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oneiriad · 5 years ago

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Role Reversal AU - how would the story of Lan Wangji, Yiling Patriarch, and Wei Wuxian, the Twin Hero of Yunmeng, go?

He remembers their laughter, as they cast him down - a broken doll, then, a toy cast aside for other amusements.

What use was the young Master of a sect that had already burned?

“Why?” he plays, Wangji’s chords thrumming with light. “Why did you not simply kill me?”

“ Wang Lingjiao was a superstitious sort. She was convinced that a Lan, with your white robes and your Inquiry, that if a Lan really wanted to, he could come back as a vengeful ghost.”

He removes his hands from the quqin, letting the tune fade without the melody that will calm and send the summoned soul away. Instead he holds out a hand, palm up, and the sparkling light lands in the center.

Trembles.

He lifts his hand to his mouth and swallows the soul back down.

He imagines he can hear it screaming.

He sighs and puts aside his instrument, rises from where he’s been kneeling. It’s almost time for supper and if he does not show himself, Wei Ying will seek him out unbid, dragging him off with shameless comments of being able to count his ribs even through his robes.

Lotus Pier is never quite as still as the Cloud Recesses, but it is what he has now. He can’t go home. The elders, they...

They called his cultivation demonic. They had looked at the light he’d brought, the souls he could call forth to fight for their cause, and at the end of the Sunshot Campaign they had turned their backs on him.

Demon, they had not said outright.

The Jiang Sect had granted him sanctuary, for all his unorthodoxy. They saw their own share of darkness during the war, made their own bargains - perhaps not as soul deep as his, he thinks, but still.

They had seen their share of darkness.

And they had claimed a debt of gratitude to him for letting them kill Wen Chao and his people. For leading them straight to them.

He hasn’t told them that he kept the pair of them. It doesn’t matter.

“Lan Zhan!” Wei Ying calls, waving as if this was a restaurant and there was any other table but the one set for four to settle at.

Ridiculous.

He sits, nods his thanks to Wen Ning as the man places a bowl of Buddha’s delight in front of him before hurrying off to fetch wine for the Jiangs and for Wei Ying, and tea for Lan Wangji.

He has heard talk of the Wen remnants, just the other day as he was visiting the Yunmeng market looking for new caligraphy brushes. A couple of travelling merchants had been buying their lunch from a food stall, and had commented on the sight of a couple of the Wens - easily recognized by their leather collars - buying vegetables for Lotus Pier.

“It’s hard to believe the Jiang Sect just lets those Wen dogs walk around among regular folk,” one of the merchants had commented. “The Jin have sensibly put their quarter to work on building projects, and I hear the Nie have made swine herders of their lot. But the Jiang? Are they mad?”

“Oh, our Wens are quite tame,” the stall owner had reassured them. “Sandu Shengshou has tamed them well, and if any of them were to act up, why - he has the whip Zidian.”

The merchants had nodded, then the woman at the next stall had added her voice: “Why, I’ve heard that these Wens are so well and truly broken, that one of them - a proper young Master, supposedly - has been put to work as the clan’s personal cook - and they don’t even bother with a food taster! Why, I’ve heard,” at which point she’d leaned forward, to share even more delicious gossip, except that’s when she’d caught a glimpse of him, had paled and hurriedly bowed in his direction, while the others scurried off.

“Lan Wangji,” Jiang Yanli interrupts his memories. “Is something wrong with your stew?”

“No,” and to prove it he picks up a large mushroom with his chopsticks. Wen Ning is an excellent cook, and he never complains about having to cook entirely separate dishes for Lan Wangji.

Around him, the siblings start their chattering, as unaccustomed to silent meals as he is to talking through them. They wait until his bowl is empty and he has finished the freshly peeled lotus seed pods that Wei Ying keeps putting in a bowl in front of him, before they ask him.

“I will be sending a letter to Koi Tower tomorrow,” Jiang Wanyin says, leaning back in his seat, “letting them know how many and who to expect for the Hunt. Shall I let them know the Yiling Laozu will be joining the Jiang contingent?”

When he hesitates, Wei Ying opens his mouth: “You’ll come, won’t you, Lan Zhan? I’ll need someone properly skilled to compete against.”

“You would not have to compete if you do not wish to,” Jiang Yanli firmly interrupts her shidi, ever considerate where he can be thoughtless. “I expect I will need a chaperone while my brothers are hunting fierce corpses and yao all over the Phoenix Mountain.”

He considers.

If he goes with the Jiang Sect to such a major event for all the sects, that will be a statement. To walk among the other sects dressed in Yunmeng purple with the clarity bell, which Wei Ying had smilingly presented to him the day after he had arrived at Lotus Pier to stay, dangling from his belt.

A statement to the Lan sect and to the brother he misses so.

A statement that the demon has found a home that will have him, unorthodoxy and all.

He considers, then nods.

#mo dao zu shi #lan wangji #my fanfiction

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striving-to-be · 4 years ago

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I had a revelation today. It was quite unexpected in the way these things can be, and I realize there’s so much i want to do! I want to be able to solve a rubik’s cube, learn the saxophone and the piano and the guitar, i want to draw, i want to paint, i want to learn caligraphy i want to do something meaningful; a nonprofit maybe, i want to learn to sing, i want to learn to dance, i want to learn languages and accents!

theyre so rare and fleeting and i just wanted to write them down. Somehow, they occur at the bussiest times, when im in the middle of a get-your-life-together spree in preparation for exams and i want to remember this, i think. To date, my holidays and breaks have been quite unproductive but i think i want to change that.

Coming out of christmas break, I guess itll do me good to learn to live my life in the present and during the busyness of everyday chaos rather than on the rare calm. Its hard for me, i think, to live in the everyday. But i think ill try. Intentionally.

#revelation #rants n rambles #rant #i guess this is a diary now #everydaylife #live in the present #grow with me #lets go #trying something new #self love #understanding yourself

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inklingstudyblr · 6 years ago

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MBTI Study Aesthetics

Disclaimer: These are just the perceptions I have of the types, they could be entirely inaccurate.

Infp ~ Early mornings with the window open, cups of tea and pretty notes, the yellowed paper of old books, the imaginings of other places and times.

Intp ~ Midnight, organized chaos, calculations, graph paper, blackboards covered in math equations.

Infj~ Libraries with vaulted ceilings, memorizing poetry, stacks of antique books, impressionist art.

Istj~ Perfect desk, minimalism, caligraphy pens, fancy calculators, philosophical treaties.

Estp~ Arguing with the author of the textbook as you read, well thought out research papers, studying outside in the sunlight, vibrant conversations.

Istp~ Cloudy days, studying by a fireplace, cups of coffee and tea, sketching out ideas as they read.

Entp~ Late night researching, intense thought, revolutionary ideas, scattered papers, finding patterns.

Isfj~ Eating cookies while you study, happy instrumental music playing, colorful pens and paper, pretty handwriting.

Entj~ Intense studying for hours on end, fast-paced conversations, voices in the background, adrenalin, high aspirations and impossible goals.

Isfp~ Soft breezes from an open window late at night, finding motivation in everything around them, sketching to illustrate ideas, the quiet after everyone else in the house has fallen asleep.

Estj~ Studying at dawn, bold pen strokes, bullet journals, perfectly organized bookshelves, the feeling of confidence.

Esfp~ Quizlet decks, dramatic presentations, cheering on friends while they work, pop quizzes.

Enfp~ Bright colors, afternoon study sessions, eating candy while they study, doodles and sketches, big dreams.

Intj~ Protractors and rulers, immaculate designs for incredible ideas, the feeling of intense focus, foggy days.

Esfj~ Cheerful music, studying in a cafe, comfy sweaters, far too much coffee, pretty plants on a desk.

Enfj~ Aspirations and determination, cups of tea, sending encouraging texts to their friends, finding beauty in everything.

