not to mention the architecture


THE NACIONAL SIBLINGS! (Tribute art to the National Museum of the Philippines)

ink on paper

digitally colored in Adobe Photoshop CC


Meet the Museum Trio: Sergio, Antonio & Faustino Nacional! The gorgeous daddies of Old Manila! inspired by the three structures of National Museum of the Philippines.

Sergio is a gritty old man with burning passion for all forms of art. He is the eldest brother. The creases on his face represent the many years of his dedication to uplift the status of fine arts in the country. Despite his stoic face, Sergio is surprisingly approachable and warm. He is the National Arts Gallery

Antonio is one of the Nacional twins. An anthropologist who dedicated most of his life documenting the complex culture across all of Philippines’ history. Antonio is obviously an intellectual being but is never arrogant to think he knows everything. He represents the National Museum of Anthropology

Faustino is the younger another half of the Nacional twins. Had a sudden change of heart when he came back home from traveling all over the country. Now he’s a naturalist eager to share more about Philippine’s incomparable natural wonders. He is the National Museum of Natural History

Together, the Nacional brothers will always be there to promote our countries invaluable heritage!

The buildings are in Neoclassical style so their clothes are neoclassical too! However, I added a local flavor to it by blending it with our very own illustrado fashion and styling.

For Sergio, (S - Sining (art in Filipino)) I wanted his look to be minimal, manly yet with a hint of flamboyance or grace.

As for Antonio (Ant - anthropology), I added okir patterns on his coat to relate his clothes with the indigenous arts of Filipinos.

As for Faustino (Fau- Fauna), I went for cool shades of color present in Philippine nature particularly its water and rainforests. I also added an umbrella with a somewhat modern geometric pattern to go with his neoclassical look. that represents the tree of life which is a part of the drastic overhaul of the museum (which will open very soon!) His coat is also adorned with the national flower of the Philippines which is known as the Waling Waling or Vanda sanderiana.  It is considered to be one of the three most beautiful flowers in the world (The other two, I believe, are Rhododendron and Cattleya)

I am so proud of this art! I finally was able to draw something I think that is relevant to my country, not to mention that this combined my interest in visual arts, fashion, architecture, and literature and that this is entirely different from my usual subjects (which are my two gay OCs). I am so inspired by the artists I have discovered and befriended in Fb and Ig who are Jap Mikel, Redge Tolentino, Brent Sabas, and Japhers. I would like to thank them for making opuses that matter. I made this art as a thank you to the effort of the stakeholders to uplift the status of the museum of the Philippines! There is so much overhaul that is happening in the old district that it’s really exciting!

anonymous asked:

Hi! Awesome blog, thanks for sharing with us! I walk past the Emerson College building in LA every day and love the design. Any thoughts on it, and do you know of any other projects from the architecht(s) responsible?


Sure thing, Morphosis is a rather famous architecture firm. The structure you mention is the West Coast micro-campus for Boston’s Emerson College. IN MY OPINION the structure built is overkill making the final result a rather cumbersome building. I like the structure in the interior of the void and I think that structure with a res hall that was a counterpart on one side would have been a very interesting composition taking advantage of the tension between the two. The moment you extend a roof between, you are creating a rather bulky volume, and beyond housing the lights for exterior performances, one without much use. Also, beyond the front facade, the building is rather impersonal and bland. The only interesting spaces happen within the central volume and the voids created between it and the tower.

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rapturezoo  asked:

Zi !! A question, what's your favorite architectural style ? Does this influence your work and personal projects ? :o

I’d LOVE to incorporate more of an architectural influence on my stuff but right now I’m stuck in that concept art-esque sci-fi building hell! Whenever I do cityscapes I tend to photobash/paint what I think are standard concept art cityscapes, mostly based on what I’ve seen from other concept artists. I don’t have a full understanding yet on how that style came to be or how to deviate from it, but it’s something I really need to resolve soon.

This is due to a not-so-great foundation of architecture I have - I do not know the specific names of the styles I like, but I do have a list of architecture firms, architects, and artists who work in those styles that I can share! I’m especially drawn to anything with sleek curves that uses the space around it wisely.

For solid science-fictiony architecture with a lot of edges and curves I’d recommend checking out the firm MORPHOSIS.

ZAHA HADID recently passed away - her work was largely controversial, but absolutely stunning.

