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Candle Light and Inkwell - Andrew Hemingway
British , b. 1955 -
Pastel on board , 40 x 30 in.
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Moorcroft Pottery Martha Inkwell Emma Bossons
Jane Austen Collection
#moorcroft #janeausten #Stratford
Jane Austen’s friend Martha Lloyd wrote a Receipt for Ink within her Household Book, which is today one of the many treasures of Jane Austen’s House.

Moorcroft Pottery Martha Inkwell Emma Bossons
Jane Austen Collection
#moorcroft #janeausten #Stratford
Jane Austen’s friend Martha Lloyd wrote a Receipt for Ink within her Household Book, which is today one of the many treasures of Jane Austen’s House.
#moorcroft#moorcroft pottery#martha#inkwell#jane austen#ceramic art#b and w thornton#23 henley street#warwickshire#stratford on avon#stratford upon avon#england
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Trick or treat! 🎃

Happy Halloween! Please enjoy this turn-of-the-century ceramic rook inkwell.
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Random PNGs, part 143.
(1. Glass-stained seraphim, 2. Old book, 3. Pitcher by Paul Dachsel for Amphora Ceramics, 4. Shoe sculpture by Costa Magarakis, 5. Key from 1887, 6. Ammassalik from Greenland 1934, 7. Tiffany bronze and blow-out glass inkwell, 8. Prayer bead from late 15th or early 16th c., 9. Black henbane root sickle by Borealis Ironworks)
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The Cuphead Show Season Four Ep. 1
*Chapter Summary: A month after Cuphead winning the game rock-paper-scissors against the Devil, the cup trio find themselves yet again in the Devil's hands. However, this time, there is a new debt that they must pay with the contracts of the soul debtors.*
*A/N: Hey guys, welcome to the first episode of the Cuphead Show Season Four. This is not the official Season Four of The Cuphead Show, but this is how we imagine of what the story will continue after season 3. This story is published on August 2, 2024. If you guys like this chapter/episode, don't be afraid to vote and comment. That would be greatly appreciated! Enjoy and have a blessed day!*
Episode One: The New Debt
The Devil lost again.
In his pink bubble bath that his henchman prepared earlier with pickle slices over his ruby eyes, Devil lays back against the shiny porcelain tub surrounded by the pink walls despite being in Hell. His blue-tint fur soaks from his chest to his thighs. His feet are prompted up at the edge of the tub with yellow sharp toenails sticking out. His horns are long enough to almost touch the wall behind him if he hasn’t tilt his head down with his chin touching the water barely. His arms rest along the round sides of the tub, his long talons making clicking sounds when he taps them against the ceramic in deep thought.
Damn that cup, his blue-nosed buffoon of a brother, and Chalice, Devil thinks to himself, popping the pink bubbles angrily with his sharp tail in the bath. What is once just him being dejected from losing to rock paper scissors to Cuphead of all people, now has turned into a rage. Now everyone in the Inkwell Isles will treat him like a joke. No one and nothing will fear him. They’ll see. They’ll see that he’s not a joke—
A knock interrupts his train of thought, and the wooden door creaks open to reveal the plump purple demon, Henchman, with his back slouched.
“D’uh, boss, you have a visitor,” Henchman announces, pointing at someone in the shadows behind him with his thumb under the yellow gloves.
“Ugh, this better be important,” Devil groans, sitting up slightly.
King Dice steps out of the shadows with a purple suit in tact, leaning against the doorway with his elbow over Henchman. He crosses his legs, flashing a charming grin on his square head. “Hey, boss!”
“Dice?” Devil perks up, pickle slices falling off of his face. The water makes sloshing sounds when he drops his feet into the tub. The six-sided head gambler, with one white-gloved hand dangling next to the doorway and another one form a fist that rests on his hip, waves with the hand that dangles next to the doorway. The purple coat parts slightly, showing the white buttoned-up shirt and a loosened black tie underneath.
When Devil notices Dice’s charming smile, he rubs his eyes with a groan. “Ugh, what are you doing here?”
“I noticed your loss with Cuphead. Rock-Paper-Scissors, was it?” Dice brings up, his charm never faltering.
“Ugh, do you have to bring that up?!” Devil growls, fists clenching and shaking. “If it weren’t for that blue-nosed brother of his, that cup’s soul would’ve been mine along with Chalice’s. And who does she think she is? I gave her free-will by giving her ghost abilities in exchange for a favor. And what does she do?!”
“She stabs you in the back,” Dice guesses, giving his boss a deadpan stare.
“SHE STABS ME IN THE BACK!” Devil howls, thrusting his shampoo bottle across the bathroom. Henchman and Dice doesn’t wince at the clattering sound of the bottle.
Devil continues angrily, “Now I can’t obtain either of their souls because I lost the game to Cuphead of all people! Stupid little piece of—”
“You know, I thought a bath would’ve at least calm you down,” Dice interrupts before Devil can curse. “But I guess I was mistaken.”
“Ugh, you might as well tell me what you want and get out of here.”
“Right,” Dice says, stepping into the bathroom and leaning against the wall next to the bathtub. “You see, I have this idea about obtaining that cup’s soul. Not just Cuphead’s but Mugman’s and Chalice’s. All three of them at the same time.”
Devil perks in interest, scrubbing himself with the washcloth. “Go on.”
“Weell,” Dice replies in a sing-song tone before cutting it back to seriousness. “I noticed how Cuphead loves games. I say we open up a casino. The one where people bet their money and souls to ‘win big’. If he sees the casino, he’ll be attracted to it like a moth to the flame. Mugman and Chalice may try to stop him, but they won’t leave him in the casino alone. In fact, they’ll go down with Cuphead if that means saving him.”
Devil’s grin grows big at the explanation. “Dice, you little devil. Not only will I gain more souls than ever before, but I can get those cups if they ever come around!”
Dice nods his head with a mischievous grin. “All it requires is waiting for the right time to pounce.”
Devil chuckles like a sadistic cartoon villain. “Oh, this is gonna be fun. But are you sure this is going to work?”
“Believe me, it will. And these dice—” Dice says while taking out the small six-sided pair of dice. The dice glows pink while Dice’s eyes turn green. “—are loaded and ready to roll.”
~.~
It has been a month since Cuphead’s last battle with The Devil.
Well, if Mugman has to put it lightly, it’s just a stupid game of Rock-Paper-Scissors picked by Cuphead to save Chalice’s soul while throwing his own soul and Mugman’s along into the mix. Devil would have their souls if Cuphead wasn’t lucky enough to win every single round.
As Mugman is walking with Cuphead and Chalice through the woods and licking their ice creams, Cuphead glances at them with a smile.
“What a great day. Hard to believe that it’s been a month since we saw the Devil,” Cuphead replies.
“Good riddance, I say,” Mugman responds.
“Aaaaand how! I’m done dealin’ with the Devil,” Chalice adds with a smile.
Cuphead notices a sign up ahead and points it with his ice cream. “Say, what’s that?”
The three cups look up to find the sign standing tall with flickering lights and the arrow pointing at the sign that reads—
“Grand Opening: The Devil’s Casino?!” Mugman reads the sign out loud.
They look to see the casino with the Devil’s head and flashing a wicked grin while hearing: “Winner! Winner! Winner!”
Mugman sighs. “Ugh, no way we’re going that way.”
“Yep, I think we all learned our lesson. Right, Cuphead?” Chalice says as she turns to look at Cuphead along with Mugman. The puff of cloud replaces Cuphead until it poofs, the ice cream falling onto the ground. They look ahead to see Cuphead running towards the casino with a maniacal laugh.
“Oh no,” Mugman and Chalice utter simultaneously.
Mugman and Chalice start chasing after Cuphead.
“CUPHEAD!” Mugman and Chalice call him, but he doesn’t listen.
“Cuphead, come back!” Mugman shouts.
Cuphead enters the casino with his brother and his friend behind him. He notices how crowded the casino is, the crowd rolling the pairs of dice and gambling away with their souls and money. His smile brightens when he watches the citizens winning the games.
“Cuphead!” Chalice says and finally catches up to him in her ghost form, transforming back to her physical form. “Have you not read the sign?”
Mugman catches up with them, breathing heavily. “C’mon, Cuphead. This is a waste of time.”
“Yeah! We are forgetting that this is the Devil’s casino,” Chalice replies.
“I ain’t too worried about that,” Cuphead responds. “Look at all the cash we can get from this place! OOH! Look over there!” He zooms over to the Craps table.
Mugman sighs tiredly. “Here we go again.”
Cuphead grabs the dice and rolls them to the higher numbers of eleven on the dice and on the square on the seven. A happy beam is shown on his face. Mugman and Chalice peek over the table, watching Cuphead making his winning streaks. Soon, they are both surrounded by the patrons of the casino, unaware that King Dice is watching them with a mischievous smirk.
“Hot dawg!” King Dice announces, coming up to the Craps table. “This fella can’t seem to lose!”
Cuphead smiles brightly. “KING DICE!!!”
“Cuphead, you might wanna quit while you’re ahead,” Mugman warns quietly.
“Double down!” Cuphead says before rolling another winning streak.
Mugman groans in discouragement.
“Well, well, look at what the cat drags in,” a familiar slimy voice snap the cups’ attention up to the Devil.
“Devil,” Chalice growls.
“How about we raise the stakes, yeah? If you win this next round, you’ll have all the money from the vault. If you lose, you give all three of your souls to me,” Devil says with a sadistic smile.
“Hmm, how about no?” Chalice sasses.
“You’re not the one holding the dice, Ms. Chalice,” Devil says, aiming his gaze at Cuphead in between Mugman and Chalice with a cheeky smile.
Cuphead’s pupils shape like dollar signs, rolling the dice without thinking.
“CUPHEAD, NO!” Mugman and Chalice shout simultaneously.
The dice bounces around the table until it lands on snake eyes.
The Devil chuckles menacingly, his canines showing. “Snake eyes! You lost.”
The cups start to tremble in fear.
“Now, about those souls—”
“Oh no, oh no, oh no,” Cuphead utters in fear.
“Oh no is right!” Mugman barks angrily at his brother.
“Wait, don’t take their souls!” Chalice shouts, standing between The Devil and the cups. “Take mine! I’m the one you want!”
The Devil smirks sadistically. “Oh, Ms. Chalice, I’m afraid it’s far too late to offer your soul to me.”
“Well, then there has to be another way to repay you!” Chalice finally shouts, her teeth clenched.
The Devil takes a moment to ponder until he grins more. “Hmm, perhaps there is.”
King Dice perks up in surprise. “What?”
The Devil takes out a parchment with all the lists of names. “I have a list of names of my runaway debtors. You know, those who make deals with me only to backtrack and not pay me back with their ‘services’. Kind of like you, Ms. Chalice. Collect their contracts for me, and I might pardon you cups.”
“Might?” Chalice questions the deal.
“Yes, might. Unless you want me to take all of your souls right now, that can be arranged.”
Chalice turns to look at the boys, who are trembling in fear. Then she looks up at him with a hopeless sigh. “Then you got yourself a deal.”
The Devil corners a smirk. “Splendid.” He snaps his fingers, letting the parchment teleport into Chalice’s hands. “You cups got three weeks to get all the soul contracts. Otherwise, I’ll be the one collecting your souls.”
The three cups stand idly in fear.
