#Long Island Retaining Walls

[stonecreationslongisland]

Advantages of Having a Retaining Wall.

1. PROTECTS PROPERTY AGAINST FLOODING Any sloped area that causes water to pond or puddle at the base of your property needs to be addressed. If your property has a slope that contours towards the structure, it will likely need a special drainage system that directs water flow away from the building. A retaining wall’s main purpose is to facilitate that drainage system by controlling how much…

[eastlandmasonry]

Maintaining Your Masonry Structures: Essential Tips Keep your masonry structures looking great and lasting long with these essential maintenance tips! Learn how to inspect for damage, clean surfaces properly, repoint mortar joints, and apply protective sealants. Trust Eastland Masonry for expert advice and services to ensure the longevity and beauty of your masonry. Contact us today!

[conductivemithril]

Traditional Landscape - Landscape An example of a large traditional full sun backyard concrete paver pond.

[mildlyinterestingadventures]

New York Concrete Pavers Backyard Design ideas for a large traditional full sun backyard concrete paver retaining wall landscape in summer.

[raindrop-valley]

New York Vertical Garden An example of a large traditional partial sun backyard stone landscaping in summer.

[paulsaladino]

Triple Tiered Retaining Wall, Glen Cove, NY - #stonecreationsoflongisland #longisland #newyork

[honeykaes]

burn in my memories

ayato x retainer! reader II 2.8k

warning: smut, 18+ content, minors do not interact, afab!reader with no pronouns, angst, cheating, power imbalance (servant/master), cunnilingus, semi-public sex, exhibitionism, hot spring sex, marking, masturbation, body worship right person wrong time trope, alcohol mention, unedited

synopsis: as ayato prepares to get married, he decides to go on vacation with you, his trusted retainer, to enjoy his last bit of freedom.

The ripples of the water flashing around, filled the space under the moonlight night. Cicadas chirped around as some moths hovered near the doors of the inn, where the light was pouring through.

Warm steam rose to the heavens, leaving your skin dewy while your clothes clung onto your form. You gazed directly at the towering bamboo wall, covering the spring from any wandering eyes hoping to give your lord some modesty.

Your back was turned, hand securely placed at your katana, ensuring any suspects foolish enough to attack your lord in his most vulnerable time would quickly be stricken down.

Your lord, Kamisato Ayato, was someone you had been with for a long time. You washed up on the shores of Inazuma, hacking up seawater and barely conscious, after a storm led to the downfall of the ship you were on. The only thing in your hand was the grains of wet sand clinging to you and the hydro vision tightly gripped. Apparently, the Gods had wanted you to live; gifting you salvation, in the form of a vision for your survival.

After assisting in your recovery, you decided to work as at the Kamisato estate. You worked your way to become a respected retainer. It was surprising when you first found out you weren’t the only foreigner the Kamisatos had taken into this position as you met the blonde, half-Mondstadtan, Thoma. 

Whispers and chatter among the common people echoed through the small island that the Kamisato had a thing for foreigners but Ayato and Ayaka insisted you and Thoma ignore it.

As Thoma focused more on household chores and “darker” tasks, to clean up after the Yashiro Commission,  you primarily worked as a glorified secretary. You assist both siblings with cultural projects and paperwork. 

Still, Ayato made sure you picked up the katana, learning the ways of his sword style, to protect the Kamisatos and the commission

 “I can see you tensing from over here. You need to relax. I know it sounds rather… hypocritical from me, but it’s the truth,” you heard your lord hum across the hot spring. 

You sighed, realizing how rigid your shoulders were, soon relaxing them as you breathed out.

”I still need to be on guard. I’m sure people are aware that the head of the Yashiro Commission took a leave of absence and is traveling for a bit. The hot spring is one of the most vulnerable positions to be in,” you replied.

You heard a heavy sigh part from Ayato’s lips.

”You know, I can take care of myself. Besides, the Shuumatsuban are patrolling in the shadows around the spring and inn as we speak,” he murmured. You could hear water lifting up ripping as he let out another sigh.

”When I taught you the katana, it was to protect yourself and my sister, not me…” His voice trailed off, as his mind was beginning to shift elsewhere. 

This was the first time he had been apart from his sister. As much as his cool exterior claimed he was three steps ahead of everyone else, you knew deep down he was nervous leaving her alone at the estate.

“I’m sure she’s fine,” you insisted. “Plus, your most loyal dog is there protecting her. I have no doubt Thoma would lay down his life to see she is protected.”

Your lighthearted response was met with a grunt from Ayato.

“I’d prefer that wouldn’t happen either, but I appreciate the gesture nonetheless,” he muttered.

His thorns were peeking through. If his trailing off wasn’t about his sister, was it…

”Is this because of your upcoming wedding?”

Ayato fell silent. You could feel the heavy gaze of his eyes staring at your back as you fought the urge to shiver. 

“...Do you know why I took this leave, hm?” Ayato murmured. You could feel his falsely saccharine smile on his lips as he asked you this question.

”No. You’ve never taken a vacation before,” you responded. Ayato let out a half-hearted chuckle, as more splashing echoed out.

”This is probably the last bit of freedom I will enjoy; if you can even call it that. After we return, it’s planning the wedding, the ceremony…making an heir—-continuing the legacy of the Kamisatos, a duty my parents bestowed on me,” he murmured. 

”...It was either go through with this marriage or let my sister fall into that fate. A loveless marriage. I couldn’t bear to see her burdened by that,” he admitted. Before you were stranded in Inazuma 10 years ago, you don’t recall your former nation being this rigid with marriages and politics, but perhaps you were far too removed to realize.

“So you burdened yourself…? Forgive me if this is out of turn but maybe it’s time to move past those rigid rules. You’re the head of the Yashiro commissions, one of the most powerful men in Inazuma, why can’t you just do what you want?—” you asked. 

Your question was interrupted, feeling large wet arms wrap around your waist. Ayatos’s head leaned between your shoulder blades.

”W-What?! My lord!? What are you doing…?!” you stammered out. You would feel the wetness of his hands beginning to dampen and soak through your attire.

“Although Inazuma is becoming more lenient, some things will not change. Although I cannot have the love I desire, at least Ayaka will…” he whispered. His voice was so soft, and vulnerable. Gone was the outward presence of a man who seemed ten steps ahead of everyone else. Gone was the man with a smile no one could decipher.

Left in your wake was a man, grieving his freedom for responsibility.

 Your eyes softened.

”...Ayato…” you muttered, feeling his nails dig deeper as he clung tighter. You dragged your bottom lip between your teeth, nibbling softly on it. You weren’t sure what you could say or do to motivate him. 

”This is overstepping, I know, but…for one night, I ask, to be with the person I love, to relish my last bit of freedom with them, to have that memory burned in my mind to keep me going until the day I die….” he called out.

Your lips parted, hearing his voice soon weakened to that of barely a whisper.

” I beg you…please.”

His grip loosened as you remained silent, and finally turned around to face him. A shadow covered his eyes, pale skin dewy from the steam and moisture from the spring. Your hand pillowed against his cheek as he finally looked up. His eyes were somber, as your gaze softened.

”...Then, let this memory stay with us the rest of our lives.”

Water splashes loudly as Ayato stands straight to his full height towering behind you. He leaned in, pressing his lips across your neck as goosebumps rushed down your skin. His hand slowly begins to untie bits of your armor as they crash loudly on the stone ground.

