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anakin-danvers · 4 years

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the most beautiful blue

Luke Skywalker x fem!reader

Request: “Hello bb 😌🥰 I would like to request the prompts “why do you always think you have to do everything on your own?” and “I’ll walk you home.” with Luke Skywalker (baby Luke 🥺) please and thank you. Congrats on 100 followers! You really deserve it! 😘🤩” as requested by @acnini

Description: You’re used to doing things yourself, not liking to wait for others to help. It’s your way of dealing with the different feelings within you. But your feelings are soon put on full display before a certain Tatooine farm boy.

Word Count: ~3.2k

Warnings: mentions of mom being sick, mention of father passing away, some angst, tiiiiiiiny bit of my attempt at some spicyness 🌶, lots of fluff.

A/N: I’ve been wanting to write for Luke for so long so thank you Aileen for requesting for our baby Luke! Like you said, I love one (1) farm boy. I really like how it turned out, so I hope you all enjoy! I’m working on the other requests that have been sent in for my 100 follower celebration, so keep an eye out for those! Also, Aileen I’m happy I posted this today because you got your full time offer today!! Woo!! 🥳

P.S. Y/L/N means your last name :)

Tags: @acnini, @cherieboba, @obirain, @thespareoom, @lazzwhile, @valkyriesandbrokenhalos, @royalhandmaidens

——

The first thing that greets you every morning is the same: heat. Unending, dry heat that you’re sure is the result of the twin suns that decorate Tatooine’s sky. This morning, it’s not different, the heat hitting you in a wave as you become aware of your surroundings. The second constant of every morning for you is the cough. Similar to the heat, it is dry and unending, violently shaking the body of it’s victim. And it’s the sole perpetrator of your final and heaviest constant of every morning: worry.

Worry settles in you every morning, the frequency of it not making it any less heavy on your mind. Your mother is the sole family you have, and she’s sick, her health not improving as the days pass. Part of you wonders if it’s the rough conditions of Tatooine that prevent her recovery.

Getting up from your bed, you walk over to your mom’s room. She’s sitting up on her bed, hand over her mouth and she coughs once, twice, three times. Her eyes meet yours as you enter, and she tries her best to give you a comforting smile.

“Good morning, love,” she greets.

“Good morning, mom. How are you feeling?” You’re next to her at this point, your hand extended to help her get up.

“Ah, well same as always. Not better, but not worse, thank the stars.”

That‘s the thing about your mom, she always looks at the bright side. It helps you in a way, but never works to fully take away your worry.

“Here, let me help you to the kitchen so we can eat some breakfast,” you say. She takes a hold of your hand to get up, then let’s go.

“I’m okay to walk, Y/N. Like I said, I’m not feeling worse today.” She smiles at you to get her point across, and you nod at her before walking to the kitchen.

Once there, you grab some haroun bread, hubba gourd preserves, and blue milk. You set them all on the table, along with two plates and two cups. Right as you take your seat, your mom walks into the kitchen, taking a seat on the chair across from you.

“Thank you, love.”

“Of course.”

The two of you dig into your respective breakfasts. You notice the hubba gourd preserves are running low, and make a mental note to make some more.

“One of the vaporators seems to be acting up,” she says. “I’ll check it out and see if I have to fix it after breakfast.”

Quickly, you shake your head. “That’s alright, I can handle it.”

“Y/N...”

You interrupt her before she has a chance to protest.

“Mom, it’s fine. I’m headed to the market today anyways. It’d be good to check on the vaporators beforehand to know if I need any supplies to fix them.”

Your mom sighs, shaking her head lightly. She knows you’ve made up your mind on the matter. “Well, let me at least ask Beru to have Luke help you with the vaporators. I was hoping to visit her since she promised me some of her blue milk cheese last time I saw her.”

You shake your head again, this time not as quickly.

“I’m alright. I don’t need Luke to help me. Really, I can handle it.”

Another sigh escapes her lips before a small smile appears. She reaches over to place a hand on your cheek. The once soft hand is now rough, calloused due to years of work.

“My sweet, sweet girl. What would I do without you?”

You just smile at her back, some heat brushing your face at her words.

“That’s what I’m here for, mom.”

Your mother has been sick for some time now. Like she says, it doesn’t technically get worse, but you’re sure something this long term doesn’t help anybody’s health. For as long as you can remember, it’s always been just your mom and you, your father having passed when you were young. She’s taken care of you all your life, nursing you back to health whenever you’ve fallen ill. Now it’s your turn to help her.

Once breakfast is done, you kiss your mom’s cheek before heading to check in the vaporators. She lets you know she is going to visit the Lars family, but should be back for dinner.

You step out into the scorching heat, eyes instantly squinting to adjust to the brightness. Tools in hand, you walk over to the vaporator that is giving trouble. Once you reach it, you begin to inspect it, quickly determining one of the condensers is busted. Should be an easy replacement, but you need to buy some at the market.

Cleaning your hands on a rag, you walk over to your home again to drop off the tools and grab some bags to carry what you plan to buy at the market. You notice your mom is no longer there, having already gone to visit the Lars.

You start the short walk over to the market, almost reaching it when you hear someone running behind you and your name being called. You turn to find who the owner of the voice is, and find Luke slowing down as he catches up to you, you smile.

“Hi Luke,” you say as he reaches you. And though he had been the one who had been running, you know he’s not as breathless as you are at the moment.

He takes a few breaths before speaking. “Hey,” he says and takes another breath. “I went to look for you at your house but hadn’t caught you in time.”

“I need to buy a new condenser for one of the vaporators, as well as some other things from the market.”

“Your mom told me,” he says. The two of you begin your walk to the market, sound of conversation and the smell of different food indicating it’s near.

“Did she also tell you to help me with the vaporators?” You look at him as you ask your question, your eyebrow rising slightly.

His face gives it all away. “I—no she didn’t.”

“Luke...”

“Okay,” he says, raising his hands slightly. “She did ask me to help you out, but in my defense I already planned on visiting you today.”

Luke and you have been friends since childhood. The Lars family are your neighbors, your mom and Beru having always been friendly with each other. With Luke and you being around the same age, it was easy for you to gravitate towards one another. You two are inseparable, and really, you wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Well, you know I’m never opposed to seeing you, Luke, but I can fix the vaporator on my own.”

Once you reach the market you walk straight to the shop that you know will have condensers. Luke is next to you the whole time, not leaving your side.

“I know you can, but I also know you probably have like 10 other things to do today. Let me help you with that one thing.”

After picking up a condenser, you look over at Luke. He’s staring at you, his blue eyes searching your face as he waits for your response. You place a hand on his shoulder and squeeze it lightly.

“Trust me, 11 things isn’t that much different than 10. I can do it.”

Luke throws his head back and gives a dramatic sigh. You laugh as you make your way to purchase the part, Luke’s response being exactly what you expected.

“It won’t hurt you to have some help every once in a while, you know?” Luke is behind you as you pay.

“I know.”

You both leave the shop and walk towards the main line of food stands. You go around to different stands, with you buying the different food and supplies that are running low back home, while Luke is next to you talking about what he’s been up to since the last time he’d seen you.

You’re back home now, hands deep in the vaporator, Luke sitting on the ground next to you. He helped you carry the condenser and some other things back and had almost started fixing the vaporator. You protested before he got his hands on it, reminding him that his original plan was to visit you, making him your guest, and guests don’t fix vaporators.

You raise your arm to wipe some sweat off your brow. Setting the tools down, you turn to grab the water canteen that you had brought, finding Luke already holding it out. Thanking him, you take the canteen, bringing the opening to your lips and greedily drinking the cool liquid, some of it dripping down your chin. As you drink, you can feel Luke’s eyes on you, making you suddenly need more water.

Taking a last gulp, you close the canteen and hand it back to Luke. He keeps his eyes on you, even as he grabs it and takes a drink himself. Now it’s your turn to stare. The way his lips connect with the opening, the way his neck moves as he drinks, the way he looks under the sun, the —

“Do I have something on my face, Y/L/N?”

At his words, you blink a few times. Before you get flustered under his gaze, you huff, deciding to put on a playful front instead of letting him know you were admiring him.

“I should be asking you that, Skywalker. You’re the one that was staring first. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think I have a doop bug on my face.”

Luke laughs, a genuine, full laugh that sounds like music to your ears. And with that, your playful front vanishes, replaced by the flustered state that only Luke can cause. In order to avoid having him see you this way, you turn your attention back to finish off the vaporator.

You finish right before nightfall, the simple task taking longer than planned thanks to Luke, your favorite distraction. When you’re putting away the tools you used, Luke is standing behind you, talking to you about some new parts he got to tinker around with his family’s vaporators.

“If you like, you can come over and I can show them to you. You might still find your mom there.”

You nod at his offer, practically jumping at the opportunity to spend more time with him. “Yeah, that’d be great. I might have to steal some of your ideas for the vaporators.”

So you walk with him to his home, bumping into your mom just about halfway. She has some of Beru’s blue milk cheese, and you let her know you’ll be home soon. When you arrive to the Lars homestead, you greet Owen and Beru, and Luke leads you to his room.

He goes directly to where he has some of his new parts on a table on the corner of his room. Luke is fiddling around with some of the parts, but your eyes land on two little figurines made of wood from japor trees that are on the corner of the table. You pick them up, and upon further inspection you recognize them. You give way to a small gasp, and Luke turns to look at you.

“What’s wrong? Oh...” His eyes land on the figurines in your hand, one of a girl and the other of a boy.

“Are these...are these the ones I made you when we were kids?” Your fingers trace the edges of the rather crude wood carvings, a smile finding its way to your face. “I made these when I was like 10.”

“Yeah, I—I’ve had them since.”

“Why? I mean, they’re not really that good,” you say, laughing at the disproportionate legs and arms.

“Because you made them. For me. How could I not keep them?”

You raise your eyes to look at him, finding he’s looking down at the wood carvings. You take the moment to appreciate how close he is to you. At this proximity, you freely look at his blonde hair, his lashes, his dimpled chin. He’s the epitome of your favorite dreams, and you’d love nothing more than to let him know that.

“I really appreciate you keeping them, Luke.”

He looks up to meet your eyes, a warm smile on his face. Thanking the proximity once again, you have a better view of his smile, the smile that gives you goosebumps on even the hottest Tatooine days.

“Here, let me show you the parts.”

After Luke gushes to you about his plans to modify the vaporators to work more efficiently, he asks you if you’d like to go outside and take advantage of the cooler air. Now, the two of you are sitting under the moons’ light, the absence of the twin suns allowing a small relief of the usual heat.

“So, will you let me modify your vaporators if my technique works?” Luke asks, hope evident in his voice.

“You can teach me how to modify one. I can take care of the rest. I wouldn’t want to keep you from your other duties.”

“You wouldn’t be keeping me from anything, Y/N. You know I love helping you.”

You nod. “I know, Luke. But really, I can do the rest on my own.”

Luke is silent for a second. The seconds soon turn to a few minutes, and you would be okay with it if it weren’t for the unreadable expression on his face. You’re about to break the silence when he beats you to it.

“Why do you always think you have to do everything on your own?”

There it is, there’s the question you know he’s been wanting to ask, but hoped he wouldn’t. A sigh escapes your lips as the emotions you’d been holding back come tumbling down like an avalanche. You feel tears start to well in your eyes, and you look down at your hands to hide them from him.

“Because, Luke, I know one day I’ll be on my own. You’re destined for so much, I know this and you do too. I know one day you’ll be out in the galaxy fulfilling that great destiny of yours, and you should. But I know I have to stay here to care for my mom, and one day she’ll be too weak to do even the smallest things. And that day it’ll all fall on me, so I need to be prepared for when that day comes.”

You blink back the tears, still looking at your hands, afraid to face Luke. His hand comes to take a soft hold of your chin, lifting it lightly. You still avert your eyes, not wanting to look at him.

“Y/N, please look at me.”

You finally do look at him, the pleading in his voice snaking its way into your heart and forcing you to meet his eyes. When your eyes lock with his, you feel yourself sink into his gaze.

“I’m not going to leave you behind. Ever.”

“Luke, you don’t have to always think of me. You have to think about yourself, about your dreams. I’m not letting you stop everything because of me.”

“And I won’t. But I’m not leaving you behind either. You have to understand that. I can’t leave you behind because you’re the one who keeps me going, the one who inspires me to get out of here and search for something better. And I won’t leave you behind because I love you, I’ve loved you since we were children, and I’ll continue loving you until we’re both old and gray.”

You really don’t know what to say. You’ve loved Luke for as long as you can remember, the once childish crush growing into something mature and so real as the years passed. He’d been your first kiss when you two were children, and, unbeknownst to him, your only kiss. So to have him say all this to you leaves you nothing short of wordless.

“Luke, I...I don’t know what to say.”

His hand moves from your chin to cup your face, his thumb grazing your cheek to wipe away a stray tear.

“You don’t have to say anything, Y/N. I just need you to know that you can always count on me. Today, tomorrow, always.”

Before second guessing what you’re doing, you lean in to connect your lips with his. His lips instantly respond. At first you kiss him the way you did all those years ago: innocent and sweet. But soon, the years of love reflect themselves on the kiss.

You grab a hold of his face, bringing him closer to you. His hands drop to take a hold of your waist, staying there for a second until you make the move to inch closer to him. At your action, he pulls you closer to him, his fingers digging slightly into your waist. You let out a small moan at the sensation, one that’s mimicked by his own.

At the sound of Luke’s name, you pull away.

“Luke! I need your help with something!” It’s Owen who calls him.

“I’ll be right there!” Luke answers.

Then he turns to look at you, the biggest smile you’d ever seen adorns his face. You’re smiling as well, your lips tingling. A small laugh escapes you as the two of you continue to stare at each other, not really knowing what to say.

You lean in to give him a quick kiss on his lips, pulling back before he pulls you in again. And when you look at his eyes again, all you see is pure adoration.

A passing traveler had once described to you what you had a hard time imagining: the ocean. So much water in one place, you couldn’t fathom. What shocked you the most was his description of the ocean being blue. The most beautiful blue, you remember him saying. You’d hope to see it yourself one day. However, you know that his words couldn’t be true. The most beautiful blue you’d ever and will ever see is the shade of Luke’s eyes.

“Luke!” Owen calls again.

“Just a minute! I’m just saying goodbye to Y/N,” Luke says, standing up and extending his hand to help you up. You take it and stand up, dusting your pants of sand.

“Oh, then take your time!”

You laugh at Owen’s words. Luke jokingly rolls his eyes, a laugh of his own filling your ears.

“Here, I’ll walk you home.”

“No, Luke, I’m fine. Owen needs you,” you say.

“You heard what he said. I’m taking my time.”

You laugh again, taking a hold of Luke’s arm. The two of you begin the walk to your home. As the two of you walk under the night sky, the light of the moons lighting your way, your conversation fills the air. The two of you tease and laugh, happiness evident. You arrive in front of your home, where Luke promises to see you first thing in the morning, and your chest fills with such beautiful warmth at the anticipation.

When Luke kisses you goodnight before jogging his way back home, you know that now every morning, you’ll have a fourth constant, the one that will always outweigh the other three: love.

#ahhh I really like how this came out #i plan to continue writing for our favorite farm boy #chasity reaches 100!🥳#luke skywalker x reader #luke skywalker imagine #luke skywalker fanfic #luke skywalker fanfiction #luke skywalker x you #luke skywalker x y/n #luke skywalker reader insert #star wars fanfiction #star wars fanfic #userkarina #usernobie #chasity's work #chasity writes #my work #fem reader #anakin-danvers work

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infptarius · 4 years

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Play With the Clown

This is the first thing I have written to post to Tumblr. I hope my fellow clownfuckers enjoy, this is NSFW. (18+ ONLY) PART 1

The sound of the door slamming shut behind you made your rattled nerves jump, and you turned to see the way into the decrepit house on Neibolt St. closed tightly behind you. ‘Just a peek,’ you had thought when you entered. A peek indeed. You were aware of the things people said about this house. You’d heard the place was haunted, that homeless people stayed here, that people had died here. Curiosity was a hell of an incentive to do the stupidest things, you supposed. Turning back to the interior of the house, cobwebs dripped from the cracked ceiling, and dead leaves crunched beneath the soles of your shoes as you pressed onward, into the dim light filtering through grimy windows. You felt anxious, sweat beaded on your skin as goosebumps raised along your arms and neck. You could feel eyes watching you, but you saw no one else. You heard no one else, either. “Hello?” Your voice sounded meek as it rang through the abandoned structure, crumbling walls sending decaying echos of your own call back to your straining ears.

