#i don’t think i’ve before seen a macbeth couple who have moments where they’re quite so soft and gentle with each other as these two

[elsinore-and-inverness]

A fascinating thing is the parallel Cush and David built between the “so much more the man” line and the “bring forth men children only” line

Lady Macbeth hugs Macbeth on the former and Macbeth hugs Lady Macbeth on the latter and in both cases the hugged party doesn’t really move and goes on a face journey of: this is okay/this is not okay/I will accept whatever means I will be loved

And then there’s a full stop in the middle of the verse line where the other person realizes and completely changes tack and I’m screaming crying throwing up about it

[illfoandillfie]

you know that scene in lady macbeth where they’re fucking and the bed is shaking a lot and she has to grab onto the bed for support because he’s fucking her so hard? can you do that with roger bc I’m dying for it. 🥺🥺

Okay ngl, I’ve never seen lady macbeth and I didn’t even know it existed until this ask (although since you sent this I’ve seen about 5 gifsets of it so maybe I just wasn’t paying attention before) but oof bed shaking sex I can absolutely get behind lmao hope you like it!

~~~

You and Roger had fucked in countless places – the bathroom of your favourite pub, against the hood of his car on the side of the road, the backseat of his car in the parking lot on your second date, in the studio, Freddie’s guest room, Deaky’s kitchen, Brian’s bed. But nowhere quite matched the adorable cottage you’d rented in the south of France for your honeymoon. It was a peaceful area, only a short drive from the nearest town, so you could still indulge in a romantic dinner for two at a nice restaurant or a cheesy tourist walk, without sacrificing the privacy and seclusion you’d been looking for when you organised the trip. The cottage itself was picturesque, large open fields stretching out behind you, a garden of lavender in the front yard that sent their sweet perfume wafting through every inch of the house, the definition of romantic getaway. Roger had carried you over the threshold bridal style when you first arrived, dropping you on the couch in front of the fireplace with a laugh. “So, Mrs Taylor, what do we think?” he knelt down in front of you, eyes twinkling as he used your new name. “It’s gorgeous, Rog,” you placed your hand on his cheek, leaning in to kiss him softly, “Perfect.” “I’m glad you like it. Would have been terrible if you didn’t since we’ll be spending so much time here. I intend to have you in every room, on every possible surface and in every possible way,” he winked at you, sending a shiver down your spine and whimper to your lips, “So, why don’t we start with this couch.”

He’d made good on his promise too, sending kitchen utensils and knickknacks flying as he hoisted you up onto benches, pressing you against walls, pinning you to floors. In the shower and the bath, on the big writing desk in the study, on a picnic rug outside amongst the lavender and on the window seat overlooking the countryside. But nowhere did he enjoy fucking you more than the bed. Heavy wooden frame with a large bedhead that leaned against the wall, it looked old and a little worse for wear, but the mattress was new and the bedding was soft. On your first night he’d lay on his side next to you, kissing you softly as his fingers worked to pull gasps and moans from you. It was sweet and soft, your orgasm rolling through you like a wave. And then he was in you, and you could have sworn you’d never felt so full even though he’d had you bent over the kitchen sink not 2 hours earlier. He rolled his hips and you heard a bang loud enough to pull you from the moment. “What was that?” “I think…” he rolled his hips again and the bang sounded once more, “it’s the bed. Headboard’s hitting the wall.” “Oh,” you laughed, “thought someone was breaking down the door,” “Luckily not,” he chuckled against your neck, “would’ve had to stop fucking you to deal with them, and I really don’t want to do that.” “I don’t want you to stop either.” “I don’t plan to,”

The next morning it happened again. Every time you shifted on your knees, raising yourself up before sinking back down onto Roger’s cock, the headboard tapped the wall. Each dull thump had Roger gripping your hips tighter until he’d had enough, flipping you over and thrusting into you hard and fast, making the headboard slam into the wall. Roger took it as a personal challenge to see just how hard he could shake the bed and then to see if he could make you scream louder than the constant banging. You were sure people in the town must be able to hear you begging Roger not to stop as the bed springs creaked and the bed jolted into the wall over and over. If you could have formed a clear thought you may have worried about the wooden floor giving out under you or about how there was definitely going to be a hole left in the wall by the time your honeymoon was over.

