Symmetra is a several centuries old vampire. She is the sole survivor of the Vishkar coven and lives in an abandoned cathedral. The property is in the middle of a forest, a good distance from the nearest town. She often feeds on animals and the occasional human wanderer. While no one has actually seen her and lived, her reputation has recently grown with the number of missing persons in the area. She’s had little to no exposure to present day technology or customs.
Mccree is a modern werewolf and has been one since he was a teenager. He’s kept it a secret for years and very few actually know. He works as a mercenary, often taking up jobs that deal with hunting other mythical creatures that are out to harm humans. He’s still looking for the werewolf who devoured his left arm and gets touchy when asked about it. He never stays in one place for too long.
He was hired by the mayor of a small town to exterminate the vampire that supposedly lived in the woods. Unfortunately, the mayor ordered a few men to go with him, and on the night of a full moon no less. Inevitably, when they went out to the forest, he ended up changing before them and was attacked out of fear. Injured, he fled to the ancient cathedral, where he found himself at the mercy of the vampire he was supposed to kill.
Lucy Wieder’s shaky question snaps Scully back to herself, and she walks over to crouch by Peattie. She can feel a pulse, but it’s thready. Her shot may have missed his heart, but he still has a major chest wound, and all she has to work with is a basic first aid kit.
“He’s alive for now, but I don’t know if he’ll survive long enough to get him out of here. We’re at least 50 miles from the nearest hospital.”
“There’s an ambulance coming right behind me,” Mulder says quietly. “I had them send one just in case.”
She gives him a look that tries to convey Thank you and I love you and Way to plan ahead, you brilliant man all at once. The subtle, knowing smile he gives her back says he read her loud and clear.
“Okay then. I need to put pressure on this. Mulder, can you hand me that blanket? And Doctor Wieder? How about you, are you all right?”
This cute little wooden house offers everything you need for your Sims. It has an open living room and kitchen area with a cozy reading corner. On the first floor there is the small modern bathroom and a large bedroom, from which you reach the cute balcony. In the garden there is plenty of room to build a sitting- or barbecue area.
Like all my creations this house is built without custom content. You can download it from my gallery, my Origin ID is Thurid666.
Once, long ago, the King of the Fae and his Queen beget a son. Their son was lovely, with hair of mixed gold and silver and eyes of crystalline blue. As fair as he looked, the boy had been born of opposition. His father, the kind and wise ruler of the fae, having had him with a darker immortal known for her deceptions and coldness. She had seduced the King and tricked him into believing her just as pure as he.
But as years passed, her treachery began to reveal itself, and she planted seeds of corruption within her son. The boy grew, torn between two parents and two ways of life.
During the long days, his father taught him magic, to control the elements and protect the sacred grove surrounding their kingdom. The winds howled, the waters fell and froze, fire burst into existence or extinguished with but a gesture of the boy’s hand. The very rocks of the earth would shift for him, the trees would bend, the animals bow. All for this young Fae prince. But with all of this power, the King tried to instill in the child a sense of responsibility and compassion, for nature and their subjects. To help him watch over their realm, the King gave his son magical crystals forged from fae glass. With the crystals, the boy could see whoever he desired, so long as they were within the kingdom. The power of wishes was bestowed upon the boy, making him one of the few fae capable of granting the pleas of those in need.
In the dark of night, the Queen would wake her son and teach him her ways. She knew the art of creating nightmares and showed the young boy how to invade the dreams of the unsuspecting. He could enter anyone’s mind and see their desires and fears, played before him in visions. With time, he could control their very minds whilst they slumbered, placing what thoughts and images he would. And while they were awake, he could present them with illusions to confuse them. The Queen began to feed her son lies, making him fear all but those closest to him. He learned to transport on a whim, spying and gathering information from those who displeased him. As punishment, he would play “tricks” upon them, making their walls talk or surrounding them with darkness, or even spinning time back or forward to disorient them. His mother encouraged these practices, telling her son that a ruler would not stand for opposition to his ideals. They should all respect him and revere him, for he was the future King. If they ever gave him reason for anger or sadness, they deserved to be punished. Seeking his mother’s approval, the boy eagerly gave over to his tempers and frustrations, desiring the proud smiles his father always gave, but receiving none from her. Queens and Kings were above such trivial emotions, he learned, or at least above showing them.
Soon, the King realized the change overcoming his bright son and traced it back to his conniving wife. To protect his son, the King banished his Queen, in hopes that without her influence, his boy would be free to embrace goodness once more.
Instead, the child raged and despaired that his mother had been taken from him. In his anger, he dared to make a wish. He wished that his father were banished as well and that he would be King so his mother might return.
But the King’s magic was stronger than the Prince’s, and to his sorrow, he reversed the curse, to teach his son a lesson. The boy would be king, but not of their lands.
