#anthelm

[obsessivevoidkitten]

Releasing The Noctwind Brothers

Yandere Twin Vampire Brothers x Gender Neutral Human Turned Vampire Reader CW: Incest between the vampire brothers, mildly dubious consent, intoxication, reader initiated sex, threesome, spit as lube, cum as lube, biting, blood sucking, forced to drink blood, forced to turn into a vampire, bullying, bully gets killed, beating, reader has temporarily broken bones, temporary injury, overprotective yanderes, general yandere behavior, twin yanderes, surprisingly whole ending, surprisingly happy ending Word Count: 3.3k (I know this kind of fic isn't for everyone between the violence the bully receives and the incest, but I hope a lot of people like it anyway. I worked very hard. Also yes, this is a repost because the original had an accidentally gendered pronoun. I apologize if anyone read that and experienced dysphoria.)

You had made a mistake. One that would, soon enough, prove to be a fatal one. Not just for you.

In your haste to start a task you had as one of the town’s carpenters you had turned a corner and ran right into the town brute himself, Jorry. Running into him, at any time, could result in a punch from his large meaty fists, but he had been carrying eggs freshly laid from his hens. This resulted in egg yolk covering an outraged Jorry.

Jorry had bullied you for as long as you could remember, he and his friends pummeling you whenever you happened upon them while he was in a bad mood. Or in any mood really. He just really liked using you as a punching bag. Most people left such behavior in childhood, but not Jorry.

You wasted no time at all in fleeing upon seeing who you had ran into. You weren’t quite in the mood to be nursing a broken nose that day. Luckily he had to wipe egg goop out of his eyes and that gave you some crucial extra seconds to make yourself scarce.

Despite making it a good way out of your village, the angered Jorry pursued you. He was nothing if not persistent. You hesitated a bit, but decided your only hope was to flee into the cave that everyone in all the nearby villages were terrified of. No one could remember the truth of the matter, but it had long been forbidden to enter. Many superstitious folks wouldn’t even travel within viewing distance of it.

You did not put much faith in superstition though, and no matter what was in there it couldn’t be worse than how badly Jorry would beat you if he caught up to you. If you had just taken your punishment in town someone would have happened by or heard your screams and he wouldn’t have been able to do nearly as much as he would all the way out here.

Again, a truly fatal miscalculation. You damn fool.

Hoping that you were safe in the cave you crouched in the shadows. But, while absurdly violent, your pursuer was not particularly dimwitted. He pretty quickly surmised that the cave was the logical place for you to have gone. You heard him scream and call for you in the distance.

The only chance to avoid the beating of your lifetime was to retreat farther into the cave. You crept back as silently as humanly possibly. When you went as far back as you could you came across an old metal door, carved into the rock surrounding it were twisting serpents. An ancient rune of unknown meaning was etched into the door itself.

Staring at it filled you with dread and you were possessed with the all consuming urge to flee the way you had come, but it was forgotten as if it was never there when you heard Jorry again, this time near the entrance of the cave. If he entered it now he would be able to see you. Light still made it this far.

With the subtle magic of the rune no longer working on you, you slowly opened the metal door and entered into what looked like an underground mausoleum. An underground tomb long forgotten by the histories of man.

You found yourself between two large rectangles of stone. A chill ran up your spine when you realized they were sarcophagi. Evidently the final resting place for two souls left to the dark and dust of this cave. They were plain and unadorned, other than some words on the top. You leaned over and tried to make out the inscription on one when you suddenly heard the unmistakable sound of stone grating against stone.

The sarcophagus opposite of you moved before the one in front of you did. You tripped backwards in fright as the lids were pushed aside and two pale emaciated corpses pulled themselves up and faced your direction. You couldn’t quite tell in the dark but it seemed like their eyes were completely black, creating a chilling contrast with their pale skin.

The thin pale figures slowly began to pull themselves out of their not so final resting places as you got over your initial shock, got up, and got the fuck out of there. You sprinted past the metal door and back into the front of the cave.

You were so engrossed with the current task of running away from the corpses of the damned risen to do any manner of unholy things to those still living that you did not see Jorry as he entered the cave. For the second time that day you careened right into him, knocking you both out of the cavern and on to the dirt outside.

Jorry growled and grabbed your leg, pulling you over to him.

“You ran like a bitch, finally decide it’s better to face your punishment?”

