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collabpartners · 5 months ago

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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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petermorwood · 1 year ago

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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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welcomingdisaster · 11 months ago

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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!

#lena speaks #my fic

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grandmaster-anne · 2 years ago

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The King’s cousin David Linley on his new career

The Times article by Lisa Grainger | Published 25 January 2023

The Earl of Snowdon talks to Lisa Grainger about his book on English crafts, and mentoring future creators at his furniture-making college at Highgrove

There aren’t many people who’ll admit that crafts can reduce them to tears. The Earl of Snowdon is one of them. At one event, he recalls, musicians including Jeff Beck, Mike Rutherford and the Clash were invited to meet and interact with “incredible luthiers, who make violins and guitars and cellos”. It was “just magical”, he says. “It really did bring a tear to the eye . . .”

Since David Linley, King Charles III’s cousin, became the first royal to follow a vocation — producing handmade furniture — and set up an eponymous business, he has been one of Britain’s most vocal champions of crafts. Which is why he wrote a book, Craft Britain: Why Making Matters, co-authored by Helen Chislett, to bring attention to extraordinary craftspeople around the country.

The glossy tome, with an erudite introduction by the design writer Stephen Bayley, is not only a directory of all the key crafts organisations from Cornwall to the Hebrides but a compendium of some of our nation’s most remarkable makers. It takes in embroiderers based in Hampton Court Palace and chair craftsmen from Orkney, leather sculptors and cobblers, marquetry specialists and even a whip-maker.

Sadly, Chislett says, some crafts were left out of the book because the skills have died out. For instance, England no longer has a cricket ball manufacturer even though the game was invented here, “and we probably won’t make bats for much longer”. Hand-stitched kilt-making is on the Heritage Crafts Association Red List of Endangered Crafts, as is neon sign-making; even bell-making is on its way out, with churchgoing declining.

On the other hand, there are crafts that are growing. Ceramic-makers, for instance, have sprung up in the southwest of the country. In Newcastle metalworkers whose families previously might have made ships are constructing metal furniture. Chislett adds that crafts fairs are becoming increasingly popular, particularly with the younger generation. “They’re a lot more into sustainability . . . and you are less likely to throw something away if you know who made it.”

There’s a growing appreciation of bespoke objects at the very high end of the market, Linley says. At his furniture company (from which he resigned in November) clients loved coming in to commission bespoke pieces with little quirks: a secret drawer with a martini shaker in it, or an inkwell filled with a specific colour of ink. “You can fantasise about what you like and get someone to bring it to life,” he says.

His own London home — “a little flat, which I am very lucky to have” — is filled with handcrafted items that have meaning: a pair of candlesticks that belonged to his theatre-designer uncle Oliver Messel; cushions embroidered by British seamstresses; tables turned by fellow carpenters; a pair of bespoke British shoes made “in precisely the colour and style and shape I like”. Each of them feels special, because “there is something rather lovely about a piece that’s come from the hand of a human”, he says. “It resonates with the human spirit.”

The next part of Linley’s professional journey, he says, will be nurturing others who want to work with their hands. At Street Farm at Highgrove, the Gloucestershire home of the King, an old barn has been converted into the Snowdon School of Furniture, where Linley is going to help to mentor the next generation of furniture-makers. “I am 61 now,” he says, “and it’s time to step back and allow the young people at Linley do things how they want. I have worked all my life creating a brand. And I can now do things for the Prince’s Foundation that are enjoyable and freeing.”

Having made furniture for almost 40 years, Linley says he’s relishing the fact that crafts are becoming more mainstream. “Today you’ll hear Tracey Emin talk about craft, and even sportsmen. This morning on Radio 4 a commentator was talking about a footballer as a craftsman and comparing him to Picasso. That might have been a comparison too far — but there is now far more recognition of the skills needed to do something well. And that can only be a good thing.”

#david armstrong jones #earl of snowdon #2nd earl of snowdon #article #the times

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dailyfoxfigure · 5 months ago

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The Fox and the Crane inkwell, Aesop's fable - Artel "Progress" - 1950's

"Artel 'Progress' was created after the war by government decision, along with many other artels for the purpose of employing disabled people. The company Progress (ceramic Artel Progress) existed in Leningrad from 1946 until the end of the 50's. Figures were made in small edition. Here, the author's sculptural compositions were created by the masters such as A.G.Traugot, V.G. Traugot, Y.P.Smirnov, V.I.Sokolov."

#fox figure of the day #red fox #1900s #artel progress #russia #fox friends #fable

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elm-writes-stories · 1 year ago

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Cuphead: Isle of Shadows(Rewrite)

*Hey guys! I'm back with another episode of the rewrite of Cuphead: Isle of Shadows. This is published on July 16, 2023. If you guys like this episode, don't forget to heart it, reblog, and comment! That would be greatly appreciated! Warning: There will be blood, cannibalism, and violence, including gun shot wounds. If you don't like any of those things, please don't read. Enjoy!*

Episode Three: When The Innocent Becomes The Prey

Violence was always the answer.

As a ten-year-old, Hunter understood that. His father made him understand that. His cuts, bruises, and scars marked deep into his skin and shaped into what a beautiful mix of a victim and a monster he had become.

His father ran the Mason Corporations, something Hunter knew he would inherit soon. The Mason Corporations was supposed to give the medications out to patients with mental illnesses both rare and common and to diagnose them with proper treatments. No law in the Inkwell Isle said how the patients should be diagnosed. What most patients called the torture chamber, Hunter and his father called a lab. Many times, his father conducted experiments on the patients by giving medications that either works well for them or doesn’t. However, most of the time, it doesn’t work out.