As you listened intently, you found that there WAS another sound. Soft tinkling bells sounded in a room down the hall you were currently exploring. The fear that was building in your veins like a buildup of ice around your frantically pounding heart faded slightly at the sound.

It seemed so... welcoming? Wrong? Both of these things, in fact, were true. Your feet carried you forward into a room that seemed impossibly dark. The moment you crossed the threshold, it was like being blindfolded.

You turned on your heel to exit the room, but saw no doorway from whence you had come. A solid wall met you as you attempted to walk, hoping to pass through to the hallway once more.“Oh FUCK!” you scream, fists balled and pounding on this unexpected surface, your fear of confinement rearing its ugly head to make your heart ache in your chest.

A malevolent giggle catches your attention in the darkness. The sound made you cringe and twist away, sounding as though it had come from mere inches from your ear. “W-who are you?” Your voice quakes as you pose your question, betraying your trembling body even in complete darkness. “Who? Why, I’m Pennywise the Dancing Clown~!” The response comes quickly, in a false jovial tone. “Pennywise has found a friend, yes?” His uneven tone, rising and falling in strange ways make your stomach twist into knots with anxiety.

“Okay... Pennywise...” The name feels strange on your tongue as you struggle to calm yourself. “How... how do I get out of this room?” “Get Out?” he asks with a mirthful giggle, “You don’t Get Out of this room, silly. You stay, and you play with the clown~!” A soft glow emanates through the room, providing just enough illumination for you to make out the silhouette of the tall clown in his strangely designed suit standing before you. He is easily three heads taller than you, towering above with a face obscured in shadows.

The eyes, though... small points of light set deep into the darkness of the face you can almost see glimmer at you as you try to step back, pressing into the hard wall behind you.

“Ohhhh... You don’t want to play with the clown?” he asks in mock sadness, placing his hands against the wall to either side of you. He leans forward, and the rooms strange luminescence increases to bring you his visage. His chalk-white face with ruby lips and lines adorning his cheeks, rising up over his eyes of molten gold comes into focus, and you feel heat rise in your cheeks as an unnaturally long and pointed tongue snakes out from between his lips. The wet muscle drags a trail of chilly saliva from the bottom of your neck, right at the top of your collar bone up over your pounding pulse. It glides over the curve of your jaw, letting the tip flick upward as it comes away from your skin after tasting your cheek.

Sharp teeth glisten behind those plump, blood red lips, and you gasp softly when you feel the sudden pooling of tingling desire in your abdomen.

Pennywise pauses as this feeling unfurls inside you, his eyes drift slightly, his vision no longer sharply focused on your face. He huffs a few times, like a bear scenting its surroundings.

His face presses into the nape of your neck harshly and the air rushing over your skin as he breathes in makes your body shiver, nipples stiffening under your shirt.

“So you DO want to play with the clown...” he comments, a wide grin spreading over his mouth. “Play with Pennywise, yes... we can have so much fun together.” “Play with you?” You ask this with a still trembling voice, though the heat of desire slowly overtakes the terror that had originally settled into your bones. “If I do that... if I play with you, whatever you want to play, are you going to help me get out of here?”

Pennywise cackles at this inquiry, chilling your blood for a moment, before he leans himself down, nose to nose with you in the dimly lit room. “Sure, little thing. Play with me and I’ll let you go home... if you don’t break the rules~.”

“Rules?” you ask nervously. “W-what are the rules?”

Large, gloved hands grip your arms just beneath the shoulders and you feel yourself hoisted effortlessly into the air. You cry out softly in surprise, legs shaking as you feel yourself lowered to the floor again. “Rule Number One~,” the clown’s singsong voice filled with threat announces, “No screaming.” He chuckles to himself as though he finds the idea itself hilarious. You shiver and bite your lips together between your teeth.

“Rule Number Two~.” He raises a hand to touch your chin. The soft tearing of fabric meets your ears as blackened, sharp-tipped claws erupt from the glove. “No fighting.” A momentary blur of motion sends the sharp tips of his claw down through the fabric covering your body, shredding the front of your shirt, your pants and undergarments so that the clothing tumbles off of you uselessly. The cool air of the room makes you whimper softly.

The growing pressure in your belly ignites your nerves, and you feel tears gathering in your eyes at the aching need you feel to be touched, to be stimulated by this creature.

A low inhuman growl issues from Pennywise as his suit dissipates like vapor, exposing his lean, pale body to your eyes. His legs and arms appear blackened from the knees and elbows to his clawed digits. The image was strangely beautiful, before those clawed hands grabbed your arms and pulled you against that chilly, firm body.

His lips gleam with his saliva, a few cold drips landing on your collar bone and breast. You lean your head forward and press your own lips against his, eyes closing as you trust these instincts that burn and flare within your body to lead you to safety.

After a moment of shock, the vibration of his low growl of contentment makes your lips and tongue feel almost electrified, and you grind your thighs together at the heat that radiates from the swell of your slick sex.

He returns your kiss with surprising intensity, his tongue gliding around your own as his teeth prick your lips lightly, causing little droplets of blood to form and darken your lips to the same color as his own.

As he sucks and licks at your lips, a new sensation makes your core tighten and clench, a slick, smooth appendage glides against your hot slit. The aching entrance of your sex spasms as the slick tip glides over it, making its way to the throbbing bundle of your clit.

Thrusting your hips, you grind that aching bundle against him, knees shaking as jolts of pleasure crash through your terrified body. You moan into his mouth, even as he collects the tiny droplets of blood at your lips.

Struggling, you tilt your hips to place his tip at your entrance and wriggle against him. Complying with your silent plea, he bucks his hips forward. Slick flesh fills you, stretching your aching walls in sweet satisfying agony.

As he releases your mouth, your head tips back and a low moan issues from you as he stretches you around his appendage. His arms grip you tight against his chest, and his hips begin a rapid, merciless rhythm.

Your body flushes with pleasure even as your walls ache around him, the friction of his pulsing shaft against the sensitive flesh of your core sending showers of sparks and galaxies of stars through to the backs of your eyelids. Breathless whimpers are all you can manage as he holds you tight against his chest, fucking into your slippery heat in greedy, full thrusts.

He picks up his pace when your muscles spasm around him, an external hint at the mind-blanking intensity of pleasure that wracks your body as you come hard against him, eyes open and unseeing.

You feel the continued pace pick up as your senses return to you slowly. His breathing grows ragged in your ear, breath rushing over the side of your neck and ear as he pants, fucking into you like an animal in heat. His pelvis slaps loudly against your own with every thrust until you feel yourself crushed down against him, his shaft buried inside your body throbbing and hot, thick fluid seeping into you.

For a long moment, you’re held pinned against him, viscous release seeping out around him from your overfilled cunt. “Rule Number Three...” The sinister voice speaks in your ear as a sudden harsh shift in gravity sends you reeling. For a moment, you feel as though you’ve lost consciousness, until you find yourself being held above your bed, in your own bedroom. “When the clown wants to play, you play~.”

Dropping you unceremoniously on the bed, Pennywise gives you a malicious, sharp-toothed grin and vanishes with a pop!

You lay panting on your bed for a moment, wide-eyed with your heart hammering away in your chest. When you realize that you’re beginning to leak whatever strange seed you were filled with on your favorite blanket, you stand and walk toward your bathroom with quivering legs.

A mixture of dread and excitement boils within you as you wonder when the clown will be coming back to play again.

#clownfucker #pennywise #smut #pennywise x reader #dubcon #Play With The Clown

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robbyrobinson · 4 years

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Doctor Sleep: Birth of Evil

Everything has its origin.

Hundreds of years ago in the country of Hungary, a young girl found herself in a tight fit. A foreigner from another country orphaned at an immature age, she snuck her way onto a ship heading for this new land. She got in through the goods shipped for Hungary. She hid in a box of rice and remained in the box until the ship officially made land at the docks. As the box was getting lifted out, one of the crew members noted how the box felt lighter. "Sir, do you feel that there is something peculiar about this box?" a crewmate asked another.

"This is just a box of rice, nothing more, nothing less."

The girl kept herself deathly quiet. She was able to breathe through the small holes in the top of the box. The two men inquired more on the now lightweight box until they were informed that the nobles were waiting impatiently for their deliveries. Lest they faced spending a night evolving to weeks in their "torture chamber," they had better forget their complaints on the box and go. The girl was tossed here and there around the empty box. She felt herself getting picked up and tossed onto the back of a carriage. With a whipping of the rope and the horses' neighs, she was off.

The journey was long and bitter. The post-digested rice within the young girl's stomach sloshed around, compelling her to almost vomit up the contents of her bowels. There were a few pitstops on the way. While the men were distracted, the girl quietly abandoned the box to steal crumbs of food and to relieve herself. There was a time when she was so blocked up from the non-nutritious food, she almost missed the carriage's exit. Sleeping inside of the box was bothersome and discomforting, but to her, she thought it was better than sleeping in the dead of winter in alleyways with hardly anything to cover her for warmth.

The time for the permanent delivery came short of 1 PM in the evening. Sunlight peaked into the minuscule holes, tickling the young girl's eyes. During one of their pitstops, the girl had collected a small knife and tentatively carved a hole through the box around a time the traders were distracted. The sights fascinated her. In front of her was a castle. It was one of the Gothic build popular at the time and unspeakably massive. It had a long history behind it: before its remodeling, it had a horseshoe shape and a Romanesque style. The men stopped at the entrance of the castle and began unloading their massive hauls.

"About time you had gotten here" a feminine voiced rang out with a clear hint of malice.

The men gulped nervously and placed the packages in front of the woman. Their fingers flailed around from the anxiety, but they started to open each one. One box contained silk. Another one contained tea that was shipped in from one of the neighboring countries. The last one was the box of rice. The men wrapped their fingers around the lid of the box, pulling on it slowly. The girl reacted immediately firmly holding onto the bottom.

"What is this!?" one of the crewmates yelled. He and his partner wrestled with the lid, but the girl refused to allow the box lid to budge. They both situated themselves on opposite ends of the box and gave it one, bold heave-ho. The girl was forced out of the box, landing on her face. The men and the noblewoman stood there in surprise.

"You!" the second crewmate yelled, "you ate her rice, hadn't you!?" He took hold of the girl's black hair, bending her neck backward. She writhed from his grip.

"No, no, please, sir," the girl begged, "I was just so hungry!"

The noblewoman held her hand up, alarming the men. She gave them a deadly glance as toxic as the worse of known poisons; worse than any cyanide. They shivered and released the girl. The girl was frightened by the noblewoman as well. But when the woman made a motioning gesture for her to get at her right hand, she obeyed her order wordlessly.

"I relieve both of you from your duties."

She sent them away back on horseback. She gazed at the young girl, eyeballing her curiously. The young girl felt violated by the noblewoman, even if she was simply observing her. After what felt like endless sessions of quietly interrogating her, a half-smile formed on the woman's face. "You must have come from such a far land," she finally said. Some of her servants walked into the room, and she ordered them to stage a grand feast.

"Do you have a name, if I may inquire of you?" she asked again.

"My Mom named me Rose after her favorite flower," the girl said. She was being directed into the dining room by the servants.

"Delighted to meet you, Rose," the woman said, "you must be starving after such a long journey." She sat Rose at the foot of the dining table. Huge slabs of meat were flopped down in front of the young girl alongside large vegetables like potatoes and beets. Rose found herself salivating at the mouth. "Well, eat up; I'm more than happy to have you in the family."

The woman identified herself as the countess Elizabeth Bathory and throughout a few months, she raised Rose alongside her other children. Rose found herself playing along with her stepsiblings in the courts of the Čachtice Castle and growing to enjoy the good life. Oftentimes, she saw Elizabeth send for peasant women to attend her massive feasts or to become employees at her castle. But for the faintest of reasons, Rose never saw these women again. Dozens of young virgin women would be invited to the castle with the promise of employment that they hoped to use to provide for their families. And yet, Rose never saw them during the day nor did Bathory's staff ever acknowledge that they were missing, Hundreds of women couldn't have just vanished overnight? Could they? It lasted for about a year until Bathory decided to fill Rose in on her secrets. Rose was around 12 at the time. She was fondly looking out of a window at the water across when Bathory entered the room. Rose's eyes lit up.

"You're saying that there's a secret room that you wanted to show me?"

Bathory nodded. "I believe that you are ready for it."

She took her down into the basement; a rusted lock was firmly placed on the door, forbidding entrance into it from anyone other than Bathory. She moved her hair back and drew out a key from a necklace. She held the key in front of Rose's face. It was a golden instrument. Bathory inserted the key into the keyhole of the lock and turned it clockwise. A small click emitted, and the room droned open. A putrid smell leaped out of the room assaulting Rose's nostrils. Bathory smiled. "Welcome to my personal playhouse."

Inside the room, several of the peasant women that were promised jobs were hanging from chains. Multiple women were strung up, getting vivisected with their guts and entrails being exposed. One such woman was a 16-year-old whose lower intestines were wrapped around a spinning wheel. Attached was a crank that from the slightest push, the woman's entrails would be ripped out painfully and as slowly as Mrs. Bathory pleased.

Other women had the skin of their backs ripped off because of nail-laced whips. The crudely placed nails glistened in the sunlight from the remnants of blood that did not dry. The faces of 10 women were grotesquely removed along with other segments of their bodies. Rose looked at Bathory with closer inspection. A tinge of red was on her bottom lip.

"Rose," Bathory began, "what if I were to tell you that there was a way to live forever?"

Live forever? Everything felt like a dream sequence from here on out. The women were moaning in pain, with some strange vapor rising out of their mouths. Bathory walked over to one of the women. Seeing that she had a wound on her arm, Bathory knelt and pushed the wound in. The woman screamed again in pain. More ghostly vapor flowed from her mouth. Bathory hungrily lapped up the substance as the woman's eyes illuminated. The woman's cries gradually faded before she crumbled down into a bloodied heap. "This, Rose, is the secret to a long life."

Rose was intimidated at first, but she was also intrigued by the whole notion of living forever. Bathory beckoned her to lie down on the floor while she walked across the room with a jar in hand. It also contained that gaseous substance. She got on top of Rose and opened the jar.

"You see, Rose," she said turning the jar counterclockwise, "I delight myself in torturing these women because my society devalues them making it easier for me to spirit them away and indulge in my sinful habits. When one of my servants got her accursed blood on my hand, the blood reverted my aging body. From that day onward, I devoted myself to achieving eternal beauty."

She tipped the jar onto Rose's lips. "These women had this strange mental power when I killed them. I found myself accidentally ingesting the vapor and my body felt alive. To my knowledge, no one else made this life-altering discovery, and I proudly call it 'steam.' " Rose breathed in the steam. The pain was excruciating as she felt her body contorting between the past and the present. She felt younger while she was still mentally 12. Lady Bathory was right: she felt invigorated. "Repeat after me, Rose," Bathory said. She recited some cryptic words apparently; she came up with on the spot:

"Lodsam hanti, we are the chosen ones. Cahanna risone hanti, we are the fortunate ones. Sabbatha hanti, sabbatha hanti, sabbatha hanti. We are the True Knot, and we endure. What is tied may never be untied."

And then it was over. Bathory removed herself from Rose allowing her to regain composure. As they exited the room of horrors, Bathory grabbed hold of Rose's arm and leaned her close to her face to meet her at eye level. "I want you to succeed me, Rose, but I will inform you that if you as much as to share what I have done with anyone else, I will not only call you a liar, but I will condemn you to the same pain and torment those women downstairs have faced at my hands. Understand?"

Rose gulped and nodded fervently at her demand. She and Bathory spent years luring women into the torture room and killing them in ways indescribable. There was one that was like Rose in that she was also an orphan who was strapped to the spinning wheel.

"Please, let me go," the orphan sobbed, "I just want to live."

