her finest work

anonymous asked:

Is it possible that Pink Diamond gave Rose Quartz her sword as a gift?

Hi there! I don’t think that this is likely because of the dialogue we saw in Bismuth. 

Bismuth: Rose’s sword. My finest piece of work.

Steven: You made this?


Bismuth: I designed this sword for a fair fight. It can cut through a Gem’s physical form in an instant! Destroying the body, but never the Gem.

Source: SU Wiki

In this scene, Bismuth is quite explicitly saying that she made the sword for Rose herself. Moreover, this wasn’t when they were commissioned under the Diamonds. After the initial exchange between her and Steven, Bismuth goes on to say that joining Rose and deciding to make the sword for her was a direct consequence of Rose’s asking her to subvert the rule of the Diamonds. 

She says Rose asked her what she wanted to build. And she adds that no one had ever asked her that before.

This is a very strong indication that the sword itself was crafted after they had decided upon the Rebellion. In fact, since we don’t see her use it in The Answer, it’s believable to assume that it was made even after the initial throes of battle.

Additionally, Bismuth’s making the sword is narratively significant as it speaks of the depth of their relationship, and the relationship that was present between Steven and Bismuth even before they’d met by virtue of his taking up ownership of the sword. 

It adds to the betrayal Bismuth felt about Rose. Bismuth’s creation of weapons is always a very personal thing. She tries to find something that fits the warrior for whom she makes the weapons. We see her do this for Amethyst. That she considers, until now, the sword as her finest piece of work shows how deeply she injected herself into the relationship and the physical manifestation of it. 

Laura Marling // Semper Femina

There is a line from Virgil’s epic poem The Aeneid that nearly a decade ago Laura Marling decided to have tattooed on her leg: “Varium et mutabile semper femina” it runs, translating roughly as “A woman is an ever fickle and changeable thing.” Realizing that the line was a little long for the limb, at the very last moment she opted instead for an abbreviation: “Semper femina” she chose: “Always a woman.” It makes a fitting and fascinating title for Marling’s sixth album — an intimate, devoted exploration of femininity and female relationships, and among her finest work to date. Written largely on the tour that followed 2015’s Short Movie and recorded in Los Angeles with production from Blake Mills, it is at once a distinctive and musically compelling collection of songs, run through with Marling’s fierce intelligence; a keen, beautiful and unparalleled take on womanhood.

“I started out writing it as if a man was writing about a woman,” Marling says. “And then I thought it’s not a man, it’s me — I don’t need to pretend it’s a man to justify the intimacy of the way I’m looking and feeling about women. It’s me looking specifically at women and feeling great empathy towards them and by proxy towards myself.”

The songs grew out of what Marling regards as “a masculine time” in her life. “A certain time when I’d sort of gone on this trip of abandoning any sexuality,” she says. “Now in retrospect I was hopped up on the times, but I was living in LA, and LA does have an amazing knack for removing sexuality. I found it quite scary; I was scared of what I perceived to be the disappearance of my feminine side. But it gave me an ability to look at women in a different way and consider how I’d been looked at.”

In retrospect there was a precursor to this strange period of her life — Short Movie had been concerned with the breaking down of the ego, “And then I guess piecing back together an ego you get to see it in all its parts,” she says. “And tied in with this was the magical realism of living in LA.” Having spent several years in Los Angeles, Marling now splits her time between the UK and California. “And LA makes me feel very different to England,” she says. “Now my love affair with LA is at a point where I don’t really leave my house and all my friends are English. It’s a great place to be, but it’s not an enticing fantastical adventure anymore, and I think the election has brought that home.”

Marling’s exploration of femininity is as broad as it is tender. On tracks such as Wild Once she was interested in the archetype of the wild woman and her unrestrained physicality. “In the more masculine phase of my life I got really into hiking and bouldering, scrambling up trees or whatever,” she explains. “And I just hadn’t exercised that part of myself for such a long time, and it was felt fantastic. It touched something that was really sweet and innocent. At a time when I couldn’t really find that center, I was touching on it running through a forest by Big Sur with no shoes on.”