“No, no, no, you don’t understan-”

He pinned you and began wailing away at your smaller body with his mighty fists. Blow after blow. Your nose was surely broken. Then he got up and started stomping on you with his powerful foot. Now some ribs were certainly broken too.

Suddenly you heard Jorry yelp and the beating stopped. Your face was swollen and bloodied, your mind consumed by the pain of broken bones. You couldn’t tell what was going on. Jorry was screaming, blubbering like a girl. The dearly departed had been slowed due to their time without feeding, but with Jorry distracted by his treatment of you he was easy enough prey.

The thin pale figures had him down on the ground, pinning him with less effort than he had pinned you. They bit into his body, ravenously drinking his blood. Not enough to kill him, but enough to reinvigorate themselves and make him weak and helpless. Barely able to move.

You had managed to wipe the blood from your face and saw what was transpiring. You tried your best to drag yourself through the dirt and put distance between yourself and them, but you only managed to get about a foot away before they finally noticed you.

“Alaric look! The one who saved us… they need tending to.”

The vampire evidently named Alaric joined his companion in looking over you. As injured as you were, you struggled to plea for mercy.

“Shhh, shhh. We aren’t going to hurt you. We’d never hurt our savior.”

“I’m Anthelm Noctwind and this is my twin brother Alaric Noctwind. We're going to help.”

Anhelm positioned himself so that your head was propped up in his lap. He bit at his wrist until blood was flowing.

“Here. Drink.”

You weren't sure what lore was true and what was merely myth, but you were fairly positive that it was universally agreed upon that turning into a vampire required the consumption of one’s blood. You struggled to turn away but you were powerless to do so. Alaric held your mouth open as Anthelm held his bleeding wrist above it.

Blood dripped in and you gagged as you were forced to swallow. It tasted the same as any blood, though perhaps a little sweeter. Shortly after you consumed it you lost consciousness. Both due to the blood itself and your rather severe injuries.

They took you and Jorry back into the cave. It would take the rest of the day and a lot of the night for you to turn and heal. Alaric carried you with the utmost care and consideration for your wounds while just picking up Jorry and tossing him in unceremoniously, causing him to cry out in pain as he hit the hard rocky floor.

“I’d kill you now and decorate this place with your entrails, but we need you for something, so just keep quiet.”

Between Jorry’s incessant pleas to be freed and his attempt to run out of the cavern while they were both busy watching you resulted in his clothes being torn from him and ripped into strips that were used to bind and gag him.

Alaric, the cruelest of the brothers, watched in amusement as their hog tied victim cried and shook in fear. The hulking peasant experiencing the fear of death for the first time. The amused vampire went over to him and pet him like he was a pet, in mock sympathy.

“Don’t worry~,” Alaric cooed, “You’ll be out of your misery soon enough.”

That prompted renewed struggles from the naked man. Alaric only laughed in a maniacal fashion as he returned to your side. They had removed their coats, still pristine as the day they had been sealed away, and used them as bedding for you.

They patiently waited for hours, Alaric occasionally taunting poor Jorry, until you finally stirred. The swelling had gone, your bones had mended, and they had licked up the blood that had covered your face. The only evidence that you had ever suffered at all were the bloodstains on your clothing.

It was well past midnight, the twins had lit a fire to keep you and themselves warm. You could see them clearly now that your face was healed. They both looked exactly alike, down to the same outfits. High class, but outdated, attire. They had pale grey eyes that observed your every movement, completely different from the black voids you thought you had seen earlier. Flawless pale skin with delicate, feminine, features. Their long straight hair accentuated their looks perfectly. They could certainly pass as women if they wore the right attire. Maybe they lured in victims that way.

You were confused and more than a bit groggy, but you managed to piece together all the events that had transpired before your rest. You jumped up and made for the door but they were quicker than anything, human or animal, that you had ever encountered. One got behind you with his hand on your shoulders and the other stood in front with his hand on your cheek.

“Don’t be afraid, dove. We aren’t going to hurt you.”

You whimpered as they each took one of your hands and guided you over to Jorry.

“You consumed vampiric blood, right now it has transformed you. Temporarily.”

“Yes, to make it stick you’ll now need to kill.”

“Technically it doesn’t need to be human, any mammal will do, but since we have this lovely volunteer we figured we shouldn’t waste it. ”

“Don’t really want him talking about us. Don’t really want him to live after hurting our dove. And, well, it spares some rodent that is more deserving of life.”

