again; he only knows that one moment he’s frozen, and the next he’s outside Hilltop Road, staring up at a sky that’s folding in on itself as eyes wink out one by one and hearing the dying screams of a world that has no place left in which to store its terror.

 The world crumbles, and Martin crumbles alongside it.

 The world begins to rebuild. Martin does not.

.

Martin’s writing poetry again.

 His therapist would be proud, he thinks with a wry smile as he sits against the base of a tree in that park he likes that overlooks the pond, a notebook that’s gone neglected for years propped up on his knees. The letters are shaky and hesitant, his words rusty and out of practice, but he manages to get a few lines down. They’re about the feel of the grass beneath his hands, and the little blue beetle that’s currently making its way up his trouser leg, and the way the wind brings with it the smell of rain. Right now, though, the sun is shining brightly, making it just warm enough to sit outside despite the rapidly declining temperatures as the end of October approaches. It refracts off the leaves above Martin, sending dappled light onto the pages of his notebook, and it’s all so beautiful it hurts.

 Jon would like this, he thinks offhandedly. He’d never gotten enough sunlight with all those hours spent in the Archives, but in Scotland they’d gone on walks through the rolling hills, and Jon had admitted that he’d always loved the feeling of the sun on his face, had missed sitting outside for lunch like he did in uni. Scotland doesn’t really exist anymore; the lines have all blurred now, the memory of a life of pure fear erasing the need for a lot of things that had seemed essential before. But the sentiment is the same.

 Martin tries to write, thinking about how the sunlight would illuminate the grey streaks in Jon’s hair, but the words won’t come. It’s been years, and the words still won’t come.

 He allows himself to think, just for a moment, that it’s not fair. That the world has gotten the chance to regrow, in bursts of greens and pinks and yellows and vibrant life, and that he has been allowed to regrow alongside it, and that Jon hasn’t. That Jon had been taken from him, and that he hadn’t gotten the chance to say goodbye, and that he still can’t shake himself free from guilt and heartbreak and mourning.

 Somewhere in the distance, there’s a burst of laughter, cutting through birdsong and chittering insects, and Martin pulls himself free from his thoughts. He’s run through them again and again, in the bright daylight of the early morning and in the indigo hues of twilight and in the shadowed black of night where it seemed like he was the only one awake, shaking with sobs as he sat in a bed that felt so very, very empty. It doesn’t make anything any better, to linger on them. It doesn’t change anything.

 Jon is still gone. And Martin is still here. Alone, but not lonely. Never again lonely—not when he’s surrounded by so much life, so much light and growth and happiness, even if it still feels like it’s not meant for him.

 He knows he’ll get used to it here. He just wishes…

 No. There’s really no point in wishing anymore, is there? There’s only this.

 Martin looks out over the pond, at the way the wind sends shivering ripples over the water, interrupted only by the gentle glide of ducks and the splash of skipping stones thrown by children who remember the dark but embrace the light all the same. Then, he puts pen to paper, and begins to write.

[murobrown]

I was tagged by @dangerous-lithium-animals , thank you a lot Jessi :) ♥ 

What was the last thing you read?  It was this swedish book called “Rit”. It was for my reading class and it was pretty nice, more like a collection of novels. Some of them were so weird and hard to understand but most of them were interesting 

Favorite movie? Submarine, Boyhood, Magnolia...first three that I thought about, there are many many more. And Once Upon A Time In Hollywood immediately become my favorite 

Favorite book? Burnt Child by Stig Dagerman

Dream Date? No idea, I never been on one. I imagine something chilled and not too fancy. Maybe just taking a walk and grabbing some food or drink. Cinema can be nice too

Do you have a crush? Yes, on every single boy I have ever seen ♥ 

What are your hobbies? Music, movies, cooking, cleaning

What is your favorite time of day? I am not sure if I have one. It depends on my mood and on actual day. Sometimes I like mornings sometimes evenings and sometimes late night. 

If you could look like anything, what would you look like? I would like to be little bit taller and very much skinnier. Change a lot of things about my face, give myself normal hair....I just want to look nothing like I look rn

Are you romantic? I don’t know, I never had an opportunity to discover those things about myself. I don’t even know what should I imagine under “romantic”....

What’s your favorite type of weather? Chilly weather but I also like sunny spring days. And I love snow too! 

What do you like talking about? Depends on the person and situation but most of the time it’s music, movies, shared memories, emotions...I love deep conversations with right person 

What are your turn ons? Confidence, kind heart, good taste in music (musicians overall, doesn’t matter if you play guitar or trombone...I’m in love), being nice to animals

Turn offs? Aggressivity, arrogance, spitting on the ground, beards 

If you got a tattoo what would it be and where would you get it? I’ve been wanting a tattoo for so long!!! I told myself that I get one once I get my bachelor’s degree. I’d like to get something small related to my cat. Somewhere on my hand, like wrist

Do you have any pets?  Yes :) A cat named Muro

Dream job?  My current job = working at cat café :)))

Dream place to live? I don’t know. I wouldn’t mind living in my hometown my whole life. Anything else sounds too unrealistic. But dream place would be somewhere in England for sure!

Dream vacation? Manchester or Liverpool, anywhere in Scandinavia, I’d love to go to Vienna once again

Do you have any piercings? Do earrings count? Otherwise none and I don’t feel the need to get anything else 

If you had kids what would you name them? I don’t ever want to have kids. But I like Oliver or Silvester for boy and Stella for girl 

What are your best traits? My taste in music 

Worsts traits? I am very ugly and fat, very quiet and shy, I think too much, I am very very LAZY, I am awkward, I can be very annoying, I am too emotional and I am scared of everything 24/7

What’s your worst fear? Being called mean or unkind, any confrontation with other people but also sharks, snakes, sea, heights, fire, darkness and DOCTORS

What do you want to eat right now? Hmmm just finished my breakfast so I am not that hungry but I’d always go for pizza

What’s your best vacation you’ve ever been on? I was on vacation only once really. It was like 8 years ago in Croatia, it was pretty nice, but one week was too much for me 

Favorite city?  My hometown Martin :) 

Favorite social media platform? I don’t really have any other social medias besides Tumblr (I don’t count Facebook)...but Reddit is fun too!