Elsewhere she’s looking at “What’s been forbidden to me in female relationships in all forms, and at female empathy between each other, and friendships that have been really intense.” On The Valley, for instance, a track she calls “a bit of an English nostalgia trip” she writes about “broken female friendships, and how that feels to be betrayed or betray a friend or a woman in any way.”

The nature of female friendship has been a long-standing interest for Marling. “And again it’s blurred as you open up the boundaries more,” she says. “But the falling in love that you experience with friendship is so less defined than romantic or sexual love. I’ve been obsessed with that always I think,” she says. “Because I have sisters maybe, and a mother. And I think because of that there’s a high standard of trust and care that I place on myself and that I feel in my female friends as well — we have quite a high empathetic standard for each other. So I feel when that’s broken it’s so powerful. And I’m guilty of that in many respects because I’m so absent-minded. Until now I just hadn’t really thought about that being a subject matter for a song, but when I tapped into the sadness of that, or the regret, or the feeling of being on the other side of that, I found that quite a fruitful well of stuff. So there’s a lot of that on this record, that trying to make amends for those sort of broken channels.”

She also became fascinated by the life of the psychoanalyst Lou Andreas-Salome. “I came across her by accident through a love letter that [Rainer Maria] Rilke wrote,” Marling says. “I was obsessed with Rilke, and he wrote about her being the only tangible thing that he’d ever encountered in his life — the famous quote is ‘You alone are real to me’.” Marling read about Andreas-Salome extensively — from her upbringing in Russia, through her intellectual and romantic relationships with figures such as Paul Ree, Friedrich Nietzsche and Sigmund Freud, her unconsummated marriage to Friedrich Carl Andreas, and her passionate affair with Rilke which led to his Duino elegies.

Rather than her relationships with famous male figures it was Andreas-Salome’s own psychoanalytic research that Marling found particularly interesting: “Just before Freud died she wrote him a letter saying ‘I’ve been doing some research into the feminine psyche and I think you’ve got it completely wrong. Penis envy is an invention of man because women’s sexuality by its nature is internal and self-perpetuating, so there’s no lack of this or need of that. It’s this internal, inherently creative thing without men.’ And Freud wrote to her and said this is amazing and this is true, but he died two months later so it never got published. And that blew my mind. Imagine! It would’ve changed the entire psyche of the western world.”

These thoughts were shaped further by Marling’s ongoing podcast project Reversal of the Muse which saw her interviewing women from across the music industry — from famed singers such as Dolly Parton and Emmylou Harris to female sound engineers, and guitar shop owners, discussing the nature and shape of female creativity. “I would say that feminine creativity, the feminine part of the brain is in both sexes, but is inherently different to the masculine,” she says, “I had a lot of chats with Blake about how we started playing guitar,” she says, “and he said ‘I started playing because I wanted to impress girls- though I suspect that was a flippant remark rather than the whole truth. But it worked as an example as that was obviously so different to why I started playing guitar — that was never in my brain to impress boys; “and for me, playing guitar has always been tied up with my identity, it’s always been involved in myself, rather than enticing people in.”

Having produced Short Movie herself, Marling decided to enlist Mills as producer for Semper Femina. “I really enjoyed producing but it’s just not my calling,” she says. “I’d love to do it for someone else, but for myself it was too difficult to play both roles. Making the podcasts I discovered I play off the vulnerability of being a solo human being, playing a very vulnerable song in front of a microphone with six people in a control room. It’s a weird dynamic, but it has always worked for me. A lot of songwriters I know can’t bear to be overheard when they’re songwriting, but I quite like it — I write in venues or dressing rooms when there are eight people in the room. There’s something thrilling and weirdly voyeuristic about it. But I like the idea that it will be heard, and if I’m producing it feels like it might only be heard by me.”