Rose looked at the woman in observation. She knew what it was like to be alone and having to rummage for scraps. It was something that she would dear not to even consider reliving that nightmare. And yet, Rose slashed her throat with a brandished knife. The blood gushed out like a geyser. Fresh blood spewed in her face. Rose licked the blood around her lips. "Cherry," she thought.

While most of her assisting Bathory was largely under the threat of death, Rose found herself enraptured by the idea of living long and eating well. Soon, she found herself being elevated above mankind, much like in Bathory's case. It remained that way until one eventful day.

Rose was in the town when news got out about Bathory's actions. She had gotten lazy with her murders and in her hunger, she targeted noblewomen. In 1611, Bathory was found guilty of over 80 murders yet escaped execution by getting locked away in a room of her own castle. Rose had vanished during the sentencing, remaining gone for three years. Bathory was slipping away because of her deprival of steam. Food was still being served to her, but nevertheless, her dreams of eternal life were botched.

Sitting in her empty room, Bathory's eyes grew heavy and she began to drift off to sleep. A clicking stirred her awake. The door opens, she saw her adopted daughter Rose standing there. At first, she was relieved. "I've been waiting for so long, Rose," Bathory exclaimed, "free me and together we will rule all."

Rose shook her head. "Sorry, but I have better ideas for you."

A scream sent the guards running up the stairs. When they got there, they saw Bathory as a pile of dust. Rose had since vanished back into thin air.

(More to come)

#doctor sleep #doctorsleep #rose the hat #Elizabeth bathory #True Knot #true knots #stephen king #the shining #evil #Bathory #fanfic #Resurrection of Rose

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fuck-customers · 6 years

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Very long

I quit my job without notice back at the end of June. No, I didnt walk out of my shift. I came in, worked my shift fully, and then clocked out and gave them a notice of immediate resignation. It wasn't something I wanted to do, but I ended up backing myself into a corner and wasn't left with an option. Backstory - I had worked there for 2 years as a cashier, and was growing to more and more desperately loathe it. I am not a sociable person, I have several mental disorders that make dealing with people in general rather difficult, let alone having to do it as part of a job. I was able to do it rather well for a long time despite all of that. I had always rode my job like rising tides - times when I loved it, or at least tolerated it, and times where I almost quit and never looked back, but during those low times, made an effort to change how I was thinking, and rode the wave again. Only, towards the end, things just got so so bad, that despite my usual tricks and efforts to get back to handling my job, I couldn't. For me, I can handle shitty customers, or I can handle shitty coworkers (and management) but I cant handle both at the same time for a very long time. And with new management, i was sinking fast. We had gotten a new store manager from another store, that everyone basically hated. We had about half of the other store transfer to ours to escape him, and when he came he brought his entire possey with him. I didnt really fit in with it, nor did i really care to. So i was treated condescendingly, like I was new, like I was stupid, and didn't matter, by him, the store manager. I have a boatload of stories, even so far as to be unable/afraid to use the bathroom during desperate needs, because of him, and almost losing my job because of a flu and Facebook, but it'll make this drag out further than it already will, so maybe I'll talk about it in another post. And then my coworkers, for whatever reason, started being extremely rude and unhelpful. People in different departments would all but tell us cashiers to fuck right on off when we needed something, even if it was a simple price check or to bring up a fucking pineapple. (It wasn't a big store so it's not like I was asking them to go from one corner of Walmart to another.) Even worse was that they started treating me like I didnt know how to do my job. I would call back to produce to tell them that a sign was displaying the wrong price, and if they could fix it, and I was met with rudeness and insistence that I wasn't using the right code. That company is very produce heavy. I rang up every single type of tomato we sold every day. Almost every single order had one type or another. Roma and on the vine were the most popular. Im telling you the price is displayed wrong in your department, and you're just going to tell me to give them the price the customer asks for (not what I asked nor do Ineed your permission for that) and then yell at me that I'm using the wrong code like I dont type in 4664 almost every order every shift for 2 years? Fuck yourself Anyways, as I said, I started hating my job a lot. I knew I was reaching the point of no return, so I tried to switch departments. First, I did it the way you're supposed to - applying for it, and then telling management you were interested. I had another manager over my shoulder helping me with the application, as I had never done one as an employee before. When I went to go talk to the manager who was over one of the departments I applied to, she told the manager that helped me that I wasn't a good worker because I "wandered". I will admit to my faults, but if theres one thing I have never done, it's fucking wander. I confronted her about it and told her i didnt think that was fair, and she basically acknowledged me, but ultimately blew me off. How do I know? Because when I asked her about it again, she told me that she had checked with HR and that my application had mysteriously vanished. Yes, an online app, mysteriously wasn't there. She told me to check myself, so I did. The status of it said "submitted - not chosen". I let it go because it was clear she didnt like my work ethic and needed to lie about it. So giving up on the proper methods, I tried a different tactic and went to the manager who helped me with the application, who was over one of the other departments I wanted to work in - Grocery. I have a years experience stocking at fartmart, and they're a lot tougher and harder about stocking than this little store I was at. I jumped at every chance to get off register and be there. I asked the higher up manager about openings in the department every. Fucking. Day. EVERY. COCKSUCKING. DAY. I asked him about openings in grocery. Always met with nothing, they weren't hiring yet. As an extra measure I told the immediate manager over that department and that department only, that I was ready to help. Well, another thing is that I had told basically everyone that I would like to be a supervisor over the front end, a head cashier. I was really gunning for it hard. Even if it was still cashiering, it would be different, and at least I would have greater money handling and supervisor experience to help me at another job eventually, right? Well, I ultimately ended up backing off, because one of the requirements for being a HC was a 100% open availability, and due to having spawned my own child, I didn't have that anymore. ... ...Only to find out that two of my coworkers had been promoted to part time head cashiering. I was greatly upset. I was told that that wasn't a thing at all, and then suddenly it is, for everyone but me. And... literally the only person who would take me seriously about getting off the front end was the dairy manager. I was very forceful in telling him that I would seriously love to work for him in dairy. He told me he already had someone working in his department, but that he didnt know if it was going to work out, so he would talk to her and get back to me. Well... back to the grocery thing.... One day I walk into work and I hop on register. Partway through my shift, i look up, and i see the direct grocery manager training a new employee. I'm immediately and entirely baffled and filled with hurt rage. Then while I'm trying to process what I'm seeing, I'm told that theres a new cashier that's coming in to be trained as a HC. Yeah. In disbelief, I go on my break and find the dairy manager and ask him if he had talked to his subordinate. He had, and he regretfully told me that she was going to try to stick it out and make things work. He couldn't give me a job someone else had (which I genuinely dont hold against him - he's the only pure soul in this story, the only hero that tried for me). So as I go to go to the breakroom, I see the grocery manager walking with yet another higher up manager that I didnt talk to much. Grocery manager said hello, and I immediately confronted her, "so I see you hired someone new. What's up with that?" She then gave me some stupid half ass story about how she didnt think I was serious and thought I only wanted extra shifts in her department, not to switch depts permanently. WAIT, IT GETS BETTER. The higher up manager walking with the grocery manager pipes up right after she had given me that lame excuse with, "oh, nope, [my name] HATES being a cashier". All of that happened in one day, in the span of less than half an hour. After watching all of my prospects for off of the front end hell vaporize before my very eyes, I went to the bathroom and cried my eyes out for like 15 minutes. Just really, really sobbing. And after that, after all of that, I just couldn't take it anymore. I tried so hard to hang on, but I couldn't. My attitude with customers got bad, no matter how hard I tried to be mindful. I started slipping up and forgetting things and making stupid mistakes, and started getting in trouble with management due to customer complaints. I felt awful, because I truly wasn't trying to be mean, I was really trying to hold onto things, but I could no longer manage to hide the fact that I thought the customer was an idiot for asking me if I was open as I actively served customers before them. I couldn't conceal my seething hatred as people bombarded my register and got in my face before I had a chance to even log in. I developed what I believe to be stress induced IBS, where I ended up having to spend time in the bathroom EVERY DAY, and nothing helped it. It was especially bad in the mornings, and since apparently cleaning all of the front end during closing meant I was a wanderer, I was pulled off mids and closings and was forced into doing nothing BUT morning/opening shifts. Thought it was coffee causing my tummy upset, so I switched to energy drinks. Still had the issue. Thought it was caffeine, so i stopped drinking it altogether and just dealt with being tired. Didnt stop the issue. Started taking medicine. Still didnt stop the issue. I developed a late problem because sometimes I would be on my way out the door, only to have my stomach cramp and have to go back inside to the bathroom. Not being able to have caffeine became an issue because I got so anxious and stressed and depressed about my job, that in addition to stomach issues, I developed insomnia that I'm still battling, 2 months after the fact. It got to the point where I would be in the shower getting ready for work and I would be daydreaming about falling down the stairs and breaking my leg or arm so I wouldn't have to go in. It got to the point where I would be on my way to work hoping someone would t-bone me so I wouldn't have to work my shift. I had gotten suspended on my birthday in November 2017 while I had the flu, literally right after having to argue for my job and being told I was already taken off the schedule. I was on my second suspension in June 2018. I had 1 more point before I would be fired, and I ended up being late by exactly one minute on June 23rd because of my stomach issues. That day, I clocked in, found the store manager on the floor, and waited to talk to him. He stopped his conversation with another employee to ask me what I wanted, and I told him I had an attendance issue I needed to talk to him about. He didn't say it in the exact words, but he essentially told me to fuck off back to my register and ignored and dismissed me entirely. So I quit that day after my shift. It was either that, or wait to get fired. Looking back there was a lot i should have done differently - i probably should have tried to talk to my managers more an be more open about my physical issues that had started, at the least, despite their open disdain for me. But more than that, I should have just applied for another department in a different store and transferred out. I would probably still be with the company, and marginally happier. It was probably a good month before I could even drive past the place after quitting without having a panic attack. Quitting like that was not something I ever foresaw myself doing. Fantasizing about? Of course. But seriously? Never. And I felt, and still do, feel bad about it, even if most everyone there can go suck eggs. So why submit this all this time later? Why not right after it happened? Well, I thought my last paycheck and vacation and etc had been direct deposited into my account for my last paycheck all those months ago. But on Friday Sept. 7, while I was two states away in a Walmart, I got a call from them. It was surreal, given that I had had similar dreams that were, you know, dreams - but I answered, and it turns out that I have a last paycheck waiting for me there. I guess as revenge they waited 2 months to tell me I had money waiting. I had mostly gotten over the whole thing, and was even feeling a bit of rose tinted nostalgia... but the thought of actually having to go in and get my paycheck and face all those people and relive everything in stark detail is fucking me up. And I know I'm not going to have a good time when I actually do go get it. I feel miserable and anxious all over again. I want my money... but I dont want to have to see them or be in that place ever again. :/ (Apparently we cant tag through the app anymore? What?) Anyways... thanks for reading.

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easythingstodrawtutorials · 5 years

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How to Draw Perspective - Beginners Guide Step by Step - Easy Things to Draw

New Post has been published on https://easythingstodraw.net/how-to-perspective-beginners-easy-things-to-draw/

How to Draw Perspective - Beginners Guide Step by Step - Easy Things to Draw

youtube

ORIGINAL VIDEO URL: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8Wrk9ewCOo0

How to Draw by Putting Things into Perspective

We’ve presumably all heard (or even expressed) the expression, “That truly places things into viewpoint.” Perspective is about relativity; when you pull back and take a gander at the bigger picture and take an alternate view, possibly things aren’t so awful, or perhaps there’s where it appeared as though there wasn’t previously.

In the craftsmanship world, viewpoint is still about your perspective, and the connections of articles to each other. Just this time, it’s progressively spatial. When you figure out how to draw, you take in the significance of point of view. It’s about what you look like at the world, and that is actually what Patrick Connors instructs in his video, The Artist’s Guide to Perspective.

In Guide to Perspective Part 1, Connors shares essential point of view exercises and shows how you can figure out how to draw by observing items in an unexpected way. In Part 2, Connors develops those illustration exercises, showing how to draw one-and two-point viewpoint; at that point, he applies those attracting strategies to finish a still life, well ordered.

Beneath to take in some incredible guidance about point of view from another of our most loved teachers, Thomas Schaller and apply what you realize as you proceed with Patrick as your guide.

Why Perspective and Perception Go Hand-in-Hand?

In spite of the fact that the basics of viewpoint attracting appear to be somewhat straight to the point, the potential outcomes of how you can apply point of view in your specialty are immense. Truth be told, viewpoint is almost synonymous with observation.

What I mean by this is you can utilize the standards of this procedure to make your own view of your general surroundings through your craft. You have the intensity of figment, the capacity to make the watcher see what you need them to see, actually readily available. You can adjust how your specialty is seen—all by simply overcoming the nuts and bolts of point of view drawing. How engaging is that?

In the event that you are considering, “alright, that all sounds incredible, yet how might I figure out how to attract point of view?” Well, to begin, how about we go over a couple of key terms you should know before diving into viewpoint drawing pulled from the book, Perspective for The Absolute Beginner, by Mark and Mary Willenbrink.

Direct Perspective Terms

Visual profundity is communicated through direct and environmental point of view, and in addition shading use. With direct point of view, profundity is accomplished through lines and the size and position of structures. What’s more, however organizations can fluctuate in unpredictability, the essential terms and definitions shrouded in this segment are natural to direct viewpoint illustrations.

The skyline is the line for which the sky meets the land or water underneath. The tallness of the skyline will influence the position of the vanishing point(s) and in addition the scene’s eye level.

The vanishing point is where parallel lines seem to meet up out yonder. In the image, underneath, you can perceive how the parallel lines of the street retreat and outwardly converge to make a solitary vanishing point not too far off. A scene can have a boundless number of vanishing focuses.

The ground plane is the level surface beneath the skyline. It could be land or water. In the picture underneath, the ground plane is level. In the event that it were slanted or uneven, the vanishing point– made by the way’s parallel lines– may not lay seemingly within easy reach and may show up as though it’s on a slanted plane.

The symmetrical lines will be lines which are coordinated to a vanishing point; the parallel lines of railroad tracks, for instance. “Orthogonal” really implies right edge. It alludes to right edges framed by lines, for example, the edge of a shape appeared point of view.

The vantage point, not to be mistaken for the vanishing point, is the place from which a scene is seen. The vantage point is influenced by the arrangement of the skyline and the vanishing focuses.

One-Point Perspective. Direct viewpoint with only one vanishing point is one-point viewpoint. The vanishing point will normally show up in the middle piece of the scene.

From this vantage point, you are looking over the ground plane to the skyline out yonder. The parallel lines of the railroad tracks merge at a vanishing point seemingly within easy reach. In the event that the lines of the container were moved to return to the skyline, they would combine at indistinguishable vanishing point from the railroad tracks in light of the fact that the lines of the crate are parallel to the railroad tracks. Notice that the majority of the lines in this scene either combine at the vanishing point or are vertical (opposite to the ground plane) or even (parallel to the skyline).

youtube

ORIGINAL VIDEO URL: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Xal-y6zVu0E

Two-Point Perspective. Direct viewpoint that utilizes two vanishing focuses is called two point of view. Scenes in two-point viewpoint ordinarily have the vanishing focuses set at the extreme left and far right.

Here is a two-point viewpoint scene looking over the ground plane to the skyline out yonder. The parallel lines of the railroad tracks and box join at a vanishing point at the extreme ideal not too far off. Alternate lines of the case that are parallel with the railroad ties share a similar vanishing point on the extreme left. The majority of the lines of this scene merge at either the left or right vanishing point, or are vertical lines (opposite to the ground plane).

Multi-Point Perspective. Direct viewpoint doesn’t need to be constrained to a couple of vanishing focuses. A scene could have different vanishing focuses relying upon the multifaceted nature of the subject. For instance, three-point viewpoint is like two-point viewpoint; it has left and right vanishing focuses seemingly within easy reach. Also, there is a third vanishing point either beneath or over the skyline.

Other than having vanishing focuses on the left and right, this scene has an extra vanishing point beneath the subject. With this illustration, the skyline is over the subject, giving a bird’s-eye vantage point to the scene. Each line of the subject is a symmetrical line and goes to one of the three vanishing focuses.