Favorite article of clothing? My blue and white Adidas Spezials 

Do you play sports? No not really, only sometimes badminton or football in the summer with friends or family. Nothing professional

Favorite meal of the day? Lunch? Sometimes dinner...sometimes breakfast. It depends what I’m cooking hah

What are you excited for? I don’t know...nothing really

Not excited for? Waking up and living this life every single day

When was the last time you cried? Last night hahaha 

Dream House? I don’t want house. I want apartment. It would have kitchen joined togehter with living room. I want a brick wall black leather sofa and big vinyl collection with stereo in my living room. Then I want black and white bathroom with huge shower. And I want balcony

What’s something you hate about the world? Myslef ♥ And other bad people

What’s something you love about the world? Animals, most of people I know, all the good music, all the nice nature, all the art that is out there

What scents do you like? Green tea, lavender, sandalwood

What kind of sleeper are you? I don’t know. Normal I guess? It depends...sometimes it takes me three hours to fall asleep sometimes three minutes. But I am not that much of a heavy sleeper 

Are you a cat or dog person? If this means introverted or extroverted then I’m introverted. But I love cats and dogs equally ♥ 

How long would you survive in the zombie apocalypse? Not a single day on my own. If I’d had someone to protect me I’d survive little bit longer but they would kill me because I’d be useless and annoying haha 

Are you trusting? Yes most of the time, but it depends on the preson. I need to know you before I can really trust you

What fictional character do you identify with? I really don’t know...

What labels do you usually get? Small/short, kind, positive and my classmate called me weird yesterday

What song would be your life anthem? Girl In A Dirty Shirt - Oasis

What issues are you dealing with right now? Trying not to kill myslef and dealing with this person who had feelings for me but I am not able to have those feelings for him back so I feel like the biggest asshole in the world

How can someone win you over? It’s not too hard, just be nice. I am not complicated at all

What’s something about you people don’t know? I don’t know if there’s anything I want to share like this haha. If people don’t know it I probably like it that way...But I was born one month earlier when I was a kid. I was really tiny and nearly died and they had to put me in the incubator for some time to keep me alive. My mum loves to remind me this hah 

I am sorry that this is SO long haha!  I am not tagging anyone, but anyone can feel free to do this :) 

[all-blue-headcanons]

So, let me ask you about your OCs! I would love to know how many you have, their names, if you have any main one, the one you like/love most, with who you ship them and I you would like them to meet mine(lol). So throw me all the info you want to share. -Ai-

Oh fugg, you’ve only gone and done it now, Ai. Buckle up for the ride, kids, I’m about to bore you shitless with my lame ass OC’s… well, one of them anyway, but it’s less of an OC but probably more of a self-reflection as to what my story might be in One Piece? That’s right, I’m one of those disgusting self-inserts so feel free to hate on it since I already hate myself enough, lmao.

A new challenger has appeared! Introducing… Passenger Khare! Her backstory is a bit of an odd one as she never used to have any great ambitions and would have been quite happy just living as a simple civilian somewhere in South Blue. Originally she came from North Blue and used to be friends with X Drake back when they were children since his father was still working with the Marines at the time. Thanks to Germa 66 and the ‘Conquest of Four Nations’ however, Khare’s homeland was devastated and she forced to flee alongside her mother. Her father was killed in the war against Vinsmoke Judge, so naturally Khare’s carried a bit of a grudge ever since.Her problems started when her identity was completely erased by a rogue Devil Fruit user. The ability of their fruit was supposed to be a concept on the idea of identity swapping, meaning that you could pin certain actions and events on somebody else. For example, you could make Luffy think Arlong was responsible for Ace’s death* and would adamantly believe it too until confronted by the truth. For some reason, this person either didn’t have the hang of their abilities or went completely over the top, effectively striking Khare out of history - her mother could look her own child in the face and refuse to believe it’s her. (Actually thinking back on it now, a better explanation would be to switch ‘events’ caused by one person to another? Essentially framing somebody for another’s crimes like Kuro wanted to do to some random dude)There are other problems with this issue too, in that Khare is very hard to notice or easily overlooked by most people. They quickly forget what she looks like as well, effectively becoming ‘faceless’ in their minds. The stronger one’s Haki is however, the more easily she’s noticed/remembered so when Khare fled home to look for the person responsible for stealing her name, it was difficult to say the least. She’d have to stow away on ships, moving from island to island in hopes of catching up or finding the person through tracking their bounty.About a year into this ‘drifter’ lifestyle, the ship that Khare was currently hiding on began to sank after a battle against the Marines - so she jumped off the side and swam to a distant island where there was little food and less water. Despite being unnoticable to most people, animals such as Sea Kings can notice her just fine, so swimming elsewhere wasn’t really an option. Her only options were to starve to death, risk being eaten or hope another ship came by.And there it was; a Devil Fruit sitting right there at the island’s oasis. It was a large and ugly blackish-grey fruit with reddish-pink ‘leaves’, but being so hungry, Khare ate it anyway and became a Fire Dragon Zoan.Leaving the island behind, Khare wanders the world of One Piece; an insignificant human whom most people ignore… and a dragon that is quite a bit harder to. With new abilities at her disposal, she doesn’t quite go on rampages; instead Khare spends most of her time flying between islands and checking out taverns for new bountries, picking up any pirates or marines that have been shipwrecked, stranded or otherwise left to die at sea. She used to be the unknown passenger and now operates as a ferry-service for those who in need, leaving them in safe places with a bag of gold to tide them over.Where does she get the gold from, you might ask? Well, even when you’re a dragon, sometimes you get bored of fending for yourself and need small things like the comforts of food you haven’t cooked yourself, a warm bed for the night and some good old human company. Raiding bandit strongholds and enclaves works out great in paying for more extravagent luxuries, and simply because like any good dragon out there, who the hell is going to stop you? Name: “Passenger” KhareTitle if a member of the Worst Generation: “Robber Baron”Age: Early thirties, ‘cursed’ about five years prior to the start of Luffy’s adventuresLoves: X Drake (childhood friends)Friends: Scratchmen Apoo, Urouge.Enemies: The entire Vinsmoke family. Will drop the grudge against Sanji when she realizes he’s actually a pretty nice guy despite his father. Favourite food: Shrimp Laksa, South Blue style.Least favourite food: Eggs (bad experience, shared dislike with X Drake)Interests: Aerophysics, warfare, scarves, thinking about getting revenge on Germa 66…Style: Pockets, pockets, pockets. Aviator goggles along with pilot-themed attire. Ugly ass eyeburner scarf. Did I mention pockets for stashing people and loot in? Traits: Androgynous as hell, people aren’t sure whether she’s a boy or a girl. Rugged, windswept hair, face often smudged with soot and smoke bc ashen breath. THICC shoulders and upper body due to all the flying causing small tiddies which she doesn’t like. Short-tall at 5′9, needs to stand on her tippy toes to nuzzle Drake’s chin.Personality/Quirks: Awkward, especially socially after being on her own for so long. Doesn’t believe Fish-Man Island exists and gets incredibly angry when people try to tell her it does. A little lecherous (towards both men and women) and rowdy when she’s had a few too many to drink and will definitely sing rude songs. Sung this song to Apoo once when drunk and somehow he remembers it, never letting her live it down. Hates it whenever he brings the topic up. Feels the cold easily. BAD LANDER.Random fact: Was asked to be Lola’s husband once. Khare genuinely told her the truth in that she was actually a woman and thus wouldn’t make a good husband, but would totally have said yes were she a man. Lola was surprisingly good-natured about it anyway, but felt sad when she couldn’t quite remember Khare’s face after parting ways.