Looking for a producer, and already a fan of his music, she was told that Mills had written a list of people he wanted to work with and that her name was on it. This is not to say recording was always straightforward, and working with a new, male producer brought familiar challenges for Marling. “I think Blake was very sweetly not sure what to do with an English girl,” she says. “It took a week or two to shake off the very set image of what I was in his mind — a very romping through the countryside delicate character from Emma. And I’ve had that so many times. And in some ways I’m think you can keep that image of me, but in other ways I have to break it in order to get work done, because it’s a really heavy block between you and what you want to get done. And also because I’d just come from producing a record myself I had to get rid of that idea of delicacy.”

More than anything on Semper Femina Marling addresses the space between the perceptions and realities of being a woman, the space in which women are not frail but powerful, creative and abundant figures. “When I was a teenager in my head you were either this delicate tragedy or you were a muse,” she says. “And they’re both such horrifyingly subjugated roles. But our culture loves female tragedy. That’s just been so ingrained over and over again, and there haven’t been enough examples of a written alternative. My main focus is re-writing the idea of tragic woman.”

If Marling sounds galvanized it’s because this album marks a shift in her career. “The time and the political climate that we live in, we’re coming to a point where there’s no need for this sort of artistic expression that I’ve been a part of,” she says. “Innocent creativity had a little flourish in the last ten years. But also I’m getting older and now I think ‘What use is that?’ It’s not rooted, not pointed, not political. For me right now I feel like it’s more important that I have a practical use.”


…it was all Pacifica could do to contain her laughter because it was a hysterical sight: Dipper, with dozens of tiny plaits sticking up in every direction, each decorated by a bow, a butterfly clip, or a cupcake barrette. It was some of her finest work.

He tried to run a hand through his hair and let out a yelp when it tugged on his roots. He let his hand brush over the top of his head, then his eyes shot open and he bolted from the bed to the mirror.

“Seriously, you guys?!”

(Read the rest here) I doodled this a lil while back (was it really a month ago??? Whoa.) when I was practicing drawing in GF style. @proseandsongs, I hope you don’t mind I keep drawing stuff based on your writings, I just love them so much, and this one was particularly funny, I thought. XD (I actually meant to draw a bit more of this scene, but I never finished. 8P)

Moments of Love

As inspired by this picture from the absolutely wonderful @meldy-arts, it’s another Sabezra story from me.  Sorry to my followers who may dislike this paring.

To Ezra Bridger, the common room was home.  

Perhaps it was an odd statement, since home could take on many meanings.  Home might be the long-destroyed house of his childhood, the dust-stormed streets of Capital City or the abandoned coms tower of his late childhood.  Home could be The Ghost, where he learnt how to be kind again or perhaps Atollon, where he discovered so much about himself – both bad and good.  The Starbird was home, his and Sabine’s, these days – their own ship, though they still used Spector 5 and Spector 6 as code names often.

But The Starbird’s common room was home, more so than anywhere else.

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BEATRICE WOOD was born in San Francisco in 1893 and passed away in Ojai, California nine days after her 105th birthday on March 12, 1998. She attributed her longevity to “young men and chocolates.”

From YT:
Woods spent time in Paris during her late teens. Studying art briefly at the Academie Julian, she was soon attracted to the stage and moved to the Comedie Francaise. She returned to the United States in 1914 and joined the French Repertory Theater in New York. While visiting the French composer Edgar Varese in a New York hospital in 1916, she was introduced to Marcel Duchamp. She soon became an intimate friend of the painter and a member of his recherche culturelle clique, which included Francis Picabia, Man Ray, Albert Gleizes, Walt Kuhn, and others. As a contributor to Duchamp’s avant-garde magazines, Rogue and the Blindman, she produced drawings and shared editorial space with such luminaries of the day as Gertrude Stein. In 1933, after she purchased a set of six luster plates in Europe, she returned to America and wanted to produce a matching teapot. It was suggested that she make one at the pottery classes of the Hollywood High School. Of course, she would later laugh about that weekend and reminisce about how foolish she was in thinking she could produce a lustre teapot in one weekend. But she was hooked. She began to read everything she could get her hands on concerning ceramics. Around 1938 she studied with Glen Lukens at the USC, and in 1940 with the Austrian potters Gertrud and Otto Natzler. She remembers being “the most interested student in [Lukens’s] class and certainly the least gifted….” “I was not a born craftsman. Many with natural talent do not have to struggle, they ride on easy talent and never soar. But I worked and worked, obsessed with learning.” From that time on, Wood developed a personal and uniquely expressive art form with her lusterwares. Her sense of theater is still vividly alive in these works, with their exotic palette of colors and unconventional form. In 1983 the Art Galleries of California State University at Fullerton organized a large retrospective of the artist’s sixty-six years of activity as an artist. Remarkably, it was during the artist’s nineties that Wood produced some of her finest work including her now signature works, tall complex, multi-volumed chalices in glittering golds, greens, pinks and bronzes. Until shortly before her death she was producing at least two one-woman exhibitions a year and the older she became, the more daring and experimental her work was.