Every day he found a new way to test the sturdiness of the bed, making the whole thing shake with how hard he fucked you. You braced your palms against the headboard as he took you from behind, able to feel the vibrations through the wooden frame as it bounced off the wall again and again. He stood on the bed, holding your hair in a makeshift ponytail as he fucked your throat, sending a tremor through the mattress, making you gag until tears ran down your cheeks. Pulling your cunt down onto his mouth, his tongue flicking over your clit until you lost control and ground down on him, making everything rattle as you chased your release. “D’you reckon the people who own this place would let me buy this bed off ‘em?” “I doubt it Rog,” you said, raising your head from his stomach to look up at him. “Hmmm, best make use of it while we’ve still got it then,” he quirked his eyebrow up. “Christ, again already?” And then he was on you, teeth clashing as he kissed you hungrily, pressing you against the footboard. Your back arched as he sunk into you again and it was all you could do to keep breathing. The now familiar rhythmic banging started up again and you flung your arm up to grab the top of the footboard, holding on so tight your knuckles were white as Roger hitched your leg up higher, adjusting his angle enough to make you see stars. His own hand landed on top of yours, pinkies hooking together as he used the bed frame for leverage.

On your final day he wrapped you into his arms, rubbing your wrists where he’d had them restrained. “I’m going to miss this,” he said into your shoulder, pressing a soft kiss to the same spot. “You mean having weeks of free time to do nothing but each French pastries and fuck, or were you talking about the bed? I can give you two a minute alone if you’d like,” you playfully moved to sit up, but he tightened his arms, pulling you back down with a laugh. “No, I mean it being just you and me. It’s nice here. Peaceful.” “Yeah, I know. Back to the real world tomorrow. But that’s alright. You wouldn’t cope for much longer without the noise and the busyness.” “That’s true, already got a couple of ideas for songs I wanna work on when we get home. And I’ve still got you. Bound to me by law now.” He chuckled “Mmhmm, best decision I ever made.” He was quiet for a moment, unconsciously drawing random patterns over your arm, “I am gonna miss this bed though.” “Well maybe we can come back next year. Anniversary present to ourselves.” “And we will have to give it a proper send off.” “See if we can’t break it in half.” “If we can’t have it, no one can.” You laughed again, rolling onto your back as Roger propped himself up on his elbow to kiss you.

[gingerbreadbooks2020]

Bookblr post #22

It’s March 31st and I finished Faeries, Elves & Goblins by Rosalind Kerven! Well, I actually finished off today (April 1st) but that was just the notes, so shhh!

[Images above:

Top left: title page for The Good People’s Shawl, from the Isle of Man. The left page is an illustration of a young woman in a blue dress and white bonnet sitting at an old spinning wheel.

Top right: A double page illustration, a silhouette of three faeries stirring a cauldron. Behind them is a strawberry bush.

Middle left: title page for A Brewery Of Eggshells, from England. The left page is an illustration. Set in a living room, to the left is a young man stood over a fire. In the foreground of the image is a younger boy laying in a cot.

Middle middle: title page for Thomas the Rhymer, from Scotland. The left page is an illustration of a Faery Queen in a long flowing dress, the ends of which are being held by two faeries in flight. It’s nighttime, and they’re under a tree with small white blossoms.

Middle right: title page for The Magic Ointment, a tale from England. The left page is an illustration of three people stood in a garden with a stone path. In the back of the image is a man and a lady. In the midground is a man in slightly ragged clothes, with a greyish skin tone, and elvish looking ears.

Bottom left:title page for Flying with the Faeries. The left page is an illustration of a landscape. In the distance is a village, and in front of that, closer to the foreground is an orchard. In the foreground is a tree with a large root, open to explore. Inside is a young boy with two women, one of whom has their back to the reader.

Bottom right: title page for the notes section of the book. Under the title ‘Notes’ is a small passage (see later in the post for the passage). The left page is an illustration. The background is an orange sky with some white clouds. The focus of the image is a silhouette of three faeries hanging on to three thin branches which are vertical, hanging down the page. These images are all my own.]