#mbti #studyblr #study #studytime #enfp #entp #enfj #entj #esfj #estj #esfp #estp #istj #infj #infp #intj #aesthetic #isfp #istp #intp #isfj

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adanfourty · 5 years ago

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Life In Neon ~ cHapters Of the dreaMing hEart

Part I: A Piece Of Mind

----------------------- I. Simple abundance in an empty life II. Stop III. Projection IV. Come To Theism V. Enter the Threshold

Part II : The Sea of Moonlight ------------------------------ White Feathers Atrium Universal Rain Shade Naissance Home

Part III: Pandora's Clock ------------------------- First. Second. Then I see you Third. Air Fourth. Trumpet of Million's child Fifth. Realitv Sixth. Water Seventh. Closure Finale. Memoire, a scene in a lifetime

Part I: A Piece Of Mind

----------------------- In A Room Without A View

When there is reason, I awake in silence

Please enter, The door is open

I. Simple abundance in an empty life ...

The scent of passion after loneliness A hope of jubilation in life Coming closer to a dream A prelude before the plot

This time, the sunset becomes sunrise in my heart

Her sway, wavering in soft motion Guarding, away from polarity

She is herself not another other than her own self Only she can dance alone without a hint of loneliness That whiff of uncommon independence without arrogance With her right palm always open to the wind, A sign of welcomed company, only if she grants

She's a prelude to a drama An overture to a rhapsody

II. Loose-skin-loose drift, truth abuse truth to mute [St*p]

A new consciousness arises from the abyssimal gap, along with the voices of the singing colours, with the company of colourful rain.

A sighs escapes her as her old consciousness deteriorates.

Though silence is golden, it can also be a sign of unbelievable pain.

Terribly one sided, the consciousness gains space only in her extreme. Though it resembles a lesser four letter word, it cannot be spelled as of yet.

To her it came, through her it goes.

It escapes with swiftness by the way of her fingers and unto the three middle strings.

Now the top.

Now the bottom.

A play of ease and enjoyment, like a teardrop of meaning. There's release and meaning in her words, spoken through the melody escaping her fingers. Weaving phrase by phrase into sentences. Line by line into paragraphs. And chapter by chapter into a story, written in the air to her listeners' ears.

She tells her tale.

A drop of colour in melody's landscape First vivid, then lucid, then luminous The story of song and emotion, of motion and sound

Hikari luminates her enticing configuration Dancing fingers, dancing harmony Another conciousness slowly takes presence...

III. Grapple dream drama and colliding day of another mind [?`jection}

She said that fate can intertwine and leave you speechless Between your eyes and mine we share the same story Especially in this corrupted world of mounting decadence Nothing can hold truth and honesty together

As I wave my hand in the air, I motion you to come closer Start this endless romance

Not between you and I But between trust and committance

Wait for silence Wait for sleep Wait for peace

Then we can touch ..in dreams..

Metropolis doesn't want us to sleep Less it let us inhabbit our dreams Only to pieces of the shattered It can only resolve in our disloyalty

Total mindcrime it says, cannot rebuke There's no rebutle, but an end of statement

Pandemonium clouds temporary judgement A short analysis of ourselves

We cannot be subjected to distinctive terms We are fictional

City of blurring lights in swaying darkness Inverse luminary overshadows heartly judgement

"Tell me more..." "Tell me about myself"

IV. Let silence fall assunder as a boundary (ome to 7heism

Escape in makna ~e%ca]>e~ Don't let it be abstract

Have we been transformed? Apostle of today's corporate culture

Would you have changed a thing ? Destruction of the left brain regime

There is a cycle, which determines life and dharma In the starlit sky of human's silver sea of madness On the seeming horizon, inately seen A lonely silver surfer, Comes to push the wheel for me.

"Gotta move" (

"Gotta move" ^

"Gotta move that wheel right round" )

"Push the wheel of dharma round"

Repeat,

Repeat until the end of perdition

This re|>etition is road to redemption

This hand, can you feel it's touch? Now don't let go.

V. Enter this threshold, where you're }afe w/ m{E

Could it be that you and I have grown to love each other, In the dense aura of this lonely city, full of bitterness? True feelings can never hide much long, For whatever covers, cannot hide from true sight

The wind carried your cries, your wishes, your tears. And when I held my hand out to the sky, I caught some of your dreams.

The misty air partialy hides the growing flowers Blooming without sunlight, to the music of the marionettes Quartet players with classical aptitude Flowing melody in rivers of song

Endless...

Love, love, love, love, beautiful life In the eyes of a lover

Love, love, love, love, merciful touch As if in another dream

Dahlia...

Yes we are, I say we are destined Nothing else but nature that guides The wind, the solstice, the leaves Le ciel's faint whispering Warm snow welcomes this gardenia

Let's enter together...

Part II : The Sea of Moonlight ------------------------------

I dream of a blue nightingale

Not a dream. a perchance SDelirium guide me through this dance

a pointer. an address SPathway leading to this glass

not a form. a code SLanguages, conversations I do not recall

From a faraway place . . . The structured becomes the harmonic, then the frail

White Feathers: ---------------

Start of a lasting imperfect feeling A blissful impression unhindered This slight cut, an apothema Sweetening the shape of a tale

More poetry than justice A judgement in a poem

The tale paints itself a caligraphy Cornering prose to naratic ballad

Few words write themselves as prelude to a dream An overture towards realization Forging a small footstep for an elegy A move towards the end of a chapter

Before planting a kiss on the cheek Take a step out of square one

Atrium Universal: -----------------

I can feel the city itself Living, pulsing through me

I can feel the city itself Breathing in my own breath

At night's first saunter Tides, affairs subtly sweeping

Affairs yielding agnomen Pastly borrowed, then lent, now buried

Not a monumentous rite, A forecourting repose of endeavor

Melfluous, degree, decimal

The wall, the crack, the breach A light, a hope, A piece of reverence A sigh, a gleam, A benevolence

Neon. again a blinding, Charges, pistol, crackpot

Rain: -----

Swaying Petals, Fluttering Sight

Resting in silence Peace in the chaos that surrounds

Hiding within metropolis' fog

Out of reach Out of touch

Lit lanterns sway westbound Path seeking seem astray

Only patience can persevere Only time can lead the way

Only a woman

"A deepened interlude as an intro to a greater truth."

In phrases she speak In riddles she keep

Feel, a longing to be Only little she has

Not much left in her palm Desperately trying to keep

Err on the side of safety

"Here belies the safety of my sanctuary."

Trusting no one Careful not to love

Metropolis. weaves her coccoon

Silence within a storm

Survival is her language Passion is her secret

"Lesser I believe in myself, so I hide."

Shade: ------

A tide to ebb, A shoreline A flow, a motion A gaze

Once, a woman Twice, a sun Thrice, a nephentes

I feel the breze A neophytic caress, innocence So much to long for So much to ebb and lose

Subliminal violence An abstract for laterality

I'll always remember The news of a fog, The songs of a deaf

No echo in the halls No lesson but in our own

A feeling, inside her Notwithstanding a fall Silence for the requiem Not now, not for awhile

This feeling, inside me A pace not too far from fiction Splitting images on one screen My futile vision embracing

His feeling, inside him Bewildering encompassion of a trilogy Another mind, a friend, a rushed exemption Coming closer to a closure, then rebirth

Naissance: ----------

The birth of a soul, Deus ex machina

I feel a distant sun caressing A slow perchance for fate and fancy intertwined

What cometh this way Grasping scars emerging from days past

What shroud cloaks this day A slow immedicine, The unsounding of my parts

My love, a mirror, a friend It needs a chance, a chokepoint degapped

Heal me, A cessation from discrepancy

[tides of Helen]

This time window we must cherish, You and I and eye of The All Seeing

There's none other, Than the mindmaze in the mirror

I became, I bethroned, I abjected Thread, my dearest thread I dearly depart myself, bidding A home for a respite

Home : ------

The walls cry of absence and whispers

A slight touch of the palm graces, The plight of the plaintiff behind the fate Cursors move up the struggles of the vein, Inconclusive ill of melancholy

This notion of separation, Reaps the heart to its dires On bended knees we sink, At this river of futile tears

The ambience of loneliness and division, Portrudes above our conscious minds Heisting the current abode, Unfathomable desire to mutually caress

Beyond this boundary exists my other half Beyond this wall lies another...