Wood received numerous honors. She was given the Ceramics Symposium Award of the Institute for Ceramic History in 1983 and the outstanding-achievement award of the Women’s Caucus for Art in 1987, the year she was made a fellow of both the National Council on Education for the Ceramic Arts and the American Craft Council which also gave her the gold medal on her 100th birthday. She also received the Governor’s Award for Art in 1994, and was made a “living treasure of California” by the state in 1984. Wood took part in hundreds of exhibitions both solo and group since the 1930’s ranging from small craft shows, to showing on the Venice Biennale. From 1981 until her death, she was represented by the Garth Clark Gallery. In 1990, her close friend and art historian Francis Naumann organized a major retrospective of her figurative work which appeared at the Oakland Museum and The Craft and Folk Art Museum in Los Angeles. In 1997 the American Craft Museum organized “Beatrice Wood: A Centennial Tribute,” a touring exhibition. In 1985 Wood published her autobiography, I Shock Myself . She continued to write, publishing many books. In 1993 she was the subject of an award winning film Beatrice Wood: Mama of Dada by Lone Wolf Productions.

Beatrice Wood continued to throw on the wheel until June, 1997. She achieved some of her best lustre works in the 90s. Her last figurative work, “Men With Their Wives” was completed in December 1996 and is currently in a private collection in California.

anonymous asked:

Your recent post about Virginia Woolf really piqued my interest about her works. I was wondering if you could recommend any of your favourites to a novice curious to delve into her writing. Your insight would be most helpful. Thank you!

Anyone who wishes to discuss Virginia Woolf is always welcome here.

I have heard Woolf’s writing described as an acquired taste; I only half agree with such a statement. Of any author as I have read, Woolf is the one whose writing utterly encapsulates her being. Her literary progress chronicles her own emotional bildungsroman, developing from acute psychological study to profound and often mystical explorations of the human condition in all its frailty. Her earlier fiction retains some sense of regularity and preciousness, while her later work is subsumed by the experimentalist hallmark of postmodernism. For one who wishes to dip their toes into the glory that is Woolf’s writing and (ideally) venture further, there is a (relatively) linear path:

  1. A Room of One’s Own – A (nonfiction) feminist masterpiece, and sets much of the tone for Woolf’s fictional works preoccupied with space and imagination.
  2. Mrs. Dalloway – Perhaps her most famous work, and deservedly so. Thematically and stylistically brilliant, the novel begins with the memorable line, “Mrs. Dalloway said she would buy the flowers herself.”
  3. Orlando – My personal favourite of the fictions. A curious and highly unconventional satirical bend on customs of Edwardiana and all things ‘proper’, Orlando is a utopian semi-autobiographical fantasy, which was incidentally drafted contemporaneously with A Room of One’s Own, and so many themes will re-emerge. Not to mention, Orlando is of course dedicated to its muse, Vita Sackville-West.
  4. To the Lighthouse – Woolf’s renowned “stream-of-consciousness” technique is as its finest here, a philosophical meditation on subjectivity and ghosts of the past.
  5. The Death of the Moth and Other Essays – Woolf’s short stories are treasures, and this particular volume contains some of her finest achievements. Pay particular attention to “Street Haunting: A London Adventure” and “A Letter to a Young Poet”.
  6. Kew Gardens – If you hunger for more of Woolf’s shorter writings, this is the ticket. Dear Virginia has never been overly fond of narrative plots, but instead revels in literary impressionism, or the ability to convey atmosphere through words. The eponymous story in this collection is the finest example of such artistry.
  7. The Voyage Out – Woolf’s first novel, and the one with which she was never entirely satisfied. It sets into motion certain themes which permeate her future literary oeuvre, including her preoccupation with consciousness and social critique.
  8. The Waves – The most intimate and unfathomable of Woolf’s writings. The writing is at times overwrought, listless, and meandering, but is so involvingly dream-like, one feels as though one were at sea him/herself, as was Woolf’s intent (written to “to a rhythm not to a plot”).
  9. The Years – The scope of this novel is a historical one, although it doesn’t stray far from Woolf’s usual ruminations on place and past. The characters’ lives across the years are still documented in minute, intimate details, rather than in grand scope, situated across historical time and geographical space. It curiously lacks much of Woolf’s charged, poetic language of previous work, but is an estimable bookend to Woolf’s literary life.