Soon your hakama pools on the floor, immediately dampening from the water sloshed around. You feel his touch begin to focus on disrobing your shitagi. You shivered feeling his large palm trace up the spine of your back as he leaned into your ear.

“Have you always been this sensitive?” he cooed, breath heavy and hot at the nape of your neck. You clicked your tongue in embarrassment before he turned you around— touching your bare hips and pinching the skin. You fought the urge to look past his v-line, trying to keep his mischievous lilac-hued gaze.

“I see you got your confidence back,” you pouted. Ayato's usually cunning smile finally made another appearance before he grabbed your chin, slightly lifting it up.

“I don’t want to wallow in my sorrows when I can focus on making the best of this situation,” he replied. He pressed a chaste kiss on your lips. They were soft as they molded onto your own. His teeth dragged on your bottom lip, nibbling the sensitive muscle. 

He soon leaned back, watching as you shared a new pair of glossy lips once connected with a translucent string of saliva. Ayato leaned back down in the water, on his knees as his hands squeezed against your thighs.

“Sit down for me, will you? I want to enjoy my meal,” he murmured. You quirked your eyebrow in confusion but obeyed. You slowly sank and sat on the wet stone a level above the hot spring, letting part of your legs drape over and dive beneath the water. 

“What do you mean?” you asked. He lets himself between your legs, letting his palms graze up and down the appendage. He soon sank deeper within the pool, getting closer to your core as his nails buried themselves in the flesh of your thighs.

His breath fogged up as he placed a gentle kiss on your clit, as your body shot up from the sudden pleasure. He prodded his tongue out of his mouth, flattening it as he pressed a long stripe against the bundle of nerves. Your fist balled up while crescent moons dug into your palms. His tongue swiped up and a moan reverberated from your lips. 

You quickly cover your mouth to muffle the noises leaking out as Ayato continues his ministrations against your clit. His tongue slowly circled along the nub before letting his lips completely cover it, sucking sharply as your eyes shut tightly. 

The pink muscle soon found itself swiping side-to-slide, rapidly flicking against your clit. Your legs, threatening to close onto his face, were soon captured by Ayato’s hands. He gradually guided them up onto his broad shoulders—allowing him to spread you out wider. 

His mouth quickly made its way to your inner thigh, nibbling and sucking the plush skin, and admired the spot as it changed its hue.  You grabbed onto the edge of the stone to steady yourself, cunt beginning to flutter from the pleasure.  

The vibrations of Ayato’s amused chuckle added to his meticulous ministrations, letting his tongue savor the sweetness of your arousal.  Your folds glistened in a mixture of his saliva and slick as loud slurping noises joined the symphony of cicadas. 

You pressed your thumb against your tongue in a futile attempt to stop your whimpers and cries, hips helplessly grinding against his face. 

“Aya..A—” you stammered out. Your back arch, toes curling towards the heavens and your body quivering in pleasure—signaling your high. Ayato left your throbbing clit with one last kiss before leaning away, letting your tired, sweaty, and damp legs hang back into the warm water of the hot spring.

Your tired eyes looked up as your chest heaved, seeing his flushed expression and mouth smeared with your arousal. His tongue flickered out, lapping up any remaining slick on the corners of his mouth and wiping the rest of it off.

“Ah, ah, ah. You’re tired already?” he hummed. “I thought you said: ‘Let this memory stay with us the rest of our lives’. This doesn’t seem very memorable, hm?” 

You fought the urge to roll your eyes as you lifted your upper form up and let yourself sink into the warm water. Your legs felt shaky, but thankfully the pool was too small for you to struggle with your footing.

“Ayato, I don’t think anyone has eaten me out like that in my entire life,” you sighed, body melting from the warm water. Ayato clicked his tongue.

“Talking about other lovers right now? How cruel you are to me,” he sarcastically replied. He soon turned you around, pinning you to the side of the pool. You could feel his erect cock pressing against the globe on your ass, twitching as it slid between your folds and thighs. 

“...I want this to matter to you as it does to me,” he muttered in your ear, tone deeper and more serious than it was prior. “I want to leave evidence on you that I existed, even if it fades. I will know and cherish these memories.”

His cock lazily thrust, as your lips trembled from his tip gliding across your overstimulated clit. You gyrated your hips against the veins of his cock, hearing his breath hitch. He lifted his hand up, squeezing them against the mounds on your breast. You let a moan out before he stopped thrusting, tapping his cock against the bumble of nerves once more. He leaned in, capturing your earlobe before nibbling on it.

“...It matters to me too. You don’t think I will also be hurt serving a woman married to the man I love? Do what you must. Burn it into my skin and thoughts,” you whispered. “Let my body, mind, and soul know the only person Ayato Kamisato loved was me.”

With a grunt, Ayato sank his cock inside of you. His cock dragged itself against your walls, plunging himself deeper. The waters rippled to his pace across the pool, as the sound of slapping skin was hidden against the sloshing of waves.

He fought the urge to bury his teeth in your neck, feeling your velvety walls massaging this cock—lulling him to plunge as far as he could inside of you. His upper half pressed tightly against your back, leaning your torso down and pinned against the edge of the pool.  

Feeling as though he could go deeper inside of you with this new position, his pace increased as your body swayed helplessly to the rhyme. Ayato’s lips pressed against your neck, trailing quick and soft kisses. His hands wandered throughout your body too, moving up to admire your legs, squeezing against the globe of your ass and sliding across the curves of your side.

It was like his soft touch was trying to memorize any bit of your body he could. A mole or freckle on your back? His tongue lapped at it. A birthmark or discoloration? He peppered kisses across it. A hickey he made? He’d be sure to slightly pinch at the bruised sensitive skin. 

“You don’t know how much I wanted to do that…” he groaned. His hands soon make their way up, hovering above your own slayed out on the side of the pool, weaving his fingers against yours as he pressed against you tighter. His cock drilled itself inside of you, hips bucking widely as his rhythm began to falter. 

He sucked a sharp breath, feeling your walls clamp down urging him to continue rutting inside of you until he spilled every last drop. Your own fingers soon found themselves, rubbing tight circles against your clit, walls fluttering more as you began to ascend. As your voice rose in octave—reaching your second high of the night— Ayato’s face tensed up as you grew tighter and tighter. 

“Fuck…” he grunted, in frustration. He quickly slid out, cock twitching in desperation. He turned you around, pulling you to a passionate and needy kiss. You could still taste the bitter sake on his tongue from dinner. His cock pressed against your tongue, heavy and throbbing and in need of release.

“I wish I could spill myself inside of you, but I can’t risk it no matter how desperate I am to,” he grunted as your lips parted and the two of you caught your breath. Ayato stood up again and your gaze finally looked past his V-line. A small pale blue happy trail greeted you, along with his cock. The member twitched as if it had a mind of its own, flushed in a slight pink hue from the heat and your earlier activities. 

It was longer but thinner than you expected—a hidden mole decorating it. You recalled the one along with his upper thigh, one on his face, and one on his back. You never would’ve guessed he had one there too. 

Noting your gaze, Ayato grabbed onto his cock, pressing his thumb against the tip showing precum beginning to bud and dribble out. His tight grip slid against his length, hips buckling as he began to moan once more.

“Open your mouth,” he breathlessly asked. You swam closer to him, opening your mouth while he pressed his tip against your tongue. You could taste the saltiness, watching his cock twitch as he jerked his cock faster. With a loud moan of your name, Ayato’s half-lidded eyes admired as ropes of his thick cum began to pool on your tongue as you struggled to gather all the spurted out.