“Well, what are you waiting for? Get on with it!” The Devil orders.
Cuphead, Mugman, and Chalice rush out of the casino with the list of runaway debtors.
King Dice puts his fists on his hips while watching the cups running out of the casino. “What’s yer intention, boss? You’re letting your food get away.”
“I know. It’s fun to play with them before taking their souls, don’t you think?”
Dice sighs in disappointment. “Whatever you want, boss.”
“Don’t you worry, Dice, their souls will be as good as mine either way. Have some faith in me.”
“Always have.”
~.~
The cups stride through the woods with a deafening silence.
Cuphead fidgets with his hands while noticing Mugman glaring ahead and Chalice reading the list in her hands. He clenches his teeth.
“You guys mad at me—?”
“Yes,” both Mugman and Chalice respond simultaneously.
Cuphead nods. “Oookay.” The silence goes on for another five minutes before Cuphead finally speaks up, “Okay, look, I know I messed up. But—”
“But what, Cuphead?” Mugman growls. “You just bet on our own souls without a second thought! I thought we’re done dealin’ with the Devil!”
“You’re lucky I was able to talk The Devil out of takin’ our souls right away,” Chalice adds with a glare at Cuphead. “Looks like some of us here hadn’t learned a lesson.”
“Exactly,” Mugman says.
“I know you guys are mad at me and I’m sorry—”
“Sorry?! Sorry doesn’t cut it, Cuphead! This isn’t just something you can just breeze past and all is forgiven!” Mugman shouts. “You just bet my own life for your greed! After trying to save you from the Devil countless of times, you kept dealin’ with him! Now, both Chalice and I also owe the Devil our souls since you gambled them away like they mean nothing to you!”
Cuphead softens his gaze, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. “I’m sorry, Mugman—”
“Have you learned nothing from everything we’ve gone through? Or are you not too worried about it?” Mugman’s fists start to shake to avoid the temptation to beat up his brother. “You know, Chalice is right. We’re lucky that she’s able to talk Devil out of takin’ our souls right away. When are you gonna wake up and realize that there’s now plenty of things to worry about? My life could’ve been over because of you! I don’t mean anything to you, do I?”
“Mugsy—”
“You know what, nevermind. Stupid question. I just want to go home,” Mugman responds harshly, walking ahead of Chalice and Cuphead.
Chalice looks back to see Cuphead’s tearful eyes. Then he shifts his glance at Chalice.
“I-I’m sorry, Chalice,” Cuphead replies tearfully.
Chalice softens her gaze and sighs. “Let’s just collect these contracts and get it over with. Next time you gamble away somethin’, we won’t be there for you to bet on.” With that said, she walks ahead of him.
Cuphead stops in the middle of the pathway, letting her and his brother walk further ahead. He rubs his arm, trying not to cry in the middle of the woods.
“Cuphead, ya screw-up,” he says to himself, now letting out small sobs. “C’mon, you’re tougher than this. Just…do somethin’ that’ll make it up to them.”
Cuphead rubs his chin, wiping his tears away.
“Soo, what got you so down in the dumps?”
Cuphead perks his head and looks around for the unfamiliar female voice.
“Up here.”
Cuphead glances up at one of the trees above him to find a red-furred cat with her long black hair that reaches to the middle of her back. She has green shirt and blue denim overalls with one strand holding her shoulder. She wears a green bandana around her neck along with a necklace shaped like a fish.
“Uh, nothin’,” Cuphead lies.
“I heard some yackin’ about a screw-up. What did you screw up?” the feline asks in curiosity.
“My life.”
“Heh, same.” She hops down from the tree branch, shaking the leaves off of her black hair. “Is everything okay between you and your friends?”
Cuphead frowns. “Um, I kind of messed up things between us.”
“Ah, and you’re lookin’ to make things up to ‘em?”
Cuphead nods his head. “Can you help?”
“Uh, sure. Got any plans on how to do that?”
The cup shrugs. “Ain’t got a clue. What do you usually do to make things up to friends and family?”
“Usually, I bring them dead animals.”
“Uh, that’s probably not the best peace offering to give them.”
“How about sweets? I know a candy store near here. C’mon.” the cat leads Cuphead through the woods.
Cuphead has a creeping suspicion for a moment until he shakes it off. “Thanks! I owe you one! What’s your name?!”
“Cassidy. You?”
“Cuphead.”
~.~
Cuphead and Cassidy sneak into the candy store across from the woods. She puts her bandana over her nose and mouth and a hood over her head.
“What’s that for?” Cuphead asks when he notices Cassidy wearing a hood and bandana.
“Just a precaution,” she says with a casual shrug.
“Oh, okay.” he searches his red empty pockets. “Oh no.”
“What?”
“I don’t have money to buy the sweets for them.”
“Who says you have to pay for them?” With a smirk, she grabs the basket and pushes the candy bars into the basket quietly while the candy shop owner is fast asleep.
“Ain’t that stealin’?”
“It ain’t stealin’ if you don’t get caught.”
He beams brightly. “I like the way you think.”
They gather candy from the shelves as quietly as they can, filling the basket up to the top.
“One for Mugsy,” Cuphead says before taking another basket and filling it to the top full of candys with Cassidy helping him. “And one for Chalice.”
She picks up the basket for Chalice. “Let’s scram before the owner wakes up.”
He nods in agreement and picks up the basket for Mugman.
They walk out of the candy store with baskets in their arms before they run into the cops walking by the candy store.
Cuphead nearly let out a scared gasp when he sees the cops.
“Hey, did you kids pay for all of this?” one of the cops questions.
Cassidy leans over to whisper to him, “Follow my lead.”
He nods nervously.
“Uh, yeah,” Cassidy says while taking out two candys and giving them to the cops. “Just to show my appreciation for the police force, here you go.”
“Whoa! A Willy Wonka bar!” the cop gasps as they are walking away in a casual stroll.
“Whoa! Me too!”
“C’mon! Let’s eat these!”
“Yeah!”
The cops hurry pass the robbed candy store without being aware that the candy shop owner is still sleeping.
They enter the woods with sighs of relief.
“How were you able to slip past ‘em like that?” he questions in pure awe.
“I got my ways,” she says with a smile. “C’mon. They’re gonna notice we stole them from the candy store.”
They hurry through the woods with two baskets of candy. They finally make it to Elder Kettle’s tea-pot like house.
“Is this where you all live?” she asks with a curious gaze.
“Yep, you’re gonna meet my brudda and my friend…hopefully when they’re not mad at me,” he says before they place the baskets on the front porch. Before he can knock, the door open to reveal a pissed-off Elder Kettle.
“Oh, heh—”
“Where have ya been, boy?” Elder Kettle interrogates before noticing Cassidy. He softens his gaze once he sees the red feline. “Oh, hello, dear. Are you a friend of Cuphead’s?”
She loses her usual confidence, her tail wraps around her legs. “Well, if only he wants to be friends—”
“Yep! She’s a friend of mine,” Cuphead determines before picking up the baskets and gesturing her to come inside with him.
Elder Kettle seems shock at the response and looks at her. “Uh, do you wanna come in?”
“S-Sure, if ya don’t mind,” she says with a shrug.
Elder Kettle steps aside to let her walk inside of the house. Once Elder Kettle shut the door, Cassidy looks around the cottage.
“You have a nice place, Mr—”
“Elder Kettle,” Elder Kettle responds with a polite smile. “There’s no need to call me mister.”
Mugman and Chalice are playing marbles on the floor. Cuphead places the two baskets of candy beside Mugman and Chalice individually.
“Uh, what’s this?” Chalice asks.
“A peace offering,” Cuphead answers.
“We just need your help to gather soul contracts, ya ding dong. You know, since you gamble our lives away to the Devil,” Chalice says with sass.
“Oh, that’s the screw-up,” Cassidy mutters to herself, which is noticed by Mugman.
“Uh…Cuphead, who’s this?” Mugman asks, standing up to squint at her suspiciously.
“This is my good friend, Cassidy!” Cuphead says, wrapping his arm around Cassidy.
Cassidy widens her eyes in shock at the introduction and then looks at Mugman with a small smile.
“Wait, you guys didn’t meet after we just separate?” Chalice questions while standing up in confusion.
“Well, yeah” Cuphead says with a sheepish smile. “She’s helped me make a peace offering to you guys.”
“And you just met her out of nowhere?” Mugman asks with a suspicious glance at Cassidy.
Cassidy’s ear flattens at Mugman’s glance at her.
“Yeah!” Cuphead chirps.
“Just out of the blue?”
“Yeah,” Cuphead answers his brother. “Hey! Are you tryin’ to say that I’m puttin’ myself in danger?”
“No, no, by all means, put yourself in danger again,” Mugman responds with a growl. “Meet with dangerous people that come out of nowhere to lend a hand out of the kindness of their hearts.”
“Hey, she ain’t dangerous!” Cuphead barks at Mugman.
“I like to think of myself as quite an adventurer. Thank you very much,” Cassidy responds back with sass.
“Nobody asks you,” Mugman quips at her rudely.
Cassidy flattens her ears with her brows narrow at Mugman with a sarcastic tone. “Oh sorry, I thought you’re referring to me. Guess you’re referring to that wall behind me. Has anyone told you that ya need a shrink?”
Mugman growls at the feline with his fists clench.
Elder Kettle comes in between the kids. “Now, now, kids. Let’s not start a fight.” He turns to the cups with a glare. “WHAT ON GOD’S GREEN EARTH ARE YOU KIDS DOING AT THE DEVIL’S CASINO?!”
Cassidy winces at Elder Kettle’s shout.
“Don’t worry, dear, you’re not in trouble,” Elder Kettle reassures her. Then he shifts his glare back at the boys and Chalice. “They are.”
Cuphead clenches his teeth and glances at Mugman, who looks away from him.
Chalice laughs nervously. “He saw the list.”
Cuphead rubs his arm. “Well, we may or may not got ourselves into a pickle with the Devil.”
Mugman scoffs. “More like Cuphead got us into the pickle with the Devil again.”
“Again?!” Elder Kettle yelps in shock. “What the-? B-But--Why didn’t you boys tell me—?”
“Because we don’t want you yellin’ at us like you always do,” Cuphead says.
Elder Kettle sighs. “Well, I don’t really have a solution for this pickle except for one.”
Mugman and Cuphead perk their heads up in confusion.
Elder Kettle walks into the kitchen for a moment and then comes back with two bright blue potions. “Here, drink up.”
“What’s this?” Mugman asks in curiosity.
“Something your parents left behind for you boys a long time ago,” Elder Kettle responds. “Since you got yourselves in trouble with the Devil, you’re gonna need this. Your soul debtors ain’t gonna be friendly when you confront them about their debts. They’ll do whatever it takes to fight you both tooth and nail. So, if I were you, I take this potion.”
“Hmm, I’m in!” Cuphead responds as he downs the potion fast.
“Don’t drink it too fast!” Elder Kettle warns but it is too late.
Cuphead’s body glows, shocking his peers surrounding him.
“Whoa! What was that?!” Cuphead yelps in shock.
Elder Kettle ponders. “Hm, I think your dad says something about how the potion will create some sort of a protection on your body.”
Cuphead arches a brow. “Like what does it do—?” He points his finger at the wall, noticing too late that the blue bullet shoots out of his finger. The wall takes damage, leaving behind a burn mark and tiny hole. He blinks in shock and looks at his hands.