And of course, if you still yet crave more of her work, there are three more novels and several more short story/essay collections to consume.

Having said all this, I would be remiss in omitting Woolf’s letters and diaries. Her diary entries would not be out of place amongst her finest published works, and being an obsessive chronicler of daily psychology, Woolf’s diaries remain one of my favourites of her literary output (in particular, her letters to Lytton Strachey and Vita Sackville-West).

I trust that this modest catalogue is of some use to you, and for anyone else venturing into virgin literary territory.

PS. On a related note, my profile photo is not of Virginia, but of Vita, a photograph taken by E.O. Hoppé in 1916 in all her Dionysian glory (for the Anon who asked): a common error.

Quick talk about the end of the episode “Bismuth”

Spoilers ahead, lest it’s obvious

Yanno I was heartbroken by the end of Bismuth. She seemed like a wonderful new character, and to me, she still is! She’s expressive and powerful, but we learned something crucial about Rose Quartz in this episode;

She isn’t a homeworld gem. She was made on Earth, and while she was supposed to be part of Homeworld’s usual routine of taking over a world and using it for gem reproduction, and later as a geo weapon, or a colony, whatever- the point is, Rose wasn’t a Homeworld gem.

Bismuth was.

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Things we learned from “Bismuth”

 -Crystal Gem video game down time is adorable
-The tree inside lion is might possibly be a real tree? Or at least a magic one
-Steven’s  “She big.”
-Lion’s facial expressions seem to indicate that he experiences some discomfort when large or fast moving objects enter or leave his pocket dimension
-“Who do you belong to?” “Nobody!”
- “Cool it, your Ruby is showing”
-Bismuth is one of the original Crystal Gems
-”We could always use more Amethysts!” means that there were some other Amethysts before and during the war
-Rose never told the other Gems what really happened with Bismuth, like Garnet said “She kept many secrets”
-”It’s not always easy to understand Rose’s choices, but we have to stand behind them” really attests to Rose’s leadership skills, that her following had such an incredible amount of respect, trust and faith towards her
-Bubbled, sentient gems have no sense of time, but gems in objects do
-Bismuth definitely has two sides to her, and seems to enjoy war a tad too much
-The Crystal gems have always been the underdogs
-Garnet and Bismuth once took on either 1 or 3 battalions of quartz soldiers and came out without a single scratch on them
-Pearl once pulled out a Nephrite (type of Jade), out of the cockpit of a drop ship. So pre war Jades were used to pilot ships, much like post war Peridots are today (now there’s a half developed theory)
-The forge is a secluded location that seemingly only Bismuth can open the door to, and was where she created all of the material weapons used during the war
-Bismuth shape shifts her hand into hammers to smelt weapons with, and actual weapons to fight with and can withstand very extreme temperatures
-Bismuths were used by homeworld to build spires and temples that the elite upper-class would enjoy
-Bismuths are infact homeworld gems and so our Bismuth was not made by Rose Quartz, but rather liberated by her
-Rose Quartz fought not only for humanity and to protect the Earth, but also to liberate gems and break them away from Homeworld’s mold
-Bismuth can enhance a gems physical weapon and not just material weapons
-The gems never mentioned Bismuth to Amethyst before, so it’s very possible that the gems haven’t mentioned any of their fallen allies to Amethyst before either
-”Not every quartz can make a whip like this” could imply that our Amethyst is indeed special, possibly since she is the only quartz gem we have seen with an offensive weapon (Rose has a shield, Jasper has a helmet), or it could have been Bismuth just trying to smooth talk and open up to Amethyst