First I read The Good People’s Shawl, from the Isle of Man. In this one I was a bit confused as to who to feel sorry for, I suppose. And that’s not a bad thing, the story’s well written. I think it’s just the purpose of the story, or part of how it’s written anyway. In the story, a woman, tired of spinning wool, hires a maid and leaves for the day, giving the girl an impossible amount of work to do. The girl, knowing she can’t do it all, goes out to the garden to ask help from the faeries. The phynodderee appears, and promises her that, if she says a phrase and leaves for the day it will all be done. When she returns, a group of faeries rush out, and she finds all the wool has been spun, and a shawl has been hung on the curtain rail. The woman returns, angry that the wool had been spun ‘wrong’, and tells the girl she knows that faeries did the work. The woman tries on the shawl but it’s cursed to become coarse and dark. The girl is fired, but when she wears the shawl is softens and gains an earthy colour, obviously blessed for her. I was unsure who to ‘trust’ for a moment as the girl, who has been given work to do, simply doesn’t want to do it. She doesn’t even try to get through it. However, the woman is at fault for leaving her an impossible task, and is then cruel to the girl at the end of the story, so obviously my heart went out to the poor girl.

After that I read A Brewery of Eggshells, from England. A widow has two young boys. The older grows to be stron and fit, and leaves for the army. The younger, however, refuses to even crawl, even at fourteen years of age. He doesn’t speak, it is thought he has some illness, and becomes uglier than he was as a babe. When the older comes back from serving in the war, he proclaims that he knows what the problem is. He empties out an egg, leaving the shell, and fills it with hops and ale, before handing it in a pot over the fire to ‘cook’. Immediately, the younger boy cries out, ‘Ha ha ha!; through twice seven years I’ve lived with you; and seven hundred years before; a soldier brewing beer in an eggshell; is the daftest thing I ever saw!’ The soldier kicked the changeling out of the house, and the widow’s younger son appeared before her, the real one. I’ve heard of changeling stories before, and generally understood the gist, but this was the first I’ve ever actually read.

Next was Thomas the Rhymer, from Scotland. Thomas is one day playing the harp when a beautiful women, the Faery Queen, appears before him, and promises to fulfill any wish he has if he plays another song. His wish is for a kiss. As soon as his lips touch hers, she takes him to Faeryland and makes him her servant. At the end of his duties, as a gift for his excellent work, she gifts him with an enchanted apple, which will make him only speak the truth and allow his heart to know the future. She says if he uses the gift well, she shall allow him back to Faeryland. Thomas forgets the enchantment when he wakes up at the fiel he was found in, eating the apple eagerly. As he can only speak the truth, people think he’s gone mad, and he never finds employment. He finds solace in speaking poems, eventually forseeing the death of the king. The people are amazed at this, calling him a prophet. After this, he’s not seen again, supposedly back in faeryland.

Following this was The Magic Ointment, from England. There are nasty rumours surrounding Betty and Tom, but Old Joan refuses to believe them and stays friendly with the couple. She visits them one day but peers through the keyhole to see Betty putting an ointment on Tom’s eyes. Old Joan is invited in as Tom heads out, but as Betty goes into the pantry to get something, Old Joan sneaks some of the ointment onto her right eye. She begins to see that small cottage for the beauty that it is, with hundreds of spriggans flying about. She finishes the visit acting normally as she can, but when she goes to the market she sees Tom thieving from some stalls. She confronts him, but he blows away the magic from her eye, as well as all vision within it. She cries out for someone to catch him, that he’s a thief, but the people around her call her crazy.

The final story in this book was Flying With The Faeries, from England. A boy, lost in the woods, is led by a bear to a small cottage. Two short and old ladies - faeries - welcome him in, giving him food and a bed to sleep in. At midnight, they wake, placing on white caps and shouting ‘Here’s off’, before flying off into the night. The boy quickly follows, and they find themselves in the wine cellar of a rich man. They drink his wine and become very drunk, but the boy falls asleep in the cellar. He’s confronted by the house staff he next morning, and, after going through trial, is sentenced to hang. At the execution, one of the old faery women approaches, asking him to wear a special white cap. The executioner thinks nothing of this, but as soon as the cap is on the boy’s head, they both cry ‘Here’s off’ and fly off. The faeries are annoyed at the boy for what he did, and he swears he’ll never do it again. Charmed by this, they forgive him and lead him home safely.