My favorite architect? PAOLO SOLERI. He was one of those people who was well beyond his time. He built an arcological complex called Arcosanti in the middle of the Arizona desert that, unfortunately, never did so well - IMO I think this was because most of the people who moved there in the 70′s were hippies who weren’t committed enough to really contribute to a self-sustaining community (meant to house thousands) for an extended number of time. There are still a few dozen people living in Arcosanti today though, and I hear they make some really cool souvenir bells! Sorry for ranting about this guy a lot, he’s really cool and his books are also really interesting. Most are brief journal-esque books that list his ideas, and he also has this HUGE book filled with his plans/ideas on arcologies that I will treasure until the grave!

Last but not least - as an illustrator I would absolutely love to go to the length of detail that FRANCOIS SCHUITEN puts in his work someday! He is a Belgian comic artist who comes from a family of architects, so it isn’t surprising that the worlds that he builds are driven/powered by architecture. Jeez, this guy’s work is incredible - I highly recommend checking out his graphic novel series “The Obscure Cities” sometime!

ANYWAYS… I ended up ranting again ahhh sorry for the length!!! But I hope I mentioned some names worth checking out. Peace!

Septimius Severus had two sons, Geta and Caracalla, who were supposed to rule together after their father’s death. Caracalla ordered his brother’s assassination and erased images and mentions of him on art and architecture (damnatio memoriae). Hence, this arch does not have inscriptions or images of Geta. 

The Arch of Septimius Severus, Rome, Italy

anonymous asked:

Could u please write some todomomo fluff? With like..*cough* soft smut * cough * thanks in advance!

A/N: H-hey anon…pretty sure this request is a thousand years old but uh…here it is! My first todomomo! When I think of todomomo I think of every shoujo manga trope under the sun. So here’s some shameless todomomo trash that was unreasonably hard to write (if you can successfully put fluff and any kind of smut together in one piece, then you’re a wizard, Harry) and isn’t that great but after many drafts, I had to eventually give up T_T. Anyway, hope you find this anon and sorry for the unreasonably long delay. Hope you enjoy! fyi they’re both pro-heroes/adults.

She is like a field of flowers after the summer rain. Like lavender lilies and white oleander and sun-colored chrysanthemums. Her scent reminds him of words unsaid, of a confession weighing inside of him with the weight of the years, and of a love so beautiful that it terrified him. (~1800 words)

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anonymous asked:

I was wondering about the custom of wealthy husbands and wives having separate bedrooms, specifically in the regency era. I read fanfics where the Darcys had separate sleeping quarters and came together for love making. However, I have also read some where other couples such as the Brandons followed that custom. Is there an income level where this is customary in that era?

Really, the only impediment I see would be if a couple’s home was too small to allow them the option of individual bedchambers. Certainly old-fashioned and spacious homes like Pemberley and Delaford would have been expected to have separate sets of apartments for the master and mistress of the house–including their own dressing-rooms, and perhaps a lady’s private sitting-room or ‘closet’–a small, informal room for reading, sewing, or other genteel feminine tasks.

Of course it would not be unusual for one or the other of the couple to spend regularly–or always–spend the night with their spouse, but their personal room would likely nonetheless be kept as their own space, and if illness or some other indisposition meant someone wanted or needed some space, it was then easy and practical for the other person to take their rest in another ready bed.

Even comparatively poor families of gentility tended to keep spare rooms where they could, even if just for the use of guests; and for some it might have been the only means of attempting abstinence as a means of birth-control. (Though, with affectionate marrieds, this probably worked about as well as it does today…which is to say, not at all. …Okay, everybody take some rubbers.) Jane Austen suggests as much in a letter she wrote in 1817, upon hearing that an acquaintance, Mrs. Deedes, had just given birth for the eighteenth time: “I would recommend to her and Mr. D. the simple regimen of separate rooms.” (GENTEEL SPINSTER ADVISES MARRIED MORONS TO STOP DICKING SO MUCH, I LOVE IT.)

People did they best they could with what they had, and anyone with a spacious enough home could easily (and likely did) have separate rooms for the heads of the household, though it was not then expected that they would be very strict about where they spent the night. Children often kept to a communal nursery and shared rooms, as did unmarried young adults. (Deeply attached sisters Cassandra and Jane shared a room all their lives–even when the room they shared was therefore cramped, and they could have claimed rooms of their own.) For all I know, fucking could have been much more formalized by the layout of such rooms, though they’d likely have interconnecting doors and passages, and even older homes might lack hallways at all in private apartments, with some bedrooms accessible only via OTHER bedrooms. But in the cases of affectionate spouses such as the pairs you’ve mentioned, I don’t see the separate rooms as an architectural/cultural feature of the times being much of an impairment to them forming regular habits of sleeping together and/or boinking in one or the other’s beds as per their preferences. Darcy tracked down Wickham and paid well over 1000 pounds to make him marry Lydia and Brandon fought a duel with Willoughby before riding hell-for-leather to fetch Mrs. Dashwood to her ill daughter, so I think they could both manage sauntering a short distance to get their freak on with the missus.