-Bishmuth is a great pep talker, like I could see Rose using her to boast morale
-The CG’s used to have a ritual to spar before every battle they should bring it back tbh
-Garnet being called “the Power Couple” is great and I can’t wait to see how people will still find a way to say that rupphire are still “just friends”
-Pearl’s energy projection developed after the war
-Steven’s pre battle rituals are so pure and great
-Since Bismuth does not have a room in the temple, it was built post war, which I’m sure was already established
-Steven considers Rose’s sword his weapon, even though Connie is really the only one of them that knows how to use it (and also Stevonnie)
-Bismuth created Rose’s sword, her finest piece of work, as something that would instantly poof a gems form, but never harm the gem itself
-Spires were built for intellectuals, and arenas for fighters
-”Just another Quartz solider made right here in the dirt”, So from that statement does it conclude that Rose was made on Earth
-Rose inspired gems to do more than what they were told they could do
-Bismuths’ pep talk to Steven sounds exactly like what Rose told Bismuth: You don’t have to be what everyone says you have to be, you can be something better, which is honestly what Steven needs to hear right now
-Home world resorted to cheap tactics, which is ultimately what ended the war
-Bismuth has the right mindset for a war, but her ideas are just too much
-It’s evident why Rose had bubbled Bismuth
-Bismuth was fueled by an utter hate for Homeworld, while Rose was fueled by a desire to escape it and potentially create a new society
-Bismuth desire to free all of homeworld is very reminiscent of real world desires to spread democracy, even to places that don’t necessarily want it, but still useing the guise of “democracy” as a way to justify all means
-Bismuth uses her cause as a motive to justify her actions, even if those actions are the same ones that Homeworld would use against them
-”Nobody is more Crystal Gem than I am” could imply that the CG’s were a lot more brutish and ruthless than we realize, or that Bismuth was just that one gem that took it way too far
-Steven parallels Rose so much that Bismuth fully believes that Rose is still there
-”After you lied about EVERYTHING” dark crewniverse show us the forbidden Rose Quartz eps
-Okay wowow so it is VERY apparent why Rose had bubbled Bismuth
-Rose valued Gemkind, and not just the Crystal Gems. Rose did not want to shatter opposing gems just because they didn’t believe in what she did
-Bismuth would have extended the war way past saving the Earth,and  back to Homeworld itself, liberating all gems, no matter who she had to shatter to do so
-”Even if we don’t agree, nobody deserves this”
-”Then you really are better than her” okay so im crying thats cool
-Judging by everything that just happened, I think it’s safe to assume that our Bismuth was infact the gem that poofed lapis, and not some other Bismuth
-”Glad to have another chance”, but then she had to go make the same mistake twice
-Steven stright up put his foot on a burning metal floor, is this like a new power or what man
-Bismuth is safely bubbled in the burning room and can potentially be let out again so that is very comforting
-NEW LOVE LIKE YOU VERSE how did I forget this honestly

Wow okay so that episode was a lot and very heavy, if I missed anything feel free to add it on

Questionable Artistry

Hers is a craft that leaves marks, and he just handed her his heart.

Modern AU, Solavellan. 2800~ words, rated T.

part 1 / part 2part 3 / part 4

The book is finished a week later, as promised.

It’s some of her finest work, Ellana thinks – the owl in the centre, wings regally spread, and every feather etched with careful precision. The embellishments around the edges and the spine is a design of her own creation, deeply-chiselled whorls and waves; the relief causing an illusion of light and shadow, begging for the reverent trace of a fingertip along the finely carved ridges.