He bit the inside of his cheek before combing his hand through his wet hair, clinging to his forehead, and taking deep breaths.

“Now…swallow for me…” he groaned. You saw the smirk creep on his face as he watched your throat bobbed, savoring every drop he gave you. With a relieving sigh, Ayato’s face quickly softened, leaning down and capturing your lips once more. He rested his body against the side of the pool as you leaned against his chest.

His arms wrapped around your form, looking down at you briefly before gazing at the moonlit sky.

“Let’s hope the Gods grant us a never-ending night before we have to wake up and pretend to forget this.”

[tolkienmatters]

Day is ended, dim my eyes, but journey long before me lies. Farewell, friends! I hear the call. The ship's beside the stony wall. Foam is white and waves are grey; beyond the sunset leads my way. Foam is salt, the wind is free; I hear the rising of the Sea.

Farewell, friends! The sails are set, the wind is east, the moorings fret. Shadows long before me lie, beneath the ever-bending sky, but islands lie behind the Sun that I shall raise ere all is done; lands there are to west of West, where night is quiet and sleep is rest.

Guided by the Lonely Star, beyond the utmost harbour-bar I'll find the havens fair and free, and beaches of the Starlit Sea. Ship, my ship! I seek the West, and fields and mountains ever blest. Farewell to Middle-Earth at last. I see the Star above your mast!

Bilbo's Last Song (at the Grey Havens). The poem was written after the books' publication, and given (through copyright) to Joy Hill, his secretary, as a thank you;

Dear Joy,

I have appended the following note to the copy of Bilbo's Last Song (at the Grey Havens) which I retain.

A copy of this poem was presented to Miss M. Joy Hill on September 3, 1970, and also the ownership of the copyright of this poem, with the intention that she should have the right to publish it, or to dispose of the copyright, as she might wish to do, at any time after my death. This was a free gift as a token of gratitude for her work on my behalf.

J.R.R. Tolkien

Letter to Joy Hill (28 October 1971), Christina Scull and Wayne G. Hammond (2006), The J.R.R. Tolkien Companion and Guide: I. Chronology, p. 757

[boundinparchment]

Dream a Little Dream of Me - XLVI

Celestia had a cruel sense of humor. He knew this, even before his days as a student. But to be given a soulmate? Now, when he openly blasphemed against the cursed island in the sky? He would outlive you and the dreadful fated bond that haunted your shared dreams. There was little point in this. He could at least put a Vision to good use. People were nothing but disappointments. He had no use for you. Until you pulled the bow across your instrument and awoke a part of him long buried by self-hatred and arrogance. Soulmate AU; Il Dottore/Female reader w/ established personality and backstory. Slow burn. Lore and world speculation and interpretation within; follows canon story where possible. Rated Mature. Rating subject to change. Mind the tags. On AO3 here.

A week was a generous window of time; in fact, it was an overestimation for a zealous designer hired to do interior work for a Fatui Harbinger. They arrived within a few days, during which you played before bed and Zandik taught you the difference between coffee brewed in Sumeru and Fontaine. He much preferred the later; your nation's palette ran far too sweet, even for him.

Zandik's obscured gaze lingered during the initial introductions in much the same way it had on you back in the House of Daena. Luckily, or unluckily, the designer's nerves were made of stronger stuff, and it was clear they spent their time dealing with precise and demanding clients. They were unbothered, both by Zandik's stare and about the fact they were speaking to a Fatui Harbinger and their presumed life-partner.

A certain level of discretion was respectable. However, you knew precisely what being in their position meant. The right things to say, not revealing too much on one’s face, timing everything just so. No one was ever certain of your true personage and everyone was happier for the work done. Information that spread from both parties as a result was a given.

The hair on the back of your neck stood up a little at the designer's passing remark about Lord Pantalone's generosity on their retainer.

"Pantalone knows who is worth the time and mora. I trust you’ll find a way to meet the needs outlined,” Zandik remarked. “Lest you disappoint him.”

The designer’s smile was stiffer but otherwise professional, even when Zandik parted and left you in the sudden silence of your shared apartments.

The space you slept in reminded you of the tiny graveyards dotting the Fontaine countryside. Pretty, in only the way a romantic notion of death allowed, time and effort and money spent on a space never seen by those who occupied it. In another life, you might have been offended that Zandik cared so little for where he slept. It was evident he valued your comfort though and what better expertise was there when Zandik held no opinion on the matter?

You led the designer through the biggest changes, namely the bedroom, right down to the thread count on the sheets and the arrangement of the furniture. New textures, patterns, wallpaper. Such a practice was common in Fontaine, especially in second or even third marriages. You didn’t care if the designer thought your initial focus on the most intimate space was strange; even if they said nothing to allude to such thoughts, their stiffness did not melt. Perhaps they held the idea that the Second Harbinger was more machine than man, a rumor that circulated less now that you were seen with him.

If your memories were fixed, changing the bedroom wouldn't matter anyway, but you would always carry the contrary knowledge, as would the walls. Spaces held memories, too.

The sitting area was next. You needed a workspace, at least a private one, and a spot by the windows afforded not only the best light but the best view of the mountains and beyond. The peaks here were nothing like the peaks in Fontaine. These were eternally snow-capped and jagged, like the teeth of a dragon, it's maw wide open with the Palace and surrounding town in the center, waiting to be swallowed.

A tale for children, Zandik had said without explanation when you first came to the land; now you knew how true that statement really was.

As you spoke, the designer suggested, and with a few quick sketches, you understood immediately why Lord Pantalone chose them specifically. From their sketch, you could only surmise that they intended to re-arrange the sitting area in the center of the room. Even back in the dreamscape, that space always seemed so insular. You could imagine Zandik with multiple Segments sitting, all being able to face one another and look over plans, never letting anyone else into the fold.

Cold and off-putting.

Exactly what you didn't want for either of you.

"A sofa this way, across from the fireplace and a table in front of it, creates a cozy space that separates itself without being too closed off. Right now, it's more of a conversation pit but there's no warmth. Might be able to flank the coffee table with armchairs if that's a must…but what to do with…"

You were shown swatches of fabric and examples of wood finishes but visualizing space was not your forte, you admitted.

Apparently, that was the best thing to say because they were immediate in rearranging the pre-existing furniture with gusto. Soon enough, you found yourself sitting on one of the sofas, maintained but worn, the low table in front of you, staring at the grate in front of the vacant fireplace.

The idea was tempting. You could imagine Zandik sprawled out in front of the fire, his head in your lap, as it had been once upon a time. That had felt so real back then. You could only wonder how such an arrangement might feel now, tangible and warm. The familiar yearning ache flared in your chest, radiating outward into your arms and down to your feet.

Somehow, parts of this were worse now that you were near one another, and yet your mind was all the clearer for it.

You turned your head towards the awaiting designer as you said, "It's perfect."

Through sheer proximity and time together, small intimate details showed themselves to both of you, as natural as breathing.

That was not to say that everything was perfect.

You overheard the way he spoke harshly to subordinates and threw daggers (proverbial and otherwise) at anyone who wasted his time. It set you on edge and scratched at the parts of your mind you wished Omega had touched. You withdrew just as Zandik caught himself, the damage done, your body present but your mind back in Fontaine. You set your mind free again with the familiar weight of your cello bow in your hands and the notes reverberated through your very being until you felt grounded again.

As of late, you had yet to hear him do more than sigh harshly through his nose. Instead, he asked about a particular detail in your composition from a previous night to distract himself from others' failures.