Enjoy bad art of the passenger dragon that ‘carries a mountain of gold’ on it’s back.Other OC’s I’m still creating, but I have one going about a bored, sociopathic Celestial Dragon that left the Holy Land voluntarily because he was so tired of living an easy life of luxurious and wanted excitement. He’s nothing special, he’s just some bored rich kid who does obnoxious things like starting wars between nations for the hell of it. Surprisingly he’s pretty honorable about his ‘bargains’ if they are completed successfully; these ‘requests’ however, while seeming innocent, are actually death traps he’s arranging for his victims (aka please go and steal me this hat. Which hat, you ask? Why, Straw Hat Luffy’s of course! And I’ll give you ten million berries for it!)

[trinity-williams]

“An excerpt from...

A Lion’s Daughter”

We walk together.

We walk, winding in and out of the nearly frozen hills, we walk. Taking in the beauty of this first light snow. His steps are longer than mine, yet we find balance. He turns and pecks me on my rosy cheeks, angling our frosted white umbrella against the wind. We walk enjoying each other's company and the beauty of the world around us. We walk and then we talk together.

We Talk together.

We talk of the fears that hold our hearts captive. We talk of the fight we had last night that left us tempered. We talk of the jobs that we must find and the careers we must start. We talk of the bills and the debt. We talk of the weight of it all. We talk of our crushing reality. We talk and then we cry.

We cry together.

We cry together to let the emotions out. We cry together to be open and true with each other. We cry together for the fear we felt by the weight of life. Then we cry together for the joy of all the beauty around us. We cry together for the love of the things to come. We cry together because we know we a stronger together. Then we dry each other's tears and begging to dream together. We cry and then we dream together.

We dream together.

We dream with each other, of our future plans and ambitions. He laughs as we fantasize the life we will build. How many kids? What type of house? Green or grey paint? Dogs? Cat? Both? We dream about raising children and the joy of growing old. We dream of all the far off places we would love to explore. We dream as we walk along no longer burdened by the fear or tears of what to come. Content to love each other as we walk along.

We walk together,

We talk together,

We cry together,

We dream together,

And one day we will die together,

But until that day we will love each other.

* sgrìobhte le jara sagart, eadar-theangachadh leis an tighearn Erith*

(written by High Priestess Jara, translated by Lord Erith)

*

*

*

*

“An excerpt from chapter 2 of a “lion's daughter”

James storms through the deserted halls. Filling the air with the pounding of his boots, a consistent drumming rhythm to accompany the gentle hiss and pop of the torches mounted against the cold stone walls. He stops, flinging open a heavy wooden door to reveal a solitary bedroom, walls piled high, the worn spines of well-loved books overflowing on every surface. Two sitting chairs stand next to a beautifully polished writing desk in front of a grated fireplace, and a fur covered bed lays in the corner beside a frosted window, our little oasis against the cold winds of reality, our home. In this place, we can hold each other close in all the ugliness of our souls and simply be loved.

Looming in the doorway, he speaks slightly louder than intended. As his face contorts in a mixture of emotions, anger, pain, panic, and love. As though his brain is fighting his heart, for what to feel and what to believe.

“RivLlyn! What have you done?” He exclaims. “My grandfather is furious, you know we need him! How could you confront him like that behind my back? If he turns against me you know this castle could become very dangerous for us.”

The intensity of his voice sending shivers through my spine. Recoiling at his loud voice, I look up from the book in my hands. Neatly placing it on the desk next to me, so that I can turn and meet his tormented face with my own steel eyes, ready for the conversation to come. Yet when I see the pain in his eyes it is almost too much to bear. A small piece of me breaks with that look. I just wanted to take the pain away, not add more, but now I've done just that. Fuck it, what does it matter? Anything is better than living under his grandfather's thumb forever. I can't back down; he has to understand why I did it. That I love him.

“James, I can’t sit here anymore and watch how he treats you. The manipulation is one thing but the constant emotional abuse... He is so scared of the man you are becoming that he will never let you be free to live your own life. He sees the power in you and is afraid of losing control over it, over you. I see how his oppression hurts you and I couldn't sit back and do nothing anymore. I love you too much for that. I won't sit here and risk him taking you away from me.” I said

Barely containing the tears in my eyes, I silently plead with him to understand, to somehow see into my soul and know that I would do anything for him.

With a heavy sigh, James folds into the chair across from me. He runs his hand through his dark brown hair, eyes closed, silently counting his breaths. He looks so peaceful when his eyes are closed and it makes my heart melt every time. I could stare at his beautiful face for hours and never get tired. He looks up and his eyes now brimming with tears meet mine, with his. A small fire sparks inside me and begins to thaw the fear in my heart. He understands, he knows I did not want to cause him pain. He sees how scared I have been about this moment. How much it took out of me to do anything whether rightfully or not. He heard what I said and now knows that there is some truth to it. My soul lets out a sigh of relief as though it's been holding its breath for his response.