Another,

Sustain contain then stop the ambience surrounding My speechless thought echoes throughout without surpass

and another,

Oboete [remember] Never forgetting specified frame of memory First clandestine then disctinction to final separation

and another,

I hear this loudness from inside my ears Humming, fainting whisper, to a soft speech

and another.

...

No more can I reject my objection towards presence PLighT is a revocable sister of her brother, fate

And you.

I miss you

The corridors of fate seems to form an unwanted maze No escaping reflective clarity, images beyond seen mirrors

Such is the configuration of this longing A lamentable presence, expelled from fate

It has been two long years, It has been an eternity

Your modulating kiss fades from memory As each deafening ambience ravage me

I, to my heart : [Perhaps to silence, I have spoken for far too long.]

Now the peregrine, Now the calmative

a boundary of mist separates while the only road leads to home

I've nowhere to go But to return to the confines of my sanctuary

[pulang]

Y've reached I home

Part III: Pandora's Clock -------------------------

I have come at a crossroads A silent tantrum of mind and consciousness

Please take my hand Brace the future with me

First.

The solitude of a solitary mind At this junction of overlaping converses

A gaze, then a hand A reach from inside

The solitude of a solitary mind At the junction of overlaping converses

A gaze, then a hand A reach from inside

[E] "Would you dance with me?"

Dec, the 12th of each cycle A courtship between Soleil and Capricorn

Of your latter solstice I find my solace Under luminous frost After a day after days before a new season

[Dahlia] Rest dear Soleil Shine a lesser warmth Shine greater southbound

Then through motion and period Embrace at former solstice

A garden in winter Not far from closure Enclosed in glass And luminosity

Come dear lucidity Let us speak to warm ourselves Let us become classic

One past, presenting a future

In this garden we trust Grace a prelude to truthful fancy

In this garden we lust Skin to skin without a mindful hinderance

In this garden we bind fire and ice

A simple presence felt between us and our dance Resultante, Of motion and perceived decadence

.the second conciousness.

A girl in the mirror Yet to set her feet, Yet to step to the real

A face becoming clearer Vivid smile doubtful eyes

Is she to be welcomed?

Don't let her future mimic the past This is not a point of vacancy Don't let time's vagrancy become turmoil This is a coming whirlwind

A new stream of conciousness is the resultant There can be no regret

Sleep, breathe deep, deeper in a shallow sleep

This is a form of regression Unfolding a dream of recurrence

~Mataku From my eyes

.Mata Ku. To eyes of myself

..Ma Ta Ku.. Then my own eyes

...Mata Milik Aku... These eyes are mine

[E] A cyclic process of birth, death and rebirth Sequential teardrop from a cloudless sky Freefall to a deep mirror of factful fallacy far from fiction

More to truth full of lies and truth, then lies, and lastly truth The answer to a riddle of the sequences and the abstract

A fracture of this mindspace leaks into the open Bequeathing beautiful lies of autumn and of lust But the winter in me is still vast, far from passing Not a drop of colour but a blackless landscape of total blur

Second. Then I see you...

On a road once shared before the crossroads Gleaming with a blueish haze of tenderness Before the coming of daylight's echoing shine Take me to a world outside this shallow sleep

Walking to currentness.

Cascading deep dark blue shade follow folly Interred in my living bones, blades of blunt burden Remain in viewable secrecy, lucidly reasoning for an answer Unwritten forgiveness uttered through a wordless whisper

Reflections, There's me in my head and me in the mirror I can see me very clearly, and I don't like it

The vivid image of reflection has a mind of it's own Why do reflections answer me with such prejudice?

...

A revisitation, A reflection of light Duplicating a world Forming an inversion Making you, Not quite yourself

...

Cascade the masks of emotion to emulate prudence Infer I have, that this is a motion of incredulity

I remain

Asking The Heaven for forgive~ness My hope is now in the clarity of my written bequest

Third. Air

Interlude to preciousness

The world is only an interlude I can't wait for the night to cast it's cloak {of dreams}

A gateway to my paralel life, another conciousness Lucidly living in a shallow sleep

Fourth. Trumpet of Million's child

Dawn to daybreak with a string of trust Warm caress of loyal sunlight Distress and jubilance harbours, Away the stray

A soulful sailor's song Lamenting grace and riddance

Yearly yearning without regard Clasping for release

Melding heartplace and effect Arriving distances to encumbrance The headplace earthing Excelling to explace

Love is a peaceful embrace A feeling, most emtious Of innocence in riddles of sin and temperance A forgiveness for the plightful son

[E] I found who I am at last By a glimpse of fate, enduring A slight mention in destiny A moment alone with my dear fate

A close brush, an eventful sigh Relief, a respite to sensefulness

One last time, Take away my breath

Deliver me my chance, To exhale my last sigh

[Dahlia] I am standing on a ledge A stare to this decending fathom

Cold air sweeps behind me As I tearfully leave my presence

I cannot give you more I cannot be a fitting piece

Musing over life and precedence. Now I'm tired.

I've tried so hard to stay afloat. I'm too tired.

Goodbye now, For I am never truly gone

Fifth. Realitv

[E] A life outside of this TV screen A roundabout of moving pictures preceeding Of passion, of circumstance, of changes My faults and lies, my trials and crimes

Curious apprehension of what may yield I behold to myself, my own mindsight A view to a thrill, a dream of a dream A dull lucidity, a makeup of frigidity

My past turns present My presence sinks into the past Another besetting recurrence Another triumph lost

Sixth. Water

[E] How is my lifeline?

There is a light at the end of the tunnel. A freight train coming my way.

There is a door nearer to the right. Marking exit from a disaster.

(Not out of lifeline)

But indeed. It is I, myself who can save me. It is I, myself who conjured the door. It is I, myself who live my life. Not someone else.

And it is I, myself who choose what I believe in. Not someone else not me.

I'm still breathing, I can still exhale Without hesitation, normalcy without change A sense of endless freedom without boundaries Miracles coming at an enjoyable rate

Now here's that jazz [0}

Flood of tears don't drown me You'll never catch me again crying a flood Now that I'm holding on to my dearest hope I have to hold her gently Careful not to break her to pieces

Seventh. Closure

Strewn paleness, The setting sun colours the sky

A thousand rays bidding farewell, Bidding another rest

And I wish I am not here

Wavering clouds speak with the doves A faint sentence caught in my ears

"There's nothing left to hide."

My melodies will take me Wherever this heart is needing to set

You took away all my strength, Now please take away my pain

Leave my cold outside this shell Never let it rain inside these doors

Please lead me to your promises Then please take away my pain

I am in need of refuge

This is the final scene Before the curtain falls . .

Please, Make me believe in hope, And please take away my pain

Finale. Memoire, a scene in a lifetime

Now I must rest, I must be at peace

Hibernating from culture PlacIng membrane, a distance to bid myself

Sayonara for a moment Please do not forget, oboete my dear Remembrance is for sentient bliss

Keep me in your mind And please, bathe your memory of me in absolution

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jack-fruit · 6 years ago

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Paint the Stars

Hey gamers this fic is apart of my personal swap au which I also wrote this for. You really don't need to read that one to understand this one, but its short lol. All you need to know that's mentioned there is Aziraphale is a bat demon so like

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When the starmaker first learned to paint, he was going by Anthony. He had no reason to go by an alias, but he had grown rather fond of it after providing it to a rather polite demon. His decision to dip his fingers into what was the original sorry excuse for paint, however, had nothing to do with his name, but everything to do with his title.

He had hoped after the fiasco with Adam and Eve, She would allow him back into the expanse of space to make stars once again. She told him he had more to do on Earth, much to Anthony's chagrin. So he walked among man bitter and with hands itching to create.

They'd only been a few generations into humanity when a girl first found that mixing together egg yolk and red soil would make a substance that would trail bright and stick to the rock. She used it to make crude drawings, which Anthony watched, impressed.

It wasn't until there was a suitable array of colors avaliable that Anthony felt the tug of longing hard enough that he sheepishly approached a group painting across an expanse of cave walls and scooped up some of the yellow paint.

He created starbursts across stone and nebules across rock. He didn't have all the colors he wanted to work with, but the thrill of a challenge only spurred him on. He may have also been there to nudge the Egyptians in the right direction of finding blue paint, okay? Sue him- blue was one of his favorites.