“THIS IS AWESOME!!!” Cuphead shouts happily. “Mugsy, you gotta try this!”
Elder Kettle nudges another potion to Mugman.
Mugman shrugs. “Eh, what the heck?” He carefully drinks up the potion. He tenses up, his body glowing the same way Cuphead does. “Holy, wow!”
“Yeah, it’s gonna feel weird for a little bit,” Elder Kettle says.
Cassidy observes Cuphead shooting a bright blue bullet from his fingertips with an excited glee. “What else does it do?”
“Beats me,” Elder Kettle says with a shrug. “There’s more information in that book over there.” Elder Kettle points at the dark navy book on the kitchen counter with a strange symbol on it by the open window.
“Huh,” Cassidy says, perking her head up in interest. However, Mugman notices the way she stares at the book with a glance in suspicion.
“Hey, you know what?” Chalice says, interrupting Mugman’s stare at Cassidy. “I bet we can use that to deal with the soul debtors once and for all.”
“Maybe even fight the Devil with it!” Cuphead responds happily.
“Wouldn’t that be nice?” Chalice replies and looks at Mugman. “We can free ourselves from owing the Devil all of our souls. Hopefully, all of us will learn from this experience. All of us.” She turns to look at Cuphead with a firm stare.
Cuphead corners a plastered grin and let out a nervous laughter.
Chalice glances at Mugman. “So, what do you think, Mugman? Should we give Cuphead another chance to fix his mistake?”
Mugman looks at his brother and then glances back at Chalice with a sigh. “Okay.” Then he glares at Cuphead. “But the next time you gambled something away, I ain’t gonna be a part of it.” With that said, Mugman walks away.
Cassidy stands next to Cuphead. “Wait, you gambled both of their souls away?”
“Including mine,” Cuphead adds.
Cassidy flattens her ears. “I don’t blame them for being mad at you.”
The cup sighs. “Yeah.”
“You know, Porkrind has plenty of other potions that might power-up your shooting range,” Elder Kettle responds while giving the cups ten dollars. “Go check in with Porkrind and see what he has.”
“Uh, okay,” Mugman says awkwardly.
The cups and Cassidy exit the house with Elder Kettle watching them.
Elder Kettle sighs. “Oh, what am I ever going to do with those kids?”
~.~
Mugman stares at Cassidy in suspicion as the cups follow her through the woods.
Somehow, Cuphead has met a stranger and automatically becomes friends with her. Well, he will be a hypocrite if he excludes the fact that Cuphead and Mugman has tried befriending Chalice out of nowhere before. But he’s not sure about Cassidy and what her intentions are in befriending Cuphead so quickly.
Chalice notices Mugman staring at Cassidy and nudges him to snap him out of it. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah, everything’s fine,” Mugman quips, going back to stare at Cassidy.
“You know, it’s rude to stare,” Chalice whispers to him.
“What? I’m not staring,” Mugman responds, his arms crossed with a pout.
Chalice smirks at him. “Uh-huh, sure.”
Cassidy smiles when she approaches the shop belonging to Porkrind. “Here we are!” She opens the door while the radio is on.
Porkrind, the one-eyed pig with an eyepatch and brown overalls, tries to keep track of the scores from the horse-racing game playing in the radio. Cassidy shushes the others before approaching the pig and climbing up on the counter. She peeks over his shoulder.
“Is your team winnin’?” Cassidy whispers to the pig.
“No,” Porkrind says.
“Phear Lap wins again!” the radio announcer states.
Porkrind grumbles and crosses out his scores. “Stupid Phear Lap.” He glances up at the feline. “Got any loot?”
Cassidy takes out a small bag full of trinkets with a small smirk. “Yep, and some customers!”
“Customers?” Porkrind glances to the side to notice the three cups. “Oh, it’s you three again.”
“Uh, hi, Porkrind,” Chalice replies. “We may or may not got ourselves into a heap of trouble.”
“Did you now?” Porkrind asks with a deadpan tone. “Why am I not surprised?”
“Yeah, we need your help real bad,” Cuphead utters.
“Yeah, we heard from Elder Kettle that you got potions for us—”
“SHH!” Porkrind shushes the cups. “How does he know about it?”
The cups shrug their shoulders.
Porkrind sighs. “Yes, I do have those potions, but you’re going to need the Peashooter to have these potions. But what ever do you need ‘em for?”
“To collect soul debts for the Devil,” Chalice answers.
“Seriously? He’s sendin’ you out on errand runs?” Porkrind questions.
“That or he will take our souls,” Cuphead responds.
Porkrind widens his eye in shock. “You dummies made a deal with the Devil—”
“Look, it ain’t the most ideal thing to do, but it’s better than gettin’ our soul sucked into Hell,” Chalice responds.
“Look! We already got the Peashooter. Watch—”
“Don’t aim your finger guns in my shop!” Porkrind interrupts Cuphead’s demonstration. He sighs again. “Look, I’ll give you those potions. But it ain’t gonna be free. It’ll be real expensive.”
“We’ll pay anything,” Mugman responds desperately.
Porkrind smirks. “Well, la di da. Someone knows the magic words. So, how much you got?”
Chalice takes out ten dollars. “That’s as much as we got.”
“And some pocket lint!” Cuphead chirps.
“Ten dollars? Eh, that’ll do if you wanna buy two potions. They’re five dollars each. So, which ones will you take?” Porkrind asks the cups.
“Ooh, I want to get the charge one,” Cuphead responds.
“Can I get the spread shooter one?” Mugman asks.
Porkrind glances at Cassidy and signals her to get the potions at the back. She comes back with the charged potion and a spread potion.
“Wait, is that the only potion—?”
“Nah, we got more. We can make more if we run out,” Cassidy responds to Mugman, causing him to squint at her in suspicion. She hops back over at the counter as Porkrind takes the ten bucks. Porkrind is about to throw away the pocket lint until she asks, “Can I keep the pocket lint?”
Porkrind moves the pocket lint over for Cassidy to keep it.
“Thanks, Dad,” Cassidy says before fiddling with it with her paws.
“DAD?!” the cups gasp in shock.
“Yeah?” Porkrind asks as if it’s obvious.
“You didn’t tell us you have a daughter,” Cuphead utters.
“Why is that any of your business?” Porkrind responds with a gruff.
“We, uh, just didn’t know,” Mugman says nervously.
Cassidy whispers something to Porkrind, who subtly smirks.
“Anyway, I wouldn’t drink the potions you just bought if I were you. Dip your fingers into ‘em when you need them to fight the debtors,” Porkrind advises.
“We’ll do that! Thanks, Porkrind!” Chalice chirps while leading the boys out of the shop.
Once the cups left the shop, Porkrind glances at his daughter.
“You know, this can be your salvation, Cassi. You know what to do tonight?”
Cassidy smirks and nods.
~.~
The targets are set up in the backyard of Elder Kettle’s house at night.
Chalice watches Mugman and Cuphead practice shooting their targets but keep missing.
“Aw nuts,” Cuphead groans after missing the target for the twentieth time. “These finger guns are hard to aim with.”
“Have you both held guns before?” Chalice asks the boys.
“Not exactly,” Mugman responds with a shrug.
“Well, try to aim it like you’re holdin’ a gun,” Chalice advises while walking up to the boys to help them.
Unbeknownst to the cups, a shadow lurks behind them and sneak over to the open kitchen window to grab the book that has the ingredients to making the Peashooter.
“Ya know, this is harder than it looks,” Cuphead says. “Like what if I use the finger gun motion to say ‘catch ya later’ to someone and it shoots ‘em by accident?”
Mugman gives Cuphead a confused stare. “Like this?” Mugman uses his finger gun motion and two bullets came out by accident. Cuphead yelps and dodges them.
“Yeah! Like that!” Cuphead answers.
The mysterious figure manages to get the book and sneaks off to the forest, but the figure is noticed by Chalice.
“Say, is someone stealin’ the book for the Peashooter?” Chalice questions.
Mugman and Cuphead turn their heads to find the figure sneaking off into the forest.
“HEY!!!” Cuphead shouts.
The figure perks their head and runs away.
Mugman bolts after the figure into the forest.
“Get ‘em!!!!” Chalice yells.
Mugman catches up to the thief in the forest. He leaps and tackles the thief, tumbling through the grass with grunts.
“GOTCHA!” Mugman growls.
The brown hood and the bandana falls off the familiar face of a red-furred feline with black long hair.
Mugman widens his eyes in shock. “Cassidy?”
Cassidy smirks mischievously and honks Mugman’s blue nose, distracting him. She kicks him in the crotch hard enough for him to fall off of her. She scrambles onto her feet and scurries away with a cheeky giggle.
Mugman groans in pain and looks to find that Cassidy disappears with the book in her paws. “Aw, c’mon!”
Chalice and Cuphead catch up to Mugman.
“Did you get ‘em?” Cuphead questions his brother.
Mugman groans in pain some more before standing up to his feet. “Why would she want the book?”
“Who?” Chalice asks.
“Cassidy.”
“Wait! You saw Cassidy?!” Cuphead gasps in shock.
“Yes!”
Chalice and Cuphead exchange gazes and then shift their attention back at Mugman.
“Well, at least we know where she lives,” Chalice says with a shrug.
To Be Continued...
#the cuphead show#cuphead#mugman#ms chalice#elder kettle#porkrind#oc#my friends ocs#oc x canon#devil cuphead#king dice#cuphead henchman
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“E” or “O”...?
A comment in the “It Was Sugar!” post wondered if "castor" with an "O" was the American spelling for caster sugar, or a typo.
It’s a typo, but one with an interesting history.
*****
“CastOr” is the spelling when referring to castor oil (pressed from castor beans) and, even older, a hat made from felted beaver fur (Castor canadiensis).
Fans of historical fiction might occasionally read that a character “doffed their castor” - meaning, raised or removed their hat in a token of good manners to ladies or respect to superiors.
"CastEr" is the spelling for a container (or its contents) for strewing, sprinkling or throwing, as in "cast aside" or “cast a shadow”.
In homophones (same-sounding words) such as sow / sew, rein / rain, peal / peel, breach / breech etc., just one letter gives the different meaning.
Words like “cast”, however, depend on context - cast a spell, cast a bell, cast a role, arm in a cast, cast in an eye, cast of the show...
English is like that.
*****
Besides sugar casters for sprinkling sugar, there were “sand casters” of wood, ceramic or metal, which contained the powder used to blot ink before or instead of blotting-paper.

This powder might be fine sand or ground sandarac resin (two reasons for “sand caster”) but also ground cuttlefish bone, or ground pumice which was called “pounce” - the French for pumice stone is “pierre ponce” - in which case the container was called a “pounce pot”.
Blotting a letter with sand or pounce may even be the origin of the phrase “done and dusted”, meaning “job all done”, though that might just derive from a room or house completely cleaned, so YMMV.
Its use is often seen in historical films, though they often get the end of the action wrong by showing writers blowing or shaking the powder off onto the floor.
In fact blotting powder was re-usable, and was poured off the paper back into the pot, whose top was often funnel-shaped to make that easier.
Using sand or pounce continued until fairly recently: here’s a silver writing set - inkstand with matching inkwell and pounce pot / sander - hallmarked 1908.