House Aesthetics III
  • Gryffindor: an unbridled scream filling your chest and echoing across the fields; Neoclassical architecture; “challenge accepted”; smudged red lipstick; wildfires; favorite novels with ripped and folded pages; hoarse shouts; drunkenly singing karaoke, arms slung around one another; telling a joke but laughing midway through; neck kisses
  • Hufflepuff: The feeling after a lingering hug where you want to hold on tighter; marshmallows over a fire; the sun on your back; oversized sweaters; standing your ground with your arms around a loved one; earthquakes; Sunday afternoons at the park; carbonated soda bubbles; a dollop of whipped cream on your cheek; eskimo kisses
  • Ravenclaw: The epiphany that only comes from hours of research; dust clouds; chapped lips; goosebumps along your arms after listening to a beautiful song; worn pencils; messy scrawls for lecture notes; eyes brightening at the mention of a certain subject; Gothic architecture; books stuffed with post-it notes; empty libraries; tornadoes; forehead kisses
  • Slytherin: A confident, smooth one-liner rolling off your tongue; shivering under layers of blankets; neatly trimmed nails; eyes always searching the room for something, or someone; tsunamis; (subconsciously) wrapping someone around your finger; deep, wine red lipstick; street corners of a deserted town; snarky comments in the back of the classroom; pecks on the cheek

anonymous asked:

Klaroline + love letters

Dearest, Caroline.

That’s how he begins every letter, every single time. No matter if there was a parchment that followed just the day before, ink manipulated into lines, sometimes into scenery and sometimes her.

He awakened a new favorite hobby of hers, without ever knowing. Or maybe he did, wanting to be the sole reason for her addiction.

She collects his messages as a vampire would collect their firsts. Hungry and savouring, fingers unwilling to let go.

There’s a jewelry box that her suitcase is never without, its key tied on the chain around her neck and the only time it’s ever taken off is when another letter is added or when she thinks that Klaus’s handwriting is fading from her memory.

Those times, they’re rare. She’s never left without his words for long.

Caroline drinks the quietness of the city around her, breeze light and lacing through the wayward strands of her hair.

Sipping coffee, her eyes drag over each letter. He’s narrating his visit to Hungary, casually mentioning the architecture and how much she’d enjoy it.

Still not giving up, not that she’s sure she’d ever want him to.

Not anymore

How had it come to this exactly, Caroline, you with your not so young anymore bones that has seen life and death and bloodied teeth, collecting paper on paper and waiting for the handwriting that was only Klaus’s and could never be anyone else’s.


It began with a comma after dearest.

It ended with yours Klaus.

yumeless  asked:

Hello! Could you explain a bit the Aluminium House from Toyo Ito, please? To practice I recently redraw the plans and made a 3D of the house, and I'm like... The bathroom is totally open, same for the toilet, and the second floor is really dangerous cause there are no protection and you can fall on the first floor if you're not careful. How was this house thought out?? Can you help me to understand it?

The goal of the house was to create a spacial lightness beyond what most structures can give you, that is why aluminum panels were used for the structural elements, walls and floors. That is also why any elements considered unnecessary were eliminated. Custom house design does have certain code exceptions that will allow some of the design elements you mentioned in your questions.

…the people who move through the streets are all strangers. At each encounter, they imagine a thousand things about one another; meetings which could take place between them, conversations, surprises, caresses, bites. But no one greets anyone; eyes lock for a second, then dart away, seeking other eyes, never stopping…something runs among them, an exchange of glances like lines that connect one figure with another and draw arrows, stars, triangles…

Italo Calvino, INVISIBLE CITIES, 1972

I meant to post this on Sunday, but forgot. As it was the last day of Poetry Month, this classic essay -surely one of the most beautiful pieces of prose ever written about architecture- seemed to deserve a mention.

anonymous asked:

Hi archy! I really love your blog. I initially liked you because of the quality content but moreso now because you seem to be a genuinely nice person. I'm curious though.. you mentioned earlier that you chose architecture at the last minute. Have you ever wondered what could have been or thought that you should have been an engineer instead (during uni or even now that you're a professional)? I'm also curious what would be your specialization if you had opten for engineering instead.

I would probably be making more money! Engineers as a rule seem to have better salaries. But honestly, I don’t know. I would have gone to school in MIT in Boston to study engineering probably structural or something that in my mind kept me close to buildings, once you chance your city/major/school it would seem the rest of my life would have been fairly different.