And Zandik, despite the freedom from his hivemind, thought himself into circles to the point where he wound himself so tight, he couldn't even sit. You caught him on occasion checking his pulse at his wrist and frowning, annoyed at the lack of control. Despite all of his own work, he couldn't discern whether he enjoyed the way you smiled because he was meant to or because you were, in fact, such a fascinating spark in his life.

It only took a few strokes of his hair to melt the unease away just long enough to get him to bed. He didn't have to sleep, you told him, but it wouldn't kill him to rest.

Enough common ground existed that you always came back into orbit of one another.

It would never be perfect.

Soulmates were never intended to be. Some had it easier than others but even then, every relationship needed work.

And neither of you were strangers to dedicating yourself to work.

You trekked down in the depths of the Palace some days after the designer's first meeting, intent on using some of the space to practice your claymore techniques using the baton with little fear of damaging anything irreplaceable. The large and open chamber that housed a half-assembled Ruin machine would do just fine; the high ceiling and open space allowed you to test the range of your motions.

Soon enough, not even the laboratories would be a sanctuary for you, not without additional precautions. Zandik's other assistants, the ones that worked beneath the Segments, had not yet returned to their assignments; that would change within the next few days. Progress had halted long enough. Plans were in motion and the remaining parts needed to be ready.

You were reminded of it as soon as you stepped foot into the workspace. Prototypes mid-construction were spread out, their blueprints on a nearby board with various notes to pinned to the main schematic. These were projects in a pipeline, years in the making and finally being brought out of theory and into trial. It was impossible to misconstrue their purpose.

And Natlan was as unstable as ever.

Retreating to a workspace far away from any current project, you called the baton and your claymore with ease, both appearing like loyal hounds at a whistle while the Meks shuddered to life at your presence. A touch of home that Zandik programmed for you. You could feel the Arkhe energy pulsing faintly, not unlike the way air tasted before a thunderstorm.

With enough practice, the weighty and unwieldy sensation was gone and you learned to control the force with minute changes in both the speed and distance you waved the receiver. Now it was a matter of hand-eye coordination to hit your targets continuously when you were no longer up close and personal in combat.

To your surprise, the diamond blades created by your Vision appeared without much prompting other than a call on your Geo resonance. They worked with the motion of the baton, crashing down like the sword dangling over a courier in an old fable who traded places with his king for a single day.

The release of Geo energy did wonders for your mood and your mind as much as playing did as of late. You still could not dream but you were far from being as disconnected as you once felt.

That counted for something.

You slammed your claymore down with a flourish, crushing the last of the Meks, Pneuma and Ousia energy cores sputtering and failing.

With the weapon in your hands, such a fight would have left you winded and struggling to retain your grip on the weapon, muscles and tendons screaming. You still exerted yourself but without the weight and momentum of the claymore to contend with, it was easier to focus on finding patterns to exploit.

"Better," Zandik called from behind you. "Much better control. How do your hands feel?"

You turned and vanished the baton with a flick of your wrist, smiling and wiggling your fingers in response.

"Nothing's locked up so far. We'll see after a longer rehearsal, though."

A slight frown tugged at his lips, gone before you could inquire further. He was, for a rare change of pace, dressed in gray slacks, with a white shirt open at the collar with a gray waistcoat to match. If you were attending a spring wedding in the hills of your homeland, he wouldn't look too out of place. Without the metallic bird on his shoulder, he seemed to hold himself even taller, if such a thing were possible.

"I might have to increase their aggression if you're going to wipe them out so quickly," Zandik teased with a smirk. "Considering you couldn't even summon your weapon not that long ago. If you're finished, I wish to discuss something with you concerning your memories. I believe I have a solution."

A solution? As you walked with him back to the office you once wandered through, you wracked your brain, your heart still pounding and breathing heavy from the fight. The last you spoke of such a thing was the first night in Snezhnaya. Reversing the tangles that Omega created was an eventual goal, you assumed, based on that conversation. One that might be obtainable when Zandik found his feet again as a single consciousness and returned to his station properly.

Part of you hoped you never had to undergo such an experience again.

Safely in the confines of the office, your eyes fell on a jar of an organ, its label illegible, before you looked at Zandik through your face covering. His mask remained in place, his hands occupying themselves with the various piles of notes and trinkets on the desk. He paused, finding what he was looking for and tucked it into his pocket before rounding the furniture to lean against it, facing you, hands on either side of him for a moment.

"I thought we agreed to give it time," you said, tone mild. "That everything might sort itself out."

Zandik dipped his head in a gesture you knew as slight agreement before he turned a point on its head and spun it like a top for a new angle. He tucked his hands into his pockets and continued.

"Time was allotted with minimal results. Your nightmares are indicative that, to some degree, your mind understands the falsehoods but cannot repress them entirely nor bring itself to let them go so the proper ones can surface."

"It's not as if we've tried to actively stimulate my real memories, Zandik. Not truly."

It came out a little harsher than you intended and carried the weight of the last couple of months since the discussion on the terraces of the Divine Tree. You watched as Zandik's lips grew into a thin line and the muscle in his jaw twitched as he clenched his teeth.

Arms crossed, you pulled your gaze away from him and took in the way the pyro lamps burned and danced to a pattern of their own making. They were bright enough to work by but never contained the true brightness of the sun.

That you weren't able to rearrange the webs and put everything back together naturally, without interference, wasn't your fault but it wasn't his, either. Going back to Fontaine wasn’t an option, or at least not one that didn’t come with more problems than it was worth.

Tackling this earlier was an impossibility when he was still processing his own death, metaphorical though it was.

"Of all people, I know how difficult it is to let go when you don't have the means nor the bandwidth."

If you were anyone else, he would have spat the sentiment with venom; instead, he sounded tired, bored even, as if the words were a given you should know by now.

"That wasn't fair, I'm sorry," you conceded, setting aside your mask and opening your arms again. "The time we've had needed to be used on more pressing issues and who's to say if we did try to provoke my memories that it would have worked?"

"Music is a powerful catalyst in driving unconscious memories forward, after all." He shook his head and then waved his hand causally. "You cannot tell me you've been able to bring anything to your waking mind from playing as of late. You do not likely have a proper reference point to try to match and so you cannot know what to play to try and awaken those memories. All you have are whatever untruths Omega painted like an artist reusing canvas, and if I offer alternatives to what you could have been doing, I am imposing a bias."

You inhaled slowly and took one hand in another, rubbing your usual sore spots to soothe your own frustrations. It was all you could do. Anything else required too much attention and you wanted to know what he had to say.

Instead of speaking, Zandik unclipped his face cover, set it on the desk behind him, and pulled what appeared to be a red star from his pocket.

A Segment's Ruin core, permanently marred with the data and memories of its owner.

He destroyed all them though, hadn't he?

Your heart sank slightly as you schooled your expression. He had reasoning, he always did. Even if it didn't necessarily aligned with your view.

His demeanor fell when recognition crossed your face but he held out his hand anyway, the core resting in his palm. You crossed the room and took it. Turning it over in your hand, you immediately noticed the symbol that marked the Segment. How could he possibly have kept…

"Omega was the only one in the entire network who held extensive knowledge of the memory grafting. I reviewed what's left on the Core—long before you shook me from my stupor—and I believe there's a way to reverse engineer the process," Zandik began.

Hands cupped yours and traced your returning callouses the way one traced a pen mark they admired or a soothing fabric.