Fountain-pens were already in use (mass-produced since 1880) though prone to leakage until that problem was fixed in, surprise,1908, so it’s not surprising that this handsome set relied on dip pens. Also, it was probably on the desk of An Important Person who had to write little more than signatures.
The pounce pot is a curious anachronism; I’ve read one source suggesting pounce and sand continued in use because they was cheap, but penny-pinching doesn’t seem an issue here.
Maybe used blotting-paper was considered unsightly, whether as a sheet or mounted on one of those rocker-blotters still used occasionally when signing treaties.

Or maybe pounce was considered more secure; if blotting-paper picks up a good reverse impression of the writing, it can be mirror-read; there’s no way to mirror-read anything from powder.
Writer Note; a fantasy story could mention a spell which makes the pounce or sand reassemble itself as the words it blotted, so re-use is done for more than mere economy. Each time pounce is poured back into the pot it gets a thorough shaking, that world’s version of a micro-cut paper shredder or multi-pass disc wipe.
This was originally about spelling variations, so yet again I seem to have wandered a bit off-topic
I do like the silver desk-set, though.
#social history#sand caster#pounce pot#writing instruments#fun with english#homophones#same sound different spelling different meaning
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Many Sentences Monday!
i was tagged by @meadowlarkx & @thelordofgifs to share some fic! i'm super self indulgent, so here's the first scene of a "maglor comes to aman" fic with a twist.
1: The Pipe.
The little room is not decorated how he would expect.
Though of course it is exactly as it should be. There are the many intricately woven banisters, hung along the walls, clearly Maedhros’ choices, his style. There are the gouache paintings of leaping long-legged horses, their features exaggerated by movement, so dynamic they seem almost birdlike, painted plainly by Fingon’s hand. There’s the huge padded armchair in a tasteful shade of forest-green—Maedhros—and the short coat of brilliant crimson slung over its back—Fingon—and the tangle of vines outside the windows and the short-legged hound on the duvet and the tabby cats outside and the ornate teal-and-lilac service set on the counter, certainly gifted because neither of them would pick it, and the open easternmost window and the smell of roasting garlic.
It is the things which are not there, which he has come to expect.
It is the outhouse, the lack of indoor plumbing, the candle-gems set into the walls, look of slight confusion on the face of the servant when he turns to feel for the light switch. It is the realization that he cannot call; cannot send a telegram; that is had not occurred to him to pack a typewriter and so all his correspondence and his writing will again be hand; that his poems, should they ever again be published in this land, will need to be painstakingly copied, word by word, onto the parchment.
It ought to be easy to fall back into it. He had missed it, he tries to remember. He had thought the world noisy and overwhelming. He had wanted to run from it. He’d seen soot stains on trees that had once been virginal, had once been white, and his head had spun with it. He had watched the factory-smoke rise and thought it unlovely and unworthy of living for. He had stared at the monstrous bulk of a locomotive, had tasted its bitter smoke on his tongue, and felt the awfulness and sublimity of invention as he had at the gates of Angband.
And yet he is happy that he has taken along his gramophone.
No one had expected him.
News of the boats do not come; gossip travels through word of mouth and webs of osanwë across the city and into the countryside, but his hosts are out hunting. There are two servants only in the house; a quiet young maiden, barely seventy, there to mind the horses and the goats, and a man who had clearly once been a soldier, watching the house in the owners’ absence.
They speak to him in Sindarin, faintly accented with entirely different accents. The maiden, Cinnogil, lives there full-time, though mostly with the animals; she is responsible for the horses’ training and upkeep, and to this duty she dedicates herself with a fierce passion. He does not ask what brings her out of her house so young, as he would have asked in another life.
The man, Singdan, is there only some of the time. He lives close by, he says. He comes and helps with the cooking and the cleaning, at times, in exchange for gems and for fresh cuts of hart and for legal work, now and again.
But really it can barely be called an estate.
“They keep a room for you, I think,” Singdan tells him, as he helps him unload his mule and stack his luggage in a jumbled heap in the mud room. The short-legged dog weaves around their ankles when make their way down the hall, lit by sparkling silver gems, the walls decorated with rugs far too warm and too heavy for the climate. “They have for as long as I have known them.”
The room—his room—is at the end of the hall. His eyes trace the walls; the simpler, more elegant decorations in silver, the blue and white bedspread, the lyre and the flute, the inkwell, the bottle of aged rum with the books on the bookshelf, the ceramic horses on the writing table. Someone has hung a change of clothes for him in the corner closet.
There is no dust, no trace of disuse. Only one thing out of place—the mahogany pipe on the windowsill.
He crosses the room and picks it up, holding it up to the light. It is well-used. Warm from the sun streaming in through the glass, streaked slightly on the inside.
Out of them three only Maedhros smokes. Likely he had sat here, and had the window open.
(Why is there so much guilt, with that thought?)
“Shall you come and dine,” Singdan asks, “while we wait?”
Thank you. He is not hungry.
---
tagging @eilinelsghost @outofangband @melestasflight @polutrope @grey-gazania @that-angry-noldo @searchingforserendipity25 & @polutrope @jouissants anyone else who hasn't done it yet and wants in!
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I like to think there is an Inkwell Chinatown. Like, the people who reside in this part of Isle III are all porcelain and ceramic folks.
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Writer's Month Day 8: Watermelon
Fandom: So....this was the first day I hit where I had absolutely *no* idea for what to write for either prompt. I had promised myself that the first day that happened, I'd write something for the original idea that's been rattling around in my head. Hence this: 1,500 words of some random girl and a pocket-sized dragon with a meta bent.
Rating: G
Summary: Libby's stuck on what to write for her daily tale, and Calliope is being a very unhelpful muse (but what else is new?).
+++
"UGH!” Calliope popped her head up from where she’d been investigating the sugar bowl and eyed her sworn human as she stomped across the floor of their flat in a huff that slamming the door had evidently done nothing to dispel. “Another lovely day at Hugo’s, I presume?”
“Time spent with that beast is never lovely,” Libby grunted, throwing herself down ito a chair and dropping her arms on the desk with a sulky thunk.
“Mmmm,” Calliope hummed, turning her attention back to the sugar bowl, flicking her tail unconcernedly as the rest of her disappeared inside.
“Aren’t you going to ask what today’s request is?” Libby asked after a minute spent watching the dragon *not* pressing for details and instead, judging by the sounds rattling from the kitchen shelf, sniffing every cranny of the inside of the sugar bowl
“You’ll tell me soon enough.” Calliope’s voice had an odd timbre, ringing more than usual, as it bounced around inside the ceramic. “We should go to the store today. You’re out of sugar.” (Honestly, Libby was a nice enough girl to be bound to, but she was *terrible* about keeping th sugar stocked).
“How can you think about that?!? We have more important things to do!” Libby dug into her pocket to wave a scrap of vellum bearing a single word in shimmering ink in Calliope’s direction (not that the greedy thing could see it from inside the sugar bowl; honestly, she could hardly keep the stuff stocked anymore). “Like write!”
“Shouldn’t have made that deal, Scheherazade.”
That’s one thing the legends always failed to mention about dragons, Libby thought to herself, shooting visual daggers at the sea-green tail thrashing about like a cat’s gone mad (or, well, a dragon deprived of sugar). They have a deplorable lack of sympathy.
Though, really, in all fairness she couldn’t blame Calliope (this time); the whole mess with Hugo *was* squarely on her shoulders. But what was she supposed to do once he found her poking uninvited around his realm? Hand over her soul and join the ranks of his attendants? Sit meekly by and wait for the bloody end the old legends always said awaited those who crossed his path? Just let him do as he please with her? No.
But...maybe billing herself as a girl gifted by the ancients with the power of spinning a tale from a single word, *any* word, in the span of a single day wasn’t her brightest moment. Especially when the supposed ‘muse’ she was gifted by the goddess who had a bone to pick with the fearsome Dark Lord to help make the fib real was about as helpful as the flu.
Regrets, though, didn’t change her circumstance. Hugo would be waiting for her come morning, and if she wasn’t at the foot of his dais with a tale to present, she’d find herself facing consequences she really rather wouldn’t. “We’ll get there, *later*.” She reached forward for paper, inkwell, and quill, neatly arranging her tools of trade before her. “Writing first, store second.”
“I dislike that ordering.” Calliope’s impertinent head popped up, forked tongue flicking out to wipe the sugar dust from her snout. “They close early on Saturdays, tomorrow’s Sunday, and they don’t receive shipments until mid-week. If they run out of sugar- and you know they always do- before we get there, we’ll be out until *Wednesdy.*”
“Yes. And I’ll have bigger problems if I don’t have a story by morning.” Libby said with an ingratiating, very sarcastic grin. “Now, come on it: help me think of a story around the word ‘watermelon.’”
Calliope snorted a puff of disdainful smoke. “That’s it?”
“I know.” Libby plopped her chin in her hand and contemplated the bustling city street outside the window for watermelon-based inspiration, something impossible to find when all her eye landed on were wagons rattling over the cobbles, a couple of gossiping housewives, and a world colored solely in the drab browns and grays of winter. With such a view, it was hard to believe something as summery as watermelons ever existed. “So, any ideas?”
“We need more-“
“About things that aren’t sugar.”
With a sound somewhere between a screech and a grumble, Calliope climbed out of the jar to coil around it instead, crossing her forelegs and resting her chin on them, thinking, visibly rolling the word around in her mind, a muse at work.
“No.”
Correction: a muse *pretending* to be at work.
“Ugh!” Again as Libby threw her head back exasperatedly. “Then maybe look ahead for some?” As useless as Calliope was as a muse, at the very least she made up for it in clairvoyance.
“Very well,” the dragon sighed, raising her head so she took on the air of a sphinx reclining on the shelf. She stared ahead at nothing, sapphire eyes flaming as a dry, hot breeze like the hours rushing by raced around the room. Libby watched entranced. This would never get old.
Finally, Calliope blinked, dousing the fire, and turned to Libby importantly. “Well?”
“They *will* run out of sugar before noon.”
“Oh, come on!” If it wasn’t for the fact that she was strapped for cash (Hugo’s stipend only stretching so far), she’d have thrown the inkwell at the dragon. “Can’t you think of anything else besides sugar? No, don’t answer that.” She groaned, dropping her head to the desk as Calliope, one interrupting claw still upraised, watched. “I’m dead.”
Because the day she failed, she would be.
There was a scuttling sound, then there was a slight weight on her shoulder. “Not dead,” a voice of trilling, wheeling gulls sounded close to her ear. “Just stuck. Here:” The weight shifted as Calliope slid down to the desk and nudged the quill stand closer. She dipped the tip of her tail in the inkwell, wiped it on he blotter, and watched Libby expectantly as she glumly took up the quill. “Quick as we can, write every word that comes to mind when you hear ‘watermelon.’ Like so.”
In a blur of shimmering scales like the sun at play atop the waves, the tail whisked across the page so the word ‘pink’ appeared in looping, self important script. “Now you. Don’t think too hard. Just write.”
Libby blinked, drew a breath, and released it. *Don’t think. Just write.* The quill danced, then a more than slightly sloppy ‘juicy’ appeared underneath ‘pink.’
Calliope hummed with approval, then in the next second scrawled ‘summer.’
Libby followed with ‘fruit.’