Originally posted by connorbell

There is no record of her hunting before 1560. Thereafter she hunted regularly. Even in her last summer, during a small progress at Harefield in Buckinghamshire in August 1602, ‘the Queen hunteth every second or third day, for themost part on horseback, and showeth little decay in ability’. Her hunting is mentioned in practically all biographies, accounts of progresses or architectural studies of her reign - but only in passing, presumably because hunting has not been considered a subject worthy of academic consideration. As a result, the significance of Dudley’s phrase ‘is now become’ and the implication that hunting was something novel in 1560 has been overlooked. It was a diversion of some contemporary controversy and for women it had novel aspects. It was also a curious choice for a self-consciously bookish queen. (..) 
Further evidence of Elizabeth’s hunting will undoubtedly emerge. But the wider questions are clearly established. Leicester’s advocacy of exercise suggests that hunting at force was her initial practice. With all due caution given the sources, Elizabeth’s increased hunting at the stand after 1570 was a product of age, for unlike Henry VIII she did not suffer a riding accident worthy of note. But there was also the countervailing influence of Burghley, who undoubtedly shared the residual Edwardian hostility to hunting and also (I suspect) resented
Leicester’s influence on the studious adolescent he had met in the 1540s. Worried by the potential dangers of hunting, he may have encouraged her to hunt at the stand. (..) 
The conclusion must be that hunting was a matter of personal taste, and in Elizabeth’s case her curious emotional relationship with Leicester was the key influence. Hunting was not the only diversion they shared; jousting and the theatre were equally important. Royal patronage of all three was on the verge of extinction when Elizabeth came to the throne and her revival is good example of the influence of royal tastes - particularly in diversions - on court life.
—  SIMON ADAMS (2013) ‘The Queenes Majestie … is now become a great huntress’: Elizabeth I and the Chase, The Court Historian, 18:2, 143-164, DOI: 10.1179/cou.2013.18.2.002

Rap Monster

High key, and I mean HIGH KEY loving it! He`d probably ask you to teach him portuguese and love it when you speak your mother tongue. I can even imagine he`d find it sexy. 

“Jagi, how do you say “you are sexy when you speak like that” in portuguese?”


Would probably find it endearing and cute whenever you speak portuguese. He`d be especially interested in the food culture and would end up trying to cook some of the dishes for you to feel more at home. because we all know that food will always be jins first love

“Wow y/n, your culture has so much good food!”


He might not be very “hyped up” about it but none the less he`d be impressed whenever he hears you speak portuguese. He would ask you to teach him a few sentences he could use to diss the other members with when they pick on him the next time. Good chance that he might even try to add a few portuguese lines in his next mixtape. 

“Y/n would you help me translate a few lines for the next song?”


Hyped would be an understatement. This boy would be all over you with questions about all things portuguese. Culture, food, architecture and not to mention Music, he`d want to know it all. You`d come home one day and he`d be jamming out to some portuguese artist he had found on youtube.

“Come on y/n, dance with me. I can feel the music of your people flow through me!”

such a dork protect him


Another one that would find it high key sex when you speak portuguese. Like good luck getting through to him if you ended up speaking portugese while being mad. 

“I know you`re mad at me but you sound so good when you speak portuguese I might end up liking you being mad at me.”


He`d find it so endearing when he found out that you are portuguese. Expect a lot of curious questions and wonderous gazes when you`re talking about you`re home country. He would learn cute and flirty sentences in secret and use them on you randomly whenever he felt like it. 

“Hey y/n, Você tem olhos bonitos.” 

(sorry if this is wrong I used google translate as I do not speak portuguese, It`s supposed to mean “You have beautiful eyes”)


Finding out he`d be shocked but in a good way. For him it would only add to your charm. He`d be curious as well, asking you about your home and how life in portugal is. Would probably suggest to take a vacation there so you can show him around.

“You have to show me all the cool places you know.”

anonymous asked:

Hey Archy! I've been thinking of doing Architecture for a while now but I have no idea what to expect. I love maths and practical problem solving, but at the same time I like to design and draw (not very well tho, but I enjoy it!). I was wondering if Architecture is a suitable major? What do you do as an Archi student? Is it mostly designing and art or does it have its math aspects too? Thank you so much in advance!

Architecture is a bit of everything you mentioned: design, art, math; plus many other things like human behavior, construction methods, economics, planning, processes, etc. Above it all it is about creatively solving problems to improve the way people live, work and play.

You can see previous responses about architecture school and advice to architecture students here.