With two-point viewpoint, these vertical lines stay straight all over opposite to the ground plane. With three-point viewpoint, the vantage point either looks down or up at the subject. Rather than vertical lines, it has a third arrangement of symmetrical lines that unite at a third vanishing point.

Subsides Cartridge Factory, watercolor on watercolor paper, 8″ by 11″. The vanishing purposes of this three-point viewpoint scene can be situated by proceeding with the lines of the structures and windows past the edge of the scene to three spots of combination.

Air Perspective

Air point of view, additionally called airborne viewpoint, passes on profundity through varieties of qualities (lights and darks), hues and lucidity of components. Frontal area components in a structure have more prominent esteem contrasts, progressively serious hues and more noteworthy meaning of subtleties. With separation, the qualities and hues end up impartial, the subtleties are less characterized and the components go up against a dull blue-dark appearance.

Climatic point of view happens on the grounds that particles noticeable all around, for example, water vapor and exhaust cloud, influence what is seen. Structures saw from a separation are not as characterized and have less difference on the grounds that there are more particles in the climate between the structures and the watcher. In like manner, the wavelengths of shading are influenced by separation. Blues bob around, while the more drawn out shading wavelengths are not influenced by particles similarly. The outcome is that the blues stay more noticeable than alternate hues in the range.

The qualities are the lights and darks of a synthesis. Characteristic for air viewpoint, qualities can impact the impression of profundity in a scene. Exceedingly differentiating qualities will in general show up forward of esteems with little complexity.

The lighting of a scene influences shadows and estimations of structures. It can likewise influence how those structures are seen.

When drawing, profundity can be communicated through both straight and barometrical point of view and also using shading. Joining each of the three will deliver ideal outcomes.

Dulling with Distance: By putting barometrical point of view to utilize, frames in the forefront will have

more noteworthy lucidity than foundation frames. The dim blue-dark appearance of the tree on the right, with its dull hues and qualities, proposes that it is the most inaccessible of the three trees.

Make an Internal Box

Since the nuts and bolts have been secured, here’s a fun well ordered showing on point of view drawing, which plays into the intensity of deception. This instructional exercise includes outlining squares with lines that subside to a solitary vanishing point. The profundity in the completed the process of illustration is inferred through direct point of view and the utilization of qualities.

youtube

ORIGINAL VIDEO URL: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SqVpCUycEkI

Below is an already made grid to download.

perspective-grid-scan

Inside Boxes, graphite pencil on illustration paper, 8″ × 8″

Materials expected to finish this showing:

Paper: 8″ x 8″ medium surface illustration paper; 8″ x 8″ medium-surface portray paper

Pencils: 2B and 4B

Kneaded eraser

Lightbox or exchange paper

Ruler

Triangle

T-square

Stage 1: Sketch the Squares

On a bit of draw paper, utilize a 2B pencil to frame an extensive square that is 8″× 8″ (20cm × 20cm). Outline littler squares inside the extensive square utilizing a ruler to separate the lines. The estimations ought to be the equivalent from both start to finish and left to right: ½”, 2″, ½”, 2″, ½”, 2″ (1.3cm, 5cm, 1.3cm, 5cm, 1.3cm, 5cm). Draw the lines utilizing a T-square and triangle to guarantee they are straight and exact.

Stage 2: Add the Vanishing Point and Orthogonal Lines

Place a spot at the focal point of the paper for the vanishing point. Start including symmetrical lines from the edges of the squares to the vanishing point. Abstain from outlining the lines over the forward surface that is to stay white.

Stage 3: Add More Orthogonal Lines

Keep including lines that combine at the vanishing point.

Stage 4: Trace or Transfer the Image

Use a 2B pencil to lightly trace or transfer the structural sketch onto a sheet of 8” x 8” (20cm x 20cm) drawing paper. Leave out any unwanted lines.

Step 5: Add the Light Values

Add the lighter values with a 2B pencil. Make the values darker as the internal forms recede.

Step 6: Add the Middle Values

Add the middle values. Continue to darken the tunnel-like forms as they recede into the distance.

Step 7: Add the Dark Values

Add more darks and details with 2B and 4B pencils. Lighten any areas with a kneaded eraser, if needed.

Don’t forget to sign your work!

Because your artwork is a unique expression of yourself, sign and date each drawing. This will give you a sense of accomplishment and also help you to track the progression of your artistic skills.

#2 point perspective drawing tutorial #easy perspective to draw #easy things to draw #how to draw perspective #how to draw perspective step by step #perspective #perspective drawing for kids #perspective for beginners #simple perspective drawing exercises #types of perspective drawing #Howto &amp; Style #Perspective

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maximuswolf · 3 years

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Writing a fictional character who has schizophrenia and have a lot of specific questions!!! Please help! via /r/schizophrenia

Writing a fictional character who has schizophrenia and have a lot of specific questions!!! Please help!

Hello everyone! I am writing a fictional character that has schizophrenia and the last thing I want to do is misrepresent people who have mental illnesses. I myself have major depression (I'm finally medicated) and I wouldn't want my mental illness to be misrepresented in anyway. I'm looking to get answers from people who have been diagnosed with paranoid schizophrenia in particular but obviously if you feel your answers to my questions will help my writing then feel free to voice your advice or experiences! Some of my questions are a little specific and I have quite a few of them so I felt this place was the best place to post and ask. Also, after each question I'm going to explain the reason why I'm asking that question. Okie dokie lets get into the nitty gritty! Q #1: What age were you when your symptoms first started? Reason: My character develops her first symptoms when she is the age of 8 years old. Is this way to young? Because some threads I've read, the commenters stated that they were as young as 5 when their symptoms first started. But from stuff I can find on the internet it usually either develops when you hit puberty or when your in your 20s. (And of course the cases where it develops later in life.)

Q#2: (This one is a multipule question question. Lol) How did your symptoms start? Auditory, Visual, or Tactile? Or did you suffers delusions first? And later on how often did your delusions play into your hallucinations? Reason: From what I've read most peoples symptoms start off as auditory hallucinations and then they advance to visual and even tactile hallucinations later. While delusional symptoms come and go and only sometimes affect the things you see. Am I right in my thinking that that is how the disease progresses if left untreated?

Q #3: When you begin to suffer both delusions and hallucinations does that mean that you are in the middle of a psychotic break or are about to have one? Reason: I've noticed that people with schizophrenia when suffering a psychotic break usually are both delusional and experiencing hallucinations. Or can you suffer a psychotic break and only be experiencing one or the other?

Q #4: What is a rough timeframe of how your hallucinations or delusions escalated? Like, after the very first time you had any kind of hallucination, were you having auditory hallucinations one day and then have a visual one the next day? Or did you only have auditory hallucinations for a month and then suddenly you experienced your first visual one? Reason: I want to accurately portray how this illness progresses and make sure that I use a realistic timeframe for it.

Q #5: Have you ever had a hallucination start out auditory but finish as a visual? (Ex.-A woman keeps screaming your name but you ignore it. It stops so you finally look in the part of the room that the screaming was coming from. Except now she is there in the room as a visual. Or something starts out visual but then becomes only auditory?) Or do your hallucinations, which ever kind they may be, keep to themselves and rarely change the kind they are? Reason: Again I don't wish to misrepresent people who have schizophrenia. By reading a lot of threads in here and even other places, I've gotten a good idea of what kind of things auditory hallucinations might "say" to you and I understand what someone might see during a visual hallucination. But my character was going to go through such a hallucination as described above BUT if hallucinations don't change like that very often or it would be something unusual for a schizophrenic to experience then I don't want to use that in my writing.

Q #6: This is more a question about visual hallucinations. Have you ever experienced a hallucination that involved something you saw the you knew was 100% real suddey morph and change into a hallucination? Or is that one of the many ways that schizophrenia is wrongly used in film and on television? Reason: My character doesn't experience this hallucination but if I'm wrong and this is in fact a common hallucination among schizophrenics then I'll happily use it. But I always felt that this was a false way to portray y'alls hallucinations.

Q #7: What are some of the best coping mechanisms you've found that really helpped you AFTER having a particularly bad hallucination? Reason: My character after having a disturbing hallucination will journal her entire experience and gives funny names to her hallucinations by using stuff around her or where she is to give it a funny name. Example: Shes at a library and hallucinates something horrible. Afterwards, once she back home, when describing it in her journal she names it Library Stapler. It happened at the Library and the first item she sees on her desk is a stapler. Little stuff like that. She also keeps two journals. One that details how she feels when "normal" and not seeing things and details how her life is going in general and of course things that she did that day. And the other journal is only for her schizophrenic moments. Would this kind of writting help you at all?

Q #8: (This one is two questions.) When around friends or family or other people in general what is something you personally do to keep yourself from freaking out when you know what you're seeing/hearing/feeling is a hallucination but it's a particularly terrifying or distracting one? Also what is a coping mechanism that works really well for you that you formed because of a friend or family member? Reason: My character when she gets older (but not long before she gets put on medication) figured out that she can sometimes make her hallucinations go away by asking them a question or questions that she doesn't know the answer to. Like what is the square root of 884? Or who invented basketball? Stuff like that usually causes her hallucinations to stop bothering her or they even disappear entirely. Shr doesn't know the awnser so neither do her hallucinations. As for the 2nd question, when she was younger and first started experiencing visual hallucinations (they were usually monsters that terrified her, and usually she saw them at night) she would describe them to her big sister and where they were at in room. Her big sister would tell her that she had a magical monster killing lazer. (A lazer pointer that you would use to play with a cat) And that when the red laser touched the monsters they would vaporize instantly. The younger girl (my character with schizophrenia) knew her sister couldn't see them, so she would tell her where to point her magical laser. And just like her big sister said when she turned the laser on and pointed it at the monsters they would vaporize and vanish. The two sisters would end up staying up half the night fighting off all of my characters monsters but eventually she would be able to fall asleep. As an adult my character keeps a laser pointer in her key ring and sometimes will use it even as an adult. Is this all a good thing or would the big sister actually be hindering her little sister and making the schizophrenia worse for her later?

Last and final question/s! Another one that is multipule questions but all of them are related! Q #9: When you got put on medication how long did it take for it to work? How many different medications did you have to try before you found the one or ones that work for you? After being on your meds, and they were working, did you ever stop taking them? And if you did why did you stop taking them? _

Submitted February 08, 2021 at 08:21AM by OxyHyperFueledQueen via reddit https://ift.tt/39W29rM

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surfersofbole · 3 years

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Going to Fall: What will you do?

This is the fifth installment in my “Going to Fall” series, which is based on Bob Dylan’s “A Hard Rain’s a-Gonna Fall.”

What will you do?

Here, your father must now mention if God has seemed unjust, unkind, then, have you paid him no attention? Our sins are many, of great kinds; punishment ‘s held with retention

not unlike the water vapor within the clouds above the world. All the clouds won’t harm a scraper, but rain upon a cardboard home turns the walls into soaked paper.

I can sense your apprehension, and I can sense your broken pride. Do you have some great dissension? Well, now, just take your small asides to relieve any contention.

Some of us find things enlightening when we must live in heavy dark. Lightning rods control the frightening and brightening flash of the short night. Umbrellas keep th’ tensions tightening.

You would think there’d be prevention - that God himself would take the lead. God wants no Earthly dimension and so he goes ahead, concedes rain must fall without suspension.

What will you do, my blue-eyed son? Somethings are hard to answer. Some… What will you do, darling young one? Think you that I should know this thing? Morning comes now with the bright sun.

Going back out before the rain starts falling

I wake up scared as hell that things are going wrong. Why? I was not quite sure of what was going on. My mind was in a cell. I lie down quietly. The motionless allure of a ceiling, empty...

A day begins anew. Will I ever arise? A thunder I have heard; the skies will be disguised. The rainclouds now accrue. I’m scared to leave this place; though, maybe I’m absurd, and I should go/make haste.

I’ll walk the beaten path; I know it will be short. All the small excursions other souls couldn’t afford... I'll face the wanton wrath because the world will fear I am leading an incursion with my mouth that all’ll hear.

The depths of the deepest, black forest

Electrified air climbs to clustered cotton fluff; screams turn to grumbles.

Some schwarzwald sunshine prawns prowl blister-black water - ice of a night sky.

Sharp whistles whittle brittle branch and bark, bitter for the burning blight.

Hollow trees topple. Then, forests from dying flames born of detritus.

The people are many, their hands are all empty

Xerotic mouths agape, facade of night entreats a dreamer thirsting not the light, "neglect a cleanly state and state that you ordain the rain to fall as it is due."

Disguising no intentions with delight, obsessed with obfuscating appetite, come cumulating nimbus clouds above haranguing with each lightning strike thereof.

In time, hard rains again will lift the plight and everyone will be an acolyte lest all the clouds they see move out of sight.

The pellets of poison flooding their waters

(The vending machine hums softly. A whirring and some clinking kick off a habit, and I press a button. A quarter? I try again. In the mechanism, it moves. Thunk. Mother's approval.)

Someone's swimming in the pool.

Crystalline medium with waving surface dances the light upon the ceiling.

Diving at the deep, he sinks into the bottom for the longest moment until he is diluted by the dark.

I sit beside the edge, staring.

No manacles bind us to the station we submit.

Someone's swimming in the pool, but I've a job to do. "Refill the canister with two chlorine tablets. Lock up and leave."

The home in the valley meets the damp, dirty prison

I walk to where the sidewalk ends en masse, past the concrete's blend with grass and the footstep-muddled pastures.

I found the last spot God had cried: an oasis that has dried in the desert of this life.

The rain is not the coldest where the trees have met the forest and the mountain meets the valley.

The executioner’s face, always well hidden

At mass, the priest, in his white, polyester robes, stood among pink roses.

"I say, precious Lord, look upon us and see not injustice; instead, find hope."

Among the heightened exaltations of the chorus, water came down upon us.

Back when crimes against the Lord and his people were punishable, men like Christ and Beckett, with their deaths, made leaders grovel.

King, bearing a new weight, shouldered a poor people's campaign; in his memory, we hid this struggle. In this new poor people's campaign, shall hidden faces make another man infamous?

"Do this in memory of me."

The word of the Lord makes requisite that we do things in memory of others that perhaps, through us, they could live on. Such a cause as theirs is worth perpetuating; such a love as theirs is the great communion.

"Mass has ended. You may go in peace"

Hunger is ugly, souls are forgotten

Oysters - pried apart with pearls squeezed from their soft flesh - are discarded shells that cleansed murky waterways. Layered nacre anchors banks.

Black is the color, none is the number

For the briefest second, worlds are colorful and palm fronds, like percussion sections, fill the wind with scratching sound. As raindrops themselves drive through darkness into broken asphalt, thunder-crash! The crack in night, it vanished while a youth in leather shoes and wetting socks went running to a covered walkway. Hole-filled pockets bore some grimed receipts, old notes, worn cards, and damaged pictures in a wallet that was drawn up. She inserted plastic; as the m'chine slow- processed four fast digits, vehicles blurred past and disappear until, at last, a menu let her check the balance. Black in text, a zero showed up. Buzzing lights then flickered; rain felt bitter/harder.

Tell it, think it, speak it, breathe it

False flags on steel poles; you find their real goals cause hard heads to feel soles as reeled votes steal polls. Loss is a hand that's doled to thoughtless card holders; well oiled, pristine political machines need propaganda's grist cleaned and shoveled on the screens. Greed - democracy's splotch - fills you with the scotch blues; when the night is botched, sit back up to watch news. Feel cold and say burr under a cedar tree, or passover seder with Sam Seder, see his angered, sabered tongue work hard/labor long; hundreds of lungfuls from racist uncles tapered off. Like flaming fungal masses on crumpled paper, scoffed arguments hindered turn to cinder; try not to join the splintered dense blocks of tinder, dry rot. "Freedom isn't free, son..." some person breathes on as a prison's breeze comes; truth in neon: "Freedom isn't free, and it isn't freedom." Jaime Peck 'n' Michael Brooks wait with bridled facts on homicidal cops and Congress' idled acts. The left's best anchors, hosts of the Majority Report, unveil the languor of neofascist authority.