It wasn't until around 300 BC that Anthony picked up a paintbrush. There had been other attempts at something similar before, but all the crude sticks and leaves could not capture the fine detail a brush of a fingertip could.

Anthony was perfectly content using his hands and fingers, just as he always had, but the man selling the brushes assured him they were intended for caligraphy. The angel picked up the thin bamboo with animal hair attatched to one end, and decided that perhaps a certain demon would get a kick out of it. After all, Az loved the written word, perhaps he would like a tool to help create it.

He had originally only meant to try it out. To make sure it worked as advertised, but as he dipped it into the ink that he'd purchased alongside it, he slowly realized things were not going to go as planned.

The gentle sweep of the brush across parchment was a sensation he liked almost as much as fingerpainting. And it kept his hands blessedly clean. He created a void in the paper, a sinkhole from which there was no return. He then got up, grabbed his paints, and wove a galaxy around it. He tucked the concept into the back of his mind, deciding to ask Her to let him abandon post for just a while to play around again.

He was going by Raphael when he realized that he could paint more than just space. He had been out in the cosmos for a few decades, having gotten the okay to return to where he belonged. He had ended up quite liking the brush idea, which is where the staff came from.

His staff was a long piece of carefully maintained bamboo that he was able to miracle from brush to staff with minimal effort. The staff worked a bit different from an actual paint brush, it didn't even have a proper brush end, really, but the angel would push his power through it in arcs and waves in ways he hadn't really been capable of before.

But he missed Earth, much as that fact irked him. He missed the browns and the greens and the greys. He missed the food and the wind and the sounds. Above all, he missed the sparkling darkness of a certain demon's gaze, which he would certainly never admit.

So he returned to earth and decided to give a new name a whirl. Raphael. When he told Az about it, he laughed, but did start calling him by the new name. It put something at ease in his chest, that approval.

Raphael had known that people painted things other than space, of course he did, but he never thought to do it himself until he saw a man painting a landscape.

"Mind if I join you?" Raphael had asked without thinking. The man looked at him, curious, but nodded his consent and offered Raphael the paints he was using. All earth tones, nothing like the angel liked to work with.

Withholding a sigh, Raphael decided to paint the same landscape. It was more challenging then the colorful and shapeless bursts he was used to, but it was easy enough to get. Sharp bursts of brown-green, yellow spikes of grass, grey-brown bark. It was the same concept, the pallete was just different, the angles a bit sharper.

"What are you doing?" Raphael jumped and whirled to face the fanged grin of his adversary. The original painter and his canvas had vanished.

"Why are you here?" The angel tried very hard not to sound pleased.

"I asked first, Starmaker," Az said, taking his brush from him and narrowing his eyes at the carvings on it. "Are these snakes?"

"Snakes are cool," Raphael hissed, turning back to his painting. "And I'm painting, now you."

"Oh just spreading some chaos here, michief there."

"Which I will inevitably thwart," Raphael noted. "You know, maybe-"

"No! No we are not..." Az's voice dropped to a harsh whisper, "we are not teaming up Ant- Raphael."

"Antraphael?" The angel teased momentarily, before his expression turned thoughtful. "That sounds like an angel I knew- a principality. Wonder what happened to him...haven't heard from him in ages."

"Doesn't matter," Az snapped, aggrivated. "I know what heaven is like. They find out you're helping the enemy and you know what they'll do? They'll toss you out, and thats if you're lucky!"

Raphael's brushstroke shot up, ruining the entire painting.

"Let's go get drinks," he grumbled, waving the project away. It would be years before he would finally rediscover, fix, and finish the damn piece.

The name didn't last, of course it didn't. Anthony knew Az was really quite uncomfortable with the name Raphael, despite his insistance of it being fine. The closest the angel got to an answer was 'reminds me too much of someone else. Not you.'

So he was Anthony again when he realized how truly and utterly fucked he was. It was the 19th century, and realism- true realism- was coming into style. The more detailed and real looking a painting looked, the better. And for the first time since paint had been invented, Anthony couldn't master a style of art.

Of course, he would eventually, but at the present everything he painted looked cheap and fake. The concept of shading was new to him, nothing cast shadows in space and his landscapes were more stylized than anything. Along with that, still life was a bit drab to him- lots of looking and staring at inanimate objects doing nothing and feeling nothing for hours.

In contrast, portraits had the opposite issue. The subject was too squirmy, and the constant annoyance and boredom that flared up would effect his brushwork.

Plants were a good compromise, just alive enough to entertain him, but not squirmy enough to distract him. He spent hours trailing greenery across his canvases, adding bursts of color where flowers decided to plant themselves.

He ended up surrounding himself with plants, expresing his annoyance if they began to wilt, which would quickly make them perk up once more. He accidently scared the plants, he thought, what with all his frustrated yelling and the torn canvases strewn across the floor, but it did lead to them looking exquisite. He'd be lying if said he hadn't been hamming up the dramaticness that came with destroying his less than perfect works.

Az had come over once, sitting properly in a plain, stiff wooden chair he summoned while Anthony sprawled out across his own sofa. Az was looking at a half finished painting of a plant.

"Do you ever paint anything other than plants?" Az asked suddenly. Anthony sat up and followed his gaze.

"Space."

"Other than space and plants."

"Like what?"

"People?"

Anthony snorted and fell back against the cushions, "nah, people move too much."

"Oh," Az said. The two fell quiet for a few minutes before Az spoke again. "Well if you like, I could...you know, model for you. If it would help."

"I- you- what?" Anthony sputtered. The demon scowled at him.

"Mind out of the gutter, Anthony. It's simply that...look I can hold much more still than any human could, I would be an easy model to start with to get the human-esque form down."

Anthony was quiet in his consideration. Much as he loathe to admit it, it did make sense. And as much as he loved painting plants and stars, he did want to branch out, if only to prove he could. He was a stubborn bastard that way.

"Fine," he grumbled. "Just...stay there, then," he launched himself off the couch and collected his paints.

"Now?" Az asked, and when Anthony turned to face him, his dark eyes were curious and wide and just...beautiful.

"I- er- that okay?" Anthony asked, taking his brush and twirling it in his fingers. Az nodded; Anthony nodded back in reply. The angel turned his easel towards the demon and, with a slow breath, began to paint.

He had always found Az remarkable- with his intelligent eyes, his soft, slightly singed curls, the curve of his delicate pink lips...

He was practically in a trance, looking more at Az then his canvas. It felt like no time at all before he had finished enough for Az to move if he wished. The demon cracked his neck at an inhuman angle, then stood to look over Anthony's shoulder.

"Oh...Anthony," his breath ghosted across his ear and he had to surpress a shiver, "this is perfect, how have you been having trouble?"

Slowly, Anthony tipped his head back. He let his curls brush against Az's shoulder as he did so, and when he looked to the left he could see how close the demon really was. With his eyes that reminded him so much of his night sky that it hurt.

Oh.

Oh fuck.

"S'not done, still time to mess up," he said over his mounting panic. Az laughed that soft laugh of his and grinned, revealing those delicate little fangs perfect for-

Anthony's entire brain ripped like a canvas in a desprate attempt to get that image out of his head. In the meantime, Az had pulled away and offered him an apologetic farewell. Anthony was still sewing his brain back together when the door closed firmly behind him. He was still stitching his sanity back into place as he found himself setting up a new canvas. He was still lost in a daze as he found himself wondering how many years it would take to draw Az perfectly from memory.

The first time he wrote out the name "Anthony J. Crowley" had been on the deed to his studio. A studio he had not planned on getting at all, but when a giddy bat demon bounced up to him only about 60 or so years after the whole gay crisis thing Anthony had no choice but to follow. He wasn't sure if the blindfold made him more or less eager, if he was being honest.

"Watch your step!"

"I can't see, idiot, there's a blindfold over my face."

"Stop sassing me or I'll gag you, starmaker."

"Kinky."

"No!"

Anthony laughed, feeling a warm flutter in his chest as Az very firm stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. Then, he removed the blindfold.

"Tada!"