She wraps it in silk paper and leaves it on the counter, fixes her hair twice – once up, a loose bun, then down, then up again. Then she gives up the whole venture, sits down to watch Bull whittle a Darkspawn piece for his chess board, and to keep her hands busy works idly on a discarded block of wood until she’s covered head to toe in dust, and it would be true to her luck to have him show up now, but he doesn’t. The day goes by, and the next, and the next, and there’s no sign of Solas.

At first she tries not to think too much about it – doesn’t want to think about it, or him, and the words they’d exchanged last. Shame burns in her heart at the memory, and she can’t bear to look at the vhenadahl, always at the corner of her eye, no matter where she turns. She doesn’t even know who she’s truly angry at – him, for his callous remarks, or herself, for taking it so bloody personally.

But if she’s waiting for an apology, or even for him to show up at all, she appears to be waiting in vain, and irritation sparks when she thinks about the book – the hours spent, unpaid if his refusal to show up is some kind of silent, petty rebuttal to their argument. The confusing part is that he doesn’t strike her as the type to do such a thing, but if not that, then what? For all their previous meetings he’s exhibited a near mechanical sense of punctuality, but now there’s hasn’t been so much as a word. And of course, she still doesn’t have his number, or even an address. What’s worse, the thought that his absence could be due some misconstrued notion that she needs space rankles more than she’d like to admit. She’s a professional – she’s endured more than her share of insufferable customers. A differing opinion wouldn’t have hindered her work, and the fact that he might think that bothers her more than anything else.

The days pass in a quiet haze, and she moves between projects with a half-hearted diligence in a vain attempt to distract herself, but failing to reach the singular mindset that would keep her thoughts from drifting. But she’s sitting by her workbench one late afternoon when the bell chimes, and she hears the rumble of thunder from outside, following at the heels of the door heralding someone’s arrival with its usual gusto. It’s been pouring down all day, and she’s surprised anyone would venture out in this weather, but a flicker of hope bursts to life behind her breast at the thought that it might be him, and she’s on her feet before the door has slammed shut again, almost forgetting to put down her chisel in her hurry.

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Wander the Night

This is the NaLu week prompt Wander, but I wrote this specifically for thathilomgirl! Happy Birthday Michelle!!! (pretty sure it is late because of the gap in our time zones) but I wish you an awesome day, you lovely person!

This is a tale untold like most fairy tales. It cannot be found in any book or scroll. It can only be told…from the heart and the light of the stars.

This is the story of a dragon, most fierce and proud, ruler of his territory and all that dwell in it. Fighting was his passion, his drive, his heart. The thrill of battle gave him fuel and fire in his belly and he made sure his strength was known and defeated all that dared challenge him. Scales of red and eyes of shining coal, the Fire Dragon Prince was a beast of great care for his subjects and even greater care for his nakama.

He wandered his lands like a restless traveler, collecting memories and hoarding souvenirs like precious gold. Memories made with friends were of the greatest value.

Then, one day on his journey, he encountered a person most rare in skill and beauty. Hair made of threaded gold and eyes of the darkest shade of a brown diaspore, a gem he longed to collect in his youth.

The Star Painter.

Fallen from her studio as a fallen star herself, the Star Painter worried over how the stars would be placed in the sky without her brush and palette. How would the world turn, the night be filled with light, if she cannot reach her blank canvas?

In tears, the Star Painter pleaded for help, unable to offer anything of value in return. Her trade was to light the darkness and guide the weary travelers with the stars in the sky. She was not made of wealth or fine trades.

The Fire Dragon Prince did not care, he graciously offered his back, using great wings to carry her back to the dark canvas and bringing brush to work. The night was filled with stars, big and small, and the Star Painter was proud to say it was her finest work.

Despite not being able to offer much in the physical world, the Star Painter gave the dragon a great gift in return for his kindness.

The constellation Draco, designed in his glory, a legacy of his life in the sky for eternity.

Though the great beast was proud, he desired only one thing and asked humbly as such for he had already received a great honor.

A name for the Star Painter, so that he may call upon her and see her once more.

Amused, the Star Painter offered her answer only if he provide his own, so that she may also see him once again.