Hunter heard many screams and cries of pain and agony from desperate people begging with all of their souls to be cured of this torturous illnesses that crippled them, only for them to form new illnesses along with it. Since watching his father running endless experiments of the ill lab rats, Hunter decided to experiment on his own.

Every day after school, Hunter would trap squirrels in cages and put the cages into the red round tub. Then, he grabbed a water hose and placed it in the tub, turning the water on. From there, Hunter watched as the squirrels in cages would fight for breath. Try as they could, the water eventually caught up to the squirrels. Hunter watched their heads disappeared into the water and the bubbles surfacing until the bubbles no longer came up.

Hunter would do this every day until a teacher caught him doing those experiments. Of course, the teacher expressed her concerns to Hunter’s mother and father without knowing that they were the wrong people to tell about her concerns about Hunter. After the teacher told Hunter’s parents about him, the young tiger could hear his parents yelling at each other at night.

“Please, Robert! We can’t keep hiding this! Everyone will know that you run the cult—”

“Shut up, woman!” Robert, Hunter’s father, shouted. “I told you not to tell anyone. I swear if you run your mouth and tell everyone about what I do, I’ll kill you. You hear me? Kill you!”

“Robert, please, if Hunter doesn’t stop acting like this, everyone in this city will know—”

“Then we’ll put him in a mental hospital. The city will see that there’s something wrong with my son and it’ll paint us as good parents for trying to help him,” Robert said. “Think about it, Victoria. The city will see that I am a good father to him.”

A sigh came from Hunter’s mother. “Right. We should do that.”

Hunter had his round ears pinned back with his fangs shown when he snarled.

The next day, Hunter was sent to the mental hospital called Tremaine Institute. The doctors there were trying to manhandle him into the hospital as the young tiger kicked and screamed, glaring at his parents for the last time in a long time.

If Hunter remembered his first three years at Tremaine Institute, there were kids there. What happened to those kids? Hunter was never friends with them. But there was one kid he liked to pick on. A very gullible kid who goes by Tommy Lee Cup, a schizophrenic child who was withdrawn from his peers.

Tommy Lee Cup had a big orange nose with a broken-off handle. His ceramic head was cracked as if he had damaged himself before going into the mental institution. His hands fidgeted together, his arms to his sides at all times, and his eyes always looked around the room for anything. He couldn’t concentrate on Hunter coming up beside him.

“Hey,” Hunter greeted the young cup. “I want you to show you something in Room 327.”

Tommy flinched back and shook his head. “We’re not allowed to leave here. Hey, look, someone drew a blue dog.”

“Really?” Hunter asked and then glanced at the kid. “Oh come on, I’m sure no one will notice us.”

“B-But—”

Hunter took Tommy by the hand. “C’mon. I promise it’ll be quick.”

Hunter led Tommy away from the room, leading him down the hall to room 327, right where a chair and an electroconvulsive machine with two dials and headphones were at.

Tommy’s scream could be heard later on in the night, down the hall. The doctors hurried down the hallway and bursted through the door to find Hunter using the electroconvulsive machine on Tommy. Tommy’s scream faded by the time the doctors moved away from the machine and turned it off.

“Don’t you realize what you have done?!” one of the doctors yelled at Hunter while the other doctors picked up dead Tommy from the chair.

Hunter’s response was a shit-eating grin that let his fangs glistened in the light, putting the doctor yelling at him in fear.

In the next three years, Hunter was in a straitjacket and had his mouth muzzled and barely having food to feed until Hunter managed to convinced therapists that he didn’t like hurting people anymore and he said it with so much fear and emotion. Heck, he copied Tommy’s tendencies with the fidgeting of the hands and not concentrating on the therapist talking to him. The doctors fell for it and released Hunter back to the world. However, the doctors didn’t know until too late that it was one of the worst mistakes they could have ever make.

Hunter was back home with his parents, dead silent. Hunter’s mother, Victoria, had chills down her spine while Robert was more than happy that Hunter was home. But Hunter could tell it was fake. For the first time in a long while, he was angry at his parents. His glare never withering when looking at both his mom and his dad. What was this growing flame in his heart? Anger? Betrayal? Revenge? Maybe all three?

Yes…all three.

In the dead night after his father went to sleep and his mother getting ready for bed, thirteen-year-old Hunter walked around the kitchen and grabbed the biggest knife he could find. He hurried up to his father’s room as quietly as possible until he approached his father’s bedside. Then, without remorse, Hunter stabbed his father in the chest. Robert snapped his eyes open and was about to scream until Hunter covered his father’s mouth.

Hunter could’ve sworn he saw his father smirking underneath his paw. What a sick bastard. He kept stabbing his father in the chest until his father could stop screaming in pain. Robert still kept that sick twisted smile until he drew his last breath. Hunter became what Robert wanted. A monster just like him.

It was then Victoria came out of the shower with the robe on and saw Hunter standing over her husband’s dead body with a bloody knife. She screamed in horror and ran out of the bedroom, causing Hunter to chase after her. He slashed her leg, causing her to trip over down the hallway and limp her way towards the phone. She quickly dialed the number to the Inkwell Police Department. The phone rang for a short while.

“Inkwell Police Department, what’s your emergency?” the operator asked.

“You need to get to the Manson Mansion immediately! My son is—!”

Hunter stabbed her hip, causing Victoria to scream in pain.

“HUNTER, STOP IT!!”