You shuffled nervously.

“I… don’t want to be a… vampire…”

You looked down at your feet, trying to avoid eye contact with them or Jorry who looked up at you with tears streaking his face.

“Sorry, but we aren’t really giving you a choice.”

“We didn’t mean to make it seem that way, please forgive us.”

“You saved us, you had enough magical power to open the door and ignore the rune. You will be a strong vampire, and we can tell a lot more about you by your scent.”

“Smell things like personality, even some thoughts. We know you will be perfect for us.”

“Uh… can’t I just stay with you and remain human?”

“No.” They both said in unison.

“Humans age and die.”

“Humans have betrayed us too. That’s how we ended up here. You broke the seal so we have to show our gratitude.”

You kept staring at your feet until you worked up the courage to ask the question you were afraid to hear the answer to.

“What if I refuse?”

Anthelm smiled and Alaric laughed as if it was a funny joke. Not that you could tell them apart yet.

“Not a choice sweetie, remember?”

“If you don’t do it willingly then I block the tomb entrance so you can’t go deeper.”

“And I guard the cave exit so you can’t leave. Then we leave you alone with your friend. Your hunger will grow. You’ll crave blood. Your senses will be unbearable.”

“You’ll hear his heartbeat, he will smell delicious, then you’ll drain him dry.”

“In more normal circumstances he could survive that, and the blood consumption without a death only prolongs the transitional period, it wouldn’t make you a true vampire. Go long enough without blood, have someone tie you up for a few days, and you’d turn fully human.”

“But he is weak and beaten. He won’t survive.”

You looked at them and stated boldly that you’d resist.

“You are more than welcome to try.”

They each took their agreed upon spots to guard against you fleeing. True to their word you did steadily become more and more hungry. Thirsty for blood. Your senses became acutely aware of the food that had been tied up for you. You tried to resist. Your body shook with the effort. You had a splitting headache and panted heavily. Jorry smelled so good, and the beat of his heart beckoned you towards him. Though you resisted longer than most, the outcome was inevitable.

You descended upon him, he squealed as much as he could with his gag as you bit into his neck and sucked him dry. His futile struggles getting more feeble by the second until they stopped entirely.

Alaric and Anthelm were behind you watching with wicked smiles.

When you finished your meal of Jorry you looked on in horror. But only briefly. You had over consumed and the effects were as powerful as they were swift. You were a bit dizzy and felt as though you were light as air.

“With his death you’ll be with us forever!”

You tried to get up but stumbled and nearly fell. One of the twins caught you. You smiled and nuzzled into his neck. There was a cute man holding you, why had you been so horrified earlier? You shrugged it off, if you couldn’t remember then it probably wasn’t too terribly important.

“Careful, dove. The first times on human blood and drinking to the point of death can be intense.”

“And we definitely let you drink too much.”

You giggled and stroked Anthelm’s soft black hair, not at all paying attention to his words.

“You’re prettier than any girl I’ve ever seen.”

He blushed and Alaric cackled at the spectacle. Until you kissed Anthelm deeply. Then Alaric looked a bit jealous.

You grinded your crotch against Anthelm and giggled at the face he made.

“Everything feels so… intense.”

“Ddon’t you want to go somewhere a bit more... comfy?

“Or romantic? We could find a town. An inn.” Added Alaric.

You ignored him, proceeded to unbutton his shirt and then rubbed your hands over his lean abs. He started returning the treatment, Alaric came over and helped him undress you. It didn’t take long for all three of you to be nude. They used the clothes to make an impromptu bed. Anthelm laid down, his erect cock on full display.

He pulled you on top of him, kissing and nipping at your neck while Alaric was behind the two of you. He pressed two spit-lubed fingers into both you and his brother. Both of you writhed in pleasure, but it simply wasn’t enough.

Alaric didn’t need to stretch either of you out, vampires wouldn’t be pained by something like a cock shoving its way in, but it would feel better with more moisture. He withdrew his fingers, making you pout, and lubed up his cock with saliva before sucking on his brothers for a moment to get it wet.

Then he guided his brother's dick into you before sliding his own cock into his brother. You pressed back against it, trying to get the girthy member as deep into you as possible. Anthelm humped into you slowly, timing his thrusts with your bounces.