"A...building?" Anthony raised an incredulous eyebrow at the demon.

"It's for your studio!" Az enthused.

"My-?"

"I originally bought it thinking about making a bookshop out of it, but then I realized thst would require me to, um, you know, sell my books? And so I thought instead I'd give it to you. I've already found a quaint little cottage for my books And I to stay, so I have no need for it, obviously-"

"Azzy..."

"No need to thank me, you're just taking it off my hands," the demon pushed on, shoving a deed into Anthony's hands and then bolting like the devil himself was after him. Anthony looked at the deed, then at the building.

It could use some paint...

1967, he'd been going by Crowley for 25 years as far as close friends were concerned. Well, close friend. After tonight, though...

He leaned heavily against the door to his studio, against the painted grasses and flowers that stretched across its surface, growing towards glow and the dark stars. Against his chest, Crowley clutched a jar containing a single, wild spark of hellfire. Uncontrollable, untamable, and all Az's.

'What, not going to offer me a lift?" Crowley had quietly asked, sitting behind Az on his motorbike.

Crowley moved as if he were walking through the thickest of oil paints. He entered his room, set the jar on his desk, then returned to the studio itself. Half finished projects were littered everywhere. Crowley looked at them and felt empty.

A soft, pained laugh. 'I know I go too slow for you, Crowley...' Then, the most heatbroken admission, 'I am... quite unsure if I will ever be capable of catching up with you.'

Crowley's whole body began to shake. Hands balled into fists, and then he screamed. He grabbed a wooden stool that Az could often be caught sitting on and threw it right into one of his paintings. It splintered and ripped and Crowley felt good.

He tore paintings from the wall, shattered frames against the floor. He ripped apart each brushstroke, each secret hope. He only stopped when he tore his paintbrush off the chain around his throat and tried to snap it. Lucky for him, past Crowley had enchanted it to be basically invincible, so his efforts simply drained him. He let it expand into his staff so he could lean heavily on it as sobs wracked him. He was angry, he was heartbroken, and he had never felt less holy.

In the years leading up to the apocalypse, Crowley hadn't been painting much. Any attempts to bring his brush to the canvas were hindered by the fact that the world was ending, and that in less than eleven years all these things he was making would be destroyed. Again.

He thought maybe after everything, after escaping heaven and hell, he would be able to paint avain. Yet, as he sat with a sketchbook in his lap in Az's livingroom he felt no spark, no drive.

Well, that wasn't true. He felt something, but it wasn't the need to create. He took a swig of wine and looked up to where Az was quietly contemplating his own glass.

"I-"

"It's Aziraphale."

"...what?" Anthony sat up straight for the first time possibly ever. Az flinched.

"My- my name...my angel name. I never," he bit his lip, "all the other demons were changing their names, but I never meant to fall. I liked the name the Almighty gave me, even if She...so, so perhaps you can call me Aziraphale from noe on? Since I guess I'm technically not a demob anymore..."

The name was familiar. It brought Crowley the memory of a flash of white wings and blue eyes watching him work. However, that image very comfortably faded to fit the face of the demon he so loved.

Aziraphale.

"Aziraphale," he spoke it in a way that made one think of blasphamy. He caught the demon's shiver. Slowly, Crowley set aside his sketchbook and his wine and he prowled forward.

"Crowley?"

"Yes, Aziraphale?" He breathed, close enough to count the lashes framing Aziraphale's dark eyes. They fluttered closed.

Lips pressed against lips, soft and full of longing and hope. It took Crowley a moment to realize he hadn't been the one to close the gap. He framed Aziraphale's face in his hands, like the work of art it was, and kissed back.

A gasp and then hands fluttered against his back, gripping at his jacket as the angel pushed him back in his chair, thoughts scattered so only one thing remained.

Aziraphale, Aziraphale, Aziraphale.

They laid in a bed conjured earlier that evening. Aziraphale didn't own one, since he was used to hanging upsidedown from the rafters when he slept at all. He made an exception tonight, though, and was now curled up fast asleep in Crowley's arms. He traced the blue-purple-red bruises scattered across his lover's skin and smiled fondly as Azirphale wrinkled his nose and turned in his arms. Slowly, Crowley untangled himself and moved towards the easel he'd put in the room back when Aziraphale was sleeping for a century. He had wanted to be around the demon, even if he was fast asleep with no plans to become concious again until he thought his books were in danger.

He brushed the dust off a blank canvas and set it on the easel. It was facing out the small window, revealing the expanses of space for Crowley to record again and again. He hesitated a moment before changing the angle of the easel, pointing it towards the bed where Azirphale was still curled up.

He looked over at where his brush had been reverently placed on the nightstand at contrast with everything else he'd been wearing previously. He looked at it and then shook his head. He opened a pot of red paint and dipped his fingers into it. The excess dripped from the tips before Crowley set then to the canvas, and he began to paint.

#good omens #good omens swap au #ineffable husbands #ineffable partners #crowley #aziraphale #good omens crowley #good omens fic

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pupa-cinema · 5 years ago

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Happy Go Lucky Heads - 哀紫電一閃 (Sorrow Like Lightning) - English Translation

何ちょっと　泣いちゃって Wait chill out what’s this all about, all the crying 滅入っちゃって　生きちゃって The doom and glooming, the living on, 逢魔が時に遠くに The witching hour takes us far away イっちゃって Excited by its insanity 縁も　上っ面見りゃ　ドヤってる Fate, is putting on airs and smirking confidently 優劣決めやと　ドヤってる "Which is superior, take your choice", it smirks so confidently

所詮・有象・無象 In the end, everyone here and there, everything the world has to offer 理想の姿　走馬灯の様 Like a horse race running laps in circles they go, chasing their ideal selfs 誰ガ為に削り　桶屋の微笑 For whom do you sacrifice so, the undertakers are scoffers 絶命の確率　カオス理論 Chance of survival, chaos' theology

今　万感の思い込める　拳鳴る C’mon now, I’m gonna pour my heart into it, my punches echo 嗚呼　もう　武者震わせてる　髑髏 Ahh, let’s go already, the warriors are itching to go, skulls in a brawl 今　万感の思い込めて　願い成る C’mon now, pour my heart into it, my wishes a go-go 阿修羅道　明記　さらば少年の日よ Follow in Asura’s barbaric footsteps, loud and clear, farewell to my youth and all

愛　曇華一現は　違うって　悲嘆防止 Love, like a blue moon; it seldom comes around. But I don't think that’s true. No more pain and suffering. 余命　変わりゃんせ　今日　誓って　悲嘆防止 Just bring change! The rest of our days will be different. From today on I vow. No more pain and suffering. 哀　紫電一閃　人間は　誓うって　悲嘆防止 Sorrow, like lightning; it strikes. People will vow they say... No more pain and suffering. 余命　変わりゃんせ　今日　誓って　悲嘆防止 Just bring change! The rest of my days will be different. From today on. 生　変わりゃんせ　今日 Life, it’s gonna change, from today on

火事と喧嘩は江戸の華　(柄！) The beauty of Edo was its dazzling fights and fires (Hey!) 会稽の恥を雪ぐのなら　(柄！) If one plans on redeeming themselves of the shame they've been made to suffer so dire (Hey!) 七転八倒　刻んだ性　(柄！) Never back down, it’s in my nature to be a defier (Hey!) 火傷火に懲りず進むただ　(柄！) Even burns won’t stop my blazing desires (Hey!)

鼓動は加速　限界へ挑む Heartbeat going fast, the limits are far past 牙を研ぐ者　十鬼は来た They who bear their teeth: the ten demons have come 今　万感の思い込めて　願い成る C’mon now, pour my heart into it, my wishes a go-go 阿修羅道　明記　されど　饒舌の心臓 Follow in Asura’s barbaric footsteps, loud and clear, but nevertheless a verbose spirit peps on

Instrumental solo background rap official lyrics: [Come on, don’t be shy Everybody wants life Coming now, yeah One, two, three, four, put it on Coming now]

愛　曇華一現は　違うって　悲嘆防止 Love like a blue moon; it seldom comes around. But I don't think that’s true. No more pain and suffering. 余命　変わりゃんせ　今日 Just bring change! The rest of my days will be different. From today on. 哀　紫電一閃　人間は　誓うって　悲嘆防止 Sorrow, like lightning; it strikes. People will vow they say... No more pain and suffering. 余命　変わりゃんせ Just bring change! The rest of my days will be different.