His voice calmer now and slightly catching with emotion he holds my gaze.

“Riv, I'm not mad at you, but you know we can't make him our enemy. We’re stuck with him either way. You're right though, I have been putting off this decision for far too long. It's time I get out from under his thumb. I will go first thing tomorrow and discuss the matter” reflected James.

I know how difficult that conversation is going to be for him. As much as I love him, James and I have very different ways of solving problems. I will fight any battle head on but he is more of a peacemaker he prefers to de-escalate any problematic situations. This has definitely caused problems for us before, just as it did this time but more often than not we balance each other out he mellows me out and teaches me to look for peace in turmoil and I show him that there are some things worth fighting to protect.

“I know we can't get rid of him. He's your family after all but you don't have to let him hold the reins to your life. You are a good man James. One day you will be a very important man in this kingdom, don't let him take your freedom from you. You don't owe him anything.” I said.

“I'm not going to anymore. Were you really so worried that he would somehow break up what we have that you had to confront him on your own?” James asked.

“Yes, I'm scared but honestly I'm more scared that I wouldn't be able to handle seeing you in so much pain much longer. I'm scared of losing you,” I cried

Tears pooled in my eyes and I quickly wiped them away.

“Do you really think that I would ever let anything take you away from me? What we have is special and I will protect it. I love you, Riv. You know that,” said James

I can see his eyes pleading with me to believe him, to understand that he would never let anything separate us, and finally, after all these months something inside me snaps in place and I have no doubt he would go to the ends of the earth for me just as I would for him. I can see the hurt in his eyes though as I answer, the raw pain that my innermost fear has laid at his feet. I can't avoid it anymore though. It has to be said. If only for saying's sake.

“I know you wouldn't, not intentionally, but sometimes I wonder if it came to a choice of staying as is, or leaving what you know, for me, that you would choose to stay rather than leave your comfort zone. I love you too and I shouldn't have confronted him but I do not regret it. It needed to happen. Your right though, it isn’t my place.” I said.

He looked me dead in the eye, the sweetest smile playing at his lips as he slowly leaned nearer to me.

“Love, you are a strong woman and extremely protective -- those are things that I love the most about you. But you have a tendency to believe you have to be the only one to solve the problem. That's not true. We're a team remember? All those thoughts running around your head that lead up to this, you can tell them to me and we will work it out together. You’re not alone. This is not you against me, this is us against the problem and we should face it that way. You know me better than anyone in this world and I understand where you may be afraid but believe me when I say I would choose you over life itself if it came to that,” said James.

Hot tears were now streaming down my face in a rapid rhythm with my heart. I couldn't control them as the salt stung the still open cuts above my cheek from training earlier. How did I get so lucky to love a man like him?

“I know, James, and I love you for it. I'm sorry, I should have trusted you enough to come to you first before I took it into my own hands,” I said.

James moved forward kneeling in front of me, he gently brushes my cheek with his cold, strong hands. Suddenly my cheeks are warm and my heart is calm -- so peacefully calm. I close my eyes and nuzzle my head into his hand. He makes me feel protected and free at the same time. Letting out a deep sigh, I look up at him, those beautiful brown eyes so deep and calming. With flecks of gold that make him look playful and kind even as his eyes brim with tears. Eyes so filled with love, it makes me question against my soundest reasonings. there's no way that we could ever part. We would have to be dead first. I love this man with every part of myself and that will never change.

“Riv, I'm not going anywhere. Whatever comes we will face it together. You know that right?” James askes.

His eyes pleading with me to remember how completely our souls have intertwined themselves. We are part of each other. The same way two plants can grow together, and become one. Neither of us would be whole without the other.

I nodded my head, taking a deep breath to steady myself. James pulls me up into his warm embrace. We float there as time stops and I melt into his chest, smelling his reassuring must, timing my breathing to his as I listen to the steady drum of his heartbeat. It is here, in moments like this, when I feel the most one with him, the most loved.

He breaks the embrace and gently leads me away from the fire to our bed piled high with fur blankets. He grabs my favorite one and wraps it around my shoulders as I slowly slip off my boots and climb in. Outside, the sky has darkened and all you can see is the fires from the village houses reflected through their windows. The wind begins to howl as snow falls silently blanketing the world. The snow comes dancing down from the starless sky and landing on our outer sill as James slides in beside me. He pulls me tight, piling the blankets over our intertwined bodies, wrapping his strong arms around me.

“I love you Riv.” he whispers against my ear.

Again I melt into his loving embrace, feeling his body heat on my back and his warm breath on my neck. Welcoming my soul home as I drift off into the dark night. My chest heavy and eyes red, so overwhelmed with emotion and love that sleep overtakes me without my knowing.

[jumpydr4gon]

Bored. Here's another book questionnaire.

Have you ever bought a book solely because you liked its title Eh, I don’t think so. I might have. I honestly don’t remember.

How often are you recommending a book to other people? All the time. Whenever I can. I love sharing my favorite stories or what I’m currently reading.

How often do you read the books others recommend to you? I would say at least 80% of the books I’ve read in the last 2 years have been from the recommendations of others. I’ve a pretty cool reading circle of friends.

What is your favorite book series and what is your favorite book of that series? Oooof!!! That’s a difficult one. Hmmm...I’ll give you my top favs. Realm of the Elderlings by Robin Hobb; Fool’s Errand. Dresden Files by Jim Butcher; tie between Cold Days and Skin Game Foreigner by CJ Cherryh; Deceiver, Intruder, or Peacemaker The First Law by Joe Abercrombie; The Trouble with Peace

When reading a book, how often are you thinking of ways in which it could have been written better? Not often. I typically do that type of thinking while I’m stewing over a finished book.

Is there any character from a book you wish was written off? None that I can think at the moment. Most of the time, characters i want written off die.

Have you ever disliked a book so much that you never finished reading it? I recently DNF She Who Became the Sun by Shelley Parker-Chan. I tried to finish, I really did. Buuuuuut the middle was slogging so bad after an excellent beginning. Really disappointing with all of the hype surrounding it.

Name one book you’ve read cover-to-cover but completely hated. Child of Fire by Henry Connolly. Don’t get me started on that...