Calliope snorted some celebratory sparks (mindful to miss the parchment). “Now we’re getting something!” Back and forth, the two filled the page, tossing words like jugglers would clubs.
‘Picnics.’ ‘Sweet.’ ‘Sugar.’ (“Which we’re out of”) (Hmph) ‘Fruit.’ ‘Seeds.’ ‘Spitting.’ (“What? We always did in the country.” Calliope pulled a face as Libby shrugged, laughing with her eyes) ‘Summertime. ‘Fireflies’ ‘Crickets.’ ‘Juice dribbling down your chin. Fingers sweet and sticky. Not quite water, not quite flesh; some realm between the two, guarded by green and bursting within with all the joys and mirth of summer, the world in its prime before she starts her spiral into autumnal decay.”
“Good, good!” Calliope cheered, eager eyes not leaving the parchment as Libby furiously wrote, the quill scratching madly across the paper as it struggled to keep pace with the ideas flowing down its wielder’s arm. “Keep going!”
‘Memories of better times, simpler times, younger times, back before the sunlight faded from the child’s eyes. Sitting with a slice in hand, watching the fireflies blink and drift in their evening waltz, licking the last drip of sweetness from the rind, you feel you have discovered Eden.”
“Yes!” Calliope cheered as Libby sat back, panting as she surveyed her work with an exhilarated grin, disbelieving as always that she actually wrote that. It wasn’t finished, far from it, but as it stood she had a beautiful piece of prose in front of her that was rich and ripe with potential. Already, her mind was whirling with new directions she could take this in, stories hiding just behind that list of words waiting to burst into existence, and images begging to be brought to life with florid, prancing prose. Who’d have thought ‘watermelon’ could be so inspiring?
“Now, don’t lose the momentum!” Calliope’s voice, crisp and snapping as a sail catching the wind, brought her back. “Grab your cloak!”
Pushing away from the desk with alacrity, Libby raced for her cloak, throwing it over her shoulders in a flurry of movement that had it flaring out behind her.
“And your purse!”
Libby frowned. “Purse?” She slowed, hand hovering above the pouch. “Why do I-“
“DON’T DOUBT THE PROCESS!”
Libby trusted and shoved the purse in her pocket.
“Out!” Calliope materialized on her shoulder, pointing a commanding claw to the door. “And down to the street!”
“Now what?” Libby asked, breathless as she stood on the walk outside their building, shivering slightly in the winter chill.
“Now,” Calliope slithered into the collar of Libby’s cloak, coiled her lithe body serpentine body around her neck, and poked her head out so it was all that showed. “We buy sugar.”
Rolling her eyes fondly, Libby shook her head and struck off toward the store, fishing a pad and pencil out of her pocket to jot some ideas down while she walked. Dragons.
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Serpent’s Lullaby - 01 - Letters for the Void
Fandom: Hogwarts Legacy
Language: english
Genre: Romantic Drama
Style within this chapter: hurt & comfort
Warnings: spoiler
Word Count within this chapter: 2.102
Summary -- Next Chapter
Link to Ao3
Link to fanfiktion.de (original german version)
With his wand raised in his right hand, he sat hunched over a simple, small wooden table. His eyebrows were furrowed in concentration as his clouded, steel-blue gaze was directed towards the general direction of the scratching quill on the parchment in front of him. The quill paused, dipped its sharpened end into an open inkwell that was also on the table, and then resumed its movements on the paper, scratching away.
Omnius Gaunt was unable to see the words he was writing, as he is blind. Writing was not a skill he necessarily needed for his livelihood, but he had painstakingly taught himself for his own sake. It was a difficult process, as the cryptic shapes of letters had been unknown to him for a very long time. How could he have known them when his world was mostly shrouded in darkness?
It was thanks to his favorite aunt Noctua that Ominis had received a rough idea of the letters. The cosmopolitan Noctua, who had never scolded him for his initial, shaky attempts that, according to her, resembled the writing of a four-year-old. Instead, she had helped her blind nephew find a magical way to cleanly put letters on paper.
His loving aunt Noctua, who, as Ominis painfully learned last year, no longer be living. That had certainly been the case for a very long time.
Ominis attentively listened to the scratching of the feather that he directed over the parchment with his wand. With a connecting spell, it wrote the words he was thinking on the paper, which demanded his full concentration. In between, he also had to remember to dip the feather back into the inkwell without actively thinking about it. Otherwise, ‘inkwell’ would be written in every other line.
To the almost meditative sound of the scratching quill, initial dull sounds from the adjacent room of the small house were added. Creaking furniture, accompanied by a quiet yawn and shortly thereafter shuffling footsteps.
Ominis continued to focus on his letter, which he would not need much more time to complete. Meanwhile, his best friend announced his presence with another yawn after the door to the bedroom had been opened. Shuffling, unmotivated steps could be heard, stopping roughly at the level of the kitchen counter, interrupted by a soft sniffing sound. Ominis carefully floated the pen into the inkwell for a short break, so as not to accidentally ruin his almost finished work. »That's coffee you're smelling, Sebastian. I brewed some. It should be on the stove.«
A short moment passed as Sebastian looked around, seemingly surprised or puzzled. »How long have you been awake, Ominis? It's still very early.«
»For a while,« Ominis replied, turning his head vaguely in the direction where he heard Sebastian's voice. »I couldn't sleep. Did I wake you?«
»No,« Sebastian immediately replied. Unlike other witches or wizards who would often just shake their head and hastily add the word, embarrassed, since a blind person couldn't see it.
Ominis heard the kitchen cabinet door open and shortly after, Sebastian probably placing a ceramic mug on the kitchen counter. Meanwhile, he tapped his wand towards the feather, causing the connection spell to lift it from the parchment. It hovered above and then landed back onto the page, continuing to scratch away as if it had been waiting for this moment to continue its work.
As Sebastian poured the liquid into his cup, Ominis finished his letter. Shortly thereafter, in addition to the scratching of the quill, he heard the soft rustling of fabric and felt the warmth that settled on his hands. Apparently, Sebastian had opened the curtains at the windows to let in the daylight of a beginning summer day. An action that Ominis generally saw no need for, which is why he hadn't thought of it. Nevertheless, he enjoyed the warmth. »It's so convenient that you got the black wake-up potion,« Sebastian sighed contentedly, pushing the chair to the left of his friend back to take a seat on it.
Ominis didn't respond immediately. Only after he had finished the letter, carefully set aside the quill and freed it from his spell did he respond slightly sarcastically: »There must be some advantages to carrying that family name.«
Sebastian sipped quietly from his cup. There was a long moment when the two boys fell silent. Ominis was wondering what was on his friend's mind when Sebastian verbalized his thoughts with audible surprise: »Why are you writing a letter to Carol?«
»That's just how I felt,« Ominis replied, shrugging his shoulders and lifting the corners of his mouth. Unfortunately, Sebastian knew him too well to believe that he did something on a whim. So after a few seconds, Ominis added, »I wanted to remind her of your invitation. After all, you offered her to come to Feldcroft before the summer break.«
Plus, Ominis believed that it would do them both good if Carol accepted the invitation.
Sebastian's contemptuous snort confirmed Ominis' suspicion that he had done well to keep the last thought to himself. »That was four weeks ago,« grumbled his friend irritably.
Ominis took his time to lay his wand in front of him. At the moment, he didn't need it to get a sense of his surroundings and 'see’ as he did, which was a completely different experience than that of other witches and wizards. It was even a sensory impression that he found to be disturbing at this time. »Right. That means the holidays won't be over for another two weeks,« he said innocently.
His almost innocent remark seemed to bother Sebastian, who did not immediately respond as he usually would have. Instead, he let out a disapproving breath and slurped audibly at his hot beverage. Probably to formulate his argument clearly, he took a moment to collect his thoughts. »If Carol hasn't contacted me yet, then she doesn't need to. I mean, she's letting me down when she knows I'm looking for Anne. Tsk... such great friend.«
Ominis furrowed his eyebrows at the negative tone and tilted his head slightly to the side, causing his milky, steel-blue gaze to unfortunately pass right by Sebastian. »Yes, she is, Sebastian,« he spoke very diplomatically, to his own surprise. »You've never had such a great friend, to be honest. Because without Carol, you certainly wouldn't be here now.«
His serious tone made Sebastian pause to think, or at least to fall silent. But before he could come up with his next argument, Ominis decided to nip it in the bud by continuing in a factual manner: »Not everyone has such a strained relationship with their family, like you or I. Plus, Carol really needed the distance from all of that. You know what happened last year and how she was involuntarily dragged into everything. Honestly, I probably wouldn't have even passed a single O.W.L. under those circumstances.«
Ominis wasn't sure if he had won the debate with that, so he waited and listened for any suppressed negative sound. Instead, he heard a long, tired sigh. »Yeah...« began Sebastian, sounding exhausted, and sighed again. »Yes, you're right, Ominis. And to make matters worse, I've even gone and added to it. I'm sorry...«
»I know,« Ominis said in a reconciliatory tone, hoping his friend could sense it. »I know you feel immensely sorry for what you did, Sebastian. Plus, you are under immense stress because of the search for Anne. I can't imagine how it feels to lose a beloved family member in such a way. But I'm also sure that Anne is doing well. She needs distance, especially from you. What you did--«
»Was not without consequences,« Sebastian interrupted him mid-sentence. Well, that was one way to describe it, even though Ominis certainly wouldn't have considered that choice of words. Secretly, he wondered if it really contributed positively to Sebastian's development if he, like his friend, romanticized his deed.
It was true that Sebastian hadn't uttered a single Unforgivable Curse since then, but it was also about the murder of his own uncle. But who was he to judge Sebastian? Especially him, who himself had tortured a Muggle into unconsciousness with the Cruciatus Curse just so he wouldn't become a victim of it again?
Sebastian, suddenly, asked, »Do you even know where she lives?« and pulled Ominis' gloomy thoughts back to the pleasant present before they could get even more tangled. He also noticed that he must have been sitting crooked on the chair and slowly straightened himself up while orienting himself on the edge of the table.
Ominis' facial features wrinkled slightly as he contemplated the question Sebastian had just posed. Silently, he brought his right hand to his forehead, and his eyebrows raised with concern. »No,« he eventually confessed, pressing his lips together.
»You're writing a letter and you don't even know her address?« Sebastian's skeptical response was more than understandable. How could Ominis, of all people, have overlooked such a detail in the context of everything else?
»I don't regularly exchange addresses with others to cheerfully maintain pen pal relationships,« Ominis said bitterly.
Sebastian nodded in agreement with a friendly tone in his voice before taking another sip of his coffee. Now it was Ominis who sighed and lowered his head, staring at the parchment without really seeing it. He slumped his shoulders. All the effort and concentration he had put into writing the letter had been in vain. Ominis was annoyed that he hadn't realized this problem with exchanging correspondence earlier.
»Maybe she'll still come after all?« Sebastian suggested. His change of heart regarding Carol's presence in Feldcroft was probably due to the dejection that Ominis was unwittingly expressing all too clearly. It was Sebastian's charming way of making up for his outburst about their mutual friend and cheering up Ominis. And Ominis saw no reason not to respond to it, so he replied somewhat wearily, »Yes, maybe.«
»May I read the letter?« Sebastian asked, to keep the conversation flowing. Ominis was glad for it, as he had been dwelling on gloomy thoughts enough in the past few weeks. »Of course, if you can read it. I haven't written in over four weeks, so the handwriting might seem a bit unclear.«
The parchment was softly rustled across the wooden table as Sebastian turned the letter to be able to read it. He quietly set down his mostly empty mug and Ominis noticed him leaning over the table. »You worry too much, Ominis. Granted, it's not the prettiest handwriting...,« Sebastian explained with a hint of a grin in his voice, which even Ominis found highly infectious.