Alaric gasped as his cock was gripped by his brother’s tight inviting insides, he gripped Anthelm’s legs for leverage as he drove himself deeper. Anthelm, in the middle of all the action, could barely think. Simultaneously making love to you while being bred by his twin had him drooling.

“Always so tight…”

“Alaric, h-harder.”

His sibling obliged him.

You were in a worse state than Anthelm. You were new to being a vampire and the blood drunkenness combined with your recent kill made every sensation indescribable. More so when the sensations were that of a vampire at your neck and a cock humping into you while you weakly continued to bounce on it.

Anthelm’s entire body shook as he came in you, shoving his cock far into depths before unloading his seed. He took a few moments to catch his breath, an orgasm evidently enough to tire a vampire. If only for a moment. He stayed hard and began fucking into you again.

“I think you were made for us, angel.”

The stimulation was just too much for you and you screamed as you had the most intense orgasm of your entire life. Your body relaxed as you lay on Anthelm, no longer bouncing on his cock but content to let him keep using you as long as he saw fit as you nuzzled into his chest.

Alaric gripped his brother’s legs tightly as he finally slammed in hard and filled him like he had filled you. Without missing a beat he slid out of his brother, covered his cock in the cum that pooled out of him, and slid it right into you. Both of there cocks now covered in a slimy mix of both of their loads, using it as lube as they thrust into you in tandem. You whimpered at the sheer immensity of the pleasure that was filling you.

The three of you spent the rest of the entire night, and a good chunk of the morning, engaged in a rapturous sea of sex. Eventually you all fell asleep on top of them. Given their recent centuries long slumber they stayed awake and idly toyed with your hair or caressing you as you slept soundly.

They whispered to themselves about what the plan from there was.

“There’s a stream outside we can clean ourselves off in.”

“Yeah, I can smell it. After that head to a town?”

“A large one where we can blend in. Feed on livestock outside the walls. Maybe rats too if necessary. Always rats in large towns.”

“What about humans? Always rapists and thugs in cities that need to be taken care of.”

Alaric looked at Anthelm hopefully.

“True. True,” Anthelm relented, “I suppose it won’t hurt to remove a few bad ones. On occasion.”

Alaric broke into a large grin.

“Yes! I love how our new partner gets when they are drunk on human life.”

You stirred a bit in your sleep though you didn’t wake, drool under your cheek and on Alaric’s bare chest.

“Quiet, they need their rest…”

“Sorry,” Alaric murmured sheepishly.

They continued chatting about the future until you woke up. With a clearer head you were once more traumatized by what you had done, but they calmed you down and explained how he deserved it and that you were not a monster. They would guide you in your new life.

They were eager to leave behind the cave that had held them prisoner for so long. Bidding the cave farewell with a piss on Jorry’s soon to be rotting corpse, the closest thing he would get to a burial, the brothers departed with you.

You made a life for yourselves in one of the larger cities. Anytime someone tried to hurt you they went missing quite fast. It would be many years still before you had the degree of strength and power that the twins possessed. And even once you did they’d always remain overprotective.

You quickly came to accept and love your new existence with them. Anthelm took up your trade with you while Alaric became a prominent cook and eventually owner of his own restaurant. Apparently the hypersensitivity of vampiric taste buds helped him make delicacies. There was always a need for carpentry and fancy food, so you never had any money troubles, (un)life was good. And you had an eternity to spend it with them.

[fidjiefidjie]

“La cuisine est le plus ancien des arts parce que Adam naquit à jeun.”

Anthelme Brillat-Savarin

Source: Behnaz Khanban

[archivist-dragonfly]

Book 542

The Physiology of Taste, Or Meditations on Transcendental Gastronomy

Jean Anthelme Brillat-Savarin / trans. by M. F. K. Fisher / with illustrations by Wayne Thiebaud

Counterpoint 1995

This edition of Brillat-Savarin’s (1755-1826) classic treatise on gastronomy and dining was originally published by San Francisco’s Arion Press in 1994 in a 200-copy signed limited edition. Bringing together three distinct and famed voices—the author, eminent translator M. F. K. Fisher (1908-1992), and renowned artist Wayne Thiebaud (1920-2021)—this Counterpoint edition, in a slightly reduced scale, is a treasure of culinary exploration. Fisher, while not the first the translate the work into English, brings her particular brilliance and wit—not to mention copious commentary, given greater prominence in this edition—to bear in creating the work’s most celebrated English translation. Add to this nine color lithographs and some 200 drawings by California artist Wayne Thiebaud, famed for his paintings of sweets, dessert counters, landscapes, and figure studies, and you have the perfect conversion between three of the greatest voices in the art of food.