Originally posted by dribbb

One of Them - One Shot

Request: Hello! Could I request an Elijah Mikaelson one shot where he introduces his human girlfriend to his family? She’s really quiet and shy, and he’s really protective of her. Thank you so much! I hope you have an amazing day!!!

Requested: @bingewatchingmylifegoby

Words: 1106

~ A/N: Hey! Thank you so much for sending in the request! I would have posted it yesterday but I was exhausted after having started work so early the entire weekend. I hope that’s okay though and that you’ll enjoy it ~

You could swear that your nerves were trying to kill you. Not only were you not really a person who easily met and connected with new people you were a human and Elijah family were not. Even worse, you wanted to meet them and make a good impression. You wanted to get along with his family, because they were so important to him. The underlining feeling of knowing that you were going to screw up almost taunted you as you got ready in your bedroom.

The sound of the doorbell ringing came just as you finished clasping a bracelet around your wrist and you hurried over to open it. The knot in your stomach tightened and you felt as if you wanted to throw up. How were you supposed to handle this?! How were you going to meet a family of possibly dangerous vampires without completely freaking out?

Then you opened the door and came face to face with Elijah’s smiling face and you could almost immediately feel your heart calming. A small smile made it’s way upon your own lips and you couldn’t help it at all. There was just this surge of happiness that just hit you every time you looked at Elijah. Not even something as nerve-racking as meeting his family would ever take that feeling away.

”Are you ready?”, Elijah wondered as he leaned in and put a soft kiss on your lips. You kissed him back and deepened it slightly before leaning back and grabbing your coat and sliding it on your back.

”Now I am. Let’s go”, you told him as the two of you made your way out of your place and you locked the door before leaving. He drove the two of you to his family’s home which was in the middle of the city. New Orleans was such an amazing city and you had a sort of love for it. Just the feeling of it was enough to bring your mood up, and that was without even mentioning the architecture.

”Okay, so just remember that they can be a bit intense sometimes and you’ll be fine. If they do anything or are too intense I’ll make sure that they back off.” You grabbed Elijah’s hand, the one that wasn’t on the steering wheel and squeezed it a little.

”Thank you, but I think I’ll be alright.” Your answer was short, but it wasn’t unusual for you. Talking wasn’t exactly your thing, and the nice thing with Elijah was that he tried to force you to be more talkative than you were.

After Elijah had parked his car and the two of you had walked up to the place where his family lived you felt a knot in your stomach but still your tried to stay calm and just breath. There was nothing you could do about the nervousness so you could only try to work past that.

”And here comes the love doves! This must be Y/N.” The voice reached the two of you as you walked inside. There you were met with a man with curly hair. In his hand he held a glass of some type of liquor and he was quick to come up to the two of you, take your hand and place a small kiss on top of it. You smiled unsurely, since the man hadn’t bothered to introduce himself.

”This is my brother, Klaus”, Elijah explained as if he was already a little exasperated by Klaus. You found it amusing, but only a minor smile made it’s way onto your face, a smile that you had to know to understand that it came from amusement.

”Nice to meet you.” True to yourself, you didn’t bother with too many words. Your heart, which you were certain that the brothers could hear, was beating fast. Not necessarily because Klaus was a vampire but because he was Elijah’s brother and you wanted to make a good impression. Although, him being a vampire didn’t exactly make anything easier.

”So, dear brother, you have finally found a girl who seems kind and not into Klaus. I have to say that I am a little bit impressed.” A little chuckle left you at those words. Another man had decided to join the party and you couldn’t help but find his words funny. It wasn’t as if you weren’t aware of Elijah’s previous partners, a few who had also been interested in his brother.

”I am Kol, Elijah’s brother and clearly the most sane person in the family”, the new face introduced himself and you felt a little more comfortable already. Elijah had already built his family up to be horrible and you didn’t get that impression. They were actually behaving.

”Actually, I think that’s me”, a woman’s voice came from the stairs and when you looked up you saw a woman standing there. From what Elijah had told you this person could be one of two people and you could have guessed but again, you weren’t that type of person. You would rather having her tell you who she was.

”Rebekah. It’s a pleasure to meet you and I do wish that the boys won’t be too much of a problem”, she smiled kindly at you. You genuinely smiled back at her, feeling as if she was someone you could probably get along with.

”Should we all sit down? I can imagine you must be hungry, Y/N”, Rebekah continued as she headed towards the table that had been set. Of course they would eat too, even if they didn’t have to. However, you did notice that there were two jugs on the table, both filled with liquid that seemed deep red. One seemed a little bit thicker though and you were almost positive that it was blood.