Reflect from the mountain so all souls can see it

Guinness in my system at a Regal cinema; someone said, "I miss him." Liquor mixed with cinnamon makes my throat feel dry; is that why I'm stifled? "On everyone's behalf, when we heard you laughing at Dave Rubin's gaffes, all our sides were halfing." Why am I nervous before the final curtain? "He did the world a service, that I say with certainty." "I want to drink, alright, rather than think all night; pour shots until bar fight hour is a starlight tour." Drink my Tennessee whiskey and Hennessy briskly in backgrounds of dim-lit rooms. As this dim-wit reflects, chances look slim; the future's a grim skit. Pillow to my head and sink in like lead, a stone carelessly embedded in the river bed alone.

Stand on the ocean until I start sinking

When one recollects that the keystone oft sank in the sand before standing aloft among clouds on a mountain so solid of faith and devotion, it's then that a false step compels men, "Recover!" I noticed thrombosis had felled the calm warrior, that saint among saints that is Archangel Michael; the champion of men and proponent of justice inspires l'avant-garde to claim in it's crawling a victory not pyrrhic but won with empiric- al knowledge against an- tithetical sirens that draw men towards hatred with bigotry, envy, and greed. So, surrender your voice, but renounce not your thoughts, and remember the message borne by a colossus that called out to Lazarus, "Come forth."

Know my song well before I start singing

Cantos coming soon to a year near you!

Notes

This is the order in which the poems were written: 2, 1, 4, 3, 6, 5, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12. I plan for poem 13 to be a series of cantos based on my time walking through a park in my home town.

What will you do?

This poem was written months ago while I was still a Tumblr poet and is the introduction to the final section of the Going to Fall collection of poems I've written. The next poem will be posted when I figure out where I saved it.

The depths of the deepest, black forest

I thought I had a poem for this portion of the final section of my "Going to Fall" poetry collection, but I couldn't find it. Luckily, the haiku challenge issued for November prompted me to write this in place of the imagined poem.

The people are many, their hands are all empty

There were two prompts for this poem. The first is an obscure words poetry contest that I volunteered myself, in which I received the prompt "Xenodochial" (which means hospitable or kind to strangers). The second was from a challenge I made [for] myself [...] I had been stuck on this particular portion for months now, so I'm glad to have something appropriate and fitting.

The pellets of poison flooding their waters

Perhaps I put too much thought into a story about a guy closing up after a hallucination. The stuff in the parenthesis was typed last, but I only put it in because I could find no better way to add that the narrator is thirsty. I was going to write a twelve poem collection on this prompt, based on monthly news stories of people making the world a worse place, but the poems were scrapped. I do hope to revisit the idea under a different title.Perhaps I put too much thought into a story about a guy closing up after a hallucination. The stuff in the parenthesis was typed last, but I only put it in because I could find no better way to add that the narrator is thirsty. I was going to write a twelve poem collection on this prompt, based on monthly news stories of people making the world a worse place, but the poems were scrapped. I do hope to revisit the idea under a different title.

The home in the in the valley meets the damp dirty prison

I had the first two lines stuck in my head for a couple of days. This is the result.

Hunger is ugly, souls are forgotten

This is just a poem comparing oysters and people.

Black is the color, none is the number

October 11, 2020 corrections: *line 4 - "And" -> "As" *line 7 - "." -> "," *line 8 - "Thunder-crash!" -> "thunder-crash!" and line split. *lines 13-16 - "Hole-filled pockets - dirty, wet - hold paper/plastic cards and damaged pictures in a wallet. It is" replaced with current version. *lines 18-21 - "plastic; as the machine processed four fast digits, vehicles dove on past and then they disappeared. At" replaced with current version.

Three Poems for the Great Progressive

This poem came together from the following stanza that I spit out a couple of nights ago: Passover seder with Sam Seder under my cedar tree. Say burr, see his sabered tongue labor long. Hundred lungful's hinder cindered minds. The tinder finds a racist uncle's baseless tongueful like dry rot: the fungal waste is erased from space. Try not It includes one line I wrote a few years ago: "I drink my Tennessee whiskey and Hennessy briskly." The poem is basically about listening to the news all the time because you're sick, feeling restless, going out to the movies and bars, and finally going to sleep. July 20, 2020 update: Completed in honor of Michael Brooks. Also, I wrote the following poem soon after I heard the news, but did not put the time into it that I would have liked. The ground is dry and leaves grow thin. When the new moon is out the fuses trip, the grid's offline, and the world stands too still, I look to the sky as the gold flecks fly; ember is ash. A chill climbs up my spine; stomach can't dip lower. I cannot scout a star within the restless sky. August 11, 2020 update: I saw a contest early morning and wrote the first stanza of the third poem. The second stanza was written after I returned from work. The prompt was the first line from the Beatles' "A Day in the Life".

NOTE: This is the title for “Tell it, think it, speak it, breathe it,” “Reflect from the mountain so all souls can see it,” and “Stand on the ocean until I start sinking.”

#poem #original #spilled ink #poets on tumblr #writerscreed #Going to Fall #What will you do?#Going back out before the rain starts falling #The depths of the deepest black forest #The people are many their hands are all empty #The pellets of poison flooding their waters #The home in the valley meets the damp dirty prison #The executioner’s face always well hidden #Hunger is ugly souls are forgotten #Black is the color none is the number #Tell it think it speak it breathe it #Reflect from the mountain so all souls can see it #Stand on the ocean until I start sinking #Three Poems for the Great Progressive

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loosesodamarble · 3 years

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The New Class 1-B

So far, I only mentioned one MHA OC for a new class 1-B (Kaito Misumi). But I have made others. They’re just not that fleshed out.

Instead of making separate posts for each of them, I’ll just have them compiled into a single post with their names, Hero names, Quirks, and any other details about them if I have any.

1. Kiyomi Atsumi -圧身気夜実 —圧: pressure —身: body —気: air —夜: night —実: truth -Quirk: Atmosphere (大気): Atmosphere grants the user the ability to increase or decrease the atmospheric pressure within a certain spherical area. The user does not have to be within the affected area, but they must be able to see the area they are affecting. -Hero Name: Pressure Hero: Ozone

2. Ayano Irowake -色分彩乃 —色: color —分: a part —彩: color —乃: possessive particle -Quirk: Neon Blast (ネオン・ブラスト): Neon Blast gives Ayano the ability to start chemical reactions that rarefy and ionize gases in the air, causing small blasts. As a side effect, the blasts are colored depending on what gas Ayano targets. -Hero Name: Rainbow -Trivia: Her hair is dyed multiple colors. -Character info (by @loafingdragon)

3. Norina Utsuriba -移場記奈 —移: transfer —場: place —記: record —奈: Nara -Quirk: Displacement (変位): Displacement gives Norina the ability to forcibly switch positions with a person or object that she has touched. She has a ten minute length of time during which she can use Displacement on the object or person she has touched. Norina can also have multiple targets to choose from, though she cannot switch the positions of two different targets; she has to be one of the things switching positions. Any momentum that the user and target have at the time of the switch are maintained. Norina suffers a great deal of motion sickness when she overuses Displacement. -Hero Name: Vanishing Hero: Transpositioner

4. Shinju Ezaki -江崎真珠 —江: inlet —崎: peninsula —真: truth —珠: pearl -Quirk: Water Reach (水の操縦): Shinju is able to control a body of water so long as she remains in contact with it. If she removes her touch from a body of water it is no longer under her control. Shinju can convert water into vapor or ice, but she cannot do the reverse. -Hero Name: Aquatic Hero: Wave

5. Shinji Kaiden -嘉電信磁 —嘉: praise —電: electricity —信: trust —磁: magnet -Quirk: Electromagnetism (電磁気): Electromagnetism allows Shinji to attract metal objects based on the strength of the electric current running through his body. If he can pass more electricity through his body, then they can attract larger objects. -Hero Name: Lodestone

6. Wataru Kina -季菜亘 —季: season —菜: vegetable —亘: breadth -Quirk: Shifting Seasons (季節シフト): Shifting Seasons gives Wataru the ability to transform his body and gain special attributes as well as increase his overall strength depending on what season it is. -Hero Name: Shifting Hero: Seasonal

7. Ken’ichi Kurogane -黒鋼研一 —黒: black —鋼: iron —研: sharpen —一: one -Quirk: Iron Quills (鉄棘): Ken'ichi is able to use the metals in his body to create metal needles that grow out of his skin and can be thrown at opponents. -Hero Name: Spiny Hero: Needle Gun

8. Sayaka Sashiyama -刺山砂矢加 —刺: thorn —山: mountain —砂: sand —矢: arrow —加: addition -Quirk: Thorny Devil (トゲトカゲ): Thorny Devil gives Sayaka the appearance and abilities of a thorny devil lizard. -Hero Name: Desert Dragon

9. Kemuri Sawai -沢井煙里 —沢: swamp —井: well —煙: smoke —里: village -Quirk: Miasma (ミアスマ): Kemuri can expel a noxious smelling and flammable gas from his mouth. Eating sweet food makes the gas less effective while sour and bitter food makes it stronger. -Hero Name: Smaug -Trivia: Kemuri actually has a sweet tooth so he dislikes his Quirk a little. -Character info (by @nothxkas)

10. Hiroka Jorei -助霊寛香 —助: aid —霊: spirit —寛: tolerant —香: scent -Quirk: Spirit Limbs (スピリット・リム): Spirit Limbs grants Hiroka the ability to manifest opaque limbs that she can use to grab objects, fight opponents, or guard from attacks. The strength of the appendages depends on the strength of her physical ones. -Hero Name: Helping Hand -Trivia: Hiroka is the class representative of class 1-B.

11. Banri Zei -勢萬理 —勢: forces —萬: million —理: reason -Quirk: Push Back (押し戻す): Banri is able to push objects away from himself or himself away from objects. The Quirk doesn't work on living things and he can't push anything that weighs over 5 tons. Whenever he uses his Quirk to push an object away from him, he gets some slight push back. To reduce the drawback, Banri wears heavy, metal boots that greatly increase his weight. When he pushes himself away from an object, the object suffers no push back. He does not have to be touching an object in order to affect it. -Hero Name: Newtonian Hero: Third Law

12. Jishin Teshima -手島慈深 —手: hand —島: island —慈: mercy —深: depth -Quirk: Seismic Touch (地震タッチ): Seismic Touch allows Jishin to send pulses of energy through people or objects. To do this, she must make physical contact with the target. Maintaining contact with the target keeps the pulses going through the target. -Hero Name: Richter Hero: Shockwave

13. Yoshirou Todokou -滞岡吉郎 —滞: stagnate —岡: hill —吉: luck —郎: son -Quirk: Stasis (滞): Stasis allows Yoshirou to touch non-living objects and temporarily freeze them in place. After the time being frozen ends, any force applied to them comes into effect. -Hero Name: Freeze Frame

14. Tsuyoshi Hatsumi -発見強 —発: departure —見: see —強: power -Quirk: Vitality Burst (精力破り): Vitality Burst grants Tsuyoshi the ability to pressurize people's vitality until it literally explodes. The more vitality someone has, the stronger the blast he can create. -Hero Name: Rupture -Trivia: Tsuyoshi is the other recommend student in class 1-B alongside Kaito.

15. Arata Bunkinari -分岐成新 —分: part —岐: forking/branching —成 formation —新: new -Quirk: Moose (ムース): This Quirk allows Arata to turn into a massive moose. -Hero Name: Moose Man -Character info (by @nothxkas)

16. Etsu Heiwada -平和田悦 —平: peace —和: harmony —田: rice field —悦: joy -Quirk: Way of Tranquility (静けさ道): Way of Tranquility makes Etsu exponentially stronger the lower her heart rate is. In order to keep her pulse low, Estu takes medications to block her adrenaline. -Hero Name: Nirvana

17. Sekihiro Musato -武里石仁 —武: martial —里: village —石: stone —仁: benevolence -Quirk: Armored (鎧): Sekihiro’s Quirk causes him to grow a metallic exoskeleton, much like an insect would, making him look like a statue of armor. He regularly sheds this exoskeleton to grow a stronger one. -Hero Name: Iron Soldier

18. Agatha Wyrm -Name meaning: Agatha supposedly comes from the Greek word ἀγαθός (agathós) which means "good.” A “wyrm” is a type of mythological dragon but also can describe a parasite. -Quirk: Virus (ウイルス): Virus allows Agatha to target infect anything with a virus to cause them to malfunction. On living creatures, the virus causes a target to feel sick while technology experiences minor defects. The longer the Quirk is in effect, the worse the condition of the target gets. -Hero Name: Plague Doctor -Trivia: She’s an international student from England.

19. Mika Watanabe -渡辺美華 —渡: cross —辺: side —美: beauty —華: shine -Quirk: Light Leap (光飛躍): Light Leap grants Mika the ability to move at high speeds, going faster in brighter light. -Hero Name: Light Force

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dfroza · 4 years

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written down to instruct, to give us hope.

especially in a temporal and imperfect world where people strive to live, to find peace. but we all must face the reality of dying at some point in time, and only an act of rebirth allows us to pass on into the eternal. and we see this baptism of the heart (in the Spirit) in Today’s reading of the Scriptures beginning with the first chapter of the book of Acts:

[To the Ends of the World]

Dear Theophilus, in the first volume of this book I wrote on everything that Jesus began to do and teach until the day he said good-bye to the apostles, the ones he had chosen through the Holy Spirit, and was taken up to heaven. After his death, he presented himself alive to them in many different settings over a period of forty days. In face-to-face meetings, he talked to them about things concerning the kingdom of God. As they met and ate meals together, he told them that they were on no account to leave Jerusalem but “must wait for what the Father promised: the promise you heard from me. John baptized in water; you will be baptized in the Holy Spirit. And soon.”

When they were together for the last time they asked, “Master, are you going to restore the kingdom to Israel now? Is this the time?”

He told them, “You don’t get to know the time. Timing is the Father’s business. What you’ll get is the Holy Spirit. And when the Holy Spirit comes on you, you will be able to be my witnesses in Jerusalem, all over Judea and Samaria, even to the ends of the world.”

These were his last words. As they watched, he was taken up and disappeared in a cloud. They stood there, staring into the empty sky. Suddenly two men appeared—in white robes! They said, “You Galileans!—why do you just stand here looking up at an empty sky? This very Jesus who was taken up from among you to heaven will come as certainly—and mysteriously—as he left.”

[Returning to Jerusalem]

So they left the mountain called Olives and returned to Jerusalem. It was a little over half a mile. They went to the upper room they had been using as a meeting place:

Peter,

John,

James,

Andrew,

Philip,

Thomas,

Bartholomew,

Matthew,

James, son of Alphaeus,

Simon the Zealot,

Judas, son of James.

They agreed they were in this for good, completely together in prayer, the women included. Also Jesus’ mother, Mary, and his brothers.

[Replacing Judas]

During this time, Peter stood up in the company—there were about 120 of them in the room at the time—and said, “Friends, long ago the Holy Spirit spoke through David regarding Judas, who became the guide to those who arrested Jesus. That Scripture had to be fulfilled, and now has been. Judas was one of us and had his assigned place in this ministry.

“As you know, he took the evil bribe money and bought a small farm. There he came to a bad end, rupturing his belly and spilling his guts. Everybody in Jerusalem knows this by now; they call the place Murder Meadow. It’s exactly what we find written in the Psalms:

Let his farm become haunted

So no one can ever live there.

“And also what was written later:

Let someone else take over his post.

“Judas must now be replaced. The replacement must come from the company of men who stayed together with us from the time Jesus was baptized by John up to the day of his ascension, designated along with us as a witness to his resurrection.”

They nominated two: Joseph Barsabbas, nicknamed Justus, and Matthias. Then they prayed, “You, O God, know every one of us inside and out. Make plain which of these two men you choose to take the place in this ministry and leadership that Judas threw away in order to go his own way.” They then drew straws. Matthias won and was counted in with the eleven apostles.

The Book of Acts, Chapter 1 (The Message)

A chapter paired with Micah 6 in my daily reading of a chapter from each Testament of the Bible:

[What God Is Looking For]

Listen now, listen to God:

“Take your stand in court.

If you have a complaint, tell the mountains;

make your case to the hills.