愛　曇華一現は　違うって　悲嘆防止 Love like a blue moon; it seldom comes around. But I don't think that’s true. No more pain and suffering. 余命　変わりゃんせ　今日　誓って　悲嘆防止 Just bring change! The rest of our days will be different. From today on I vow. No more pain and suffering. 哀　紫電一閃　人間は　誓うって　悲嘆防止 Sorrow, like lightning; it strikes. People will vow they say... No more pain and suffering. 余命　変わりゃんせ　今日　誓って　悲嘆防止 Just bring change! The rest of our days will be different. From today on I vow. No more pain and suffering. 今日せんのかい　狂信のダイブ Is today the day? The lunatics dive in ready to die 猛然向かう理由 There’s a reason we rage on y'know 知り　生　変わりゃんせ　今日 Learn, live, and bring change, today we go

Keynotes

● It’s speculated that they chose set English phrases, then supplemented in Japanese words to suit the pronunciations of the Engrish. The Japanese phrases are abnormal, and Sekihan sings them with a super vague accent!!

@tamagotoji-time's whirl at solving the puzzle, of as to what English phrases they're aiming for: “~ ~ Oh mama, talk to me talk to me Anythin' mo' what's meanin' do ya ってる You let kill me yah と　ドヤってる

I should xxx make it satisfied and no 日よ

I don't care things what you go to hit damn bullshit (You) make our dance and shake you (you go to hit damn bullshit) I'm shit damn insane in xxxx what you go to hit damn bullshit (You) make our dance and shake you (you go to hit damn bullshit) Shake our dance and shake you

I should xxx make it satisfied 饒舌の心臓

今日せんのかい　狂信のダイブ猛然向 carry you Silly, shake our dance and shake you"

● Opening for the anime adaption of Kengan Ashura. Thus the references to Asura and to the name of the main character: 十鬼蛇王馬. The kanji in his name literally mean "Ten demons snake king horse", thus the words in the song are surely references to him! The premise seems to be based off the Edo era as well.

● Asura are fellows of buddhist mythology, with violent prepositions and life in a realm with non-stop fighting.

● 曇華一現: this too is a word with Buddhist origin - figuratively it alludes to a very rare occasion, but literally it is referencing the (lotus) flower named 'Udumbara’ which blooms only once every 3000 years or upon the manifestation of a something special.

● 火事と喧嘩は江戸の華 is an idiom which references the culture of the Edo era (similar to the "ザンギリ頭を叩いてゴーン文明開化の音までゴーン!" idiom reference in Omedeta’s Tai Toru).

● 桶屋: word from Meiji/Edo era for the people who held funerals…. tte it’s in "風が吹けば桶屋が儲かる”… proverb similar to “For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction” or “Always somewhere someone is dying.” All lives end up in the same place,,,,

● 七転八倒：inspirational idiom used since olden times especially in caligraphy. Often attributed to darumas as well, because darumas have a round bottom and balance back upright even when pushed.

● りゃんせ: archaic speak for “Go do it,” added after a verb.

Related Interview quotes:

Interviewer: In regards to noisy songs, your song ’Sorrow like lightning’ is intense too. Ponikingdom: We wrote this song upon accepting a tie-up deal, so the lyrics are leaning towards the contents of the deal. For the instrumentals we called upon neko-kun. The music is metal with a bit of a ‘Insolence’ style reggae tinge to it, so we wanted to the same sort of thing with the singing style as well. Sekihan: Then once he sent the instrumentals over to us, we used it to inspire our melody, thus the rest spiraled from there. The chorus may be in Japanese but, I was keen on making it also conceivable as Western music. Interviewer: Such as The “Ai donge ichigen” lyric being heard as “I don’t care” for example.

Sekihan: That’s right.

324: A lot of time and effort went into the arrangement of this song. Especially the chorus, which I think turned out pretty damn awesome.

Interviewer: The melody is very pop, isn’t it.

324: I wanted to make use of Sekihan’s addition of the melody as well as possible, and when I finally tinkered the arrangement to match it just right, I felt enlightment.

Sekihan: You put a lot of care and attention into the way the chords tie together also, right?

324: Yeah.

Interviewer: Sekihan has a background of loving pop music to extreme measures, could play a part in Omedeta's music; a reason why is has such a unique panache? Ponikingdom: Maybe so. Interview: After all, he does have every number of Onyanko’s club member memorized. Yet he stills love noisy screamo music, it’s a pretty unique palette (laughs).

Sekihan: The fuck (laughs).

Ponikingdom: Though if you ask me I’d say bands like ‘Linkin Park’ and ’Slipknot’ are actually quite pop. They leave a tingle in your ears, and they make people burst into sing-alongs. Sekihan: The melody is definitely pop but, there’s reason they mantain that tinge of screamo... It’s because they put a sort of edge on their voice. So we avail that same type of glamour in ’Sorrow Like Lightning’.

mao: Recently I’m really starting to understand the skill range of Sekihan voice.

Sekihan: He praised me! Yay! Yay!

Interviewer: The skilled meditators of screamo and pop: that’s Omedetai.

324: But, if you asked this band to do hardcore serious screamo, we could not. We love screamo but, everything we do doesn’t revolve around it. And that’s one of our strengths, we don’t revolve around anything. So that’s why we’re capable of leaning towards pop too.

Sekihan: We grew up listening to screamo music, so now it’s our turn bring screamo to other people who never had the chance to learn about it. In a way, it’s like we’re returning the favor to the screamo community. We add the essence of screamo to more palatable music, make people go “Woah. So this is what screamo is all about.”, and hope it serves as a gateway into more. Listen to more screamo, that would make me happy!

Bonus Romaji Lyrics: Nani chotto　naichatte Meicchatte　ikichatte Oumagatoki ni tooku ni Icchatte En mo　uwassura mirya　doyatteru yuretsu kime ya to　doyatteru Shousen・muzou・yuuzou Risou no sugata　soumatou no you Dare ga tame ni kezuri　Okeya no bishou Zetsumei no kakuritsu　kaosu riron Ima　bankan no omoi komeru　Kobushi naru Aa　mou　Musha furuwaseteru　Sharekoube Ima bankan no omoi komete　Negai naru Ashura-dou　Meiki　Saraba shounen no hi yo Ai　donge-ichigen wa　chigau tte　Hitan boushi Yomei　kawaryanse　kyou　chikatte　Hitan boushi Ai　shidenissen　Ningen wa chikau tte　Hitan boushi Yomei　kawaryanse　kyou chikatte　Hitan boushi Sei　kawaryanse　kyou Kaji to kenka wa Edo no hana (Hei!) Kaikei no haji wo sosogu no nara (Hei!) Shichiten battou　kizanda sei (Hei!) Yakedo-hi ni korizu susumu tada (Hei!) Kodou wa kasoku　genkai he idomu Kiba wo togu mono　toki wa kita Ima　bankan no omoi komete　Negai naru Ashura-dou　Meiki　saredo　jouzetsu no shinzou Ai　donge-ichigen wa　chigau tte　Hitan boushi Yomei　kawaryanse　kyou　chikatte　Hitan boushi Ai　shidenissen　Ningen wa chikau tte　Hitan boushi Yomei　kawaryanse Ai　donge-ichigen wa　chigau tte　Hitan boushi Yomei　kawaryanse　kyou　chikatte　Hitan boushi Ai　shidenissen　Ningen wa chikau tte　Hitan boushi Yomei　kawaryanse　kyou chikatte　Hitan boushi Kyou sen no kai　Kyoushin no daibu Mouzen mukau riyuu Shiri　sei　kawaryanse　kyou

#omedetai #special thanks to ohm as always #オメでたい頭でなにより

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lessonsfrommadamexmas · 7 years ago

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Astonished

This isn’t new but I had never posted it here. And I wanna trick my brain into thinking that I’m posting something as I wish I was. Can’t freaking wait for the end of the semester.