Hunter didn’t stop as he kept stabbing his mother over and over again.

“MA’AM! MA’AM!!!” the operator shouted in panic.

Victoria screamed until she couldn’t anymore and laid on the floor. Hunter breathed heavily and started to let out little giggles of maniacal joy. He sunk his teeth into his mother’s flesh, tearing her apart piece by piece.

By the time the police showed up, they busted through the door and searched around the mansion until they finally found Hunter eating his mother’s dead corpse. When the flashlights shined on him, Hunter turned around to face the officers and gave the bloody grin.

~.~

Forty-One Years Later:

Inkwell city streets were burning in the dark night. Screams from surprised civilians put a smile on the old tiger’s face. Hunter, now as an adult, watched the civilians’ blood filling the sewer the waters and leaking into the cracks of the sidewalks. His followers didn’t hesitate to kill and deliver souls right to the Devil.

The Devil stood next to Hunter to watch all the chaos unfold in front of him with a wicked grin. “My, my, my, you didn’t lie when you said you would deliver more souls to you.”

“More souls to torture,” Hunter replied.

Behind Hunter and Devil, King Dice, Henchman, and Stickler were watching the destruction. While Henchman and King Dice was in horror of the sight in front of them, Stickler seemed unfazed by it and added more souls in his book.

“Hrmm, he did not hold back,” Stickler said while writing down the numbers.

Hunter glanced at Devil next to him with a smirk. “Since you’ve now seen what I’m capable of, why don’t I take care of those cups? I’m sure that will take the burden off of your shoulders.”

The Devil grinned wickedly. “Oh, that would be lovely.”

Hunter nodded his head. “Enjoy the view. I’ll be back with their heads.” The tiger walked away and motioned three assassins to come with him to hunt for those cups.

The Devil intake the smell of blood and corpses with a sigh.

King Dice slowly approached beside his boss. “Uh…Big D.”

“Hm?”

“Hate to be a downer, but don’t you think that this is a little…excessive?”

The Devil snapped out of his trance and whirled his head to look at his righthand man. “Excessive?!”

“D’uh, yeah, I was going to ask the same thing,” Henchman added.

The Devil widened his eyes in shock. “Are you kidding me?! Thisis what we live for!!! The chaos!!! The screams!!! The torture!!! That is not excessive!!”

“Hrmm, it’s a bit of a pain to add more souls to the slaughter,” Stickler said with his finger raised.

“Even you are against this?!” Devil barked. “You’ve counted souls for centuries and this is excessive to you?!”

“Ehhh, on the contrary, I am not against this. However, I do think that this is more extreme than what we have throughout the centuries. We should’ve saved all of this for the End Times,” Stickler noted.

“And do you know when that will be?” Devil questioned.

“Errm,” Stickler groaned while lowering his finger.

“Exactly,” Devil responded with a sass. He looked out towards the burning city with an evil smile. “Now, this is the beginning of a new era! Those who opposed me will fear me! I will be respected again! With the Night Stalkers in my grasp, I can rule the world! MUHAHAHAHAHA!!!” The Devil’s laugh echoed throughout the night.

~.~

The night was quiet while Elder Kettle’s house was filled with the sound of jazz music coming from Elder Kettle’s prized radio and the laughter from Cuphead, Mugman, and Chalice.

Elder Kettle was dusting the shelves and wasn’t paying attention much to his surroundings. Once he was done dusting the shelves, Elder Kettle turned to look at the cup kids playing with marbles on the living room floor with a small smile on his face. However, the old tea kettle started to notice that Mugman was starting to appear a lot more like an old friend that he knew from such a long time ago.

Murray.

The static interrupted his thoughts. Elder Kettle turned to see the jazz music was no longer playing on the radio. He sighed and headed over to turn the dial until—

“We interrupt this program to inform the listeners that there’s literal hell going on in Inkwell Isle,” the radio announcer spoke.

Elder Kettle widened his eyes in shock and turned the radio up slightly for him to listen in.

“The Night Stalkers are back and burning down the city! Single guardians, hide your children now! Better yet, leave the city and never return unless the situation dies down! Or else…oh no…they’ve found me. AAAAHH—!”

Elder Kettle heard slashing sounds and shut off the radio immediately with clenched teeth.

“Is…everything okay, Elder Kettle?” Mugman asked innocently.

“What’s the Night Stalkers?” Cuphead probed, feigning ignorance.

Elder Kettle bit his finger for a moment until he calmed himself down. “Okay, you listen to me and listen to me carefully. Pack your bags. We don’t have much time.”

“Wait, wait, where are we going?” Cuphead questioned.

“Pack. Your. Bags. Now,” Elder Kettle spoke more lowly.

Cuphead and Mugman were scared for a moment at their caretaker’s tone. But they headed up the stairs to pack their bags anyway. Chalice went with them to keep them company for a while. While they were doing that, Elder Kettle hurried to the kitchen and packed up the pots and pans needed for the trip until he came across two blue potions he’d kept hidden for fifteen years. He examined the potions and then looked behind him to hear the boys packing things up. With a sigh, he stuffed the potions in his pocket and hurried out of the kitchen.

Cuphead and Mugman carried their belongings in their bags with Chalice trailing behind them. Elder Kettle nodded his head in approval.

“Good. Good. C’mon,” Elder Kettle said while gesturing the kids to follow him. They headed towards the front door until they heard someone pounding the door. “Back. Back.”