"Your memories are the last remnant of my Segments. You carry your own version of events, ones that didn't happen, that Omega saw fit to weave. I spent many, many years using any and all means to get to desirable results; I won't bore you with such details. Regret doesn't come into the equation but as I said back in Sumeru, and as I reminded you, I needed the knowledge first. Now I have it."

"Reverse engineering would require me to undergo the same process, would it not?" you asked, flicking your gaze up to meet his eyes. "Attach me to an Akasha network, push me into my own mind?"

"More than likely. Omega was thorough in his notes on the Samsara Cycle and it was easy enough to navigate the machines and network when I found you the first time. I believe this course of action is for the best. For both of us. You should be able to dream again and the remnants of my past will cease to haunt."

After a beat, you asked "Worst case scenario?"

If you went into this idea know how bad it could possibly get, you could at least be prepared. Before, such a thought never would have crossed your mind; it certainly didn't when you were asked if you wanted to seek private patronage nor when you walked with Omega under the impression the Segment was Zandik. Foolish, really, considering what you learned about those in power in need of more.

"Omega couldn't sever our connection, although he tried," he said at last. "He wasn't your proper soulmate. It is unclear if…pruning the memories and their branches will affect more than just those memories. If removing part of myself will remove the whole. He simply laid himself on top of pre-existing memories…this may have far more ramifications."

Zandik was quiet but his hands never left yours. For a moment, you were back to damp grass and bright stars, investigative touches trying to understand what instrument you played.

"If I am to be done with my past selves, I must remove these lies from your mind," Zandik said evenly. "I believe the risk is worth it."

Risk. Such a tiny word for the gravity with which it pulled on your heart. The very thing Omega set up to complete was still a possibility despite the Segment being nothing more than ash (or mostly ash). He just never took the next step, a step that was simply pulling at a loose thread to unravel the whole.

You were about to pull your hands away and return the Core to him when Zandik's fingers tightened around yours, silently begging you to stay. He looked down at your joined hands as he sighed, squeezed yours lightly, and then looked at you again.

His eyes almost burned as he looked at you, expressive in ways that only the finest minute movements allowed; before you, he stood resolute, determined, and you could understand how even the most desperate souls clinging to their last moments of life might believe he had the answer. It was easy to mistake it for charisma, for arrogance, and easier still for it to have twisted into such things.

"I do not promise anything when it comes to my work; they're nothing more than lies wrapped up with a bow and I deal only in truths," Zandik whispered. "Should that happen, it changes nothing."

It changed everything, you wanted to scream. He would finally be able to get what he wanted, free himself from one Celestial shackle, done with the circular logic of trying to make predestination make sense amid all his own work.

Omega would win.

And you would be left hollow. Again. Left with nothing but memories of what used to be possible, of the connections ripped from you, choice truly taken from you. Either way, you lost and you didn't work for close to two decades only to…

"How would it not—" you started, the words stuck in your throat like thick porridge.

"Nothing, rooh 'albi. And no one will take that choice from me. No one."

Even from across the frozen training ground, weeks later that now marked your stay in Snezhnaya at two months, you could still feel the adamant resolution in subtle waves. Your foe this time was no Mek but a suit of corroded armor brought back from the depths of a rift in the ice further north, beyond the Cryo Dragon's resting ground. The bitter cold bit through your lined pants and warm coat, your cloak held in the crook of Zandik's arm as you pressed the soldier harder.

Sunlight reflected off the snow and made everything brighter; you were thankful your mask cut down on the glare.

You pinned the joints of the armor down with two diamond blades, Geo energy pulsing in waves as you sent a third through the seam between the body and the helmet. With a gesture for releasing a note, you waved the baton in a small circle while pinching your forefinger and thumb of your other hand together, following the motion in perfect sync. Your claymore gave a final whistling note as it cut through the air and stabbed through metal and corroded flesh.

It protested still, determined to get back on its feet despite your attempts to subdue.

Over your shoulder, you heard a familiar high-pitched whine before a glowing Cryo needle whizzed past your ear and hit its target. The soldier in starlight armor fell still, finally, its weapon turning dark as the remnants of life faded.

"One day, I'll be good enough to face you properly," you said with a smile when you approached Zandik as he finished up his notes.

Before you could retrieve your cloak, Zandik draped the thick fabric around your shoulders with practiced ease. He was either uncaring or oblivious regarding onlookers and that suited you just fine. People would talk; avoiding it would only cause more suspicion and both of you were growing tired of hiding like schoolchildren.

He opened his mouth as he smoothed out your cloak's lining and you nearly jumped when you heard another voice in his stead.

"Be careful, maestra. Our Doctor never turns down a challenge and he seldom loses."

Both of you turned your heads to find Lord Pantalone standing just at the bottom of the footpath, an accompanying Agent several steps behind, bowing low at the waist. Zandik's hand grazed your jaw as he pulled away and warm air puffed out in a cloud from his nose at the interruption. You were, for once, thankful for the cold and the fight; both burned your cheeks and hid any flush across your skin.

At least it was Pantalone, you tried to rationalize, but even the most well-behaved dogs still had teeth.

"What brings you down from your lofty office, Regrator?" Zandik drawled, tilting his head slightly.

"I take it then the Tsaritsa's couriers had as much trouble finding you as I did." Pantalone replied, his tone light.

The other Harbinger's cloak was open just enough to allow him the freedom to use his hands. He steepled his fingers together but pointed them in Zandik's general direction as he smiled, golden eyes hidden, his expression congenial.

"The Knave and Marionette returned successful from Fontaine; the Jester sends his orders for an audience with the Tsaritsa."

Zandik pulled his shoulders back, his back already straight.

"And he sent you to fetch me?"

"I thought it prudent to save him the trouble."

"You think it prudent to save the Tsaritsa an entire vault of mora but he has yet to determine if you're worthy of a higher seat. Perhaps it's time to change your strategy, Regrator."

Zandik pushed a breath through his nose, another puff of warm air escaping him the way smoke lingered in taverns in the lower reaches of the Court of Fontaine. He pulled in his arms into his cloak and made to walk ahead of the other Harbinger, his strides murderous as his cloak's hem whispered against the snow.

Pantalone turned and then stopped as you stepped to follow, at least up to the Palace. You watched as his smile grew wider and you caught a hint of gold as he looked at you. Mora was never an apt comparison you realized; his gaze was as threatening as the glimpse of a bullet in a chamber, a Duelist's final weapon ready to be drawn.

"No. Not you, maestra," Pantalone's tone was sickeningly sweet, patronizing, and your stomach burned.

He nodded to the Agent, who stepped forward and bowed to you, standing only when his Harbinger gestured to do so. The distinct unspoken air of disdain you were keenly familiar reared its head as you debated, for a moment, playing into it. You hadn't missed this nonsense, toeing the line and watching both tone and words, wondering just what step led to the path of least resistance.

"I wish to have a word with my colleague. You can take the scenic route back to the Palace. Anatoly here is quite competent in providing additional security in the Doctor's absence."

You turned your gaze up to Zandik, who had since stopped and turned back, mouth set into a frown. Other than the initial meeting in his lab, you hadn't told him about Pantalone's visit while he was disassembling the Segments. That was your battle to fight first; after all, you couldn't always rely on him.

But here, he was the one with the most authority. And the Ninth knew that, too.

"Whatever you have to say can be said openly, Pantalone."

The Ninth never looked back at Zandik, his sharp gaze trained on you. "No, I don't believe it can. Do you think me such a poor friend that I would discuss private matters as one discusses the weather?"