And now, Mountains, hear God’s case;

listen, Jury Earth—

For I am bringing charges against my people.

I am building a case against Israel.

“Dear people, how have I done you wrong?

Have I burdened you, worn you out? Answer!

I delivered you from a bad life in Egypt;

I paid a good price to get you out of slavery.

I sent Moses to lead you—

and Aaron and Miriam to boot!

Remember what Balak king of Moab tried to pull,

and how Balaam son of Beor turned the tables on him.

Remember all those stories about Shittim and Gilgal.

Keep all God’s salvation stories fresh and present.”

How can I stand up before God

and show proper respect to the high God?

Should I bring an armload of offerings

topped off with yearling calves?

Would God be impressed with thousands of rams,

with buckets and barrels of olive oil?

Would he be moved if I sacrificed my firstborn child,

my precious baby, to cancel my sin?

But he’s already made it plain how to live, what to do,

what God is looking for in men and women.

It’s quite simple: Do what is fair and just to your neighbor,

be compassionate and loyal in your love,

And don’t take yourself too seriously—

take God seriously.

Attention! God calls out to the city!

If you know what’s good for you, you’ll listen.

So listen, all of you!

This is serious business.

“Do you expect me to overlook obscene wealth

you’ve piled up by cheating and fraud?

Do you think I’ll tolerate shady deals

and shifty scheming?

I’m tired of the violent rich

bullying their way with bluffs and lies.

I’m fed up. Beginning now, you’re finished.

You’ll pay for your sins down to your last cent.

No matter how much you get, it will never be enough—

hollow stomachs, empty hearts.

No matter how hard you work, you’ll have nothing to show for it—

bankrupt lives, wasted souls.

You’ll plant grass

but never get a lawn.

You’ll make jelly

but never spread it on your bread.

You’ll press apples

but never drink the cider.

You have lived by the standards of your king, Omri,

the decadent lifestyle of the family of Ahab.

Because you’ve slavishly followed their fashions,

I’m forcing you into bankruptcy.

Your way of life will be laughed at, a tasteless joke.

Your lives will be derided as futile and fake.”

The Book of Micah, Chapter 6 (The Message)

accompanied by Today’s reading of the Psalms and Proverbs for december 28 (Psalm 28 and Proverbs 28), the 8th day of Winter (Psalm 8) and day 362 of the year (Psalm 62) with the book of 150 Psalms now in its 3rd revolution this year:

[Psalm 62]

Unshakable Faith

To the Pure and Shining One

King David’s melody of love’s celebration

I stand silently to listen for the one I love,

waiting as long as it takes for the Lord to rescue me.

For God alone has become my Savior.

He alone is my safe place;

his wrap-around presence always protects me.

For he is my champion defender;

there’s no risk of failure with God.

So why would I let worry paralyze me,

even when troubles multiply around me?

But look at these who want me dead,

shouting their vicious threats at me!

The moment they discover my weakness

they all begin plotting to take me down.

Liars, hypocrites, with nothing good to say.

All of their energies are spent

on moving me from this exalted place.

Pause in his presence

I am standing in absolute stillness, silent before the one I love,

waiting as long as it takes for him to rescue me.

Only God is my Savior, and he will not fail me.

For he alone is my safe place.

His wrap-around presence always protects me

as my champion defender.

There’s no risk of failure with God!

So why would I let worry paralyze me,

even when troubles multiply around me?

God’s glory is all around me!

His wrap-around presence is all I need,

for the Lord is my Savior, my hero, and my life-giving strength.

Join me, everyone! Trust only in God every moment!

Tell him all your troubles and pour out your heart-longings to him.

Believe me when I tell you—he will help you!

Pause in his presence

Before God all the people of the earth, high or low,

are like smoke that disappears,

like a vapor that quickly vanishes away.

Compared to God they’re nothing but vanity, nothing at all!

The wealth of the world is nothing to God.

So if your wealth increases, don’t be boastful or

put your trust in your money.

And don’t you think for a moment that

you can get away with stealing by overcharging others

just to get more for yourself!

God said to me once and for all,

“All the strength and power you need flows from me!”

And again I heard it clearly said,

“All the love you need is found in me!”

And it’s true that you repay people for what they do.

The Book of Psalms, Poem 62 (The Passion Translation)

[Psalm 28]

A David Psalm

Don’t turn a deaf ear

when I call you, God.

If all I get from you is

deafening silence,

I’d be better off

in the Black Hole.

I’m letting you know what I need,

calling out for help

And lifting my arms

toward your inner sanctum.

Don’t shove me into

the same jail cell with those crooks,

With those who are

full-time employees of evil.

They talk a good line of “peace,”

then moonlight for the Devil.

Pay them back for what they’ve done,

for how bad they’ve been.

Pay them back for their long hours

in the Devil’s workshop;

Then cap it with a huge bonus.

Because they have no idea how God works

or what he is up to,

God will smash them to smithereens

and walk away from the ruins.

Blessed be God—

he heard me praying.

He proved he’s on my side;

I’ve thrown my lot in with him.

Now I’m jumping for joy,

and shouting and singing my thanks to him.

God is all strength for his people,

ample refuge for his chosen leader;

Save your people

and bless your heritage.

Care for them;

carry them like a good shepherd.

The Book of Psalms, Poem 28 (The Message)

[Psalm 8]

For the worship leader. A song of David accompanied by the harp.

O Eternal, our Lord,

Your majestic name is heard throughout the earth;

Your magnificent glory shines far above the skies.

From the mouths and souls of infants and toddlers, the most innocent,

You have decreed power to stop Your adversaries

and quash those who seek revenge.

When I gaze to the skies and meditate on Your creation—

on the moon, stars, and all You have made,

I can’t help but wonder why You care about mortals—

sons and daughters of men—

specks of dust floating about the cosmos.

But You placed the son of man just beneath God

and honored him like royalty, crowning him with glory and honor.

You ordained him to govern the works of Your hands,

to nurture the offspring of Your divine imagination;

You placed everything on earth beneath his feet:

All kinds of domesticated animals,

even the wild animals in the fields and forests,

The birds of the sky and the fish of the sea,

all the multitudes of living things that travel the currents of the oceans.

O Eternal, our Lord,

Your majestic name is heard throughout the earth.

The Book of Psalms, Poem 8 (The Voice)

[Proverbs 28]

The wicked run away even when no one is chasing them; the right-living, however, stand their ground as boldly as lions.

Where there is rebellion in a land, there are many petty and contending rulers; But where there is a wise and intelligent leader, peace and order endure.

A poor person who oppresses others who are poor is like a driving rain that destroys the crops and leaves no food.

Those who turn their backs on God’s teaching applaud the wicked, while those who observe His instruction oppose them at every turn.

Evil people are not able to understand justice, but those who pursue the Eternal understand it completely.

It is better to be a pauper walking in integrity than a dishonest man, even if he is rich.

Whoever follows God’s teaching is a wise child, but the one who spends time with gluttons and drunks disgraces his parents.

Anyone who increases his wealth by charging a high rate of interest is only collecting it for another who will deal more liberally with the poor.

The one who turns his ear from hearing God’s instruction will find that even his prayers are detestable to God.

Whoever tries to deceive a good person into taking the path of evil will fall into the pit he himself made, but the truly honest shall be the heirs of all that is good.

A rich man may be wise in his own sight, but a perceptive pauper will see right through him.

There is much glory when just men celebrate; but when the wicked gain power, people take cover.

Whoever tries to hide his sins will not succeed, but the one who confesses his sins and leaves them behind will find mercy.

Happy is the one who always fears the Lord, but the person who hardens his heart to God falls into misfortune.

Like a roaring lion or a charging bear, so is a wicked man ruling over an impoverished people.

A leader who lacks intelligence cruelly oppresses the people, but one who hates corruption will prosper and live a long life.

A man guilty of murder is a fugitive, fleeing to the nearest hole in the ground but not escaping death’s cold pit. Don’t do anything to save him.

Whoever walks in honesty will be safe, but whoever travels the crooked path will suddenly fall.

Whoever cultivates his land will have plenty of food in the harvest, but whoever cultivates worthless ventures will have poverty in abundance.

A reliable person will not escape blessings, but one who wants to get rich quick will not escape trouble.

Showing favoritism is not good; some will desert the truth for a measly crust of bread.

A greedy person is in a hurry to get rich, but he is ignorant of the loss that is about to overtake him.

A person who offers constructive criticism will, in the end, be appreciated more than a person who engages in empty flattery.

One who robs his father or his mother and says, “There’s nothing wrong with that! I had it coming!” walks in the company of murderers.

When the greedy want more, they stir up trouble; but when a person trusts in the Eternal, he’s sure to prosper.

Anyone who puts confidence only in himself is a fool, but the person who follows wisdom will be kept safe.

Whoever gives to the poor will have what he needs, but the one who shuts his eyes to their plight will face curse after curse.

When the wicked have the upper hand, people go into hiding; but when they perish, the good folk will begin to increase.

The Book of Proverbs, Chapter 28 (The Voice)

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saiyandeity10 · 7 years

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Recap of DBS episodes 109&110 continued...

Now Goku goes back Super saiyan blue formed then KOKx10 then x20 and the the Genki Dama is not only being pushed back Jiren is not even using hands at this point he is using the glare from his eyes to push it back. TALK about a slap in the face to Super Saiyan Blue KOKx20! On Goku end you have goku at his limit veins showing on his face and he is grunting forcing out every piece of strength he has and here you have JIren who is just standing there glaring at the Genki Dama cool as a cucumber. At this point we concluded and everyone confirmed that Jiren strength is equivalent to the levels of Hakaishins or Gods of Destruction. Whis spoke of the rumor where there is a universe where lives a mortal even a God of Destruction cant defeat and confirmed that Jiren is that mortal. NOW there has been videos out concerning this because of the unseen fighters in Universe 4 that Jiren is not that mortal. JIREN IS THAT MORTAL! Belmod even confirmed that Jiren couldnt be beat. NOW#2 lol....lets not compare ZENO and The Grand Priest to NONE of these warriors, because as of now they are untouched unmatched by anyone. I know there are some power level hungry fans out there who are in dire need to know where everyone stands in power. NOW for the climax! which is really important that caused an Uproar online about what happened. Goku is already at this limit! Super Saiyan Blue KOKx20 is one thing but having to not get obliterated by your own attack is another. So his last grunt and effort to push Even more power out the Genki Dama imploded first which goku is seen falling basically in the imploded Genki Dama. Now right before it exploded goku is shown with black electricity and no pupil and BOOM! The Genki Dama exploded. Everyone is in utter shock even Zenos is amazed but they also show a slight sign of disappointment or like sadness. “Was he.....beaten?" “Did he....lose?” It was like damn even zeno at this point that goku is like the damn life of the party when it comes to fighting and its like goku just left. No one can feel his energy they saying all kind of shit like he was vaporized because he didnt appear on the bench with the other teams that was knocked off staged. Jiren receieves no penalties if goku is dead because it was his own attack. Beerus is dumbfounded... the other warriors left in the tournament gather around Jiren Toppo and Dypso. Quitela( GOD from universe 4) is seen unbothered and I felt that they wanted us to see him unbothered purposely because he must think his plan of trying to hide his fighters until the end will work, which im opposed too but we will see how that works out. The grand priest and Champa urges everyone to still fight the tournament must continue. Now Pause. Because at that moment where the Grand Priest speaks about the tournament continuing and the jiren receives no penalties. That sinister side slick came out of him. Now we havent seen this in a while but there are some mysterious about everyone still. One is The Grand Priest and his motives. His voice sounds very tyrannical when he spoke about the tournament must continue. Just something to pay attention to. The world of void begins to shake! just as Zeno about to X goku on the God Pad. Everyone in universe 7 pretty much knows that its Goku. This is typical goku shit and honestly at this point guys im in tears! Even Beerus by now knows that Goku is really something amazing! ( but how amazing he was about to find out). With this burst of energy( same kind as when the genki dama exploded) Goku emerges from the ground with new form which is known as ULTRA INSTINCT! ( i will do another post on ultra instinct before the next episode airs). Everyone is blown tf away with this new form, especially whis as he begin to fight because his moves are the same movements that are apart of whis training for goku and vegeta. He mentioned these movements in dragonball revival of freiza and in Dragonball super episode 71 sub, where the body learns to react without thinking creating quick sharper attacks and makes his dodging impeccable. It is also said that the Gods of Destruction cannot even obtain these movements or state so easily. Everyone is in shocked even the The Grand Priest. One thing you have to watch in these episodes when looking for clarity is reactions even if they are subtle. The whole tournament The Grand Priest has not reacted much. He pretty much has the same face some posture until a universe is about to get erased then he gets excited. But the grand priest looks at goku while in this state and has his hand on this chin and says its too early to draw conclusions but the development is captivating. 2 things. 1. The grand priest is impressed and kind of taken back goku abilities. 2. We see that he and the angels are really knowledgeable about the form and addresses the heat that coming from goku. Shortly after goku eyes begin to go from silver back to black he makes he last attack against Jiren but he is too late. Jiren blocks with one hand only to tell goku the same thing that the heat is his limit and sends goku flying, In an instant HIT comes out of nowhere and attempts to strike Jiren and is too block with one hand. Vegeta asks goku what happened to him and he replies he doesnt know. That annoying Ribrianne pops up once again and then goku vanishes and is seen with freiza with this who is mocking goku about the last few mins they had on namek. And that concludes the episode. More than likely Freiza will give goku some of his energy. I really hope Ribrianne is knocked out soon. Also there are spoliers about this next episode. Hit vs Jiren. The DragonBall Super scans are out so if you want to find out then you can.....Feel free to agree, disagree, point out some things you noticed. I will do a little explanation of ultra instinct before the new episodes airs tomorrow that explains what it is and what people are saying about it. Stay powered up DB fans! Chao!

#dragonball super #goku vs jiren #hit vs jiren #ultra instinct #the grand priest #jiren #goku #beerus #zeno

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karingottschalk · 6 years

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https://www.fuji-x-forum.com/topic/998-complete-overview-over-the-available-and-upcoming-fuji-x-mount-lenses/?page=1

“Posted September 1, 2015 (edited) Fujinon (Native Lenses) (29 in total)

Fujinon lens designation translation: R: aperture ring – – LM: linear motor – – OIS: optical image stabilization – – WR: weather resistant – – APD: apodization filter – – – – Super EBC: electron beam coating, also called electron beam physical vapor deposition…”

Fujifilm Fujinon XF 8-16mm f/2.8 R LM WR wideangle zoom lens on Fujifilm X-H1 with VPB-XH1 Vertical Power Booster Grip. I use the Complete Overview over the available and upcoming Fuji X-Mount lenses at Fuji X Forum for information about Fujifilm’s Fujinon and third party lenses for Fujifilm cameras.

Commentary

Three of the most useful free Web-based online tools that I often use here at ‘Untitled’ are Camera Size’s Compact Camera Meter, Points in Focus’ Depth of Field (DoF), Angle of View, and Equivalent Lens Calculator, and the Complete Overview over the available and upcoming Fuji X-Mount lenses at Fuji X Forum, compiled and updated by quincy.

Quincy’s Fujifilm X-Mount OEM and third-party brand lenses lists are kept up to date and are drawn upon by Patrick at Fuji Rumors for articles, and I go there when I need to research current and coming X-Mount lenses for my articles.

I have been struck by how the number of third-party X-Mount lenses keeps increasing, with most of them being manual focus lenses often designed and manufactured by Chinese companies, but so far my biggest ongoing disappointment with the Fujifilm X-Mount system remains unassuaged by Fujifilm itself as well as by third-parties making native or adapted X-Mount lenses.

Other than Fujifilm’s Fujinon XF 18mm f/2.0 R semi-pancake prime lens, nobody but nobody is making a prime lens that is equivalent to 28mm in the 35mm sensor format.

This searing blindspot is not just a Fujifilm X-Mount APS-C problem; it applies to the Micro Four Thirds sensor format as well wherein Olympus does not make a 14mm lens at all and Panasonic’s Lumix G 14mm f/2.5 II pancake lens appears to have gone missing in action from many retailers.