The kids backed up with their caretaker. Elder Kettle hurried to the back door until he saw an unfamiliar silhouette hidden behind the curtain covering the top half of the back door window. Elder Kettle turned the kids and motioned them to go upstairs. The kids hurried up the stairs without question. They ended up going to Elder Kettle’s room and Elder Kettle locked the bedroom door.

“E-Elder Kettle, what’s going on?” Mugman uttered in fear.

They heard someone breaking down the front door from upstairs.

“Get behind me,” Elder Kettle softly commanded.

The kids obeyed and stayed behind the old tea kettle. They heard footsteps lurking throughout the house until they heard someone coming upstairs and down into the hallway. Elder Kettle firmly stared at his bedroom door, waiting for someone to break it down. Someone pounded on the bedroom door, causing the cup brothers to tremble in fear.

Chalice noticed the brothers’ fears, took a deep breath, and turned into a ghost behind Elder Kettle. She phased through the floor. Cuphead and Mugman noticed, but they didn’t say anything. They heard someone approaching Elder Kettle’s bedroom door.

“Boys, hide under the bed. I’ll take care of this,” Elder Kettle whispered to the cup brothers.

“No, I ain’t leavin’ you,” Cuphead argued with his fists clenched as if he was ready to fight whoever was on the other side of the door.

Mugman glanced around the bedroom to find a weapon for them to defend themselves. But it was too late as the door was broken down, revealing a hooded man carrying his rifle that was aimed at Elder Kettle. Cuphead put his arm out to protect Mugman with a glare at the hooded figure. However, the boys and Elder Kettle noticed the ghost of Chalice phasing herself inside of the hooded figure, taking over his body.

Cuphead and Mugman smiled ecstatically to see their friend using possession to possess their enemies while Elder Kettle stood there in pure shock and confusion.

Chalice, taking control of the assassin’s body, turned him around and aimed the rifle to the couple of assassins going down the hallway. Before saying or doing anything, Chalice used the hooded man to pull the trigger and shoot the two assassins approaching her and her friends.

The tiger approached up the stairs and hid behind the shelf with his Tommy gun. Chalice controlled the man to reload his rifle and aim the tiger coming out of his hiding spot. The bullets hit the man before Chalice could force him to pull the trigger. She phased out of him and through the floor once the assassin collapsed on the ground.

Chalice phased into the tiger, attempting to possess him but she underestimated how hard it would be to take control of him.

While Chalice was struggling to take control of the leader of the cult, Elder Kettle peeked down the hallway and looked at the boys’ bedroom on the other side of the hall. Upon realizing that the boys had a window in their bedroom, giving them a chance to escape from their invader.

“C’mon,” Elder Kettle commanded as he and the boys hurried across the hallway and entered into their bedroom. Elder Kettle closed the door and barricaded the door with the small shelf. The old tea kettle turned and hurried to open the window behind them.

The boys looked behind them to see Chalice phasing through the barricaded door.

“We better go now!” Chalice warned. “This guy’s not easy to possess!”

They heard someone kicking the door.

Mugman and Cuphead hurried to the window with Cuphead climbing out of the window first with Chalice flying out of the window. Mugman rushed behind him until he heard the door knocked down. Before he could make a leap out of the window, he was grabbed by the wrist.

Mugman turned back and looked in horror to find the old tiger gripping his wrist with a growl. However, Mugman bit down the tiger’s arm in self-defense, causing the mysterious tiger to howl in pain. Mugman rushed out of the window and hurried behind his family and friend. Elder Kettle grabbed the goat from the front yard and hurried through the woods.

Out of anger, Hunter, the tiger, peeked out of the window and fired bullets at them, but they disappeared into the dark woods. Hunter looked at the bite mark on his arm and instead of being angry about it, he gave a smirk.

“What a little animal,” Hunter growled and looked out into the woods. He heard the phone ringing suddenly. Hunter strode through the house and went downstairs where he saw the phone ringing near the doorway to the kitchen. The tiger picked up the phone to see who was calling.

“Kettle, you have thirty minutes to get your rusty heinie down here and pay your tab!” Porkrind’s voice came from the phone.

Hunter smirked to hear the familiar pig’s voice. Not that he knew the pig before, but Hunter could tell what the pig was known for…his shop.

Hunter knew where to go next.

~.~

“Kettle? Kettle?!”

The phone hung up on Porkrind in his shop.

Porkrind grumbled and placed the phone back on its stand. “Great. First, you didn’t answer and now you hung up on me for no reason.”

Cassidy entered the room with a raised brow. “Wait, why does Elder Kettle need to pay the tab? I don’t think he bought anything.”

“He’s got packages delivered by Jerry and Jerry had been complaining to me that he hadn’t gotten a cent out of Kettle every time he makes a delivery,” Porkrind said with a groan. “Don’t let people take advantage of you, sweetheart. It ain’t worth your time if all people do is take advantage of you.”

Cassidy nodded her head in understanding with a frown.

Porkrind noticed her frown and lost his irritated scowl on his face. He sighed and kneeled to meet her eye-level. “Are you still upset about Jerry?”

“No.”

Porkrind arched a brow.

She lowered her head with her ears pinned back. “I kinda missed doing deliveries with him.”

“Well, he shouldn’t have pulled you into his little secret operation. Even if it’s because you want to help, you need to understand that the Devil is bigger than any bully you will ever face. He ain’t going to be happy if he finds out that he and his imps were beaten by a small cat girl.”

Cassidy perked her ears up to look at her one-eyed father.

“Honey, I’ve seen you building weapons, but I didn’t think to ask what they were for,” he said while looking at a bunch of weapons of various of cat toys and arrows on the workbench.