The Fire Dragon Prince was called Natsu:

The Star Painter, Lucy.

Over time, the pair became best of friends, communicating through the night sky like pen pals. Natsu spoke to the stars as if they were her and Lucy answered through the stars. She did manifest to him on certain days where the eclipses drowned out the light or comets shyly passed by, laughing and sharing things she had seen in her time away.

So many stories were shared between them, Dragon and Celestial. The bond grew deeper still, like a well to the purest and richest of gifts the world hid away.

It is said to be love, the One Magic long forgotten. Do not let anything tell otherwise.

Love was, and is the strongest force.

That was proven on a dark day where suddenly…the stars were absent. The night was dark and devoid of the artwork he so cherished almost as much as the artist herself. Concerned, the Fire Dragon Prince took to the sky, soaring up to the studio where he knew she resided.

He found it in disarray and destruction, his beloved painter buried under broken art supplies and torn paintings…

…unable to reach her blank canvas.

The night still had dangers, even with the light. The danger never truly had power unless the stars were gone. Thus, no Star Painter.

Natsu uttered the familiar name with hurt anger, demanding she tell him who dared harm her and promising to set the ground ablaze until punishment is made due.

Once more, Lucy only smiled and weakly asked that he help her once more, to put stars back in the sky for good.

Once again, Natsu agreed.

That night, the stars made it back into the sky, fueled by dragon fire, making the artwork everlasting in brilliance. The stars, burned into the canvas like brands, never more to be taken from the world.

Nevermore would the Star Painter have to paint the night.

Ignoring her distress at the loss of her trade, the dragon brought her down to his lands to have her wounds tended to. He also made certain that she was cared for and not alone in her studio.

A Fire Dragon Prince…and a painter with expertise in the night scenery…that soon became his queen. The stars twinkled in delight, forever inhabiting the sky as everyone knows it. A single constellation protecting them as the real thing did to his people.

A Dragon, etched in history, as Draco; wandering the sky like the dragon it was designed after and protecting as it did so.

Dark memory//Rp for lightofvanaheim


Kara moves through the wreckage lightning sparking from her fingertips as she steps over a body her wild magic having destroyed the entire village and a small swatch of forest as well. Her eyes were fixed upon a miserable wretch of a man that was chained to the front of a building as the storm throws bits of debris into him breaking bones and opening cuts. She was going to kill him yes, but for now she wanted to make him feel her pain.

This was her finest work, after having lost Shadow to a hunter she had also lost herself and now all she was focused on was making them pay and letting the violence of the storm wash away the pain and lost she felt. The young Vanir had already killed most of the hunting party responsible striking them down with the fury of a bolt of lightning and leaving only one alive knowing that just killing him was not enough to bring Shadow justice.

The man who had struck the mortal blow was the one she had left there, bleeding and burned by lightning as the small woman carries away the body of her wolf burying her under a large tree like the kind they had met under all those years ago. She does not even try to stop her tears stroking her friend’s fur one final time before climbing out of the grave and covering the body with dirt. She burned Shadow’s name into a large sandstone rock she dragged over, the lightning flowing from her fingertip turning the sand she touched to glass. Once those letters were formed she adds a few words knowing she could not leave it just with that.  “This wolf saved my life, without her I am death.” Was what she wrote vowing to make the last man pay knowing that the only way to make him feel the pain she did was to destroy everything that he had.

She pushes her memories to the back instead focusing on what she had learned from a book of dark magic as she moves forwards sparks flickering along the fabric dark cloak she was wearing as she does so not caring about control. Her eyes were also full of sparks boring into the man’s soul as she finally stands in front of him looking up. Despite the fact that he was a foot taller than her he felt terrified as the young woman extends a hand and places it against his broken body knowing she had dislocated and broken every bone in his body and burned most of his skin with the very lightning that lived on hers. She ignores his pleads for death instead slashing his stomach before cutting him down and walking away knowing nothing could save him and that all he could do now was wait for death. Her work was not over though, there were many who hunted the wolves and she would not rest until they were all dead and everyone knew to respect the creatures and never dare even think about harming one.