[wyndford-dekarios-majima]

hold on. everyone look at anthelme de launfal this instant

[wellconstructedsentences]

Tell me what you eat and I will tell you what you are.

Jean Anthelme Brillat-Savarin

[acostumbradoalfindelmundo]

[lolochaponnay]

[obsessivevoidkitten]

How did the twins end up in the sarcophagus? Like what did the humans do to them?

A human they trusted was convinced they were unholy abominations but they couldn't bring themself to kill the twins so they sealed them away.

They had become a member of a church and as they increased in rank they became more torn until they had to put away the vampires.

[kit-williams]

OH MY GOD A HEADLESS CUSTODES

𝕾𝖊𝖓𝖙𝖎𝖓𝖊𝖑 𝕰𝖒𝖇𝖗𝖆𝖈𝖊

𝕬𝖚𝖙𝖍𝖔𝖗: I really wanted to create a Headless Horseman in the style of a Space Marine. I blame this post from @kit-williams. Not exactly like the book says, but… men. Also, I have found what those other alternatives look like “Blemmyes”

𝕿𝖆𝖌𝖌𝖊𝖉: @kit-williams, @egrets-not-regrets, @bispecsual, @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan, @sleepyfan-blog.

“How I Got Home” by SYML (thought it fit him.)

TW // Body Horror.

Anthelm feels for the area in front him, sensing the presence of this… this light. Something he hasn’t felt since the day he… arrived in this new world. It wasn’t the Emperor’s light, not a Primarch’s either, it was far too soft, too gentle for his master and his sons to achieve. Too weak and little for it to be them.

Too… laudatory.

Perhaps, it was a Psyker’s? No, he shot that thought down quick. There was no such thing in this world. No matter how far he has traveled this “Ancient Terra,” there was only the Adeptus Astartes Librarians. Psyker warriors created by their Primarchs gene-seed, grandchildren of the Emperor. He has yet or never met an a human on this world with the sorcery devoted into their souls. Such a thing seems to not exist in this world.

So, why does this lulling light have a pull at him? Why does this light call to him? Was this some type of trickery?

He attempts to try and ignore the strange light the first few weeks. Only for the feeling, the temptation to get stronger the moment he try’s to leave the area. Fighting, clawing, bitting at his thoughts like some rodent nawing at his brain matter. Fighting against his belief, his faith, his creed.

He was meant to seize this allurement. To overthrow it, kill it, banish it, just like he was tested with the daemons of the Chaos gods that lay beneath the Golden Throne. To test his incorruptible will, to be blessed the golden armor at the Golden Throne with the Emperors gold ridden eyes watching his newly appointed rank to serve underneath his hand and nothing more.

Anthelm done his duty underneath the Emperor of Mankind everyday then, never wanting to disappoint his Master, his Father. Abiding by every command voxed to him. Every unreasonable task until the days after the Horus Heresy.

Anthelm hasn’t expected to ever see the Emperor to look so dull, so… ungodly after the Heresy. The loss of too many limbs and mortal systemic damage far too great for the Emperors body to handle. Yet, the Emperor of Mankind still lives. His soul ridden remains never moving from his throne, rotting on it. Still commanding his rightful orders.

However, just because the Emperor lived on did not mean Anthelm could. He had died a few days prior to the Emperors fall. Perished, right on the battled soil of his god, his Emperors world. His thoughts not having enough time to call out to his master, his patriarch for his blessing of death for it had been rewarded quickly, gruesomely, dishonorably. His head being nothing but a pile of brain matter and crushed bone underneath the bloody hammer of a traitor, a Son of Horus.

He could feel his consciousness slip away through the voidness waves of the Warp when he died. His body feeling like he was just seamlessly resting above the ripples of the Warp, but he never moves, only the Warp did. Going around him, through him like slow moving wind. Never paining him.

Anthelm blankly wonders if his Emperor was giving him a second gift of life, to serve underneath his hand once more. Not wanting to lose another golden warrior of his to continue his battles. To not drown in the invisible waves of the Warp, to his death.