She chuckled nervously.

“I gotta say though, the weapons you made are pretty nifty,” Porkrind complimented.

“Well, I did have the best teacher,” Cassidy remarked while referring to her father by looking at him with a soft smile.

They suddenly heard a knock from the door.

“Porkrind! Porkrind! Open up!” Elder Kettle urged in panic.

“The shop’s open you know!” Porkrind said, standing up to his feet and facing the door with his arms crossed.

Elder Kettle opened the door and let the kids inside first.

“Whoa, whoa, this ain’t a family hang-out!” Porkrind shouted.

Cassidy brightly smiled to see Cuphead, Mugman, and Chalice. “Guys!”

“Hiya, Cassidy!” Chalice greeted back.

“Hi!” Cuphead said with a wave.

“Uh…h-hi! Uh, how are you doing?” Mugman asked with a blush on his face.

Cassidy also blushed and giggled awkwardly. “Well, I’m doin’ alright. I enjoyed my lunch with Natalie…although I ended up vomiting from the sweets and…yeah…”

There was an awkward pause.

“That is way too much information,” Cassidy added.

“Oh, that’s okay,” Mugman replied. “Now I know where we won’t be taking you if we do go out together.”

“Or if it’s just Mugman who takes you out,” Chalice replied with a mischievous smirk on her face.

The mug’s ceramic face went red instantly. “Chalice…”

Chalice giggled at her friend’s reaction.

Elder Kettle locked the shop door.

“Hey!” Porkrind shouted at Elder Kettle while approaching the old tea kettle. “Why are you locking up the shop?! That’s supposed to be my job—”

“Porkrind, listen to me!” Elder Kettle urged and grabbed the pig’s shoulder. “There’s a madman comin’ after me and the kids! We ain’t safe out in the woods!”

Porkrind arched a brow. “Wait…I called you about paying your tab—”

Elder Kettle gave the pig money, who accepted it immediately.

“Oh, thanks…anyways, I called you about your tab and you didn’t answer. I mean, you did answer the phone, but you didn’t even talk…wait…did you answer the phone?”

“Uh…no. It must have been ringing after the kids and I got out of the house,” Elder Kettle replied. “That’s why I’m saying that there’s a madman coming after me and my kids! The Night Stalkers are out in the city now killin’ people!”

“Wait, what?” Porkrind questioned with a brow raised.

“The Night Stalkers! They’re at it again!” Elder Kettle said in a panicked tone.

The one-eyed pig widened his eye in shock.

Cassidy glanced up at her father. “At it again?”

Porkrind looked at his daughter. “Cassi, pack your gadgets. You may need them.”

Cassidy hurried to the back room and gathered her gadgets. She grabbed her quiver full of arrows and her bow. Before she headed back to the group, Cassidy’s ears flicked to hear someone walking around the shop. She froze in fear while her ears followed the sound towards the back door next to the table where she got her gadgets and weapon. She watched intensely at the knob turning. Once the door swung open, she jumped back with a gasp until she realized that someone coming through the door was Jerry entering from the back of the shop.

Cassidy gasped happily. “Jerry!”

Jerry smiled under the scarf covering his mouth. “Hey Cassi—”

The sudden gunshot sounded and the bullet crashed through Jerry’s shoulder, causing him to stumble into the shop. That grabbed Porkrind’s attention as he rushed to the back room and shut the back door. He locked it and helped Jerry up on his feet.

“Hey! Hey, Jerry! Are you okay?!” Porkrind shouted in a panicked tone.

“I…I think the bullet went through my shoulder,” Jerry said while losing some blood.

Porkrind glanced at Cassidy. “Grab the medkit.”

Cassidy hurried to grab the medkit out of the shelf as Porkrind carried Jerry to the front of the shop much to the horror of Elder Kettle and the cup trio.

“Looks like your maniac shot my friend,” Porkrind said while setting Jerry down on the counter, clearing anything on it.

Cassidy hurried and handed the medkit to her father.

Porkrind took Jerry’s green trench coat off and the red shirt underneath it to look at the wound better. Jerry was correct when he said that the bullet went through his shoulder.

Porkrind opened the medkit and cleaned the wound, causing the creature under him to wince and hiss in pain. “Stay still. The sooner we get you patched up, the better.”

They heard footsteps coming around the front door.

Elder Kettle glanced at the pig. “Don’t mean to rush you here, but hurry up.”

“I’m trying. I’m trying,” Porkrind groaned while cleaning up the wound. Then he stitched up his skin to close up the wound with the needle and thread.

Jerry only flinched for a moment at the stitching.

They heard someone pounding against the front door of the shop.

“Hurry!” Cuphead urged Porkrind.

“Give me a sec!” Porkrind barked at the cup before cutting the thread with the scissors from inside of the Med-kit. Finally, he wrapped Jerry’s arm with the roll of bandages. He was finally finished as he set the medical supplies back into the med-kit. The door was finally broken down, causing the group to turn around to find the familiar tiger raising his gun to the group. Before he could pull the trigger, Chalice acted quickly by turning into a ghost and attempting to possess the tiger once again. Hunter tried to fight against Chalice’s attempt at possession, but under her control, he was pulled back out of the shop.

Jerry tapped on Porkrind, gaining the pig’s attention. “C-Car…parked at…the front.”

Porkrind turned to see where Jerry was pointing at. In the woods and a couple of feet in front of the shop, the car was parked there. Porkrind narrowed his brows in determination and looked at Elder Kettle and the kids.