”Yeah, that would be nice”, you spoke, your voice not that loud. No one seemed to care about it though. This calmed you so much and you felt so much more relaxed because of it. From all of the build up, Elijah’s family actually didn’t seem that bad. The best part was that you didn’t feel as if they minded you being a bit shy and not too loud. You could be yourself. Elijah’s family was good to you and you truly felt as if you could be one of them.

FIC: Shepard Memorial Plaza

So… I finally had an idea to draw something after months–MONTHS without inspiration. Unsurprisingly, my lack of practice and diligence was fatal to the details of the drawing, so I decided to write about it instead. But the good news is, I WROTE something (and there may even be a part 2!). 

Characters: Hannah Shepard, Garrus Vakarian

Also on Ao3


When Shepard dies–the first time–her mother insists on a memorial. Her daughter is a war hero, twice over, and it is the least the Alliance can do for the widow who has lost her entire family to the cause.    

For months, Hannah obsesses over the details. When the demands of the intelligence service allow, she consults with sculptors and landscape architects. She turns down her promotion to Admiral, which would only serve as a distraction. She channels all of her grief–and her guilt–into the project.

It takes almost a year, but in the end, she plans every inch of the two city blocks that become Shepard Memorial Plaza. Not a single flower is planted without her approval.  

Two hundred thousand people flock to Elysium’s capital city the weekend of the memorial’s unveiling. Many are survivors of the Skyllian Blitz–civilians or soldiers whose lives were saved when her daughter organized the resistance. Hannah hugs everyone who offers and guides them to the Great Library of Illyria on the northern border, the site of her daughter’s final defense of the colony. She watches as they climb the stairs of the colossal marble palace to lay flowers and notes at the feet of the bronze statue at the top–a single marine, weapon at high ready, taking her last stand to protect those behind the library’s door.    

Many more are survivors of the Battle of the Citadel–Council citizens of every race who have come to pay their final respects. Hannah shakes as many hands as she can manage and politely accepts their quiet condolences. She invites them to enjoy their day in the plaza, to read in the shade of the sturdy magnolia trees, and to picnic in the open green by the architectural fountains. She always mentions the vendors on the eastern side of the plaza, and she points out that the cheese stand with the green roof was always her daughter’s favorite. For families with kids, she insists that they visit the engineering museum to the west of the library. Once every hour, there is a kid-friendly and hands-on exhibit about some of the Shepard families’ greatest inventions, and every participant has a chance to test their skill against her daughter’s favorite encryption programs.

The last group are the soldiers who served with her daughter. Hannah has gotten to know them well in her months of planning, and she greets everyone she sees by name. She walks each of them around the granite perimeter wall to the spot where their favorite memory of her daughter is engraved. She encourages them to see the rest of the plaza, but most linger. Some manage to read the entirety of the wall. All share laughter- and tear-filled stories with the strangers they encounter along the way. 

When she has clasped as many shoulders and shaken as many hands as she can stand, Hannah walks along a secluded, overgrown path behind the back of the southern wall through a tiny grove of pecan trees. She takes a seat on a bench in the center of the clearing, across from a single slab of alabaster granite. In the seclusion of the grove, her rigid shoulders finally droop. Her well worn smile falters.

“It’s over,” she whispers out into the night. To her shock, the grove responds.

“She told me once that this was her favorite place in all of Elysium,” a voice rumbles, “The pecan grove by the Old Library. ‘The only place you can get any damn quiet on the whole colony.’ I wasn’t sure if I would find it. But I knew if I came all the way out here, I had to try.”

She recognizes the voice from her daughter’s funeral, the C-SEC officer who helped chase down Saren–the first turian to serve on an Alliance ship. He is more heavily armed than she expects from an off-duty cop, and strapped across his shoulder is a bag she knows contains more than he could possibly need for a simple weekend trip to the colony. She tries not to wonder where he is headed next.

“Officer Vakarian,” she breathes, and attempts to remember all of her perfectly cultivated pleasantries. She stumbles, and she knows that the practiced levity is gone from her voice. Her polished smile has fallen. She has exhausted whatever fueled the last twelve months, and there is nothing left in reserve. “We missed you earlier,” she tries. He does not let her finish the thought.

“You did an amazing job, Captain.” He drags his luggage to the foot of the bench and takes a seat at her side. “She would have loved this.”

Hannah laughs. The sound is brittle and humorless, but there is an honesty to the expression that has been missing in her life for months. “No.” She admits, dry and reserved. “No, she would have been furious that I put her name on something so extravagant.”