Though, the Warp seemed to be persistent, washing over at him, pressing effortlessly up against every pressure point it desired. Squeezing at him, crushing him, water boarding him like he was in the depths of water he shouldn’t be in. It felt like the Warp was… water torturing him. Burning his chest, his mind. Trying to get rid him, but he could still breathe and struggle within its unseeable and untouchable hold that drags at him, drowns him.

He longly waits for his conscience to leave him fully with silent, stuttering breaths. Unable to actually get a real sense of air into his lungs with the Warp winding up against him at every angle. Unable to hear what the Warp was doing to him.

Yet, he was beginning to see. To see a fraction of the Warp.

His “sight” started off as little white dots before it gradually grew like fire. Burning away at the solid thing in front of him before outlining it with white fire. The object in front of him pulsing with the flame like some infinite echolocation.

He reaches his hand forward, the strange white fire outlining his gauntlet as well as he touches the object. His fingers trailing over its rough texture. Feeling it out with his hands as this “sight” doesn’t provide him colors or details of the… dimension around him. It’s was like he was infinitely looking at a black and white eclipse. The pulsing edges of the white fire never making a flicker of noise.

Bark, he suddenly recognizes. He was touching the dry bark of a tree. He wasn’t in the warp anymore. He was on a different world.

How had he not noticed it? Has he been reborn? Resurrected? How come he wasn’t seeing any colors if he was? How come he couldn’t hear anything?

“H-HEADLESS HORSEMAN!” He hears a man stumble and scream, his head snapping in the direction of the shaking man. White flames engulfing the outline of the man, but it never burns the man as he crosses out his question on his ability to hear.

Although, headless horseman? What was that? Who was that? Was it something he should be wary of in this world?

He watches as the man smaller than him struggles with this… stick in his hand. Whimpering and shaking as his outlined head looks up and down between the stick and him before he points the stick at him? Was he telling him something—

A bullet ricochet’s off his armor, a ringing sound going off before a tiny thump where the bullet would land seemed loud between him and the whimpering man. It was then Anthelm registered that he was this “Headless Horseman.” His gauntlet coming come up to at paw at where his head would have been, but his “sight” was still there, where his eyes would be. How is such sorcery possible? …Did the warp do this to him?

The man shoots at him again. The bullet ricocheting off, scratching his armor as he quickly grows irritated by this man’s insolence. A inhumane growl leaving him despite him having no head to produce such noises.

He swipes down at the man. Giving him no time to react as he snatches the man from his neck and wastes no time to use his other to pull his neck back and away from him, exposing his neck to him. His muscles and bones popping in his neck before they tear themselves, spewing blood onto his armor before he rips his head off completely. Spine half intact in the foolish man’s body as he tosses both body parts off to the side. The stench of the man’s blood invading his senses.

Anthem shakes his “head.” The little light lulls at him again. Pulling his mind away from his first arrival on this paradise world. Tempting him once more, again and again. The white flames of his sight unable to get an outlining on this soft light in the distance. It felt like he should treasure this strange light, cherish it with his duty. Keep its light burning forever like a star. To protect it more than he would to his own master, his Emperor.

Throne, his mind drowns and burns every time he try’s to aknowledge the Emperor of Mankind. The Warp not wanting him to think such things since he found this light and at first, it made him want to extinguish this light.

How dare this simple light bring harm against his mind? How dare this light tempt him and promise him companionship, try and sway him from his duty’s?

Oh, but there wasn’t anything to abide to now, wasn’t there? There was no battles to be won. There was no important Emissaries to serve, and there was no Emperor on this planet to command him of his duty’s. It was only him, the Warp and this… suffocating light.

Throne, the little light.

He wants to touch it. To caress the edges of the light. To provide it what he was once known for. To harness its warmth it whispers, claims to have. He wanted to treasure this light. To admire every glowing perfection the light emitted.

He wants to be worthy of such a light, even if it was small. A fraction compared to the Emperor and Primarch’s. It was something he could protect and provide for once more.

‘Oh, he shall shield this little light, bestow it with anything it desires to pursue its ignited light and follow its enticing decree.’ He vows a part to himself. His “eyes” following the little light returning back into its domicile.

Anthem will not fail this little light of his.

[jeannepompadour]

The Marquise de Templehof, in a wooded landscape, in décolleté white dress with white surcoat, trees and shrubs in the background, by Anthelme François Lagrenée, 1797

[adarkrainbow]

The art of Perrault (1)

I found this fascinating article on an art-and-museum website talking about the few times Charles Perrault's fairytales entered the world of art. It's entirely in French, but for those non-French speakers I thought of sharing some elements and points made by the article.