»Besides that, it's simply amazing that you taught yourself to write in this way,« Sebastian continued.
»I had no choice. It was necessary for the O.W.L. exams,« Ominis explained with a modest smile. »Plus, it's something that gives me some independence in my life.«
»Sometimes I forget that you're blind,« Sebastian said, softly chuckling with a hint of appreciation in his voice. It was a tone of voice that Ominis rarely heard when people spoke about him.
*****
Dear Carol,
I hope you are enjoying a delightful summer holiday.
Sebastian has taken me back in at Feldcroft. He and I have endeavored to locate Anne and establish communication with her, but unfortunately, to no avail. I can only hope that she is well and will reconnect with us when the time is right.
Summers in Feldcroft are scorching and oftentimes arid. The atmosphere is thick and swollen, and the scent of desiccated heather and rye fills the air.
I believe I have incurred a sunburn, though Sebastian refrains from commenting on it. Nevertheless, the uncomfortable, parched, and fervid sensation on my face speaks for itself. I wonder if I have acquired a semblance of color? Someone once told me that I have a very fair complexion.
Sebastian is making strides in tempering his ambition and employing his intellect more frequently, although I must occasionally remind him of its existence.
How are you faring? Are you with your family? I envision you taking a respite and embarking on a journey to a summer residence with your loved ones.
By the way, Sebastian's invitation remains open. Therefore, if you wish to join us at Feldcroft for the remainder of the holiday, even if only for a few days, you are most welcome. We would be overjoyed to have you.
If not, then we shall see each other again at Hogwarts.
Perhaps you will consider replying? I believe you are familiar with Sebastian's address, but if not, I shall inscribe it upon the envelope.
Warm regards,
Ominis Gaunt
#hogwarts legacy#fanfiction#ominis x oc#ominis gaunt#sebastian sallow#carol roswell#serpent's lullaby#ominis#ominis hogwarts legacy#sebastian hogwarts legacy
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"Cuphead: The Delicious Last Course (SugarBowl Edition)"
1 | 2 | 3 | ♧
chapter 3/? | word count 2k | oc&canon | dark themes
In that far off corner of Inkwell Isle, the cups travelled in search of the Wondertart ingredients. With determination in their hearts, they walked until they found themselves in the midst of the desert.
A brawl had brewed, Esther Winchester was defeated, and sure enough, Cuphead, Mugman, and Ms. Chalice got their hands on the Desert Limes. Once they did, they hauled the whole sack all the way back to town. It took them a bit of time, as they were somehow heavier than they were prepared for. Though, eventually, they did finally pass through the square and right into Saltbaker's bakery.
Steadily, Ms. Chalice and Cuphead dragged the sack of limes through the door of the establishment, with Mugman drifting in as a ghost behind them with his encouragement. Their efforts made the bell ring loudly and announced their presence to Chef Saltbaker, who was bringing water to a boil in the kitchen. He stopped as soon as he heard the bell, and he brought himself behind the counter to greet his visitors with an expectant look on his face and his arms crossed over his chest.
"Oh! Welcome back, my heroic little friends!" Saltbaker smiled down at the cups, and he leaned over the counter gesturing to the sack. "I see you've rescued the limes."
"That's right, mister!" Cuphead beamed as he held up one of the glistening green limes from the sack. "We got 'em right here! Sure was a doozy getting 'em too."
"Goodness I'll bet that it was," he nodded, tapping a finger against his temple. "Those dastardly deviants are nothing to scoff at, as you've seen. But I just know you cups are giving it your all for those Wondertart ingredients, so do keep it up! You can guarantee that we'll be working just as hard here too, perfecting the recipe. We all need to remain steadfast in our collective quest."
"Oh we'll have it all ready in no time, don't you worry!" Mugman's little ghost blurted out, which made Saltbaker laugh heartily.
"At the rate you're going," he continued with his hands on his hips. "I think I can confidently say I don't have to! Now then, if you would just set those limes in my bowl, that would be swell. We'll store what you've retrieved here while you're off getting the rest."
The cups looked expectantly around the chef's glass hands, but they couldn't see any bowl he was referring to. That was when they stared past him at the lanky bowl character, who had been this whole time kneading dough and pinching them into circles in the kitchen. He was hunched over and his eyes were focused on his movements, with an intensity in both. However, they halted once Saltbaker called out for him.
"Bowlcut," he hummed. "Come gather these limes for me, will you?"
Upon the chef's request, the bowl set the dough down and marched steadily around until he loomed over the cups with a stern look. Perhaps it was his tiredness, perhaps it was his overall distaste in most others, perhaps it was his defense mechanism... Whatever it was, it immediately held up a wall between himself and the kids. He had to hold it up, he figured. So, there he towered over them, unable to blow the dark clouds away from his face.
Cuphead swallowed back his nerves, bracing himself and the limes in front of the bigger ceramic while Mugman and Ms. Chalice hid behind him. Meanwhile, Saltbaker simply put a hand to his cheek and chuckled at Bowlcut's scowl.
"Oh, I wouldn't fret about him, cups!" Saltbaker said with a reassuring smile. "That's only Bowlcut, my-... partner. My business partner! And he has been for quite a while now."
Bowlcut glanced over at him with a look that almost seemed cocky to the cups. They were still a bit too bewildered by this bowl to see the salt shaker's face glow pink, but oh, did he certainly see it. Through his eyes, he gave Saltbaker's expression a smirk that quietly said to him "Your... 'partner'? Aww, baby". He dropped it back to a stern look as he focused on the kids again. Then he himself dropped to one knee with his hands clasped over it, and he leaned his head towards them.
Immediately, they could see how hollow and deep his head went. The shadows around the edge made it look like a black hole, empty and soulless. So unnaturally void.
"Well uh," Cuphead commented in a shaky little voice that seemed to echo against Bowlcut's porcelain. He swallowed back a thick lump that had formed in his throat. "Gee, you're uh... I don't remember seeing you before."
"He's been quite a busy bowl around the bakery today, so he hasn't had the chance to meet you chaps. He may look harsh but he's actually quite a sweetheart. So much so that everything I've ever stirred in him tastes like candy!"
Bowlcut shot a sudden flustered glance at Saltbaker with a low hiss from his nostrils, which admittedly did make the cups chuckle sheepishly. Saltbaker chuckled too with his merry little laugh.
"Aww, why are you making that face?" he hummed cheerfully, as if he was completely unaware of his affect on him. "You know, if we made the bagels in your head, they'd turn into doughnuts."
Bowlcut drummed his fingers impatiently against his leg while the cups continued to giggle at his flustered expression. Saltbaker simply winked at him with a sweet smile on his lips, as if to say "Not even you are denying it". They all focused back on the task at hand when he pointed sharply to the limes and then at his head. Cuphead and Ms. Chalice obliged steadily as they worked together to lift and set the heavy sack right into his head.
"Well, here ya go..." Cuphead gave him a smile, who only returned it with a sharp glance. In fact, he looked at all three of them with a deep edge in his eyes that made them take a little step back. Sure, they figured he was just moody, but still something about his empty head and his lack of mouth still put them off just a bit more than they would've liked to admit.
Bowlcut would've admitted, though, that that was just what he going for. It was for the best.
He stood himself up, his head wobbling just a little as though the limes in them were books balanced on top. Then he took long careful strides to back behind the display next to Saltbaker, whose fingers traced his edge and gently pulled his head towards himself.
"Oh yes," he hummed cheerfully down at the fruits. "These limes look so ripe, don't they? The juices will melt divinely into the Wondertart!"
"Golly," Mugman piped up. "The way you're saying that's making me hungry."
"Me too!" Cuphead chimed in. "Hungry to get the rest of those ingredients!"
"Well, come on then!" Ms. Chalice added. "What are we waiting for, boys? Which one are we grabbing next?"
As the cups chattered excitedly amongst themselves, Saltbaker and Bowlcut exchanged glances at each other. The chef smirked, and the apprentice couldn't tell if it was warm or cunning. Maybe it was both.
Regardless, Bowlcut softly returned the expression as if to say "I see through you, babyshakes. I see through you... I think."
"Alrighty then gang!" The two of them tuned back into hear Cuphead's announcement as he led the way out the door with a finger pointed to the air and a loud, "To the caves we go!"
With that, the other two followed quickly behind him, and they ran off in direction of the cave of the Moonshine Mob. Distillery Dough, they decided, was next on their list.
Back in the bakery, after temportarily closing up shop, Saltbaker pushed the display case out of the way so Bowlcut could make a descent. The chef held out his hands to keep him steady as he made his way down.
"Careful darling," he murmured concernedly to the bowl. "They might just be a little too heavy on your. I mean, your chip-"
Bowlcut looked up at him with a soft yet stern expression, as if to say "You worry too much, my dear; I got this."
Saltbaker only blinked softly in response, but he still held his hands out to keep him steady as he descended into the basement.
While the bowl made his way through the dimly lit dungeon and into the basement's kitchen, Saltbaker sat above ground contemplating. That yellow glow, of course, came back to his eyes as he did.
One ingredient down, four more to go. Sure, it was only one, but the speed at which they brought it gave him confidence in their ability. And technically it was two ingredients out of six, so they were a third of the way closer to the Wondertart rather than a fifth. He could just begin to smell it baking in the oven. They just had to get those damn four other ingredients.
They had to. They had to. They-
The sound of clinking porcelain pulled Saltbaker from his haze, and he looked back down at the trapdoor. Bowlcut's chip had caught onto the latch chain, but after a short movement of his head, he managed to quickly untangle himself.
The chef's eyes widened and his breath picked up. Of course, it was out of worry for his darling bowl and the fragile fracture on his head. He had worried constantly for his partner before but he certainly wasn't ready to lose the best dish in his cabinet now. After all, he was the one that was going to complete the Wondertart. He was going to add that flavor that the chef was dying to savor. It would be a crown upon his tongue once he ruled over the Astral Plane, and he would do it with him by his side.
His bassin du roi, meant only for him.
"Goodness, darling..." Saltbaker murmured softly, scooping up Bowlcut while he was right in the middle of taking a step out of the door. "Come here before you hurt yourself."
With this sudden sweeping off his feet, the poor bowl could only clutch onto his coat as his surprised porcelain face burned bright cherry red. Meanwhile, the chef's strong arms held him dipped in his arms like a big bottle of olive oil. Saltbaker's eyes stared into Bowlcut's with a sweetness like honey, though their glow still made him look mischievious.
Not that the bowl minded. Perhaps not in the slightest...
"There you are," he murmured, and he leaned his face closely up to his until their noses touched. "Oh, my bowl... You know you are too precious to me, my bowl. When that tart becomes ours, I'll mend you. I'll turn your head to rich ivory and jade, and you'll rule by my side. Over our domain."