“Furious?” He pauses, and after a moment he turns the full intensity of his visored gaze toward her. “Well–yea, maybe. But then she’d buy an entire wheel of cheese and spend the day lost in the children’s museum, heckling people who couldn’t hack her software… And then she’d find a way to infiltrate the library after hours so that she could devour some obscure military text while the rest of the world slept. She’d forget about ‘furious’ by morning.”

”Only one wheel of cheese?” 

“Hm. You’re right. An adventure that extravagant would require at least two.” He places a gloved hand on her shoulder, a gesture of unanticipated comfort between two almost strangers. “It’s amazing. All of it. But it wasn’t really for her, right?”

”No,” she admits and gestures about the grove. “And this isn’t for them.”

He nods and squeezes her shoulder, then shifts his gaze back to the unadorned headstone that bears her daughter’s name. Minutes pass–maybe dozens–before she lets out the breath she thinks she must have been holding since the day the Normandy went down over Alchera. It’s over she repeats to herself, There’s no more work to be done. No more souls left to soothe but her own. 

“Did she ever tell you how she found this place?” She asks, breaking the silence that has grown between them. 

“No,” he says, and his mandibles spread wide. If she squints, she thinks she can see a smile. “Is it a good story?” 

Despite herself, she grins. Tomorrow, she promises herself. Tomorrow she will start to pick up the pieces. She will find some other project toward which to direct her energy. She will remember how to fake a range of emotions she thinks she has forgotten. But tonight? Tonight, she will revel in the unblemished grove that her daughter loved. Tonight–after months of listening to the tear-filled stories of the people who loved her daughter–tonight, she thinks she will finally share stories of her own. 

“They all are.” She replies. “How much time do you have?”

Too late.

can you do an imagine where (y/n) and Glenn had been engaged before the breakout, but you both get separated in Atlanta. About a year or so later you come across Alexandria and encounter Glenn, but now he is with Maggie. Thank you so much!

Summary: Glenn and (Y/N) were in love and engaged before the world turned to hell, but while they were trying to escape, the got separated. Later, their paths cross again.

I hope you like it!

Time has gone by and (Y/N) is thinking about the past. Soon she found out that all the complaints back there were stupid. The wrong kind of flowers, the wrong kind of lights, the wrong size of the dress. Everything that once was the most important thing to her seemed so idiotic now. A year ago she could’ve died if someone told her that her wedding dress was not ready the day she ordered, or that the ballroom she wanted was already taken. But now, she didn’t even care about those things. She would’ve given anything just to marry him there, wearing dirty old clothes and standing there in the middle of the road as birds sing their soothing melodies.

She could see it all in her head if she closed her eyes: he told her to run, to never look back and to not stop until she was safe. Now Glenn Rhee belonged to the dead and she was trapped in a life she didn’t even want anymore.
(Y/N) had been wandering for over a year, finding people and watching them die. It was a neverending circle, and now she just had to wait until someone came and watched her die.

One day came when she thought it was the end, the cold rain was falling on her hair and her thin shirt was no longer protecting her, she head them coming. The geeks, like Glenn and her used to call them. Yes, Glenn. She thought of him. It was a better way to die than just thinking about the geeks. They were getting too close, closer at each blink she gave, their grunts on her ears and their feet on the same ground. One fell to the ground, and the others as well. They were killed by someone else. Two men approached her, all she could think about was how opposite they were. One of them was wearing a plaid shirt and a green sweater on it, khaki pants and a blond curly head of hair. The tallest one, on the other hand, was wearing black pants, a gray shirt and a leather jacket on it, that suited his black long hair. 

-Are you alright? Were you bitten? —the blond one asked. She moved her head in a sign of denial and they helped her to get up. —I’m Aaron, and this is Daryl.  


-Are you alone, (Y/N)? —Aaron asked.

-Yes. —she said with a few tears streaming down her face.

-We have a community, it’s safe. He have food, clothes, people and protection.
(Y/N) nodded, letting them know she wanted to go. She had nothing to lose, not anymore.

They arrived to Alexandria and people came and greeted her. Deanna, the leader gave her a room in a house that was already occupied. There was a young woman, about her age and her friend, also a young woman a little older than them.

Their names were Tara and Sasha, they were pretty nice. Tara brought (Y/N) a welcome kit with clothes and hygiene products, while Sasha got her some food. They were good people, (Y/N) could see it.

Next morning, (Y/N) prepared breakfast, she thought it was the least she could do after they welcomed her so warmly. The three of them sat there in silence as they ate.

-So, —Sasha said. —Rick and Glenn want me to go on a supply run.

(Y/N) looked at her like she just revealed the secret of life. 

-What’s wrong? —Tara noticed.

-Huh? —she was confused. —Oh, nothing. It’s just that my fiancé was called Glenn, and hearing his name is strange.