First and foremost, their talk of the Gustave Doré illustrations, THE most famous illustrations of Perrault's fairytales to this day.

A few contextual reminders. We are in the 19th century, the time of nationalism, where each country focused onto itself, explaining the boom of interest for national folktales and fairytales. The literary Romanticism had also started to enter the world of the art - in the British world it was through the Victorian "fairy painting" wave of the 1850s and 1860s. And in France, right as the business of illustrated books and precious engravings is soaring, we got the Gustave Doré illustrations for Perrault.

The book they come from is the Pierre-Jules Hetzel Contes de Perrault edition of 1861 (illustrations by Gustave Doré, preface by P.-J. Stahl). It contains the eight prose tales of Perrault, from his Histoires ou Contes du temps passé (Sleeping Beauty, Little Red Riding Hood, Bluebeard, Puss in Boots, Cinderella, Little Thumbling, Toads and Diamonds, Riquet with the tuft), plus a prose version of Donkey Skin. The book contains 40 illustrations, all based on models and drawings of Doré, though done by several engravers that were selected by both Hetzel and Doré: François Pannemaker, Héliodore and Anthelme Pisan. In 1861 the engravings themselves were shown, on their own, at the art Salon de peinture et sculpture (the huge yearly artistic event of 19th century France) - they were destined for collections, be them the personal collections of Doré and his engravers, or those of wealthy collectors.

The order of the fairytales was changed in this edition, which decided to go: Little Red Riding Hood, Little Thumbling, Sleeping Beauty, Cinderella, Puss in Boots, Riquet with the tuft, Donkey Skin, Diamonds and Toads, and Bluebeard at the end.

The Bibliothèque Nationale of France and the Musée d'art moderne et contemporain of Strasbourg have both preserved precious photographies which were taken (by Nadar and Michelez) of the original wood-drawings Doré made for these illustrations. Doré had them exposed at the Louis Martinet galerie, and these photos are VERY precious because they are the only trace we have of Doré's original plans for these pictures - as well as the only way we can know of what changes and modifications the engravers brought to them.

Doré's illustrations reveal many things. First and foremost, how fairytales clearly were not just for children at the time. While he tries to stay true to the letter of Perrault's stories, Doré still uses a Romantisme noir style (dark Romanticism), offering dramatic, phantasmagorical, almost oppressive visions. The complex engravings play on the lights and the shadows, on the size of the characters and those of the landscape ; they also make heavy use of the monstrous and the uncanny. In the Little Thumbling illustrations, there is an effort to convey the loneliness and anguish of the characters - the forest is endless, dark and scary, swallowing the children... The compositions are however still very detailed, with a lot of accumulations, because they are to be beautiful and aesthetically pleasing. For example, the picture of Bluebeard's wife receiving the keys shows a lot of precious cloth and a varied jewelry - and this overbearing of the decorum, mixed with the unusual appearance of Bluebeard (especially his gaze) all conveys the tragedy that is unfolding here.

By opposition to these scenes of cruelty and tragedy, Doré makes several more "peaceful" illustrations. Sleeping Beauty and Cinderella are still filled with mystery and disturbingness, but they are rather dominated by the sweetness of the two young women. Doré doesn't limit himself to strong and isolated characters, on the contrary he creates an entire "decorative universe" just to have his characters fit into a narrative. The overabundance of tiny details causes an almost unconscious reverie, making the audience almost "re-discover" Perrault texts anew.

The illustrations of Doré caused the massive success of the Hetzel edition, and very quickly these pictures became part of popular culture, influencing the way Perrault's fairytales were perceived up to this day.

[edgar-allan-possum]

How the hell do they know who Jean Anthelme Brillat-Savarin is?

[wyndford-dekarios-majima]

you sly dog youve got him infodumping

someone give me a random word

[kings-highway]

Trick or treat!!? :3

aaannnnnnnnddddd happy late halloween! for your little treat I wanted to talk about one of my favourite scenes in Paranormality, and a little easter egg that nobody commented on so I want an excuse to talk about!!! + some other quirky details about the implementation of folklore in the story

This scene, from the Chapter "Satori, Satori" where Tendou is losing his shit and runs off.