Bowlcut felt his heart beating loudly in adoration for Saltbaker. At this point now, he just couldn't help it. A slight tremor shook through his hands as he reached up and caressed his face, gently clinking his forehead against his. It was as if he were telling him that, despite everything, he always had such a way with his words.
Though, his eyes also had that glint to them that said that he just wished the tart wasn't so featured in them lately. The baker couldn't see that, though; he was melting too much into his partner's touch, savoring it in full while it lasted.
This all came to a halt as Bowlcut noticed Saltbaker's rosy glass face fogging up. He paused in wonder at first, but upon realizing it was due to the steam filling up the room, he tapped on his chest and pointed frantically to the kitchen.
The chef's eyelids fluttered at first, his irises dreamy and golden, then they shot open in shock, revealing his eyes to be shiny and black once again.
"Oh, heavens!" He shouted, gently but quickly putting the bowl down before running back to the kitchen. "My water! I almost forgot about it!"
Bowlcut shook his head with a little smirk in his eyes. How badly he wanted to tease him for his use of the word "almost". As if he wasn't just as lost in his bowl as his bowl was in him. He trotted dutifully behind him, heading back to the dough rings to prepare them for a boil. It wouldn't be that long now, though there were still a few steps they had to take.
All would be worth it, though, for the temporary mouth.
And maybe... maybe for him, too.
-----
[NOTE: this fic received a chapter on Wattpad first. if you'd like to stay updated, you can check out the full story here]
#cuphead#dont deal with the devil#the delicious last course#cddwtd#oc#chef saltbaker#mugman#miss chalice#cuphead dlc#retelling#game mod#fanfiction#yellow x purple#salt in the sugar bowl#2k words#gay#yumedanshi#yume community#dark themes#food#yandere
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Moorcroft Pottery Martha Inkwell Emma BossonsJane Austen Collection#Moorcroft #Pottery #Art #Ceramics #Martha #EmmaBossons #StratforduponAvon #Warwickshire
https://www.bwthornton.co.uk/Moorcroft-Latest.php

Moorcroft Pottery Martha Inkwell Emma BossonsJane Austen Collection#Moorcroft #Pottery #Art #Ceramics #Martha #EmmaBossons #StratforduponAvon #Warwickshire
https://www.bwthornton.co.uk/Moorcroft-Latest.php
#moorcroft pottery#moorcroft#martha#b and w thornton#23 henley street#warwickshire#stratford on avon#stratford upon avon#england
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Table Accents for Book Decor: Elevate Your Reading Space
Creating a reading nook that reflects your personal style and invites relaxation is an art. Table accents play a crucial role in transforming a simple table into a captivating focal point. Whether you’re an avid reader or simply love to display your collection, incorporating well-chosen table accents can enhance the aesthetic of your book decor. Here’s how to use Table Accents for Book Decor to elevate your reading space.
Elegant Bookends
Bookends are more than functional items; they are an opportunity to add personality to your book display. Choose bookends that reflect your interests or complement your room’s decor. For a classic look, consider marble or metal bookends with intricate designs. If you prefer a modern touch, sleek acrylic or geometric shapes can add a contemporary flair. Unique, thematic bookends, such as those shaped like animals or vintage objects, can also make charming conversation pieces.

Stylish Table Lamps
A well-chosen table lamp can transform your reading nook from ordinary to extraordinary. Look for lamps that provide adequate lighting for reading while also enhancing the visual appeal of your table. Vintage-inspired lamps with brass or antique finishes can add a touch of elegance, while modern, minimalist designs can offer a clean, sophisticated look. Consider lamps with adjustable arms or dimmable features to create the perfect ambiance for any time of day.
Decorative Trays
Trays are not only practical for organizing small items but also serve as a stylish base for your table decor. Opt for trays made from materials like mirrored glass, lacquered wood, or metal to add a touch of glamour. Use the tray to group together your favorite books, candles, or small decorative objects. This approach creates a cohesive look and helps keep your table clutter-free.
Artistic Sculptures
Adding a sculpture to your table can introduce an artistic element that complements your book collection. Sculptures can range from abstract forms to figurative pieces that resonate with your personal tastes. Consider selecting sculptures made from materials such as bronze, ceramic, or glass to add texture and visual interest. Place the sculpture near your books or use it as a standalone piece to draw attention.
Fresh Flowers or Greenery
A vase of fresh flowers or a small plant can bring a touch of nature into your reading space. Flowers add color and fragrance, while plants contribute to a calming, earthy atmosphere. Choose a vase or plant pot that aligns with your room’s decor, and opt for flowers or plants that are low-maintenance if you’re concerned about upkeep. A small succulent or an orchid can add a touch of elegance without requiring much care.
Personalized Photo Frames
Incorporating framed photos or artwork on your Table Accents Inspired by Books can make your reading space feel more personalized. Choose frames that complement your book decor and arrange them in a way that enhances the overall aesthetic. Displaying images of places you’ve visited, loved ones, or favorite quotes can make your reading nook more inviting and unique.
Vintage or Antique Finds
Incorporating vintage or antique items can infuse your reading space with character and charm. Look for old-fashioned items such as brass magnifying glasses, old inkwells, or antique clocks. These pieces not only add visual interest but also serve as conversation starters, blending seamlessly with your book collection.
Unique Book Displays
Consider creative ways to display your books on the table. Stack books in varying heights to create visual interest, or use book stands to showcase particularly special volumes. You can also arrange books by color or genre to create a visually appealing display that complements your overall decor.
By thoughtfully selecting and arranging table accents, you can create a reading space that’s both functional and beautiful. Whether you opt for elegant bookends, stylish lamps, or unique sculptures, these accents will help you craft a reading nook that is as delightful to look at as it is to spend time in. Embrace your creativity and let your personal style shine through in your book decor.
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Handmade Calligraphy Tools: Unique Craftsmanship

Handmade Calligraphy Tools Secrets Revealed: Elevate Your Writing to Art!
Handmade Calligraphy Tools offer a unique level of craftsmanship that adds a special touch to your artistic projects. With a wide range of tools available, including customized nib holders, handcrafted inkwells, artisanal calligraphy brushes, and DIY calligraphy pens, you can find the perfect tools to enhance your calligraphy experience. Whether it's using natural material nibs, handmade paper for calligraphy, or bamboo pen crafting, these tools are designed to bring out your creativity and add a personal touch to your projects. Key Takeaways: - Handmade Calligraphy Tools offer unique craftsmanship to elevate your artistic projects. - Customized nib holders, handcrafted inkwells, and artisanal calligraphy brushes are essential tools for calligraphy enthusiasts. - Handmade paper for calligraphy and bamboo pen crafting add a personal touch to your projects. - Embrace the artistry of personalized pen stands, custom pen cases, and homemade calligraphy ink recipes to make your tools truly your own. - Explore the world of handmade inks and paints to add depth and richness to your calligraphy.
Exploring the World of Handmade Pen Holders
Handmade pen holders are an essential part of the calligraphy experience, providing comfort and functionality. Customized nib holders allow you to personalize your pen for a comfortable grip, while handcrafted inkwells provide an elegant and convenient way to store your ink. Bamboo pen crafting adds a natural and sustainable element to your calligraphy tools, and hand-carved ink sticks offer a traditional and authentic way to create your own ink. These handmade tools bring a sense of artistry and individuality to your calligraphy practice. When it comes to calligraphy, finding the perfect pen holder is crucial. Customized nib holders are designed to fit your hand perfectly, providing a comfortable grip for long writing sessions. You can choose from a variety of materials, such as wood or resin, and even have your name or initials engraved for a personalized touch. These nib holders not only enhance your writing experience but also add a touch of elegance to your workspace. Handcrafted inkwells are not only functional but also serve as beautiful decorative pieces for your calligraphy setup. These inkwells are carefully designed and crafted by skilled artisans, using high-quality materials such as glass, ceramic, or wood. They come in various styles and sizes, allowing you to find the perfect inkwell that suits your aesthetic preferences. In addition to nib holders and inkwells, bamboo pen crafting and hand-carved ink sticks offer unique options for calligraphers who appreciate traditional techniques. Bamboo pen crafting involves shaping and polishing bamboo into a pen, providing a lightweight and eco-friendly alternative to traditional pens. On the other hand, hand-carved ink sticks are made from natural materials, such as charcoal or animal glue, and are used to create ink by grinding them against an inkstone. These methods add a sense of authenticity and craftsmanship to your calligraphy practice. Comparing Customized Nib Holders Nib Holder Material Customization Price Wooden Nib Holder Wood Engraving available $20 Resin Nib Holder Resin Various colors available $15 Metal Nib Holder Metal Engraving available $30 "Customized nib holders allow me to have a pen that fits my hand perfectly. The personalized touch adds a sense of ownership and inspires creativity in my calligraphy practice." - Calligraphy enthusiast When exploring the world of handmade pen holders, you'll discover a wide range of options that cater to different preferences and styles. Whether you prefer customized nib holders, handcrafted inkwells, bamboo pen crafting, or hand-carved ink sticks, these unique tools are designed to enhance your calligraphy experience and bring a sense of artistry to your work. Embrace the craftsmanship and individuality of handmade calligraphy tools and unlock your creativity in the world of beautiful lettering. Embracing Artisanal Calligraphy Brushes

Artisanal calligraphy brushes are a crucial tool for any calligraphy enthusiast. These meticulously crafted brushes are made with natural hair, ensuring the highest quality and precision in every stroke. Whether you prefer brushes made from squirrel, goat, or even horse hair, each type offers a unique texture and feel that can enhance your calligraphy experience. Hand-shaped glass pens are another option worth exploring. These delicate and exquisite pens provide a different approach to traditional brushes, allowing for intricate details and precise lines in your calligraphy. With their transparent bodies, they also offer a visually captivating experience as you witness the ink flowing through the glass. Traditional brush making is an art form in itself, often passed down through generations. By using age-old techniques, skilled artisans create brushes that combine functionality and aesthetics. Each brush is carefully shaped, balanced, and assembled to provide optimal control and a comfortable grip. Embracing these artisanal brushes will not only elevate your calligraphy but also connect you to the rich history and craftsmanship behind this timeless art form. Brush Type Natural Hair Texture Unique Features Squirrel Hair Yes Soft and smooth Perfect for delicate strokes and shading Goat Hair Yes Springy and versatile Ideal for both thick and thin lines Horse Hair Yes Firm and resilient Suitable for bold and expressive strokes Glass Pens No N/A Allows for intricate details and transparent ink flow Whether you opt for natural hair brushes or hand-shaped glass pens, the choice ultimately depends on your personal preference and the effect you wish to achieve in your calligraphy. Experimenting with different tools and materials will enable you to discover your own unique style and unleash your creativity.