The 35mm sensor format’s 28mm focal length and its APS-C and M43 equivalents of 18mm and 14mm respectively has been a staple of the documentary, photojournalism and street photography genres for years now including those when I relied on them on Canon, Leica and Nikon rangefinders and SLRs, but it seems that contemporary lens makers just do not give a damn.

Yes, one may wish to slap a 14mm, 18mm or 28mm inclusive zoom lens on to one’s camera as I do with my Panasonic Lumix DMC-GX8 and the excellent Olympus M.Zuiko Digital ED 12-40mm f/2.8 Pro or the usually underestimated Panasonic Lumix G Vario 12-32mm f3.5-5.6 Aspheric Mega OIS collapsible zoom lens, but using those focal lengths on a zoom and as a prime lens are two very different things.

Especially if the said prime lens allows easy setting of hyperfocal distance via manual focus or manual clutch focus mechanisms like those in some Fujinon prime lenses and Olympus’ excellent M.Zuiko Pro primes and zooms.

Today I found myself back at Fuji X Forum’s Complete Overview over the available and upcoming Fuji X-Mount lenses to see if any Chinese third party lens makers have added a 28mm equivalent to their current or future ranks lately but sadly it remains no go.

There are some close but no cigar choices for non-Fujifilm cameras, such as Panasonic’s Leica DG Summilux 15mm f/1.7 Aspheric prime lens, but for now I will stick with my two M43 zoom lenses rather than fork out for yet another no-cigar substitute.

What I am really after is a decent 18mm prime lens for my Fujifilm X-Pro2 for use as my number one documentary lens.

Given the premium price Fujifilm charges for its elderly Fujinon XF 18mm f/2.0 R, no way am I going to throw good cash down that particular black hole.

Getting back to close but no cigar, independent cinema lens company Veydra lists a 19mm Mini Prime cinema lens amongst its options, and it is available with a Duclos-designed Fujifilm X-Mount that can be DIY-attached onto an M43 version of the lens.

Sigma released a 19mm f/2.8 Art lens in the M43 and Sony E mounts some years ago, but the company has never shown signs of coming out with a Fujifilm X-Mount version.

The Sigma lens is affordable but the Veydra costs over twice the price of Fujifilm’s 18mm.

Veydra’s is an excellent geared cinema lens but its greater size and wide front diameter compared to the Fujifilm and the Sigma makes it a poor choice on my X-Pro2 given I rely on the camera’s excellent optical viewfinder for documentary photography and oftentimes video too.

This ongoing dilemma would not be one if Fujifilm simply went along with their customers’ longstanding request for an updated 18mm lens but I often find myself wondering if the company even cares for its documentary, street photography and photojournalist customers.

Two X-Pro2 cameras equipped with an 18mm lens on one and a 50mm lens on the other is, in my experience, the closest one can get to a perfect two-camera, two-lens documentary photography and photojournalism set-up.

Why provide half of the equation, Fujifilm, when you could so easily give us both even if each lens might be Fujicron-style f/2.0 compacts instead of the maximum versatility of f/1.4 manual clutch focussing alternatives?

The problem of Fujifilm’s ageing, substandard Fujinon XF 18mm f/2.0 R lens

Fujinon XF 18mm f/2.0 R prime lens, regrettably much too slow to focus manually or via autofocus and its aperture ring too flakey and quirky for fast-paced professional work in stills and video, though some folks seem to like it for the quirkiness that made it frustrating for me.

Leica Elmarit-M 28mm f/2.8 Aspheric prime lens for Leica M-System cameras, for me the archetypal 28mm documentary and photojournalism lens. I want something similar for my X-Pro2.

Duclos Lenses came up with a Fujifilm X-Mount option for Veydra’s Mini Primes that can cover the APS-C format.

Veydra Mini Prime 19mm cinema lens available in Sony E-Mount, Micro Four Thirds mount and Fujifilm X-Mount.

Panasonic Lumix G Vario 12-32mm f/3.5-5.6 Aspheric Mega OIS collapsible standard zoom lens

Olympus M.Zuiko Digital ED 12-40mm f/2.8 Pro zoom lens, one of the most versatile top-quality professional zoom lenses made.

Panasonic Lumix G 14mm f/2.5 II Aspheric pancake prime lens, which appears to be missing in action from most if not all retailers now.

Panasonic Leica DG Summilux 15mm f/1.7 Aspheric prime lens. Narrower than a 28mm-equivalent 14mm lens in Micro Four Thirds format, but at least it is generally available whereas Panasonic’s 14mm pancake lens seems to have vanished.

Sigma 19mm f/2.8 DN for Sony E-Mount APS-C and Micro Four Thirds. Sigma, please release this in a Fujifilm X-Mount version.

Zeiss Distagon T* 18mm f/4.0 ZM Leica-M-Mount lens. A solution for the well-heeled in combo with an M-Mount to X-Mount adapter?

Fujifilm M Mount Adapter. Will this work with the Zeiss Distagon T* 18mm f/4.0 ZM lens?

Links

ChrisBickford.com – Things I learned from David Alan Harvey

Fuji Rumors

Street Hunters – 28mm – The Perfect lens for Street Photography?

Help support ‘Untitled’

Leica Q (Typ 116) digital camera with fixed Leica Summilux 28mm f/1.7 Aspheric lens. This or the Fujifilm X100F with wide-angle convertor lens may be another solution to the lack of a decent 18mm lens for Fujifilm cameras.

Clicking on these affiliate links and purchasing through them helps us continue our work for ‘Untitled: Stories of Creativity, Innovation, Success’.

Fujifilm 18mm f/2.0 XF R Lens – B&H – The least impressive Fujinon X-Mount lens in Fujifilm’s collection and one that badly needs to be replaced with a new Fujicron-style lens or better yet a wide aperture manual clutch focussing alternative for professional photography and video work.

Fujifilm M Mount Adapter for X-Mount Camera – B&H

Leica CL Mirrorless Digital Camera with 18mm Lens (Black) – B&H – This APS-C rangefinder-style camera with interchangeable 28mm equivalent lens is another possible solution to the ongoing problem of Fujifilm’s substandard Fujinon XF 18mm f/2.0 R lens.

Leica Q (Typ 116) Digital Camera – B&H

Olympus M.Zuiko Digital ED 12-40mm f/2.8 PRO Lens – B&H

Panasonic Leica DG Summilux 15mm f/1.7 ASPH. Lens – B&H

Sigma 19mm f/2.8 DN Lens for Micro Four Thirds Cameras – B&H – Sigma, please make a Fujifilm X-Mount version of this lens.

Sigma 19mm f/2.8 DN Lens for Sony E-mount Cameras – B&H – Sigma, please make a Fujifilm X-Mount version of this lens.

Veydra 19mm T2.6 Mini Prime Lens (MFT, Meters) – B&H

ZEISS Distagon T* 18mm f/4 ZM Lens (Silver) – B&H

Fuji X Forum: Complete Overview over the available and upcoming Fuji X-Mount lenses – Commentary "Posted September 1, 2015 (edited) Fujinon (Native Lenses) (29 in total) Fujinon lens designation translation: R: aperture ring - - LM: linear motor - - OIS: optical image stabilization - - WR: weather resistant - - APD: apodization filter - - - - Super EBC: electron beam coating, also called electron beam physical vapor deposition..."

#14mm #18mm #28mm #ciné prime lenses #documentary photography #Fujifilm #Fujifilm X-Mount #Fujifilm X-Mount Lens Roadmap #Fujinon #Fujinon XF 18mm f/2.0 R #lens roadmap #lenses #photojournalism #prime lenses #street photography #urban documentary photography #X-Mount

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my-facebookhelpdesk-blog · 6 years

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10 Signs He's Still Facebook Cheating and Texting Her

Facebook cheating and other social network and digital cheating lead the way of cheating evidence according to 81% of the US's top divorce attorneys per a survey conducted by the American Academy of Academic Lawyers. Cheating never became more convenient. We arrived to a spike in digital cheating and now your Facebook cheating wife or…

Online Sam's insight:

10 Signs He’s Still Facebook Cheating and Texting Her

Fb Customer Service Phone Number +1-254-326-1656

Facebook cheating and other social network and digital cheating lead the way of cheating evidence according to 81% of the US’s top divorce attorneys per a survey conducted by the American Academy of Academic Lawyers.

Cheating never became more convenient. We arrived to a spike in digital cheating and now your Facebook cheating wife or husband can effortlessly connect with their affair partner undetected- well, at least for a little while.

Maybe you are the one who has not caught your spouse performing disloyal acts yet and you need some kind of “How to Catch a Cheating Husband Tips 101” report to uncover the truth.

Perhaps you are the one who already drove down that rocky road of discovering your spouse’s infidelity. It all started after you found mysterious receipts for jewelry or flowers- never to receive them. Or maybe you are the one who caught your wife red-handed leaving a hotel room with your best friend.

So at this point you are either the one entering the “joyful life” of living with a life-zapping adulterer or you sense the repeat offender is back to play with his or her bag of tricks. Either way- you feel the ground shaking beneath you from the emotional earthquake and you want answers.

Scan these humorous and sarcastic, but realistic red flag signs you’re dealing with a Facebook cheating wife or husband.

10 Alarm-Ringing Signs You’re Married to a Digital or Facebook Cheating Wife or Husband

1. Strange Friend Requests. No, you don’t know those strange people from the Facebook friend requests who live 300 miles away, but your wife’s boyfriend does and now Facebook is just doing what Facebook always does to connect her circle of friends with yours.

2. His Phone Caught a Cold. The biggest key how to catch a cheating husband or wife is noticing a sudden change in patterns. Did he blow out his speakers listening to Kenny G? Did his phone come down with laryngitis or catch a cold? Not likely? WTH? Why out of nowhere did his phone stop ringing- ALL THE TIME? They don’t want you to hear when a text arrives from their lover of course. He simply placed in on silent mode.

3. New Found Love of Walking. Again another pattern change. She never exercised before and now she is obsessed with it. She takes a walk down the street before work and when she comes home. Any excuse she can make to escape your view in order to Facebook message, text or call him.

4. Facebook Posting Addiction Pill. Some people suffer from Facebook posting addiction. They post that grainy pic of the hamburger they ate for lunch- that’s important news; they post a pic of every angle of their poodle wearing a hat and drop a famous (or never-heard-before quote) every hour. She did. Now she doesn’t. Did she find a cure for her addiction? No, but she sure isn’t going to post pics of hugging her boyfriend at the park for her friends and family to see.

5. Shrinking Bladder Syndrome. You wonder why he runs to the bathroom so often when he doesn’t eat that much. Is he finally cleaning? Did his bladder get smaller? Did he find the next new diet craze or is he consuming hours of Facebook chatting time with his new hot co-worker “friend”? You don’t even hear him tinkling. Does the pee just vaporize?

6. Facebook Server Malfunction. It happens. Servers malfunction and images go missing on websites. It happened to me a few weeks ago to my website, but I’m sure that doesn’t explain why all those images of you two on family vacations or romantic dinners together suddenly go missing. Deleting pics on Facebook is his/her attempt to prove to their affair partner that they like you less and their lover more. Will they end up happily ever after?

7. Lost Wifi Connection. “When I’m around he’s never connected to Facebook, and when I’m away he’s always connected,” you wonder. OK so it’s not faulty Wifi connection. It’s faulty romantic connection with you and he’s sneaking off during his lunch break pouting to his lover through Facebook how much he loves her and “things just aren’t same anymore” with you. I guess Wifi works fine at his job.

8. Sense of Humor Abducted by Aliens. She used to think you were the stand-up comic of the year, at least that’s how she made you feel when she laughed at every single one of your dry knock-knock jokes. I guess you just don’t have it anymore. Maybe it’s a sign of alien intrusion and they’re zapping you of your powers. Or maybe when she only seems to laugh and smile while Facebook chatting and texting it’s because she found the new comic of the year- her new boyfriend!

9. The Vanishing Phone Trick. “Check this out honey. Every time you enter the room I make my phone disappear.” No, your husband didn’t learn new cheesy magic wizardry. Don’t worry he’s not going to quit his job to become the next David Copperfield. You’ve got more important things to worry about like with whom he’s Facebook cheating and texting while you’re taking a shower.

10. Apparent Vitamin B Intake Increase. I read that vitamin B can help improve your memory. Maybe that explains his new ability to remember a whole slew of passwords. He never used to input passwords anything. The computer and phone saved them for all his accounts including his email and Facebook accounts, but he certainly can’t afford them to auto-populate on your shared laptop, tablet or his phone. He’s got secrets he’s hiding- and they’re not the latest research on how to obtain the memory of a recent MIT grad.

All jokes aside, this is no laughing matter. These are just a handful of signs your spouse is Facebook cheating or performing some kind of digital cheating behind your back.

If you would like some specific suggestions how to prevent digital cheating in your marriage download this 25 Facebook Cheating Rules Report.

Orlando, a former cheater and reformed cheater, started his own website to help others heal from the pain of infidelity and move on with or without their cheating spouse after he discovered his wife entered an affair with a man from a far off city and then became a repeat offender.

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my-facebook-helpline-blog · 6 years

Text

10 Signs He's Still Facebook Cheating and Texting Her

Online Sam's insight:

10 Signs He’s Still Facebook Cheating and Texting Her

Fb Customer Service Phone Number +1-254-326-1656

Maybe you are the one who has not caught your spouse performing disloyal acts yet and you need some kind of “How to Catch a Cheating Husband Tips 101” report to uncover the truth.

Scan these humorous and sarcastic, but realistic red flag signs you’re dealing with a Facebook cheating wife or husband.

10 Alarm-Ringing Signs You’re Married to a Digital or Facebook Cheating Wife or Husband

All jokes aside, this is no laughing matter. These are just a handful of signs your spouse is Facebook cheating or performing some kind of digital cheating behind your back.

If you would like some specific suggestions how to prevent digital cheating in your marriage download this 25 Facebook Cheating Rules Report.

#FacebookCustomerService

#FacebookHelpline

#FacebookHelp

#FacebookHelpdesk

#FacebookContactNumber

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fbonlineagent1-blog · 6 years

Text

10 Signs He's Still Facebook Cheating and Texting Her

Online Sam's insight:

10 Signs He’s Still Facebook Cheating and Texting Her

Fb Customer Service Phone Number +1-254-326-1656

Maybe you are the one who has not caught your spouse performing disloyal acts yet and you need some kind of “How to Catch a Cheating Husband Tips 101” report to uncover the truth.

Scan these humorous and sarcastic, but realistic red flag signs you’re dealing with a Facebook cheating wife or husband.

10 Alarm-Ringing Signs You’re Married to a Digital or Facebook Cheating Wife or Husband

All jokes aside, this is no laughing matter. These are just a handful of signs your spouse is Facebook cheating or performing some kind of digital cheating behind your back.

If you would like some specific suggestions how to prevent digital cheating in your marriage download this 25 Facebook Cheating Rules Report.

#FacebookCustomerService

#FacebookHelpline

#FacebookHelp

#FacebookHelpdesk

#FacebookContactNumber

0 notes

araneaes-order · 6 years

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In the Bleak Mid-winter Ch. 1

LAST HERALD-MAGE FANFIC

Fix-it…ish. canon mm

Young Stefen, living on the streets, found out someone was looking for him and decided to lay low, avoiding the mysterious stranger in red, so he’s never taken to Haven by Bard Lynnell. It was an unfortunate decision, but in spite of it, he and Van do meet up, just later, and under less kind circumstances. Basically a redo on the ending. ~55k words Finished.

Word Count: ~3750

Rating: Mature for, sorry, lots of bad stuff, rape, sexual abuse, child abuse. Canon was pretty dark, especially what I was redoing here, so’s this.

On AO3.

Chapter Synopsis: Savil is dead. Van’s heading north to find find and face her killer.

The icy flurries flung against them by the wind weren’t cold enough to cool the fire of Vanyel’s rage.

His skin might have been so chilled he was probably turning blue—like in the dream—but he felt feverish all the same, and in spite of a cold so deep his breath and Yfandes’ both turned to plumes of white vapor with every rapid exhalation, the snow that touched the exposed skin of his face seemed almost to sizzle as it vanished.

He wasn’t afraid of the snow now. Nor was it a refuge. It was just an obstacle, and a poor one, slowing them down from reaching the end of this road that he’d started on only the gods knew how long before.