Oikawa mentions it waaayyyy earlier at the Valentine's day event, BUT in satori lore, the only way to get it to leave you alone is to throw something at it! Specifically, the explanation is usually something like "if you encounter it on a mountain trail, it will mimic your words back to you and stop you on your way. but if you throw a rock or something at it, it will run away and you can escape."

SO this scene has two main little bits to it, First off: Tendou is beholden to his Folklore - when he is hit with a thrown object, he is compelled to run away. The chase scene that follows is a result of paranormal influence, not necessarily that tendou had chosen to keep running like that.

Second: Ushijima's mother knows this. She had heard the rumours and chooses to pick up that pot KNOWING it would work to chase him off. And because in this moment Tendou is being treated as a satori, truly treated like one, it cements his transformation and the need to use folkloric strategy to chase him off.

Side Note: YES this may come up in the sequels but this DOES MEAN there are times where he can be chased off by having objects thrown at him. There are a few scraped jokes where someone flicks something at him and he acts all annoyed and leaves the room. Jokes like that - where the characters fulfill folklore legends in a discrete way, are EVERYWHERE in Paranormality. Like Tendou having beef with Anthelme the gargoyle. On the surface its a joke about him being able to tell its a yokai eater and being uncomfortable, but in reality a gargoyle "keeps evil spirits out of a building" so Tendou was physically incapable of passing into the Shima Three building. The universe just finds a clever way of fulfilling those rules without it looking like magic - ie, making it happen casually, or as if it was Tendou's choice.

:)

[neteyammeowmeow]

Snippets of fun facts from my Genshin Impact/Ninjago AU :3

Spinjitzu is interpreted as an ancient art made to mimic or channel a dragon's breath. If the case were an elemental user, they are able to infuse their powers with the technique, and making it stronger than it was. (Still an early sketch of the concept. It was either to honor "Rex Lapis" or as an interpretation of the Dragon Sovereigns) It's not called Spinjitzu in this au though.Lol

Most of the Ninja are all reincarnations of the previous Elemental "masters" or those who were part of the Elemental alliance.

Lloyd is also part of Alice's family (he was taken in by Alice, she is his godmother (and aunt??)), one of the witches from the Hexenzirkel. He is Albedo and Klee's older brother. However, unlike the two who are live in Mondstadt and are part of the Knights of Favonius, Lloyd lives his own life in Liyue (often residing in Qiaoying Village). This doesn't change the fact that he cares for his siblings, and he makes visits for Mondstadt to see them.

Zane's overall character is inspired/based on a greek mythology of a robot called Talos: "a giant automaton made of bronze to protect Europa in Crete from pirates and invaders. He circled the island's shores three times daily." (cited from Wikipedia), he was also called Talos by his inventor, though was also named as "Anthelme". In the Genshin au, his character is centered around the fact that he long yearns to understand humanity, and his sense to protect them is due to his fascination and fondness for them - knowing that though he was built to stand alongside them both through appearance and mind, he will always remain as a machine.

Zane is a friend of Jay, who is an automaton researcher (dubbed by himself of course), who's incredibly curious about how machinery works, he was especially curious on pre-Teyvat civilizations, and how far they advanced. He collects all sorts of ruin machine scraps, and he has a Commision event dedicated to him. Many of his friends joke that he could be qualified to become an Akademiyan student, but Jay would rather work under his own choices than be under someone elses. I really love the idea that Jay loves machinery and tinkering, so I developed this concept more in the au.

Benthomaar is a very well known actor around Fontaine, his noblelike and benevolent nature has made the nation dub him as their Prince, of course, in theatre. He excels in melodrama, and his performances have been very appreciated by many. Though under his guise, his penchant for theatre does not just go on stage, but beyond and behind. Aside from being an actor, he works as part of the Marechausee Phantom: from gathering intel, to even capturing the target, it is the opposite of his stage acts as he works under the spotlight.

Similarly, Harumi works the same way, though she is talented at her ways of deceipt, she shares masks of many, that which have fooled more than dozens. However, she works under the Fatui, as she was raised as part of the House of Hearth, and looks up to Arlecchino's ways greatly. She silently despises Lyney, though she is friends with Lynette.

Cole and Kai, though their stories are still vague at the moment, are actually friends. Cole is a Sumerian from the forest, while Kai is a Sumerian from the desert.

[sublimegiverpanda]

Le malheur peut nous surprendre au moment où on s'y attend le moins. Jean Anthelme Brillat - Savarin 🖌️