“C’mon! While that…uh…ghost child is distracting that maniac!” Porkrind urged the group while picking Jerry up from the desk.

Cassidy followed her father while Mugman trailed behind her. Cuphead hurried after his brother and Elder Kettle picked up the goat and ran after his kids. They all followed Porkrind out of the shop and towards the car ahead of them.

Porkrind placed Jerry on the passenger seat while Cassidy hopped over to the backseat. Mugman ended up sitting next to her with Cuphead beside him. Elder Kettle was next to Cassidy, holding the goat in his arms. Porkrind got into the driving seat to look for the keys.

Jerry handed him the keys from his pocket.

Porkrind took without hesitation and drove away as fast as he could away from the tiger.

Soon, Chalice phased out of Hunter and flew towards the car to catch up to the group. She changed back to her physical form, freaking the group out.

“So…where are we heading?” Chalice asked Porkrind.

“Somewhere far from the Night Stalkers,” Porkrind answered vaguely.

“I know where that is,” Cassidy said. “Take a left ahead.”

Porkrind nodded his head and took a left as instructed.

Meanwhile, Hunter recovered from fighting for control over his body with Chalice and looked to see the vehicle took off. He huffed in annoyance.

“Now, this is unfortunate,” Hunter said. He then looked at his arm that had the bite marks from Mugman. An idea slowly formed in his head. “What a little animal.”

Hunter shifted his gaze ahead of him and headed back into the city to report to the Devil of his new idea.

~.~

It had been quiet since they left Porkrind’s shop.

Jerry’s half-lidded eyes stared ahead, covering his bandaged arm. He tried to stay awake, but Jerry didn’t realize that losing so much blood already was going to keep him down for a while.

Cassidy and Mugman were squished between Cuphead and Elder Kettle. Mugman tensed up when her body was pressed against his, a blush growing across his porcelain face. He was both embarrassed at this predicament and being this close to Cassidy made his heart race and his palms sweaty.

Cuphead noticed his brother’s body tensing up, smirking at him uncontrollably. Elder Kettle saw Mugman’s reaction as well and couldn’t stop smiling at the thought that one of his boys might have a potential crush on someone next to him.

Chalice had been observing her group from behind them, smirking at Mugman. Oh, she knew what she’ll tease Mugman with if they ever found a hiding spot.

Porkrind looked over his shoulder from the driver seat to check on his passengers. “Everyone doing okay back there?”

“Never better,” Chalice responded positively.

The rest of the group nodded their heads, even the goat in Elder Kettle’s arm nodded his head.

Porkrind looked over at Jerry. “How about you? You doing okay?”

“Yeah…I didn’t think the Night Stalkers are comin’ out tonight after fifteen years ago,” Jerry said while sitting up more.

“What happened fifteen years ago?” Cuphead asked with a brow raised.

“Eh, don’t worry about it. We’ll talk more about it once we find a hiding spot,” Elder Kettle said. “Which…I don’t know where we’re going.”

The car arrived at the lone one-story mansion, hidden deep into the woods and far from the city.

“Wait, Cassi, is this your friend’s mansion?” Porkrind asked his daughter.

Cassidy nodded her head. “Yeah.”

“What is this place?” Elder Kettle asked both Cassidy and Porkrind.

“Ruth Mansion,” Porkrind responded. “I’m not sure if that’s the best hiding place for us.”

“But it’s far from the Night Stalkers,” Jerry said.

“Yeah, I guess,” Porkrind said while parking the car in front of the mansion. “There’s a shoreline nearby. I’m going to dump the evidence there.”

“Wait, what evidence?” Jerry asked.

Porkrind arched a brow. “Evidence that we’re here…which you’re sitting in right now.”

Jerry looked down to realize Porkrind was talking about the car. “You know, the Night Stalkers are going to bust through this house whether the car was there or not.”

“Then we need to get good at hiding,” Porkrind determined while gesturing everyone to get out of the car.

Elder Kettle led the kids out of the car and looked over at Jerry. “Can you walk?”

Jerry stumbled out the car and walked around the front of the car. “Yeah, I can. Thanks, anyway.”

Porkrind drove off to dump the car into the ocean, leaving the group in front of the Ruth Mansion.

Cassidy led the group towards the front door of the mansion and knocked. They heard someone stumbling from the other side of the door. The door swung open and, in quick reaction, Mugman pulled Cassidy back from the sudden sharp sword swiping at her.

“Whoa! Whoa! We ain’t the Night Stalkers!” Cuphead shouted and then widened his eyes to realize Natalie was the one answering the door with the sword in her two hands.

Natalie gasped to finally recognize her feline friend with a bright smile. “Cassi!” She dropped the sword and zoomed over to hug Cassidy. Cassidy gasped in surprise that Natalie was hugging her.

“I heard about the Night Stalkers on the radio. I didn’t know if they got to you or not,” Natalie said. She broke away from Cassidy with a bright grin. “Come in! Come in!” Natalie rushed and picked the sword, dragging the sharp edge on the floor. The group seemed surprise that they didn’t have to ask to take cover in Natalie’s house, but they entered into it anyway.

Jerry shut the door behind him, but didn’t lock it yet. He picked up the sword Natalie dropped and placed it on the counter against the wall in the living room.

“Welcome to the Ruth Mansion. Mom’s overworking again over at Isle 4. So, I’m in charge,” Natalie said excitedly. “Oh yeah! There’s food in the kitchen! Beds to sleep on! Rooms to play in until this whole Night Stalkers thing will pass.”