You smiled politely and even deigned to cross one leg behind another and give the closest gesture to a curtsy you could in a heavy cloak and pants.

"I do not wish to come between you. And your work is imperative; the Tsaritsa's Will must come first." You turned your obscured gaze to Zandik and said, "Send word if you will be further delayed but otherwise you know where I'll be, my Lord Harbinger."

Not like you went anywhere else other than the Tsaritsa's music room or your quarters anyway. The latter was probably a safer option, stifling though the notion felt.

Zandik inclined his head slightly but said nothing, instead turning around and continuing up the hill. Pantalone's smile faltered for a split second, an expression between disgust and admiration dancing across his face before he, too, turned and made his way back to the Palace.

You sought another path back up to the Palace, the Agent's footsteps never far behind as a bud of dread bloomed in your chest, invading all it could.

[hometoursandotherstuff]

Amazing 1894 townhouse is Chicago, Illinois has been on the market over a year. I would imagine it’s b/c not many people have the $7.850M price. It has 6bd & 7ba. Let’s take a peek.

There’s a long side hall entrance. I’m wondering if there were pocket doors here that were removed and sealed.

There is no fancy staircase, and I can’t tell if they added these walls or if it was always like this. 

Remodeled sitting room retains the original molding, but it looks like a wall was taken down to enlarge it. Painted pure white gives it a very modern look. 

The 2nd sitting room has a lovely original marble fireplace. 

And, here is a huge banquet sized dining room. 

This hall as large as a room. 

If it wasn’t for the contrasting dark wood island, this kitchen would make me snowblind.

This interesting- a sink in a hall nook, although the sink and mirror are beautiful. 

Another sitting room with doors to the garden.

This is crazy. How many sitting rooms does one need? 

Here’s a kitchenette/bar for entertaining in all the sitting rooms. 

I’m going to say that this original staircase and railing probably extended down to the entrance hall at one time.

The main bd is large enough for a sitting area b/c there aren’t enough in the house.

Very nice closet/dressing room. 

Another lovely bd and bath. Clever, how the made wide shelves out of the radiator covers. 

This is an attractive bd.

Love this vintage bath. 

The 3rd level landing. 

Tired of sitting rooms, I’m calling this a den.

Newly finished basement with a kitchenette.

Surprised that the garden is so large. It’s beautiful. 

Beautiful roof top deck.

https://www.redfin.com/IL/Chicago/1521-N-State-Pkwy-60610/home/14125985

[weirdowithaquill]

Traintober 2023: Day 17 - Holiday

How Sudrian Tourism has Evolved:

Sodor has changed majorly thanks to the publication of the Railway Series and the subsequent Television Series, both of which propelled the island and its railways from being just another part of the UK into a tourism juggernaut. But the fact of the matter is that Sodor did not immediately transform from being an insignificant island on the coast of Cumbria to one of the most popular tourist destinations in the United Kingdom overnight – so how did it all change?

To understand, we must go back to the 1500s, and the Protestant Reformation in England. At the time, Sodor was part of the English Crown – but far looser than its Irish and Welsh neighbours. Due to its small size, rough terrain and low population, King Henry VIII was far less interested in confiscating Catholic land on the island than its surrounding areas. This was in part due to the both Sir Geoffrey Regaby and Bishop Michael Colden, who managed to guide Sodor away from the Lincolnshire Rising and the Pilgrimage of Grace. Due to their remote location and general poverty, Thomas Cromwell never visited Sodor, and Cronk Abbey was never closed. For its part, St Luoc’s Cathedral at Suddery was ‘converted’ to a Protestant Cathedral in 1537, but continued holding Catholic mass. This was done by holding the two religious ceremonies one after the other.

As Sodor was now one of the few parts of the British Isles that had a Catholic church and direct line to the Papacy in Rome, it became an ‘underground’ tourist destination as a new British site of pilgrimage, frequented by Catholics looking to attend mass at the Suddery Cathedral. In return for continuing these ceremonies, Sudrians became more devout to the crown – in particular to Queen Elizabeth I, and by 1603 the Catholic mass had been all but forgotten. This did not end the attractiveness of Sodor as a religious destination, due to the caves of Saint Machan and several other holy sites that litter the island; the numbers were not large, but they did lead to a number of important connections, especially with Ireland, the Isle of Man and English ports.

The next phase of Sudrian tourism came in the 1860s, when the Skarloey Railway found the long-forgotten Skarloey lake and hidden hollow. Rather than explain it, I think I’ll just use the description that the Reverend Wilbert Awdry did:

“Spas were popular at the period and offered the possibility of a lucrative passenger business. Skarloey’s mineral springs and sheltered situation took hold on the minds of some members of the Board, among them Shamus Tebroc who conceived the idea of developing Skarloey as a spa. An hotel and a number of villas were built as a speculation, and the gravity worked incline which had been installed for the conveyance of materials was retained and up-graded for coals, merchandise, and passengers’ luggage.”

Skarloey became the first of the Island of Sodor’s tourist hotspots, especially due to its proximity to Culdee Fell and Saint Machan’s cave. The popularity of the spas was good for a time, but began to fall off as the bad fortunes of the Sodor & Mainland Railway continuously hurt the Skarloey Railway’s tourism campaign with delayed and cancelled trains, ratty carriages and even standoffish staff. This led to Skarloey becoming a local holiday destination instead, but even that began to slow down as WWII loomed.

On the other side of the island, the Mid Sodor Railway also began heavily advertising their railway to holidaymakers across the UK, but to a somewhat better result. The Isle of Man Steam Packet contract the railway picked up led to a large influx of tourists across the late 1800s and early 1900s, up until the 1920s. The railway’s ability to reach the walled city of Peel Godred and the cave of Saint Machan (via the Culdee Fell Railway) made it a very attractive destination for tourists, though this would change at the end of WWI.

The advent of relatively cheap international travel via ferries in the 1920s did a lot of damage to Sodor’s tourism economy, as their major markets in England preferred to travel to either the Continent or the Lake District – or even as far afield as the United States. Sodor instead switched to being primarily an agricultural and resource-extraction economy, with some manufacturing. This continued throughout WWII.

Which leads us to May 12th, 1945. The Three Railway Engines was published – in colour – in the UK. It achieved enough success to lead to the continuation of the series in 1946, and again in 1948, and then again continuously until 1972. These twenty-seven years’ worth of publicity for the island and its railways had a massive effect. Skarloey was rediscovered and the budget-conscience holiday maker of the 1960s chose it for its low prices, high quality, and picturesque scenery, turning around the railways needed to reach it. The Culdee Fell Railway also saw an uptick in traffic as the Peel Godred Railway brought in more passengers than the old Mid Sodor Railway had.

Furthermore, tourists came to see the engines, a phenomenon not seen before in the island’s tourism industry. Insignificant towns such as Dryaw, Brendam, Crosby and Glennock became infinitely more popular as the sites of incidents in the Railway Series, or as convenient locations to stay for travelling the island. The biggest success story of the island’s cities was Cronk however. Cronk grew massively from the tourism trade as the most central location on the NWR to reach the various tourist destinations of Sodor – even Awdry takes a moment to mention ‘The Crown of Sodor’ Hotel on Sigmund Street due to its prominence as a hotel on the island.

This large influx of tourists was however of a majorly local source – the UK, parts of continental Europe and a relatively low number from North America. It wasn’t until the advent of cheap international jetplane flights in the mid-1970s and the debut of the TV series on October 9, 1984.