Has any book ever made you ugly cry? Assassin’s Fate by Robin Hobb. The final book of the series, and I was a slobbering mess for the entire last 30% of the novel. (FYI, That’s almost 300 pages of exhausting ugly crying).

Do you pay attention to the Amazon or New York Times bestseller lists? Nope! Usually, those books are not what I’m looking for. I also just don’t care.

Do you ever read book reviews before buying a book? About 90% of the time I do, yes. I like to get the general feel of the public, why they rated it x stars out of 5, what triggers there are, etc. I don’t want to be spoiled, but I’d like to be prepared.

Have you ever used a library card or a bookstore receipt as a bookmark? Hehe! Yup! Many many times.

What is the craziest thing you’ve ever used as a bookmark? I’ve used my Kindle as a bookmark. Smart reader here folks!

How often do you read a PDF version of a book on a computer or mobile device? PDF’s? Not really. Never.

How often do you listen to an audiobook? Not as often and I would like, but often enough to have a nice Audible library.

Do you own an Amazon Kindle? If not, do you want one? YES!!! I have an Amazon Oasis with the warm lighting setting. Best ebook reader purchase EVER!

Have you ever forgotten where in a book you left off, so you started from the beginning again? That happens?

What fictional character from a book do you think you relate to the most? Why that character? Oh dear. FitzChivalry Farseer, Jo March (never read the books, but the films paint enough of a picture), Orso dan Luthar are the main ones that pop in my head. Stuck in roles they were born in, depressive, are loved, but refuse to see or believe it, not eager for change that would affect them personally, introverted, would rather do their own thing, big hearts, not one that fits in with society, has friends that others would look down upon, introspective.

Name one (yes, only one) fictional character from a book you wish you could be best friends with in real life. Why that character? Fool from Realm of the Elderlings. They are such a quirky character with a deep heart. Fool would push me to go past my boundaries in a way that’s aggressive, but not harsh or cruel. A loving, generous heart. Defender of their loved ones. Knows to laugh and have fun. I would also be able to sit in silence reading a book or something, no talking, and there would be no awkward feelings. Just warm companionship. Yea, they would be a great best friend. AND… there would be no hard feelings if we didn’t see each other for long periods of time while picking up our friendship as if we saw each other the previous day.

Are there any lines from a book that have helped you out in real life? I’m not a big line collector. More of a character and overall feelings collector. For example, Alanna (from Tamora Pierce’s Tortal world) has been my role model in following your dreams no matter what society expects of you. A lady who loves to wear breeches and tunic, but every now and then dresses up because she wants to feel pretty. She is fiercely loyal to her loved ones while being stubborn in maintaining her independent identity.

How often do you take and post photos of the current book you are reading? Depends on the mood.

Have you ever taken a selfie of yourself reading? No...because I’m reading!

Do you own any first edition copies of a book? I have a fair few. Doesn’t mean they’re all valuable.

How many of your books are autographed by the author? Currently 7. Battle Ground by Jim Butcher, The Wisdom of Crowds by Joe Abercrombie, The Broken Empire Omnibus and The Red Queen’s War Omnibus by Mark Lawrence, and the most recent Farseer Illustrated Editions by Robin Hobb.

What is your favorite movie based off a book? Dune by Frank Herbert. The most recent 2021 film. Not that 1984 abomination. (I'm sorry, but it is).

Has a movie ever made you go and read the book that it’s based off? Where the Heart Is by Billie Letts and P.S. I Love You by Cecelia Ahern

Name one book you wish had a movie version. Who would you choose to act in it? Don’t ask me this!!! Too many books and I’m terrible at casting. Top of my head, I wouldn't mind a series of Abercrombie's First Law world, Robin Hobb's Realm of the Elderlings, Butcher's Dresden Files, or Jacka's Alex Verus . At the same time, I don't want them touched out of fear of fucking them up on the big screen.

Name one book you believe is superior to its movie version and explain why you think so. Eragon by Christopher Paolini. What a clusterfuck of a film. It’s so bad that the author and the fandom have this running gag of saying “What film?” whenever it’s mentioned. Just horrible. I would be perfectly fine with Jeremy Irons and Robert Carlyle redoing their roles.

[surveysonfleek]

475.

What battery percentage is your phone on right now? 42%

Do any medical afflictions run in your family? i only know of high blood pressure.

Who did you last talk to in person and what did you say? my boyfriend. i said bye and i love you.

What’s your favourite Mexican dish? fajitas.

Have you ever been to a professional sports game? yes! love them.

How far do you live from New York City? really far. like 20 hours worth of flights far.

How often do you talk to your parents? everyday.

What was the weather like in your town today? absolutely boiling.

Are there any phrases or words that you say a lot? probably. i say them so much that i don’t really notice.

How many boyfriends or girlfriends have you ever had? one serious one.

Have you ever ordered a specially made cake from a cake shop? yeah but nothing fancy.i’ll just select a cake then make them personalize the icing message.

What was the last movie you saw and who did you watch it with? probably by myself on netflix.

What’s the name of your first real boyfriend or girlfriend? dwayne.

Do you clean your ears daily? yes. i’m obsessed with cleaning my ears.

What accent do you have? australian.

What scent of air freshener do you keep in your bathroom? idk but it’s called oasis and smells amazing.

Have you ever dated a model? no.

What’s the best job you’ve ever had? haha tbh i’ve never loved any of my jobs but i’ve made lifelong friends with each of them.

How about the worst? probably my one now.

Do you have naturally straight hair? nope :(

What is your ultimate goal in life? happiness and success.

Have you ever visited someone in prison? no.

What months were you and your siblings born in?  i’m born in december, my sister was born in november.

What are your three favourite vegetables? potato, broccoli and pumpkin.

How many times a day do you check Facebook or any other social network? every so often, whenever i’m bored.

When was the last time you had a blocked nose? two weeks ago.

Who is your favourite comedian? i don’t have one.

What colour are the socks you’re wearing today? black.

What did you have for dinner last night? hainan chicken and rice.

Are you an ugly crier? probably.

What scent is the soap or body wash you use in the shower? it smells like honey.

Have you ever had sex in/on a vehicle? yes.

Who do you live with? my family.

What letter does your street name begin with? t.

Do you do anything to groom your eyebrows? yeah i wax and pluck them.