Summary: Alphonse is back to his body. *-*

- - - - -

“I am alive. I am awake. I am aware of what light tastes like… I wanna feel tectonic shifts. I wanna be, I wanna be astonished.” -Taste (Sleeping At Last)

The two brothers were on the hospital for the last few days. Alphonse was still confined to the room, while Edward, who had been recovering from the surgery to remove the remains of the automail from his arm, could already take a walk on the hallways. However, they still spent most of the time together in the room, which didn't mean they were always bored and alone. In fact, they’d been receiving visits who brought news about the world out there, and Al had been enjoying all the senses he now had back.

The room smelt like alcohol and extreme cleanness, a constant sense of order and peace floating in the air and reassuring that now everything was fine, in contrast to the odor of blood, dust and chaos that had invaded his nostrils on the first time he woke up back in his own body. While that was the predominant smell, the visitors that came by would bring their own perfume, and the food also had warm and cold, sweet and sour scents of its own.

According to Ed, the hospital food was tasteless and repetitive, however, Al delighted himself with every flavor that emerged, sensitive to every nuance of bitterness and sweetness and enchanted with every different texture. He even offered himself to drink Ed's milk, aware that his older brother wouldn't anyway, which led to the two of them plotting to fool the nurses. Not satisfied, Ed tried to play with Al's mind as well, defending that his little brother never liked milk all that much, either, and that his palate would be different now.

- You can’t fool me, brother, I remember very well what I like and dislike.

As much as he joked, Ed just couldn’t understand that, in that moment, every taste was welcome, and everything tasted like the world Al so long desired to take a bite of once again. A world he could barely wait to explore with his own legs once more.

For now, all he could do was to take a few steps inside the room, once a day. And as hard as it was to move with his muscles still so weak, Alphonse was always excited with the chance to get up. He had a lot of fun with the feeling of immediate regret when he insisted in hugging the cold floor with his bare feet, just to wish to entangle them under the bed-sheets and feel once again the warmth and softness of it when he got back to bed. He loved to walk by himself and seek balance on his own, since that was something he didn't have full control of yet. And the two of them confirmed that it would still take a while for him to recover his coordination the day they decided to send a letter to Winry.

They had to send her some news. This time, more than any other time, they knew she deserved to know that everything was ok, they owed her that much. So Alphonse insisted to have the chance to write, except that he no longer knew how to hold a pen. His long, frail fingers didn't adjust to the object so well, and his hand didn't properly follow the path he commanded. However, seeing his little brother's determination and enjoyment on the task, Ed concluded he wouldn't steal that from him, so instead of offering help he encouraged the boy.

After a lot of struggle and many failed attempts that helped Al practice his calligraphy, they settled for a simple "we're fine. Still a lot of things to solve here, but we'll be back soon. Remember the pie. Ed and Al".

- Don't you think this is a bit... vague, brother? - Al mentioned, studying the letter written in four lines in order to look more polished.

- It's great, she'll get the message. - he shrugged, nonchalantly. - I mean, if she gets that caligraphy of yours. - he teased.

- Brother! It turned out quiet legible! - Al replied, defending his heart sore with pride. - Besides, my handwriting is better than yours, just wait until I get the hang of it again, you'll see.

- Humf, whatever. Now we have to ask someone to send that to her.

- What are the two of you plotting there this time, hum? - they heard the nurse said with a smile, while she entered the room.

- What a suspicious old lady. - Ed said grumpily under his breath. - We just want to send a letter, that's all.

- Oh, I can take care of that. I brought you guys some visits. - she pointed to the door, from where emerged another woman.

- Mrs. Hughes! - exclaimed Ed.

- Hello, Mrs. Hughes. - followed Al.

- Hello, boys, it's good to see you. And it seems you're doing well. - Gracia saluted, and Elicia waved at them from her mother's arms. - Elicia, do you remember Al? Well, here he is. - the woman approached the bed with the girl, who had a confused expression on her face.

- But you're so skinny. How were you in that big metal armor?

Alphonse gave her a cheap smile, and Ed prompted a reply, nodding repeatedly with his head.

- Err, that's right, that's right, it was really him.

- So, Elicia, now that you're seeing me for real, would you like to give me hug? - Al suggested, changing the topic.

- Yes! - she opened her arms right away and incline herself in his direction.

- Careful, dear, not very tight, okay? - Gracia said, placing the kid on the bed.

Elicia immediately nested herself in Al's chest.

Hugs. Yes, without a doubt, that was the best part of recovering his body. Even the very first contact he'd had with another person once he woke up, the simple and somewhat painful handshake he'd received from his father, had been wonderful. Where would his father have gone? Would he be waiting for them at home? Al could barely wait to hug him as intensely as May's hug, as gently as when Ed helped him stand up. A hug as long as Elicia's this very moment.

But for now he'd ask as many hugs as he could receive, from everyone who came by to visit them.

#fullmetal fanfic #my aruphonse baby #al and ed #gracia and elicia hughes #post the promised day

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askawraithlord40k · 7 years ago

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📕 - Read to my muse

The wraithlord looked at Akhenaten incredulously. “I still sense… some energy of chaos, about you. However, fine. This one shall indulge, since it was nicely asked.”

Seemingly willing a hologram into existence with a gesture, the wraithlord began to point out various runes.

“Aeldari fundamentals are difficult for other races to grasp, so pay attention closely. Each rune has a meaning, but that meaning is enhanced by the detail of the runes. If one can memorize the base runes, and the detail charachters, one can begin to read the language. Full mastery does take several years of memorization and practice. For now, let us do numbers.”

A series of gestures. A strange but quite simple shape appears.

“This represents ‘one’ - for the concept of nothing, we use this separate charachter- it remains the same always, and is apart from the number system. Multiples of ten, like 10, 100, 1000, 10,000, all work off of this charachter- we simply modify these parts to represent them. So, in your counting system, if a number begins with one, this rune will be present, and dominant.”

The aeldari construct sat cross-legged, with Akhenaten sitting on his legs, as it patiently taught the numbers one through ten.

“I see that perhaps you are considering the writing of these charachters. Caligraphy goes back to the days when we recorded our thoughts upon text, and wraithbone. Many modern eldar have forgotten how to write in detail. It is a time consuming process. For this lesson, we will only attempt the charachter ‘one’ today. Hold your arm steady, and make a single stroke down, curving at the top. Good enough, I suppose. Next, a similar stroke, curving, running into the first- yes. Now, details. These segments of the rune are especailly difficult- be patient and concentrate…”

So it was, the lesson moved at length to speaking.

“It is unfortunate that your voices cannot appropriately create the correct high octaves and accent as ours can- it is a product of different voice boxes and the like. But it is also true we share some things in common, enough for some words to be attempted. To keep with today’s theme, let us try ‘one’

The wraithlord produces a series of odd alien images allegedly explaining tongue movements. The aeldari word for ‘one’ was, despite being short, quite difficult for human vocal cords to reproduce. In fact, Akhenaten’s most succesful attempt caused minor physcial pain.

“Good. Now, let us try in a sentence.”

The wraithlord emits a basic sentence of Aeldari. It seems impossible.

“Ah. Of course, your phonics levels are too low for such things. A mixture of high gothic and aeldari then- as much as the thought repulses me.

“There is aEUn– Wraithlord.”