This debut is what changed everything.

The Thomas and Friends Television series was an international success, with translations into a number of languages (eleven by Wikipedia’s count) and broadcast around the globe. This, coupled with the opening of an enlarged airport at Vicarstown (which had been constructed in 1941 by the RAF and expanded by Vickers in the 1960s. The airport itself had been bought by the NWR in 1982 (probably in anticipation of the TV series) and began receiving jetliners from across the world as early as 1986.

Today, Sudrian tourism is one of the largest income producers in northern England due to its international status crafted by the Thomas & Friends series. The island is a popular tourist attraction for both railfans and Thomas fans, as well as religious pilgrims, spa enthusiasts, hikers, ramblers and historians. The airport at Vicarstown has been linked into the NWR via a spur line, and more recently a number of signs on the island have been converted to include secondary and tertiary languages, for better interpretation.

Sodor reached its best numbers for international tourists in 2019, when over 1.5 million people visited the island, making it the third most visited tourist destination within England, beating out Birmingham. The secret to it’s recent further uptick in visitors is the opening of a number of museums, galleries and other cultural sites on the island, as well as a strong advertising campaign that focused on the island’s major tourist draws, which are:

The North Western Railway, Skarloey Railway, Culdee Fell Railway and Arlesdale Railway from the Railway Series book and subsequent Television series

A pre-Norman era Abbey at Cronk, one of the oldest of its kind in Britain

Suddery Cathedral, which continues to be one of the few remaining pre-reformation cathedrals in Britain

Several Norman-era castles, including a completely intact castle at Harwick

The Walled City of Peel Godred

The caves of Saint Machan

Culdee Fell

Henry's Forest National Park

Skarloey and its spas

Museums, galleries, and cultural centres

The Standing Stones of Killdane.

This advertising campaign brought a greater variety of tourists to the island, especially those from North America.

The island was badly affected by the advent of the Coronavirus pandemic, which saw the high tourist numbers of the previous decade prop by over eighty percent, which forced the island to once again consider restructuring their economy around agriculture, manufacturing, and resource extraction. This eventually was decided against, as tourist numbers have slowly picked back up through 2022.

Sodor has been greatly affected by its rise to one of the most prominent tourist destinations in the UK, including a number of hotels being built on the island – many of which are converted manorhouses – as well as several upgrades made to the transport systems of the island, with updated ferry services between the island’s major ports and locations in the UK and Ireland, as well as the railway building a special line to the island’s main airport, new tram and bus services within the major cities on the island. The island’s railway system has also seen upgrades throughout the latter half of the 20th century, including a third track being added to the mainline, new signalling systems and a number of extra connecting services to cities in the UK, such as Manchester, Birmingham, Carlisle and Preston.

Sodor has grown drastically as a result of its tourism industry and is today an international tourism hotspot. The island continues to be popular into the modern day, as a result of strong advertising and a pointed diversification of tourist offerings on the island to help the island’s tourism industry grow and bring in profits for the island’s people.

Back to Master Post

[stonecreationslongisland]

Outdoor Kitchen and Grill - #outdoor #kitchens by Paul Saladino Via Flickr: Deer Park, N.Y 11729 Stone Creations of Long Island Pavers and Masonry specializes in masonry design and outdoor living, serving communities all across Long Island in all aspects of home improvement and repair. From custom brickwork and pavers to asphalt and concrete, Stone Creations of Long Island provides free estimates at your home or business seven days a week. With experienced employees, and a knowledgeable staff, Stone Creations of Long Island knows your home is your greatest investment and choosing the right masonry team to protect and enhance that investment is important. For any inquiries, we look forward to your questions and helping on your next home improvement or commercial project of any scale. Paul Saladino Office (631) 678-6896 Mobile (631) 678-2710 Visit Our Website www.stonecreationsoflongisland.net See our work on You Tube www.youtube.com/user/stonecreationsLI/videos Follow us on Twitter www.twitter.com/stone_creations Check us out on Pinterest www.pinterest.com/stonecreations See Our Work On Houzz www.houzz.com/pro/stonecreationsoflongisland Follow our Updates on www.stonecreationslongisland.tumblr.com Follow us on Wordpress www.stonecreationsoflongislandinc.wordpress.com Like us on Facebook www.facebook.com/stonecreationsoflongisland

[eastlandmasonry]

Environmental Benefits of Masonry Construction Discover the sustainable advantages of masonry construction! Learn how materials like bricks, stones, and concrete offer durability, reduce waste, and support local economies. With superior fire resistance and energy-efficient thermal properties, masonry helps build safer and greener structures. Choose Eastland Masonry for your next eco-friendly project and help preserve the environment for future generations!

[dappersheep]

I was set to clearing all of IS4's endings and seeing as the entries found in Time-Carved Steleforest aren't readily available anywhere, decided I'd share at least my favorite ending. Enjoy!

Part 1: Terra Reborn

Following the scattered fragments in his memories, Mizuki searches for mankind’s last haven.

In these memories, humans have not gone extinct, and one last city remains standing on land.

For a human, going to the human city is a foregone conclusion hardly worth mentioning.

With such thoughts in mind, he walks onto the land, alone.

…

The Seaborn have completely transformed the entire continent.

There is no more Originium, no more barrens.

As far as the eye can see, the entire land has become a verdant expanse, all manner of plants teeming with life. Animals prance across the wilds and soar through the skies in packs, partaking freely of the land’s inexhaustible bounty.

After crossing a stream and climbing a hill, Mizuki feels a tinge of weariness and hunger, so he plucks a few fruits from the plants and pops them straight into his mouth.

The Seaborn have no need to taste their food, but these fruits have clearly retained their original taste. The only difference is, they are even more delicious, and more filling.

Previously, having enough to eat and drink was one of the few pursuits life afforded him; but now, such an ideal can easily be fulfilled by simply extending one’s hand—

Suddenly, he hears a loud rumble in the distance. A mountain range rises from the ground and begins to wander across the land.

The Seaborn’s departure was like a beacon, rousing these ancient progenitors from their slumber. The land to them is both familiar and foreign. They explore the flowers, plants, and trees before them with a mix of suspicion and curiosity.

When the Feranmut vanishes, Mizuki once again sets off on his journey to find the city.

He recalls the way humans identify one another, that they have various convenient and conspicuous ways of drawing borders and forming cohorts.

But even after walking for a long time, Mizuki does not even happen across a single ‘road’.

‘Did I remember wrong?’ He cannot help but to doubt himself, then scratches his head, trying his best to recall his impression of humans over the millenia.

However, apart from the human who brought him into the laboratory and the human he trusted the most, his memory contains only a hazy impression of that city’s towering walls.

Finally, he comes up with a brute-force method.

‘If I can’t find them, then I will have them come to me.’

He builds and lights fires in several prominent places, carves messages of kindness in every human script he can remember, and then climbs a tall mountain where he can see all the fires to await someone to answer his call.

…

Finally, the moment Mizuki was waiting for has come.

A Liberi finds a way to the mountain under the cover of darkness and holds a knife to his neck, asking him questions in a Victorian tongue laced the flavors of many nations.

Most importantly, her ensemble sports a tower-shaped epaulet with a small line of characters engraved on its lowest part.

A name that lingered on the tip of his tongue thousands of times suddenly wells up in Mizuki’s heart:

Rhodes Island.