When was the last time you ate at McDonald’s? just then because my boyfriend was hungry. i didn’t get anything.

What’s your favourite Popsicle flavour? raspberry.

Do you have any injuries at the moment? nope.

Have you ever been to an ophthalmologist? no.

Do you own any animal print clothes? no.

Are you tall, short or average? Would you change this? average. and no, maybe a couple inches taller but i’m happy.

When was the last time you went to a drug store/pharmacy?  last thursday.

Do you ever binge-watch TV shows? yes.

Do you keep your files and documents organized in one place? kinda.

What’s your favourite sweet treat to bake? caramel slice.

Are you good at flirting and letting people know you’re interested? haha hell no.

What did you have for breakfast today? nothing.

Do you prefer sweet or savoury breakfasts? savoury.

Do you like chick-flicks? sometimes.

Have you ever taken an acting class? no.

What is your favourite kind of berry? strawberry.

How often do you use Youtube? daily.

Are you ignoring anyone right now? nope.

Do you have any tattoos? Tell me about them. nope.

Have you ever worked in a store while someone shoplifted there? no.

When was the last time you used a stove? last week.

Is there anything you absolutely refuse to eat? anything super spicy. i’ll try everything though, if it’s too spicy i won’t continue eating it.

Are you sitting, standing or laying (or something else) right now? laying.

How many hours per week do you typically work? 30-40.

What was the last pill or tablet you took? birth control.

How far away from your house is the closest grocery store? a 2 minute drive.

Have you ever lived in university/college campus housing? no.

Who was the last person you complimented? my boyfriend.

Are you the type of person to take naps, even if you’ve slept plenty? haha sometimes.

Do you have a crush on anyone at the moment? more than a crush.

When was the last time you saw your best friend? about 40 mins ago.

Have you ever been fired from a job? Why? well, i’ve been ‘let go’. they weren’t making enough business so they let me go.

Are you tired right now? yeah.

What do you live on in terms of a street, road, crescent, place, court etc? street.

How many purses or handbags do you own? i own quite a few actually, but i always use the same handbag.

Do you get along with all your aunts and uncles? yes.

Have you ever had casual sex? no.

What was the last thing you paid for with cash? a present?

What’s the last letter of your middle name? n.

What was your first pet’s name and how did you pick that? dopey. i loved snow white and the seven dwarves lol.

Do you drink diet or regular soda? regular.

Have you ever been to Europe? yes.

Do you like fruit and vegetable combo juices? no.

Would you rather be warmer or colder right now? i’m just right.

What’s your favourite flavour of frosting? vanilla.

What colour are the street signs in your town/suburb? green and white.

[tazscapes-blog]

Creating a Professional Backyard Landscape

Your Calgary yard is your personal sanctuary, but how do you even begin to think of backyard landscaping ideas that will optimize your space?

Here’s a quote you have probably already seen elsewhere on our website, but I’ll write it again:

“What is it about the landscape that awakens the deepest response in us?

Surely it is the very unity of existence.

The sense of the sublime of something far more deeply infused, whose dwelling is the light of the setting suns, and the round ocean, and the living air, and the blue sky, and the mind of man;

a motion and a spirit that impels all thinking things, and objects, and all thoughts, and rolls through all things.

We cannot be anything other than related, for every atom that makes up our constantly changing bodily form comes from the same source as the mountain, lake, bird, and fish.”

 – LEATHERS, 1980

One of the things I learned during my landscape design training was the importance of connecting our senses to our natural surroundings.

Designing for residential home-owners is always a challenge. Seeking to evoke primary human senses such as sight, sound, smell, touch, and taste in someone’s Calgary yard isn’t an easy task.

In years of doing this, I’ve come to realize that by letting budgets hold me back, I tend to lack creativity. I become yet another landscapers Calgary who installs a 12’ circle patio and fire pit and hopes clients will bite.

How ridiculously boring.

In successfully running my own Calgary landscaping company, I’ve learned that I have to let my creativity run. Instead, I focus on presenting what I call the “Maserati” of designs to the client and let them tell me they’d rather have a Toyota.

Don’t get me wrong; I understand that no one would say no to a Maserati if they could afford it. But at the same time, ask yourself how many times you bought something you really couldn’t afford but just had to have it.

Exactly. Striking a primordial cord into my client’s emotions is critical. I hope to show them what they can have in their own Calgary yard every single day and, why they don’t need to travel miles and miles away on vacation every year.

Instead, they can invest that money into their own personal sanctuary.

I initially got this concept stuck in my psyche when I first moved to Calgary about five years ago. A high-end client told me that she and her husband sold their multi-million dollar business and retired.

Her husband told her she had two choices:

He can buy her a house in Palm Springs, and they can go there for six months out of the year to avoid the cold Calgary winters.

They can develop their 5 acres or 2-acre backyard.

Her response to him was: “I don’t like to travel.”

Here are a few examples of creative, “Maserati” landscape designs we at Tazscapes have proposed to our clients. We wanted to show them that the possibilities are endless if they genuinely wish to make their Calgary yard their own personal island:

Project #1: Decked Out Calgary Yard

Located in Aspen Woods, Calgary, our clients had an existing pressure-treated deck that they used quite often. It was a 12’ x 24’ deck, but it wasn’t big enough to entertain some of their high-end business associates.

They also didn’t have any room for a hot-tub they were hoping to install. So, they contacted us to propose backyard landscaping ideas that would accomplish all of their needs.

I followed my foundational design concept of ideal destination points: cooking, dining and lounging. Having these focal points at different levels, I suspended the beam structure overhead and connected each element. This was the most efficient way to bring coziness to the space.

I also made sure that they would have all their requirements fulfilled. There was an area for an outdoor kitchen, a central space for dining and a grand area for lounging and entertaining.

By bringing in the overhead pergola structure, I not only connected each area but allowed for an experiential transition between each space. I accentuated it by adding a Plexiglas’s bridge that would let visitors walk over a dry creek bed to get to the grand lounging deck.

Project #2: The Subtle Picturesque Garden

This one was one of Tazscapes’ more lucrative projects.

When I met the client, she was extremely frustrated with the space she originally had. It was small and – sorry to say – it was ugly.

She mentioned her inability to come up with decent patio and landscaping ideas for such a small space.