“Wait…are you here by yourself?” Elder Kettle asked with a brow raised.

“Oh no, just me and my sister,” Natalie said before hearing tiny footsteps waddling out to the living room where the group was.

They looked and saw a toddler cup with dark brown liquid hair in between her small innocent eyes. She was wearing a blue gown and had a pink string shaped like a heart above her head, holding a teddy bear in her arms.

“Awe dhe bad people gone, sissy?” the toddler cup girl asked shyly.

Natalie smiled warmly. “No, there are no bad people here, Aurora. Look who showed up!” She referred to Cassidy, who gave a friendly wave to Aurora.

Aurora gasped and ran towards Cassidy. “Cassi!”

Cassidy enveloped Aurora into a hug with a giggle and a purr. “Hey, Rori, how are you doing?”

“Good! Good!” Aurora replied with a smile. “I didn’d dhink you would come ovew. Mommy says dhad you’we a buwden.”

Cassidy lost her smile and went. “Oh…”

“Bud I don’d dhink you’we a buwden,” Aurora said with a smile.

Cassidy’s smile returned to her face. “I’m glad you don’t.”

Mugman watched this interaction with a soft grin on his face.

Aurora noticed Cuphead and brightly smiled. ��Cuppy!”

“Huh?” Cuphead uttered in confusion.

“Sissy dalks aboud you all dhe dime,” Aurora blurted out with a giggle.

Natalie blushed and shook her head. “No, I don’t.”

Cuphead smirked at Natalie. “Oh, you talked about me all the time?”

Natalie rolled her eyes. “If I were to be talking about you all the time, it would be how annoying and disgusting you are.”

“She says you’we cute when you get mad,” Aurora said.

Natalie blushed and walked over to pick her sister up. “Okay. It’s time for bed.” Natalie hurried back to Aurora’s bedroom to put her sister to sleep.

Cuphead blushed after Aurora’s statement and looked at Chalice. “Uh…is that a compliment or an insult?”

Chalice smirked at Natalie. Now, she knew who to tease along with Mugman.

Porkrind came in through the front door and stretched his arms. “I think we should all get some shut-eye.”

The group nodded their heads in agreement.

Natalie came back after putting Aurora to bed and wishing her goodnight. “Uh, I can show you guys the rooms you can sleep in.”

“That would be wonderful,” Elder Kettle answered.

~.~

Elder Kettle had a room by himself while Porkrind and Jerry shared a room together…mostly so that Jerry could sleep on the bed and Porkrind could keep watch to make sure no Night Stalkers come into the Ruth Mansion.

Meanwhile, Natalie showed Cassidy, Mugman, Cuphead, and Chalice to the bedroom with two bunk beds. One on the right side of the room and the other on the left side.

Natalie put her fists on her hips with a smile in pride. “This is where I usually have sleepovers.”

“If you have any friends,” Cuphead muttered to himself.

However, Natalie heard that and rolled her eyes. “At least that’s more than you.”

“Okay, okay,” Chalice said. “If we’re going to hide from the Night Stalkers, we all need to get along. That includes you both.”

Natalie and Cuphead glared at each other while Cuphead stuck his tongue out to her. Natalie stuck her tongue out in response.

Chalice sighed. “Okay. How about you both shake hands and call it a truce between you two for tonight?”

Cuphead groaned and looked at Natalie. He extended his hand out to shake Natalie’s hand.

Natalie squinted Cuphead’s hand. “Did you wash your hands?”

“Are you serious?” Cuphead growled.

“What?! You could be touching something gross and I’ll end up sick because of you. I can’t have that,” Natalie said with her arms crossed.

“Just shake his hand, Natalie,” Chalice said with a groan.

Natalie rolled her eyes and looked at Cuphead. “If I end up sick, I blame you.” She shook his hand.

Chalice smiled grandly. “Great! Now let’s get some sleep.” She transformed into a ghost and flew up to the top bunk on the left side of the room.

Natalie blinked in surprise at Chalice’s sudden transformation.

“You get used to it,” Cuphead stated while going over to the bottom bunk bed below Chalice and laid there.

Natalie turned to Mugman and Cassidy. “Have a good night you two.” She climbed up to the top bunk bed on the right side of the room. That only left one bottom bunk bed. It was big enough to fit both Cassidy and Mugman, but they weren’t sure if they should sleep on the same bunk together.

Mugman glanced over at Cassidy. “I’ll take the floor.”

Cassidy perked her head up and shook her head. “No, you can go ahead and take the bed. I’ll take the floor.”

“No, I insist. I’ll sleep on the floor.”

“No, no, I insist that you sleep on the bed.”

“Just share the bed,” Natalie said with a groan in annoyance.

Cassidy and Mugman looked at each other, blushing.

“U-Uh, it’s only for one night…right?” Mugman replied mostly to himself.

An idea struck the red feline’s head. She crawled onto the bed and used the pillows to separate both him and her. “There. That way we won’t roll on top of each other by accident.”

Mugman got onto the bed and laid there next to the pillow wall Cassidy created between them.

“Well, goodnight, Mugman. I’ll see you in the morning,” Cassidy said while turning over to face the wall, hiding her blush.

Mugman turned over with his back to her, blushing as well. “Uh…goodnight.”

After a tense moment, they both fell asleep on the bottom bunk.

To Be Continued...

#cuphead #cuphead: isle of shadows rewrite #elder kettle #henchman #king dice #mugman #stickler #the devil cuphead #oc villian #ocs x canons #cuphead porkrind

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frozenwolftemplar · 1 year ago

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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.