-Oh. We’re so sorry. —Tara said, and Sasha nodded.

-It’s okay. 

-Did they eat him? —as soon she asked this, Sasha kicked her under the table.
-Yeah, I guess they did.

Deanna gave (Y/N) a job, to help her with the planning of the extendion, because she mentioned she was studying Architecture before.

She knocked on the door and a beautiful woman opened it, she had short locks and big blue eyes.

-Hello, you must be (Y/N). —she smiled. —I’m Maggie.

(Y/N) smiled and went inside the house. Deanna gave them tasks and by the afternoon they were a step closer to the extension. (Y/N) was about to leave.

-Hey, I was wondering if you would like to come to my place and have dinner with us. My husband is a great cook. —Maggie invited, but (Y/N) wasn’t ready to deal with the husband/wife thing just yet, the wound was still fresh enough.

-I really appreciate it, Maggie. But I already have plans with my roomates. —she lied.

-That’s alright. It will be another day.

Walking home under the dusk she felt a little guilty. Maggie seemed as nice as her new rommies and she turned her down for something that happened over a year ago. 

Something woke her up from her thoughts. It wasn’t possible.
She saw a guy that highly resembled his fiancé. “Maybe they just looked alike.”, she thought, trying to convince herself that she wasn’t seeing things and going mad. 

She arrived home and found Tara and Sasha having a snack, they offered her to stay downstairs and chat with them but she excused herself saying she was tired and left.

There was just so much to think about. What if he really was Glenn? What if he escaped the geeks and found his way to this place? What if the Glenn her friends talked about was her Glenn? All these thoughts circulated her mind as she fell asleep.

The alarm clock sounded, so loud she got separated from her dreams, dreams she couldn’t even remember now, but it wasn’t her alarm clock. It was Sasha’s, hers went off about half an hour ago and she was late to work. Quickly, she put on the first thing she found and went out with eyes barely open, but something got her wide awake.

It was Glenn, now he definitely was. He was walking down the street in the same way she was, but she recognized his back and his hair. He was different, but so was she. 

She cleared her eyes with her hands but he was already gone.

When she got out from work she rejected Maggie again, she needed time to figure out where Glenn was, so she went back home.

-Tara! I need to talk to you. —she said as she pulled a chair next to Tara.

-What’s up?

-The first day I was here, you talked about a guy named Glenn, right?

-(Y/N)… —she sounded solemn.

-What? —there was still excitement in her voice.

-I’m sure it must be hard to lose you…

–No! —she interrupted. —I know it’s him, I saw him!

Tara looked at her with pity, she thought she was crazy. —I’m sorry, (Y/N).

(Y/N) got up and went outside, she stood in the spot where she saw Glenn, maybe she was waiting for a ghost or for a ticket to a shrink, but it was better than waiting for nothing.

And there he was, leaving his house. It was already dark but she knew him when she saw it. His walk, his voice and everything fit perfectly. He was looking at the steps of his porch as he walked down, but when he finally brought his face up he saw her standing there.

She had longer hair now, her skin was tan and she didn’t have as much meat left on her bones, but he knew here, her eyes were as shiny as ever.

Glenn dropped everything he had on his hands, looked her dead in the eye and walked towards here. His hands were shaking and his legs weren’t as strong as before. (Y/N) felt a tear on her cheek.

-(Y/N). —he whispered. Unconvinced, he softly touched her cheek and as soon as he did, remembered how much he loved her, he still kept the necklace she gave him when the got separated at Atlanta.

-Glenn, I forgot to ask you for th… —Maggie came out of the same house. She saw (Y/N) standing there in the middle of the street. —Oh, you came!

She turned to look at Maggie, smiling and waving her hands.

-I told you my husband is a great cook! —Maggie added. (Y/N) felt a hole in her stomach, all the blood she had was frozen and she could feel her pulse weakening. 

She couldn’t even move or speak, her eyes went from Maggie to Glenn, who has looking at the floor, not sure about what he felt.

-It’s too late. —he whispered.

anonymous asked:

Have you read tod? If not, can and of your followers help me? I am having trouble picturing the southern continent characters. It seems like they are mongolian, but I see a lot of middle eastern elements in their architecture. Borte mentions Nesryn looks different from the rukhin, so is Nesryn middle eastern? I am so confused! The least SJM could have done was to describe their features properly, bc the royal family dresses middle eastern and roman, but they are supposedly mongolian?

General consensus is that Nesryn is supposed to be Middle-Eastern, yes. As for the Mongol thing… 🤷 ¯\_(ツ)_/¯