Instead, the Prince found himself in the Underground, a realm long abandoned by the fae. Goblins and all manner of deplorable creatures roamed its barren wastelands and inhabited the crumbling castle. A curse was placed upon the new Ruler of the Underground. As he was so eager to wish away the father who loved him so, he would now be the attendant of the poor souls who suffered a similar fate in the realms. The children so quickly and foolishly discarded would now be his to collect, so he might see and bear the suffering of the unwanted. And should those who wished them away desire the children back, they must prove their love and selflessness before the King of the Underground could return them. Only when he learned to understand the sacrifice his father made, out of love, could the banished Prince return home.
Such was the creation of the Goblin King, Jareth.
The Goblin King was not so easily punished. While many fae would have perished in the darkness, he made the Underground his own. Using the magic he’d learned, he brought light into the blackness, illuminating the shadows so that trees and grass could grow anew. Water bubbled up from the depths of the earth and flowed into pools and rivers. As for the goblins, they became his subjects, as did any other beings trapped within that underworld.
Tasked with spiriting away unwanted children at first did trouble the new King. The cries of the small ones made him pity them. It was not their fault that they were unwanted. But instead of pity turning to compassion, it instead was released in the form of anger. He made it his mission that none of the children should be reclaimed. Prove their love and selflessness, his father had commanded of the runners. Very well. He’d make them do that and more.
Stone rose and twisted, trees and vines bent and tangled, creating walls and corridors to keep the supposed rescuers from the stolen children. With each sprinting step, the world around them seemed to change, confusing them, disheartening them. Runners, these would-be heroes were called. “Give up!” “Turn back!” The Goblin King taunted them as thirteen allotted hours ticked away. And many of them did just that. Woe to them that forfeited their child for they were punished mercilessly, thrown into an oubliette where the King could forget their miserable existence or turned into a disgusting beast to roam the Underground. But not before he showed them the price of their selfishness. In his fury, the fae would forget his mission to protect the children, focusing instead on his hatred of the runners for so easily giving up and throwing away an innocent life. Before he dealt them their fate, he’d turn the stolen child into a goblin and revel in their reactions.
“Look what you’ve done!” he’d tell them. “See what your foolish, selfish wish has wrought!”
Never did he dare to think how those same accusations might apply to him.
Those who tried to press on found themselves confronted with dreams and nightmares alike, seemingly taken from their own minds. Hours would slip by as runners were lost in fantasies, until their time was up.
As the years passed, the King grew in power. With each failed runner, his walls and traps multiplied, as he learned from each failure, until he’d created a structure nearly impossible to traverse. The land surrounding his castle was filled with illusions and tricks, a physical riddle to be solved. Tales spread of the fearsome, cruel King who ruled this nightmare of a realm. With each new goblin, he only became more miserable, more discontented. His amusement with his creation lasted only until another runner failed, which would send him into black moods of melancholy. In the depths of his cruel heart, Jareth began to hope. Despite himself, he secretly wished for someone to make the sacrifice his father had spoken of.
Hi! So I'm currently looking at going into an university for the arts and I've been told by many people (parents, teachers, etc.) that going to a regular non-art university with a certain design program is often better than going to a straight up art school. I see the reasoning behind that (get a secondary major/minor as a fall back plan) but I don't know if that hurts one's chance of making a career in an arts-oriented industry. Thoughts? (thank you and sorry if that doesn't make much sense!)
My mom and I had this discussion too. It’s usually backed by their logic of “Art is great yeah — but if and when it doesn’t work — you should have a REAL major. Just in case.”
As with most college things — it depends. Its just a big, big “it depends.”
There are really pros and cons to each. My own personal thinking when it came to my education was “Do I really want to juggle a business minor while learning art from generic teachers?” and “How devoted am I to an art career?”
Because really, going to an art trade school or art centric school of any kind is a lot different than taking a university art major.
Here are the main reason that affected MY choice…
1. You don’t divide your time to different skills, making your art skill stronger. Many times, art school have no minors. I didn’t. It was all Illustration, all the way. Which gives you 4 years of all encompassing art knowledge and time to build a very strong portfolio. I’m not saying that uni students in art majors aren’t just as good artists (I’ll talk about that later.) I’m just saying the more time and energy you spend on ONE subject, the better you get at it. Its just that simple. Plus, all your classes are art driven. So not only do I know how to figure draw and color coordinate, but I know all about art history and art theory, design theory… etc, and all these subjects are geared toward making your actual major stronger. Even our English classes are toward your field. Illustrators learn novels they can learn to depict through art — Animation students can take script writing and narrative classes… etc. If you go to an art school you are going to finish college with a very large body of work and a bit more confidence that you spent your time devoted to working on a specific trade rather than a bunch of different things.
2. Resources. Art schools have way more tools, classes and resources to teaching you the field. Plain and simple. Risd had an art store on campus, figure drawing every Wednesday and Saturday, giant paper cutters and wood cutting rooms for making your own matte boards and canvases, WACOM tablet computers, a room of STOCK PHOTOS, an ID building full of 3D printers, giant photo printers and much more. I was able to stretch and experiment and try a ton of different things for my portfolio simply because everything to make EVERYTHING was on hand. Not a lot of uni’s devote that amount of resources to one department. I’m not even mentioning that our whole career center is devoted to art jobs, period.