#writersmonth #writersmonth2023 #in which i write #my writing #original writing

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liarian · 2 years ago

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That's how it sounds (Part 2)

Part 1

For @chaotic-multidimension

Here's the second part! And at least it will have a third one :D:D:D Hope you like it!

Taka grabbed the light brown parka and the scarf from the hanger next to his desk and sheathed himself in them. It was only the first days of November, but Katsuya sometimes had the impression that his soulmate had been born with a broken thermostat. It didn't matter if it was the middle of summer, Taka's hands were always freezing.

"Are you going to need help with Hoshida-san from the antique shop?" Taka asked before crossing the threshold. "Teru had the day off today if you need him."

"I haven't seen him in days and Hoshida-san always appreciates the company."

"I thought he would have retired by now. At this rate, that man will manage to bury us all. Do you know what he bought this time?"

Katsuya couldn't help but smile as he watched Taka rummage through his pockets while checking to make sure he didn't leave anything behind. If Taka was never going to let anything happen to him, it was that any mishap could catch him off guard.

"Some furniture from the Taisho Era, a low table, a set of inkwells, a chest of drawers, and some ceramic figurines. He wants us to take a look at them, make sure there's nothing unusual with them before he starts restoring them."

"I guess once was enough. The last thing he needs is another curse because of an evil spirit's grudge. If you need me, call."

"The salt thing we've long since assumed didn't work, I think." Katsuya smiled, hugging his boyfriend. "I think Teru and I are enough for that. Now scram or you'll be late for your ten o'clock appointment."

"Ha-ha. Very funny." Taka replied sarcastically. "One of these days you'll miss having me around. I think I've always managed quite well."

Katsuya frowned remembering the dozen times things could have ended horribly wrong for Taka had it not been for Katsuya's intervention or one of the kids. Katsuya knew he had no right to ask him to quit, but it wasn't the first time he wished Taka had chosen any other business.

And then he never would have found him.

It wasn't like Katsuya needed Taka to change but sometimes he would have preferred Taka to held himself in a little more esteem. No matter how much time passed, too many times Taka was still last on his list of priorities.

"You tell me if they're going to want to come over for dinner later. We could go to the ramen shop. It's been ages since we've been there."

"Shigeo should finish up at school soon. Let's see what Teru says." Katsuya dismissed him with a kiss on the lips. "Get out of here now, go on."

"That's how you show you love me!" Taka raised his arms, feigning indignation. "I'm leaving now!"

Katsuya stared at the door for a moment and shook his head, returning to his desk. There was still a while until the time he had arranged to meet Hoshida-san.

Taka was still worrying too much. It had been years since Katsuya had encountered a spirit strong enough to be a problem when they could always count on Shigeo if anything happened.

-------

Hoshida-san's antique shop was located in a small alley near the station. The store looked old, with an oak door and gold lettering on the glass. The storefront was so full of trinkets that it was impossible to pay attention to anything.

Katsuya didn't bother to knock before opening the door. The small bell jingled over the old song playing from the radio above the small counter. The inside of the shop wasn't much better, with antique furniture crowded against the walls and shelves and more shelves filled with what to most people couldn't be more than junk.

Katsuya loved Hoshida-san's store, cramped and dark. The smell of varnish, old paper and dust was the only thing that could be noticed upon entering. Among the hundred or so treasures, Hoshida-san had some little gems like tin robots from the fifties, Mazinger Z stickers and Gunplas from the '79 anime. Over time, Katsuya had learned to enjoy the outdoors and open spaces, but after so many years of being a hikikomori, places like that still gave him a sense of calm that he found in few other places.

"Reigen didn't come with you?" Hoshida-san asked as soon as he appeared behind the beaded curtain leading to the back room. "It's always nice to see you two together."

The man, almost eighty years old, walked with a stooped gait. His skin wrinkled like parchment barely showed his small black eyes, hidden under thick white eyebrows.

"Hoshida-san!" Katsuya looked longingly at one of the Gunplas before setting it back down on the shelf before turning around with a small bow. "There's new stuff, I'm not imagining it am I? It's been years since I've seen one of these."

Katsuya patted the cardboard box of one of the first runs of Gunplas that had been released. The figure wasn't particularly large or impressive compared to some of the ones back home but it was still a collector's item. Katsuya looked at it again one last time before erasing it from his mind. If he came home with a new model, no matter how special it was, the one that was going to end up going out the window was him.

The street door opened again, the bell interrupting the conversation. Teru appeared, pausing on the threshold still catching his breath.

"Am I late?" he asked pulling himself upright after giving himself a minute to take a deep breath. Katsuya smiled as he realized he was wearing the Hagemon t-shirt they had given him for his last birthday. "The subway stopped for like twenty minutes and I was starting to think I was never going to make it."

Teru stilled suddenly, his gaze riveted on the far corner of the small store.

"You noticed it too," Katsuya said as soon as he saw Teru's reaction.

The presence was faint, but enough to raise the hair on the back of his neck. The energy felt so sad against his skin. For a moment, Katsuya couldn't help but think of Taka. When Katsuya was still a kid, the song in his head hadn't felt so different.

#mp100 #serirei #severed bonds AU #fanfic #my own writing #serizawa katsuya #arataka reigen #hanazawa teruki #soulmates #slice of life

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skampi835 · 2 years ago

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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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bwthornton · 3 months ago

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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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bookdecorfactory1 · 4 months ago

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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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whatiscalligraphy · 8 months ago

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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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