In the past, she had a couple of landscape contractors and “trained” landscape designers in Calgary come into her Calgary yard to give her some ideas. She even paid a landscape designer to draft a detailed drawing for her.

When she showed me the design, I shook my head in disbelief. It just didn’t make any sense.

It consisted of a lot of decking for such a small space, especially since the clients were a young couple looking for a low-maintenance, classic garden feel.

The client wanted a Calgary yard in which she could spend hours enjoying the sun. She also hoped to gain something aesthetically pleasing that she could see from her existing concrete patio, and from her kitchen inside. As a landscape design expert, I heard this as, “I want to be able to simulate my senses after a long day at work.”

I knew there was little to no space for grass. With the square footage being so small, I suggested artificial turf (fake grass landscaping). I also knew we needed a feature piece. She already had a concrete patio, and judging from my consultation, she didn’t need anything elaborate to entertain lots of guests.

Clearly, she wanted a personal oasis. I proposed a water feature bubbler so that the calming sounds can give her the tranquillity she was looking for. With vivid green grass (albeit, synthetic) in conjunction with the surrounding plant material, we were able to fill her small space with life and serenity. It couldn’t have been more of a personal sanctuary.

Project #3: The Garden Bar

Located in Bearspaw, Calgary, the clients of this residence had an existing gazeebo they wanted to be refurbished. During a consultation, I learned that they wanted more than a gazeebo – they hoped to create an outdoor retreat. At the end of our conversation, I suggested that they essentially want a living room outside, and they agreed.

As a Calgary landscaping expert, I always ensure that my game is in tip-top shape so I can impress my clients with a unique and custom landscape design.

I designed a gazebo structure that had everything they would ever need right inside. A central fire pit featuring a built-in chimney to release smoke would give the space a hint of primal nature that would evoke their senses.

We also installed a bar/kitchen top that surrounded them, along with two TVs so they could sit back and enjoy an evening around the fire.

And yes, the client used to work as an executive at Shaw Cable – the salesman in me had to throw that in there!

Project #4: Backyard Beach Resort

Clients in Priddis, Calgary came to me when they acquired this new home.  With a lake backing their yard, they asked how they can create a personal retreat. They mentioned that they wanted to take advantage of the water by incorporating a beach for their kids. The clients also said that they had many people push acreage landscaping ideas that they weren’t particularly happy about.

As a reputable company, we take pride in ensuring that each client gets the most thought-out landscape design proposal possible. We went right to work on this project to come up with truly custom and unique landscaping ideas.

I proposed to create a beach resort in their backyard that was so serene; it would lead them to believe that they could enjoy an all-inclusive vacation anytime they wanted. I also strived to make sure they had everything they would need – from dining with the family to entertaining a large group of friends – all while taking advantage of the lakeside view.

Since the family had a passion for fishing, I designed a custom dock that gave them ample space for various activities. The final result imitated the amenities of an all-inclusive resort.

Having a vision for spaces is critical when designing. It doesn’t need to be highly complex or extravagantly expensive. Rather, it needs to serve a function for your everyday life.

[recklesstreacherous]

Oh my gosh, Rebekah Harkness had such a messy and sad life www(.)nytimes(.)com/1988/05/22/books/is-there-a-chic-way-to-go(.)html?pagewanted=all

Thanks for linking this article! I love reading about her… and yes, she did have a very unique and tragic life. I’d love to watch a documentary about her.

_______________________________________________________________________‘IS THERE A CHIC WAY TO GO?’A week after her death on June 17, 1982, the mortal remains of Rebekah Harkness were toted home by her older daughter Terry in a Gristede’s shopping bag. The ashes were placed in a $250,000 jeweled urn made by Salvador Dali. They didn’t fit: “Just a leg is in there, or maybe half of her head, and an arm,” said one of Rebekah’s friends. Several hours later, the top of the urn - called the Chalice of Life - was somehow, by unknown agencies, uncovered. “Oh, my God,” said a witness. “She’s escaped.”        

This post-mortem mischief was going on at Harkness House, the East 75th Street town house headquarters of the Harkness Ballet Foundation, which Mrs. Harkness had modeled on the St. Petersburg Ballet School. The building, according to Craig Unger, the author of this rich-man/eye-of-the-needle biography, was in a state of putrefaction, “crumbling like Tara after the Civil War.” Meanwhile, in her apartment at the Carlyle Hotel, people who called themselves Rebekah Harkness’s friends were pillaging, “grabbing things right and left.”        

Rebekah’s younger daughter Edith, a failed suicide who had spent many years in mental institutions, took only her mother’s pills: Seconal, Nembutal, Valium, Haldol, Librium and various painkillers - 40 vials in all. Allen Pierce, Rebekah’s son by the first of her four husbands, was unable to be present. Convicted of murder in the second degree, he was behind the bars of a Florida jail. Bobby Scevers, Rebekah’s lover, 25 years younger than she and a self-declared homosexual, pronounced her children “the most worthless, selfish, useless creatures I’ve ever seen.” (Mr. Scevers has a stunning way of placing himself squarely in the center of every sentence he utters; he appears to believe that Rebekah Harkness’s death happened more to him than to her.) If I report on the demise of the multimillionaire patron of the dance dry-eyed, it is because I am confident in the belief that nothing we say about the dead can prejudice the Defense or tip the Scales of Judgment. I myself wouldn’t give the time of day to anyone who cleaned her pool out with Dom Perignon, put mineral oil in the punch at her sister’s debutante ball and (all in the middle of the Great Depression) got tossed off an ocean liner for shouting obscenities, throwing dinner plates at an orchestra of Filipinos gamely playing the American national anthem, and offending the sensibilities of her fellow passengers by swimming nude - for which actions she counted herself witty. (I do admit, however, that I’d go a long way to read a sentence like this, spoken by Bertrand Castelli, the co-producer of “Hair,” about the time he made love to Rebekah Harkness in her office: “It was as if we were two camels in the desert who suddenly know that the only way to make an oasis is to really talk sense.” After his brief interlude in the oasis, Mr. Castelli was made the artistic director of the Harkness Ballet. “Kiss me,” she commanded. “The others, they just know how to bite.”) Craig Unger, a former editor at New York magazine, appears to be dazzled by all this, although it is sometimes hard to tell whether his breathlessness arises from approval, disapproval, sadness, awe or simple bewilderment. Mr. Unger, who records interviews uncritically and unreflectively, does not permit us to know exactly how he feels about his subject.        