But the dreams didn’t matter anymore, ForeSight or FarSight or fantasy, it made no difference to him now. All that mattered was that his aunt, his mother by all but birth, had died alone and in fear and thinking he’d thought her no more than an old fool to be worried that something was coming for her.

All that mattered was that their last words together had been her asking him for help while he brushed her off. Later, he’d said, and as soon as I have the time.

More than many he should have known how often ‘later’ never came. More than most he should have known to listen to her, as he so often had; trust her, as he so often had. Gods damn it all, he’d even had suspicions of his own and let himself be talked out of them, how dared he deny hers?

And how it could have gotten so far with no one noticing, no one but a single, canny old woman that suddenly no one would listen to? Even the Companions hadn’t noticed, or if they had they hadn’t said, but since the sense of fury and anguished failure echoed from his link to Yfandes’ thoughts, he didn’t believe they’d been keeping one of their mysterious silences on this.

He was the only one left; who else could still move against this mysterious enemy from the north, an enemy who had worked in secret and somehow managed to take down all the rest, every one of the Herald-Mages, down to his aunt, through her wards, through the guards and walls and wards of the Herald’s own compound at the capital, struck down in the very heart of Valdemar—

:Not alone,: Yfandes pointed out, her voice fierce and almost mad. :You do not go to face this alone. Whoever he is, whatever it is. This thing that—: The words dissolved into a frantic, looping flood of images: Kellen, his Aunt Savil’s Companion, bloodied, dead, an obscene, absurd crimson staining the gleaming white of his hide. Shonsea, Lissandra’s Companion. Rohan, Kilchas’.

He let the images bombard him, let them fill him, melding seamlessly with his own last memories of Kilchas, Lissandra, and Savil.

By the merciful gods, Savil.

Yfandes’ mind may be as good as any human’s—and far, far, better than most—and her body as like the horse she appeared to be as one of the Tayledras bondbirds was like one of the plump pigeons that gathered in the square, but even she had her limits. Even with shared fury, shared anguish, echoing and reflecting and amplifying along the soul-deep link that bound them, her strong body still had an end to its endurance, and though the raging of the snow and wind might not stop them, it could slow even her, eventually.

He noted it the instant her impossible speed flagged, a good three days journey to the north by an actual horse’s pace, and felt a flash of impatience that faded instantly to concern.

He stroked her neck above the reins, offering instinctive gratitude and apology.

By the gods, would he ignore the needs of the last, closest person to him until she too was taken as a victim of his blind self-indulgence? He cursed himself to the deepest of the hells as a wave of crushing guilt crashed over him.

As she slowed yet more her hooves began to fall heavier on the thick blanket of snow beneath her, sinking in where before she’d practically sailed above it, until it began catching her legs and dragging at them.

Even her mind-voice was breathless. :I’m not so weak as all that!: she thought at him, something like affront in her tone and it was so…normal, he almost smiled. :But I do need a break. And night is coming on. It’s dangerous even for me to try to keep going in this weather.:

:You’re right, of course. Rest and water and food, for both of us.: he told her, knowing she’d turn stubborn if he didn’t promise to take advantage of the same, no matter how leaden the lump already filling his stomach felt, or how frantically his blood still thrummed beneath his skin.

Even at a Companion’s pace it was a good fortnight from Haven to the northern border, hard days, grim and mostly silent. He didn’t dare stop at an inn, lest some spy of his unknown enemy get out a warning of his approach. He still had some hope of surprising him, though less since he’d shown his hand with the spectacle he’d made of the murderous mage’s construct, a violent show of power the mage who’d created the thing can’t have missed, but he couldn’t remember that with regret, no matter what it had revealed of him.

Instead, each night he’d carve out a little haven for them in the snow, warmed by magic, shielded against sight, both physical and magical. They’d drink fresh, melted snow, eat a bit from his light provisions and a bit from whatever he could forage or force into growth from under winter’s mantle, and sleep curled together in a way that they hadn’t since she’d first Chosen him and tried to comfort him through a broken lifebond that no person had any right surviving and few sane people would have wanted to.

He found himself thinking of that often as he and Yfandes moved northward, slowing a little each day to reserve both their strength for whatever they might find there and whatever might be required of them to answer it.

In all the years since he’d died, Lendel had never been far from Vanyel’s thoughts; he didn’t know how he could have been and he wouldn’t really have wanted it. And as he seemed to be riding into a dream that had haunted him his whole life, a dream of dying alone, in pain and grieving, blood on snow, and bitter, endless cold, he found himself wondering what it would be like when they finally met again.

Would his Tylendel still be the golden boy that Vanyel remembered, enshrined in his grieving heart? Or would the agonies of his last days and his final, terrible mistakes scar the youthful innocence of the boy he’d been?

But if he was still that sweet, optimistic boy, what would he make of what Vanyel had become in the years since his death? Battle hardened and scarred. A killer a hundred times over and more. So unsentimental he could wish his own daughter to not marry her own lifebonded because the boy was heir to the throne and a possible candidate for a political alliance.

The farther north they went, the deeper into the teeth of the endless rounds of winter storm, the farther from Haven, the closer to the border—the more certain he was that he and Tylendel would be able to discuss it all soon.

It was almost a relief, if they hadn’t both been so numb, when Yfandes and Vanyel finally reached the guardpost that marked the northern border.

Going beyond it uninvited, he’d lose the authority of Valdemar’s law and crown, but the enemy that waited for him there had had no care for either in all the years Vanyel now suspected he must have been working against them.

It was still snowing—gods, his nephew Medren’s complaints of the area were true, it seemed it never stopped!—while he led a grateful Yfandes into the warm stables and out of the storms for the first time in days.

There was time to re-provision, time to warm themselves and rest. Not much time, but it would probably be their last chance.

There was one stall set up for a Companion, large, well lit, warm, with a loose, light door she could easily open or close at her whim. Van would let no one else tend Yfandes, tired as he was, eager as the gawking stable lad was to help. The oat bin was empty so he sent the boy to the garrison itself for something better for her than hay while he finished her thorough rubdown.

By then the boy had returned and Van absently stroked her neck while she dug in greedily to the warm oats the boy had poured out into the feed trough, so tired he wondered if he wouldn’t be better off just curling up beside her for the night.

:Don’t even think about it.: she warned sharply, but her next words were both more gentle and far more weary. :Grab a bed while you can, dearest. Besides, you need to go speak to the captain and see if they know anything about whatever the hells is going on across the border.:

He only grunted a brief sound of regret, muffled in her mane as he leaned against her, feeling all his years and more.

He did his best to stamp his boots free of snow as he swung his heavy cloak off and hung it in the snow room on his way inside.

The captain of the post was there to greet him with a smile too wide and genuine to bear in his current mood.

Fortunately, she was also canny enough to recognize he was in no fit state for talk and released him from his official duties after only the briefest pleasantries. He should do as Yfandes suggested and pump her for anything she might know of a mage that was working from across the northern border, but the questions could wait for the morning.

He must have looked as bad as he felt, because she clapped him on the back and guided him by a hand laid gently on his arm—like he was an old man she had brace up to keep him from falling, which perhaps wasn’t too far off, actually—to a common room where it seemed most of the soldiers who guarded the place were gathered. She pointed him to the huge, steaming, bubbling pot of something that smelled of herbs and venison set cooking over the great fireplace itself, and cheerfully announced that he was in luck to have visited them when their post was also hosting a wandering minstrel.

Vanyel had no interest in music now, only warm food and a bed, heading gratefully for the fire and the stew and the little loaves of bread he could see and smell warming in a metal shelf cut directly into the stone chimney.

He’d entered the room in a lull between songs, the air heavy with the expectant silence, but as he nodded to the soldier minding the pot and absently stirring the contents with a big wooden ladle, the first notes of a new song tumbled out through the air and he winced.

That it was no mere minstrel playing for them, he could tell with such immediate surety he was surprised the captain hadn’t known it as well and he slammed his mental barriers firmly into place, not looking to be swept away by Bard-song when he was already feeling so adrift.

The fury of his quest for vengeance had cooled on the long, cold trek to the border, and the beginnings of grief were edging in around it. He felt the lust for the mage’s death just as powerfully, the need like a sack of glass shards nestled in his chest, painful but so omnipresent the pain was dulled if he could just be still for a moment, but the grief that had been displaced by that burning purpose would not be put off much longer.

He took the bowl of soup and a spoon and the small loaf of herbed and buttered bread to the corner farthest from the Bard to eat. He had that corner to himself, since everyone else in the common room had moved closer to the source of the music, not away.

Without his shields he might have been cheered, perhaps even energized by the speedy, lighthearted little melody the Bard was picking out on his gittern, and that was before it was joined by the sweet tenor voice, backed by what was obviously, to Vanyel, a powerful Gift. The gittern that the Bard played was a poor instrument, in spite of the magic those talented hands roused from it, but the young man’s voice was a tool that few could equal.

For a moment Van cocked his head and considered the youth who commanded the room with such ease: ragged clothes, but warm ones, wavy auburn hair, a red-head’s pallor, eyes that he could only see were pale from his place across the room. Light brown perhaps, or hazel. A pretty young man, almost as lovely as his song. Pure trouble, if Van knew anything of Bards, or too-handsome young men.

Van sat his food on a convenient barrel-top table and set to his meal, only stopping several moments later when he was forced to stifle a yawn. When he opened his eyes he found the Bard’s own slumberous gaze fixed on him. For a moment he felt a strange chill, but he shook it off. It was a talent of truly good performers to make everyone in the audience feel like he or she alone had the musician’s particular attention. It was an especially valuable skill for performers who worked for tips.

Mind-shielded and deliberately tuning out the Bard’s song, Van focused instead on his food, allowing himself to be distracted by nothing except a young soldier bearing a fresh mug of ale, courtesy of the captain.

He made himself eat slowly, because he knew he wouldn’t take more than the bowl and loaf he’d already been given. A full belly would only make him stupid and slow—and possibly sick, the way he was feeling; he wasn’t starving, just tired of his own meager cooking and rations.

A soft touch mind-to-mind through his link to Yfandes told him she’d already fallen asleep, and though her dreams were troubled, she slept deeply.

He should be as well. Gods, even though they’d deliberately slowed themselves, trying not to burn themselves out before they could even reach this enemy of theirs, the storms had been taking their toll on them both. If he hadn’t been able to stop in the guard post for the night he wasn’t sure he’d’ve made it through another day, unless he started strapping himself to the saddle.

He’d be useless for his task if he didn’t manage to rest up. Perhaps they’d even stay another day, instead of striking out immediately. The dark mage would have to know they were coming but he couldn’t possibly predict exactly when. Two nights’ rest in the warmth and the comfort of a bed for him and a stable for Yfandes could give them an edge that was more valuable than haste.

“You look like a man who could use another,” a wry, teasing voice commented, before a new mug of ale was set in front of him.

He glanced up to find the Bard himself standing there—then sitting there, across from him, as he set down his own bowl and bread and another mug closer to his own hand.

Van gazed stupidly across the room to where the young man had been sitting while he sang, as though he expected the boy in front of him was some vision and the Bard was still in the place he’d been since Vanyel’s arrival.

As though catching the thread of his thought the handsome Bard pouted, the expression not ruining his face in the slightest. “You weren’t paying attention to my music at all. Was my playing so off tonight?”

Vanyel snorted, no more inclined to be caught up in flattering an undoubtedly already ample ego than he’d been to be caught up in the music. “I’m not a fan,” he said dismissively.

The boy’s face fell, and for a moment true hurt reflected in his eyes and twisted his mouth and Vanyel cursed himself. “—of music,” he added. “I don’t care for music.” He shrugged, lying easily. “I had dreams of being a Bard myself once. Some dreams die hard and leave a…bitter taste,” he added, finding the truth came easily as well, although he didn’t hold—much—bitterness against music or Bards or the Gift he had actually won in the end, at too terrible a cost to think about.

For a moment the youth examined his face, eyes particularly on the half-smile Van’d ventured as a peace offering, suspicion darkening his gaze, but then he twisted his lips and sighed and put his head down to start devouring his own meal.

“Looks like you did alright. Most’d think those Whites of yours are worth more than a pretty song, Herald,” he said between spoonfuls of the thick soup, not looking up, clearly not entirely having forgiven Van.

Just as well though. Vanyel wasn’t looking for friends, he’d left all his in Haven except Yfandes, and too many he’d left in lonesome graves dug in hard, winter earth. He reached for the ale the Bard had brought him and downed a long swallow. He shouldn’t drink any more tonight, no matter how it warmed him, but some memories all but demanded it.

The Bard did look up then, strangely watchful, seeming on the verge of saying something else, but he shoved another spoonful of soup into his mouth instead.

Van shook his head in weariness. He was used to the way Bards clung to Heralds, hungry for fodder for their songs, and he couldn’t blame them for it—it was their job after all—but he didn’t have the energy or heart to indulge the boy.

He took another long drink until the mug was half gone, and when he set the mug next to the two he’d already emptied he pushed away from the table.

That caught the Bard’s attention and Van had a strange double-vision of brown eyes and hazel, both watching him, while the room spun. Maybe he should have eaten more after all, or drank less, or both.

“Whoa—” the youth said softly, reaching for his arm, easing him back into his seat. “You look worn out. Don’t be so quick to move around, yeah? Another drink to steady your head?”

That made no sense. Instead he shut his eyes and breathed deeply through his mouth for several long, slow breaths. Ground and center, it was good practice for more than just magic.

He opened his eyes to find the Bard’s on him. Hazel eyes, definitely, turned golden amber in the firelight.

He smiled weakly. “I’m fine. I’ve just been on the road too long. I just need a good bed to fall into.”

And those words made the Bard lean round his side of the tabletop, closer to Van, and he put out his hand—on Vanyel’s thigh. “Now that’s a smart idea. But the beds up here are so cold…when you’re alone,” he murmured. His dark lashes fluttered low, casting sweet shadows on his cheeks, and though his flirting was suddenly as heavy-handed as any of the women Van’s mother had coached to try to tempt him from what his family considered ‘perversion,’ this was far closer to temptation than he’d faced in a long time.

Gods!

He scrambled for the mug and downed it all, twisting his leg away from the younger man’s touch with all the grace of a propositioned novice at a nunnery.

The Bard withdrew his hand from Van’s flailing efforts to escape, eyes narrowed in sullen pique. First he’d insulted the boy’s music, now he’d scrambled away from him like he feared the boy was plagued. Vanyel should probably feel bad about at least one of those things, but he couldn’t manage it.

The speed of his own movements or perhaps the sudden rush of the mild alcohol hitting his head or alarmed embarrassment or even just his weariness all combined to make the room spin again and he grabbed at the table to steady himself. He felt odd.

This was more than drink, he realized. His mouth worked but he found he couldn’t speak, his tongue like a stone, his throat unaccountably tight.

The Bard leaned into him again and he wanted to fend him off—couldn’t he see something wasn’t right?—but the world was growing farther away, as though something thick and viscous were suddenly seeping over him, too heavy to let him move, dulling his vision and his hearing. He was like an insect stuck in sap and the more he tried to struggle the worse off he seemed to be.

“Too good for the likes of me, hmm? That’s fine, better men than you have said the same, but better men than you have said otherwise, too. A man can’t win ‘em all, can he?” The Bard put his arms around him as he nuzzled his ear, whispering for only Van to hear. Someone at any distance would think they were flirting. More than flirting.

Van had no control of his own limbs but he felt the Bard “helping” him up, an arm curled around Vanyel’s waist, swinging Van’s arm over the youth’s own slim shoulders.

In a panic he reached for Yfandes—but found a wall. He flung all his considerable mental force against it, railed against it, screamed, but it was smooth as glass and strong as graven stone and remained utterly untouched by his fear or fury.

His Mage Gift and his Mind Gifts were as hopelessly closed off from him. He was helpless. He was trapped. And the only certainty he had as his world narrowed down to nothing more than his trapped and terribly aware consciousness, was that somehow, the Bard had done this.

Continued in Chapter 2

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#LHM #the last herald-mage #Vanyel Ashkevron #stefen #Tylendel Frelennye #my writing #fanfic

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