[screemu-ribbons]

MSM Headcanons - Basics (Part 1/2)

Here we are! I'm gonna start sharing my MSM headcanons topic-by-topic. Let's start with a lil' grab-bag of general ones.

Quick Key:

Information that has been explicitly stated/shown by an official source is marked in green

Information that has been directly implied by an official source is marked in yellow

Ideas that have been adopted/inspired from another person/fanwork is marked in red

1- Most monsters you know about are usually entire species. Exceptions to this are merely individuals (as in, there's only one of each of these monsters), those being The Wubboxes, The Ethereals, The Seasonals, The Mythicals/Dreamythicals, The Legendaries (Werdos, Shugafam), The Wublins and The Celestials.

-- Also notably an Individual is Enchantling; Since only very few of its kind exists at a time, there's usually only one at Magical Sanctum's helm every few hundred years.

2- Monsters are sentient and normally fairly intelligent, even the ones with more animal-like behavior. The least intelligent monsters are still at the same level as a young or below-average human.

3- The Monstro language, Monstrous, has three types: Standard, Werd, and Celestial. Though they are considered one language, and are written the same, all three are drastically different in pronunciation.

--Standard is the "normal", most common kind consisting of melodic growls, chirps, clicks and other vocalizations; aside from the vocal cord-less and those with medical exemptions (for which there is MSL (Monstrous Sign Language)), nearly all educated monsters can speak it easily. Standard Monstrous is somewhat easy to understand for English-speaking humans, once you get the sounds memorized, as it works extremely similarly to the aforementioned language.

--Werd Monstrous is a very unique dialect, sounding nearly identical to humanity's English (with a few differences, like forehead being "bonkbumper"). The odd thing about Werd Monstrous is that most monsters have a tough time speaking it, only able to retain and recite few words and phrases; aside from higher beings, the only ones who can speak it fluently are the elusive Werdos, as long as they're kept properly nourished with Relics.

--The last type of Monstrous, as the name would imply, is said to only be spoken and understood by Celestials. Legends say that, to mortals, it mostly sounds like a series of "Shaba-bum"s and "Rootitoot"s.

4- The "scalps" (as islands are referred to colloquially) are much more expansive than they seem. Monster civilization is surprisingly human-like and advanced, ranging from cozy villages to big cities. The architecture, tech and aesthetics of a given place is based heavily on what island it's atop.

5- The island castle is an ancient tradition that's still kept up to this day. Formerly used as a shared shelter for juvenile monsters, the castle, in recent years, has become a sort of guaranteed home available to any monster who needs it. The interior is like a fancy apartment building, full of cozy rooms on every wall, a communal area on the main floor and a dingy laundromat in the basement. Whenever the population rises sharply in an island, the castle will be delicately expanded to fit more residents. Though private housing is available for those who need it, it's a great option to have.

6- Monstro has a popular fast food chain called "Mawnchie's". It's basically McDonald's in brand recognition and quality, except it has a much more expansive menu, including things like pizza and turkey. Never order the turkey from there. Just don't.

7- Any monster can live on any island; it's just that only a selection of them are accounted for in the composition of the island's song. Monsters that aren't officially included are still welcome to join in, they just might get lost if they aren't great at improvision.

[crimsonbastard]

Now targ stans are arguing the andal and first men were worst and they did colonising first and forced their religion on the rest of the kingdoms 🤣🤣🤣😭😭😭

Hmm let's see.

The First Men were a primitive race that crossed the Arm of Dorne and settled in Westeros, which was mostly occupied by the Children of the Forest. They had their own religion and had their own runic language. They were technologically advanced compared to the Children of the Forest. They wielded Bronze Weapons, Rode on Horseback, and had great leather shields. In the midst of their settlements, they started chopping up the Weirwood Trees which were sacred to the Children of the Forest, which lead to war between both races.

The First Men had their Bronze Weapons, whereas the Children of the Forest had their Magic, Greenseers and Wood Dancers (Warriors of the Children of the Forest) The Children used Dark Magic to flood the Arm of Dorne,which eventually formed the Step Stones.

Tired by the fighting, The First Men and The Children formed a pact in the Isle of Faces that ensured peace between both factions. The Children will get to keep the Forests and the First Men will keep the rest of Westeros and they would stop chopping down the Weirwood Trees. This peace pact lead to Four Thousand Years of Friendship between both factions. Eventually, The First Men took to Worship the Weirwood Trees themselves and began Worshipping the Children's Old Gods too. The Children also taught the First Men on how to use Ravens for long distance communication.

It was until the Long Night and the Coming of the Others (White Walkers) where the First Men and the Children of the Forest had to unite to fight off the threat that threatened their existence. Northern Legends state that the Last Hero, desperately sought the Children of the Forest for aid. The Combined efforts of the First Men and the Children of the Forest and other races, such as the Giants, in what was called The Battle for the Dawn where the Others were driven away and the Wall was erected by the First Men (Brandon the Builder) The Children and Giants to separate the Horrors of the Lands of Always Winter from the rest of Westeros, and the Night's Watch was formed to man the Wall.

Coming to Andals, the reasons for their coming to Westeros varies. Some sources state that they were lead to the land by their religion, The Faith of the Seven, promising them Kingdoms in the foreign land. However, the Maesters believe that the Andals fled Essos to escape the growing pressure of Valyrian Dominion of Essos. Who conquered cities and took slaves.

The Andals were the first new people to arrive after the Pact was made. They were even more technologically advanced, carrying steel weapons and armour. They fought against the Children of the Forest AND their First Men allies. The Andals slaughtered the Children of the Forest and chopped down their Weirwood Trees, believing them to be abominations.

The Andals were a conquering people, but they were greatly outnumbered by the First Men of Westeros. In order to consolidate their control, the Andal warlords and kings often married the wives and daughters of the defeated First Men kings. Although most of the First Men eventually converted to the Faith of the Seven, godswoods with heart trees were retained in many castles to prevent religious wars. An exception to the spread of the Faith is the Iron Islands, where the native worship of the Drowned God was adopted by the invading Andals.

The Andals introduced writing, as before that time the First Men only used runes for carving on stone. Everything since written about the Age of Heroes, the Dawn Age, and the Long Night originates from stories written down by septons. The Andals also introduced weapons of steel. Knighthood and chivalry spread through most of Westeros, especially in the Reach.

Eventually, through Centuries of Intermarriage, most of the Inhabitants of Westeros weren't Pure Andal or First Men, excluding the North, which successfully repelled every Andal Invasion, thanks to the Kings of Winter, House Stark.

However the only downside was the Dwindling Populations of the Children of the Forest, who almost completely got wiped out because of the War. They had to retreat back to far north and beyond the wall where they hide.

House Targaryen already had an entire Island for their own. They had Dragonstone. They could peacefully live out their days in Dragonstone, but they didn't. They Literally see themselves as Demi Gods ("The Targaryens are closer to Gods than most men") because they could control Dragons. Beasts that they tamed through centuries of Dark Magic and Blood Sacrifice and Inbreeding. They belonged to a civilization that thrived on Slavery. They forced their slaves to work in Volcanic Mines until they burnt to death, just so that they can have their precious ores. They performed horrific experiments on their slaves, sewed animal parts into them and turned them into Chimeras.

Instead of learning their lesson which was the Doom of their Ancestral land, Old Valyria, they got greedy and they had to Raze an entire continent to the ground and subjugate other houses because of their "God Complex".

A few petty wars between Squabbling Houses is no way comparable to the wroth that the Targaryen unleashed on Westeros.