Rebekah Harkness was born in 1915 to a rich, emotionally frigid St. Louis family. She was brought up by a nanny who was chosen because she had worked in an insane asylum. She went to Fermata, a South Carolina finishing school that had sheltered Roosevelts, Biddles and Auchinclosses. There she delighted, as she wrote in her scrapbook, in setting out to “do everything bad.’'  After her divorce from W. Dickson Pierce, an upper-class advertising photographer, she chose for her second husband the Standard Oil heir William Hale Harkness, who enjoyed a lofty social status, as her own family did not. He appears to have been an embarrassing sort of man; he wrote and privately published a book called ’'Totem and Topees,” which he described as a “conglomeration of uninteresting misinformation,” and followed that with a book called “Ho hum, the Fisherman,” which, he said, did not “have the excuse even of literary merit.” We are told by Mr. Unger - who is an uncomfortable stranger in the world of the rich, unused to deciphering nuances of caste - that the Harknesses’ seven-year marriage was a happy one. Little evidence is given in support of this thesis except that the two wrote a song together called “Giggling With My Feet.”        

After she was widowed, Mrs. Harkness renovated her Rhode Island house; she installed 8 kitchens and 21 baths. This arrangement effectively kept her from having to see her three children on anything like a regular basis. She had a salon of sorts. She traveled a lot.        

She fancied herself a composer.        

She acquired a guru, also a yogi.        

She married again. And again.        

She was surrounded by a group her son Allen described as “all the fairies flying off the floor, the blackmailing lawyers, the weirdos, the people in the trances.” “We were the favorites,” says a dancer. “We were the loved ones.” In 1961, Rebekah Harkness became the sponsor of the late Robert Joffrey’s small ballet troupe. She did this in grand - if occasionally Marie Antoinette-ish -style. Generous, wasteful, willful, demanding and delusional, she broke with Joffrey to form the Harkness Ballet when he refused to perform the compositions she insisted on writing. In the eyes of many, she had betrayed him. “Costumes, sets, musical scores,” Mr. Unger writes, “many of the best dancers, the entire repertory - even the works choreographed by Joffrey himself - were owned by her foundation.”        

“You see,” she said. “Money can buy anything.” It bought her the services of George Skibine, Marjorie Tallchief, Alvin Ailey, Erik Bruhn and Andy Warhol, but it did not guarantee her success. Mr. Unger tells us that under the direction of the dancer-choreographer Larry Rhodes the company began to garner critical raves - whereupon Mrs. Harkness fired him. Soon Clive Barnes was writing that the Harkness Ballet had “descended beyond the necessity of serious consideration,” and in 1975 it folded. She had spent the 1987 equivalent of $38 million on a failed enterprise.        She rang J. D. Salinger’s bell dressed as a cleaning lady, having conceived the harebrained scheme that the reclusive writer’s short stories be put to music.        

She dyed chocolate mousse blue. She dyed a cat green.        

She moved hundreds of thousands of dollars from one bank to another for the pleasure of confusing her accountants. She believed in reincarnation. She filled her fish tank with goldfish and Scotch.        

Her daughter Terry gave birth to a severely retarded and disabled child. For a time, Rebekah Harkness appeared to be enamored of the passive child, called Angel. Her passion, such as it was, burned itself out quickly, coincidentally with the baby’s pulling a ribbon out of her hair. Bobby Scevers, Mr. Unger writes, “had no sympathy” for the child. “So absurd,” Mr. Scevers pronounced. “When they started talking about putting the nursery over my room … I just hit the ceiling. I don’t want this screaming baby over my room! … Let the little creature die!” When she was 10 years old, she did.        

Her daughter Edith jumped off roofs, swallowed pills and managed not to kill herself. “How should she do it?” Rebekah Harkness asked. “Is there a chic way to go?”        

She lived on champagne and injections - Vitamin B, testosterone, painkillers - as a result of which her bathrooms were splattered with blood and her muscles calcified. (“She walked,” an acquaintance said, “like Frankenstein.”) One could almost feel sorry for her.        

At the very end, according to Bobby Scevers, as she lay dying of cancer, “It was complete chaos… . It was so wonderful - everybody running around signing wills and trying on different wigs.”      

Her daughter Terry hired Roy Cohn in a (failed) attempt to have her will invalidated.        

Her daughter Edith killed herself. (“I’m glad Edith is gone,” said the unquenchable Bobby Scevers.        

“I can’t believe it took her this long to succeed.”) Her son Allen says the years he spent in prison were the happiest of his life. He likes to talk about blowing people away.       Knowing all this (and much, much more; Mr. Unger withholds no ugly or racy detail), what is it exactly that we have learned?        That money can’t buy happiness? That even the rich must die? These are facts of which we have already been apprised.      

One sometimes wonders if the point of all these poor-little-rich-girl/boy biographies is to lull the rest of us into a false sense of security: She is so unlike us that we are not encouraged to reflect upon our own mortality, the contemplation of which is a healthy and necessary exercise. We are meant to take comfort and a measure of relief from our difference - though, as we know but do not frequently wish to remember, the grave awaits us all.        

It would be interesting to see what a social historian, someone familiar with the hierarchies of caste and class in America - or, better yet, a novelist with a theological bent - would make of the raw material Mr. Unger has gathered. I am beginning to think that biography, especially the biography of such a chaotic personality as Rebekah Harkness, needs to be molded and informed by a novelist’s ordering imagination. It might also have been interesting to see how a feminist writer would have assimilated the facts of Rebekah Harkness’s sorry life. Might Mrs. Harkness be seen as a casualty of her own doomed and defiled expectations? Unfit for mothering, unfit for ordinary love, unfit - untrained - to be the caretaker of a great fortune, was she altogether silly or altogether bad? Was she power or pawn? And how in the world did she get that way?        

It is possible to write an edifying biography about an unedifying life. Jean Stein and George Plimpton did that brilliantly in “Edie,” the biography of poor Edie Sedgwick. “Blue Blood” is edifying only insofar as it raises questions about what a biography should be. A terrible story is told here. It makes no sense - and no sense is made of it.