3. Art is VAST. I was an Illustration student, and I went to RISD to become a video game concept artist. But during my year of Foundations (where they make you take beginner classes that relate to every major) I discovered that I hated doing concept art. I geared my portfolio towards costume design instead. But art is vast and very diverse. I took classes in set design, jewelry making, cinematic storytelling (storyboards), character design, Game Assets, Web Design, 3D Printing, Product Photography and more. I took charge of my college experience to learn lots of different art tools and techniques. I also was sure to take classes in Business and Entrepreneurship (with a focus on art companies and such.) When I graduated I worked for Cirque Du Soliel and in between jobs I freelanced making websites. Currently I’m working at a Fashion Design house retouching models in photoshop. I also know how to create jewelry in 3D CAD CAM, so I know that should I need to and the costuming doesn’t work out — I have skills that can be applied to the jewelry buisness ( or heck, I know how to storyboard and do character designs, even if I don’t like doing it). I know a lot of amazing alumni who finished in one major and had a successful career in another. Regardless of my major I have a BFA in art which makes me a candidate for ANY art job (even teaching college art without a teaching degree, lol). My fall back plan to my art career is just a different art career.
Okay — now just to play my own devil’s advocate, let me argue all those points with just one:
In the end, your employers are going to pick you because of your artwork — not your school.
So if you decide to got to a university and have a minor in buisness — so long as your Portfolio is strong then it really doesn’t matter once you get out into the art world. Sometimes the school (art OR uni) gets you into the door for the interview… but at the end of the day all that anyone will care about is your actual work.
I would say that if you want to go to a university, be prepared to motivate yourself to do above and beyond what they can offer you. Sometimes uni’s art department curriculum are limiting. So you got to motivate yourself to do more research, more work, more learning, and more experience on your own time.
The key to this is SELF MOTIVATION. And taking advantage of your own education, whether that means going above and beyond a uni, or taking advantage of art school, or not going to college at all.
Personally I’m shit at that. I need someone to give me a specific assignment. I can do anything if someone gives me rules and a deadline. When someone says “do whatever” or its left up to me, I just get lost and don’t do anything. So — to RISD I went.
are you still taking prompts? because I have one :two music majors who regularly use adjacent practice rooms at the same ungodly hours of the night/morning AU
Dean whistles, twirling his headphones on his fingers.
It’s absolutely silent in the dark hallway, but that’s how Dean likes it. The practice rooms were a complete mess during the day, all the underclassmen scuffling and scrapping for some rehearsal time—but Dean’s too old for that shit. So he may or may not have bribed Ash to give his ID access to the building past midnight.
And anyway. Music just sounded better at 2 o’ clock in the morning.
Sammy can bitch all he likes, but Dean’s not worried about getting caught. He’s been doing this for nearly two years, and he’s never seen another soul down here. He’s golden.
He hikes up his bag on his shoulder, and pulls open the door, third one on the right—
And stops dead. Because someone’s already in there.
The dude looks up, a slightly puzzled expression on his face. Dean stares back.
“Can I help you?” The guy asks eventually, raising an eyebrow.
Dean furrows his brow. He vaguely recognizes the guy, remembering the gossip about the new transfer student. The music department was small, and fresh blood was rare. His first day caused a lot of gawking. (Dean may have been part of that gawking too, but nobody needs to know that.)
“The building’s closed,” he ends up saying. Oh, great. Good one, Winchester.
The guy looks him up and down, absently plucking the strings on his guitar. He’s all hooked to the amp already and everything.
"Doesn’t seem to be stopping you.”
Dean blinks a little.
He shrugs, gesturing around.
“Yeah. I always practice here. This is my practice room.”
“There are three others right next door,” the guy says idly, turning back to his guitar.
Dean narrows his eyes.
"The tuning’s better in here,” he says shortly.
The guy looks up at that, then glances towards the piano in the corner.
“You?” He asks, his lips curling up slightly. “Piano?”
Dean crosses his arms defensively. “Yeah? And?”
The guy raises a hand. “Nothing.”
He laughs a little.
“You just don’t seem the type.”
Dean rankles. Yes, he knows he doesn’t exactly look the type to be majoring in classical piano, but he’s awesome at it, and he’s already proved time and again that if anyone wanted to give him shit for it, he was more than capable than kicking their ass. Including Mr. Wannabe Rockstar.
“Well, you don’t seem the type to be an douche, yet here we are,” he shoots back.
The guy raises his eyebrows slightly, but doesn’t say anything. Dean spreads his hands.
“Well? You gonna move or not?”
The dude looks around for a moment, as if thinking it over.
"Or not,” he says finally, before going back to his guitar.
a gif set of my otp could literally just be “___ + standing in the same building” and id still be like “aw fuck yeah this is some good quality content” and i think that says a lot over how badly ive been fucked up