The Beauty of Handmade Paper for Calligraphy

When it comes to calligraphy, the choice of paper plays a crucial role in the overall look and feel of your artwork. Handmade paper, specifically designed for calligraphy, offers a unique blend of elegance and authenticity that can elevate your work to new heights. Hand-pulled paper sheets, made by skilled artisans, provide a distinct texture and thickness that enhances the flow of ink and creates beautiful letterforms. The subtle irregularities in the paper's surface give each stroke a unique character, adding depth and visual interest to your calligraphy. For those seeking a vintage and timeless feel, artisanal parchment offers an excellent choice. The aged appearance and warm hues of parchment evoke memories of ancient manuscripts, transporting your calligraphy back in time. The smooth surface of parchment allows the ink to glide effortlessly, resulting in clean and precise lines. Table: Comparing Different Types of Handmade Calligraphy Papers Handmade Paper Type Description Hand-pulled paper sheets Unique texture and thickness enhance the flow of ink and create beautiful letterforms. Artisanal parchment Offers a vintage and timeless feel, reminiscent of ancient manuscripts. Handmade calligraphy practice pads Perfect for honing your skills and experimenting with different scripts. Another option to consider is handmade calligraphy practice pads. These pads are specifically designed for practice and experimentation, allowing you to refine your skills and explore different scripts. The smooth and durable surface of the pads ensures that your pen glides effortlessly, making them ideal for both beginners and experienced calligraphers. Whether you choose hand-pulled paper sheets, artisanal parchment, or handmade calligraphy practice pads, incorporating handmade paper into your calligraphy practice adds a sense of tradition and craftsmanship to your work. Each stroke on the unique surface of handmade paper becomes a testament to the artistry and dedication that goes into the creation of this specialized material. So, embrace the beauty of handmade paper and let it inspire your calligraphy.
Personalizing Your Calligraphy Tools
Adding a personal touch to your calligraphy tools can make your artistic journey even more special. With a variety of options available, you can personalize your pen stands, rulers, pen cases, ink recipes, and pen wraps to reflect your unique style and personality. These customized tools not only enhance your calligraphy experience but also make your workspace more visually appealing. Let's explore some exciting ways to personalize your calligraphy tools. Personalized Pen Stands A personalized pen stand is a stylish and functional accessory that adds a touch of elegance to your workspace. It provides a convenient and organized way to display your pens, keeping them easily accessible. You can have your name or initials engraved on the pen stand, making it a one-of-a-kind piece that showcases your individuality. Personalized Calligraphy Rulers A calligraphy ruler is an essential tool for achieving precise measurements in your lettering. By personalizing your ruler with your name or a meaningful quote, you can add a personal touch to this practical tool. Every time you use the ruler, it will remind you of your passion for calligraphy and inspire you to create beautiful letterforms. Custom Pen Cases Protecting your calligraphy tools is important, and a custom pen case is the perfect solution. You can choose a design that speaks to your aesthetic preferences and have your name or a special phrase embroidered on the case. Not only will it keep your pens safe but also add a personal touch to your tool collection. Homemade Calligraphy Ink Recipes Creating your own ink is a wonderful way to personalize your calligraphy experience. By experimenting with different recipes and adding unique colors and blends, you can make ink that is truly your own. Whether you prefer classic black ink or vibrant and unconventional shades, homemade calligraphy ink allows you to unleash your creativity and create stunning artworks. Hand-Sewn Calligraphy Pen Wraps A hand-sewn calligraphy pen wrap is a practical and stylish accessory for storing and transporting your pens. You can choose fabrics that resonate with your personal style and have the wrap customized with your initials or a meaningful symbol. Not only will it keep your pens secure, but it will also add a touch of craftsmanship to your calligraphy practice. Personalizing your calligraphy tools is a wonderful way to make them truly your own. Whether it's a personalized pen stand, ruler, pen case, ink recipe, or pen wrap, these personalized touches add a unique flair to your workspace and reflect your individuality as an artist. So, unleash your creativity and let your personality shine through your calligraphy tools.
Handmade Ink and Paint for Calligraphy

Adding a touch of artistry to your calligraphy, handmade inks and paints bring depth and richness to your lettering. With a range of options available, from hand-mixed inks to natural pigment inks, you can create custom colors and experiment with different shades. Homemade calligraphy ink recipes allow you to unleash your creativity and develop unique color blends. And if you're looking for a comprehensive ink-making experience, artisanal ink-making kits provide all the tools and materials you need to craft high-quality inks. "Handmade inks and paints are a testament to the artistry and craftsmanship of calligraphy. The unique colors and textures they offer add a personal touch to your work, making each piece truly one-of-a-kind." - Calligraphy Master Whether you prefer to hand-mix your inks, use natural pigments, follow homemade recipes, or explore the world of artisanal ink-making, these handmade options allow you to enhance your calligraphy practice and create stunning artistic pieces. The vibrant hues, exquisite textures, and endless possibilities of handmade inks and paints will inspire you to push the boundaries of your creativity and achieve truly remarkable results in your calligraphy. Benefits of Handmade Inks and Paints for Calligraphy - Custom colors and shades - Unique textures and finishes - Artistic and personalized touch - Endless creative possibilities - Enhanced depth and richness Handmade Ink Options Features Hand-mixed inks Customizable colors and blends Natural pigment inks Vibrant colors derived from natural sources Homemade calligraphy ink recipes Opportunity to create unique colors Artisanal ink-making kits Comprehensive set for crafting high-quality inks
Exploring Traditional Calligraphy Tools

Traditional calligraphy tools have a timeless appeal that continues to captivate artists. The use of traditional quill pens evokes a sense of classic elegance, reminiscent of the days of Shakespeare and Renaissance script. These pens, made from bird feathers and carefully crafted, provide a sophisticated writing experience. Another traditional tool that adds a unique touch to calligraphy is hand-carved calligraphy stamps. These stamps allow you to create intricate and personalized designs in your calligraphy, adding a decorative element to your work. Each stamp is a work of art in itself, showcasing the craftsmanship and skill of the creators. In addition to quill pens and calligraphy stamps, hand-forged metal nibs are a popular choice among calligraphers seeking precision and durability. These nibs allow for fine details in lettering and provide a consistent flow of ink. Made using traditional metalworking techniques, they are a testament to the artistry involved in creating calligraphy tools. For those who prefer a more traditional approach, hand-cut quills offer a unique and authentic way to create beautiful and expressive calligraphy strokes. These quills are painstakingly cut and shaped by hand, ensuring the perfect balance and flexibility for your writing needs. To summarize, traditional calligraphy tools such as quill pens, calligraphy stamps, metal nibs, and hand-cut quills provide a connection to the rich history of the craft. Incorporating these tools into your calligraphy practice allows you to embrace the traditional art form and express your creativity in a timeless manner. Table: Comparing Traditional Calligraphy Tools Tool Features Advantages Traditional Quill Pens Handcrafted from bird feathers Elegant writing experience Hand-Carved Calligraphy Stamps Intricate designs Personalized decorative elements Hand-Forged Metal Nibs Precision and durability Consistent flow of ink Hand-Cut Quills Authentic and expressive strokes Perfect balance and flexibility
Showcasing Artistry in Penmaking
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QTsauc7iHyo When it comes to calligraphy, the tools you use can make a significant difference in the quality and beauty of your work. Handmade calligraphy tools, such as hand-turned wood nib holders, hand-shaped glass pens, hand-carved calligraphy stamps, and handmade calligraphy stencils, showcase the artistry and craftsmanship involved in penmaking. These unique tools not only add a touch of elegance to your calligraphy practice but also provide you with a personalized and artistic experience. Hand-turned wood nib holders are a popular choice among calligraphers who appreciate the warmth and natural beauty of wood. These nib holders are carefully crafted by skilled artisans, allowing for a comfortable and unique grip. The combination of the smooth wood surface and the weight of the holder enhances your control and precision while writing. Hand-shaped glass pens, on the other hand, offer a delicate and exquisite alternative to traditional nibs. These pens are crafted by skilled glass artisans, creating a beautiful and functional tool for calligraphy. The transparent glass allows you to see the ink flow, adding a visual element to your writing process. The smooth and tapered tip of the glass pen provides a fluid and effortless writing experience, allowing you to create graceful strokes and intricate details. Hand-carved calligraphy stamps offer a way to incorporate unique and personalized designs into your calligraphy. These stamps are meticulously carved by skilled artisans, resulting in intricate and beautiful patterns. By using these stamps in your work, you can add decorative elements and create visually stunning compositions. In addition to nib holders, glass pens, and stamps, handmade calligraphy stencils are another valuable tool for calligraphers. These stencils are carefully crafted to provide you with precise guidelines and letterforms, ensuring consistency and accuracy in your writing. Whether you are a beginner looking to improve your lettering or an experienced calligrapher seeking new styles, these stencils can be a valuable addition to your toolkit. Hand-Turned Wood Nib Holders Hand-Shaped Glass Pens Hand-Carved Calligraphy Stamps Handmade Calligraphy Stencils Enhances control and precision Offers a delicate and exquisite alternative Adds unique and personalized designs Provides precise guidelines and letterforms Constructed with warm and natural wood Create graceful strokes and intricate details Meticulously carved by skilled artisans Ensures consistency and accuracy in writing Unique and personalized grip Provides a fluid and effortless writing experience Offers visually stunning compositions A valuable tool for beginners and experienced calligraphers Incorporating these handmade calligraphy tools into your practice not only enhances the quality of your work but also allows you to showcase your artistic flair. Read the full article
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al things considered — when i post my masterpiece #1243

first posted in facebook november 25, 2023
john frederick peto -- "student's materials" (ca. 1890)
"peto's viewer has opened a doorway onto the dark corner of a private study. the initial impression is one of disorder. books are stacked haphazardly, teetering near the corner of a simple, well-used table. an extinguished candle juts out of a wax-encrusted candlestick, which in turn sits precariously on top of an uneven pile of books and a pamphlet, open face down. a tobacco pipe is perched on the edge of the candlestick base. a ceramic inkwell rests on the green tablecloth, its label worn away. a few rivulets of dried ink stain its side. in the jar leans a frayed quill pen, a compositional counterbalance to the candle. above it, a slim volume with a reddish-brown binding leans diagonally, its line echoed by the top and bottom edge of a book or journal at left that hangs rather curiously by a thread that, in turn, appears to be anchored to the table only by the weight of the stack of books above. this careless stacking of books, as if a scholar or student were lost in thought, suggests a disregard for material concerns and becomes an outward expression of intellectual reverie.
the presence of the scholar is implied by his well-thumbed books, and by the pipe and quill pen--personal objects that are extensions of the scholar's hand. both suggest traces of his existence: the smell of the pipe, the voice and hand of the author as transcribed in ink. though the painting is purely visual, it suggests broader sensory stimulation. at the same time, these sensations have cased. by extension, the scholar is absent. the pipe and candle are extinguished; the pen is still.
contradiction lies at the core of this painting. the disarray of a chaotic heap of books that threatens to collapse upon itself stands in contrast to the orderly, precise nature of peto's technique and, in fact, to the very conscientious effort he made to arrange and stack these materials just so. the unstudied, unplanned look of the still life is deliberate and intentional. peto produced numerous compositions featuring similar elements, and often, identical objects, many of which can be found in period photos of the artist's studio.
for all the apparent legibility of 'student's materials'--it is cleanly and clearly painted to convey a sense of visual fidelity--the painting in fact withholds a great deal. the illusion of physicality, of materiality, dissolves readily into paint upon inspection. these books are closed to the viewer, withholding whatever information or knowledge they contain. not a single legible word appears on the visible spines. even the ink label has been obliterated. suggestive and open to interpretation, the painting retains its inscrutability" … cody hartley
"what he said" … al janik
#john frederick peto#student's materials#cody hartley#what he said#disorder#contradiction#scholar#books#al things considered
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Emile Muller Inkwell art pottery tile French ceramic art nouveau antique mission ebay alybaly
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