#taught english to korean kids IRL #So if any of this felt realistic you now know why

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kayakin-world · 2 days ago

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Full name: Ace Medley Nickname(s): Red Age: Adult (canon) / Young adult (AU) Birthday: September 3 Birthplace: Mobius / Lunearis Gender: Trans male Pronouns: He/Him Voice claim: Korekiyo Shinguji (Todd Haberkorn)

Species: Mobian Race: Amur hedgehog Skin: Light tan Eyes: Magenta (wearing green contacts) Hair: Scarlet red Face: Round Build: Slim, slightly top heavy Other details: Freckles Height: 110cm / 3'7 Sexuality: Pan-oriented demian Relationship status: Single

Zodiac sign: Virgo Favorite colour: Blue MBTI: INFJ Good traits: Persuasive, intuitive, idealistic, creative, determined, deep, organized, good listener Bad traits: Sensitive to criticism, avoidant, perfectionist, stubborn, blunt, withdrawn, manipulative, judgmental Hobbies: Board games, caligraphy, candle making, puzzles, reading, tinkering, collecting trinkets

Occupation: Wizard (former oracle), tinkerer Weapon: Chaos energy weapons Special ability: Intuitive precognition, chaos energy user Abilities: Spindash, super speed, good memory Weaknesses: Emotional turmoil, partial blindness Alignment: Evil(?) Team: Sunbreakers (with Ulac and Gala) Type: Speed Status: Active - Alive

Relationships:

S/O - N/A

Family - Pau (younger sibling)

Close friends - Gala

Allies - Eggman Empire, Sunbreakers

Neutral - Everyone else

Enemies - Team Atom, Team Riot, Team Hallow, Team Flow, Team Sonic, Team Rose, Team Dark, Team Chaotix, Freedom Fighters

Playlist:

(TBA)

#characters #fan characters #sonic #ace

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oh-theatre · 6 years ago

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Happy birthday Lo!

Patton this is... wonderful

Did you really think I wasn’t going to pepper in Logicality on the bestest boys birthday. But ofc I had to! Patton loves his star and I had to make him a letter because this ship owNS ME

#HAPPY BIRTHDAY LOGAN #sanders sides #logicality #ts logicality #ts logan #ts logic #logan sanders #logic sanders #patton sanders #morality sanders #ts morality #ts patton #youtube #thomas sanders #calligraphy #caligraphy #caligraphy chaos #art #my art

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learningjournals · 4 years ago

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Research: Experimental Caligraphy

I want a feeling of the past but contemporary (I know confusing but this is more or less what I want to do) so I need a bit of writing so I started to research and practice with a bit of calligraphy and markings

Cola Pens

Cola pens create marks that are just fantastic. I wanted to experiment and see how this work and use it to break the page a bit. Experimental Calligraphy is very chaotic and rich, which is fascinating but can obscure any other element on a page. So I tried to control it a bit without taking away the richness of the marks.

The videos below are the ones I used. In the next post, I will add the work I did and how I felt about these pieces. Secondary research

youtube

How to make Calligraphy pen (Calligrascape, 2016)

This is a very simple way to create more traditional pens. The mark is closer to the traditional instruments that calligraphers use but not really what I wanted but I still made them and work with them (I will show the pages for the experimentation on a later post)

youtube

How to make a cola pen for calligraphy ( Calligrascape, 2016)

This video showed a cola pen that is simple and can be used quite easily. I made this pen also. As the video shows, the nib has problems like inking it a lot and a more straight line but I think you can experiment with it.

youtube

Homemade Cola Pen How-To // Modified Design for Better Calligraphy ( tinlunstudio, 2020)

This type of pen is an improved design for the regular but it is more bulky and difficult to use. I love the texture and hold more ink but the clarity of the letter is in question. There is more chaos and more richness in this pen and also the way the creator uses the pen is more expressive but difficult to imitate but I will try. Another important issue with this pen is the need for big paper (A3) to write simple sentences. if you want to be legible. This is impossible if I want to use a small space for the project.

youtube

Victorian Letter-Writing Etiquette Rules ( The StudyTube Project, 2020)

This video is quite different. She talks about how to write a letter in the victorian time, which is fascinating and fun. I also notice that there is no mention of how the language was used by the average person and I always wanted to know if all the rules she mention were used for the average person. The etiquette in Spain is quite different but they share the formality and the intention of being published. I have never imagen that a private letter should be so well written that can be published. I would have never written in my life if that is the standard. In my research, many personal letters were published in the papers or on books, I thought that letters were just a literary technique to make the story more interesting but it seems that "real" letters were done with the idea of getting published.

Summary There will be a second post with examples of these pens and my attempts to make them into the final piece of work. There will also be some posts with notes of the "Victorian and Edwardian" research that I did for this project.

Calligrascape (2016). How to Make a Cola Pen for Calligraphy. [online] www.youtube.com. Available at: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0iLMNO3QD0c [Accessed 10 Sep. 2021].

Made by Edgar (2018). How To Make A Homemade Cola Calligraphy Pen (FREE Template Included). [online] www.youtube.com. Available at: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Fq0iPacHOOY [Accessed 10 Sep. 2021].

The StudyTube Project (2020). Victorian Letter-Writing Etiquette Rules. [online] www.youtube.com. Available at: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KsKHF1ci1wA [Accessed 10 Sep. 2021].

tinlunstudio (2020). Homemade Cola Pen How-To // Modified Design for Better Calligraphy. [online] www.youtube.com. Available at: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9rDy_oWL3xQ [Accessed 10 Sep. 2021].

#assignment4

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captainwuzz · 5 years ago

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They're at the end of their rope.

After a long day of promised fun, Ryuk eyed Zajac's number on their forehead reach double-digits.

So they lie, calmly and peacefully in his lap, as if their days were to continue.

"Wait... but I thought shinigami couldn't get attached to humans?" They chided jokingly, trying to lighten the mood. That's what he loved most about them. They made sure Ryuk was as entertained as possible, without using the black book attached to him.

But now, he must use the very same book against them, in order to prevent a worser outcome. He wasn't sure what could hurt them in the confinements of their home, but he wasn't going to sit back and watch.

"... It's OK, big guy. You're doing the right thing. Pretend I'm a dog you ran over with your truck, and just forget about me!"

"Oh, you of all people should know it's not that easy."

Ryuk's voice was a lot more bitter than usual. It's his fault, though. He was the one who fell first.

At least he's not dumb enough to throw his life away for another human- that'd be ridiculous. There's always more fun, hijinks, and chaos that could be sought on Earth.

There was only one Zee.

"It's your job to kill lowlifes, though," they reiterate, still trying to soothe the shinigami. "I feel safer with you destroying me now than I ever did walking outside."

Those words had him sink even more. He wasn't ever a being who felt emotions outside of stimulation and boredom, but now he has a hard time sticking to habit?

"That's nonsense! My being next to you is the worst kind of news for a human. I brought you this misfortune."

"But it was a good time, no?" Their hand reaches to his cheeks, feeling the subzero beholding him one last time. "I got to admit, having my spirituality be confirmed and holding my hand for a few years has been validating."

"... I've never gotten more attached to such a pretty face." His sharpened fingers mirrored the actions of Zee, feeling their suddenly pinkened features. "With such stupid, flowery words, too." If he could roll his bulging eyes, he would. The tone in his voice was sarcastic for the split second that made them giggle.

"Can I ask one more thing though?" Their hand pulls away from him, thinking rapidly. "Was I more fun than Kira?"

He almost forgot Light ever existed. He could forget every human soul he touched up to this point just to remember this one nearing expiration.

"Way more fun. More unconventional fun than I ever experienced on Earth."

"Good! I'm glad." Their eyes dampen a little, before wiping them with their arm.

A giant sigh leaves Ryuk as he seeks out his notebook attached to his belt. At Zee's request, the ballpoint pen he used had My Melody on the top of it. "Y-you're gonna keep the pen right? It's so cute and it'll confuse whoever you'll be with."

He's silent. The red in his eyes begin glaring as he turns to a crisp page. He's never been one for caligraphy, but he did spend his sweet time embellishing their name.

Zajac - dies peacefully.

The name they chose, with a heart dotting the j, and the cause written just as sweetly, he glanced down to his host.

They hold his hand, squeeze it to their heart. "Thank you, Ryuk. I love you."

His head comes close to theirs, eclipsing them in a kiss. And, just like that, their eyelids flutter, and a planet-breaking sigh exits their ribs.

He could already feel the light leave the room, and he already felt the extra life come to him.

Ryuk's body faded through Zee's hollow one, them delicately landing on their fluffy bed. He took no time at all to vanish, scooping the Death Note they owned from underneath it.

The FBI knocks. One. Two. Three times.

imagined ryuk saying "i've never gotten more attached to such a pretty face" and now i'm embarrassed

#zeescript #death tw -#animal death mention -#ryuk 🍎#sorry im feeling angsty ❤️

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