All of the stories in this book were so amazing. Of course, I know very little about faeries, elves and goblins, so this book was perfect for me, especially given that it’s about the British Isles!

I read through the notes section, which gives details about each story, where it’s from, how it varies in different places and also how many similar stories have happened to different people. Or perhaps how the stories begins or ends differently. In some places the stories leave out major plot points for minor details as it’s so well known in certain areas, such as the Tam Lin story in Scotland.

It was also nice to know that many stories do in fact come from the area that I live in (Herefordshire - please don’t stalk me!!) as there was a major writer on my area. Not Shakespeare level or anything, but this person noted down many tales from my area so that’s why they’re well-documented! It’s nice as well that I can learn about the faeries in my area and learn how to interact/avoid them if necessary, as I hope to research more into witchcraft and magick and practise the craft! This blog will remain a book blog though, so no worries dear followers. Unless you are a witch - please don’t unfollow!

Regardless, that’s the end of the book! It was so so nice to read! It was easy to just pick up and read a story or two if I have a few spare minutes, as opposed to having to read a chapter but have a running commentary of the plot so far going in my head. I find leaving a book too long means I forget the story so far, so it was nice that I could leave it for a week or so and still be able to enjoy reading it and fully relax with a couple stories - lighthearted or not.

I would definitely recommend this book, whether or not you’re a believer in faeries, whether or not you’re from the British Isles. It’s nice to get to know the country with these little stories which are about small villages in rural areas, as opposed to getting to know Britain through things like the Battle of 1066 or when parliament was formed or whatever.

If I were ever to have children, I reckon I would hold onto this for them. They’re little stories, many quite funny, but they’re not your normal princess story or faery story, so they’d make for a much more interesting bedtime.

- Gingerbread ♤

P.S I think I’ll be reading Macbeth next! But I might change my mind... so much to read!! Aargh!

P.P.S I’m going to keep saying this because it bears repeating: Stay safe!!! Wash your hands! Only go out if absolutely necessary and please limit the number of members from your household that do go out! The amount of cases in the UK is going up, as it is everywhere, so please please please stay inside and flatten the curve! The virus does not care who it infects, and has been proven to be deadly to even young and healthy people. Do not put yourself or anyone else at risk, please! Love to you all in these trying times x

[smartgirlsaremean]

My Heart’s in the Highlands - Chapter 9

Fandom: OUAT, Hamish Macbeth

Pairing: Bellish

Rating: T

Summary: With Rumplestiltskin gone, Belle can't face going back to the Enchanted Forest without him. She leaves Storybrooke forever, travels the world, and ends up in a small village in Scotland, where she meets a constable with a very familiar face.

AO3

Last Time: After learning that he had the Sight, Belle, curious about the apparent presence of magic and the supernatural in Lochdubh, told TV John about her past in the Enchanted Forest and Storybooke.

“Mornin’, Belle.”

“Morning, Hamish!”

Hamish grinned. Belle was always chipper, but today she looked ready to turn cartwheels. “Good news, I take it?”

“The best! I can finally move out of Esme’s house!”

For a hideous moment Hamish thought the worst, that she’d had enough of village life and was leaving Lochdubh. Her sunny smile, though, banished that thought almost as soon as it appeared.

“Found a flat?”

“A house, actually, just across the street. The McElroys moved to Inverness to be near their grandchildren. They’ve left the furniture and everything, which is wonderful because I don’t have any at all, and I haven’t saved quite enough to furnish a whole house.”

“That tired of living with Esme, are you?”

“Of course not! She’s a wonderful roommate! But...well, I was beginning to feel a bit like a third wheel, if I’m honest.”

Hamish grinned. “Aye, I’ve heard that before. They’re lovely people, Rory and Esme, but they can get a bit...focused on each other.”

“They’re an adorable couple, really,” Belle sighed with a dreamy sort of smile. “So passionate about each other, so sweet and considerate. I’m grateful to Esme for putting me up, but I know they won’t be sorry to see the back of me.”

“When do you move in?”

“Tomorrow!” She spun away to pick up a pile of books and Hamish followed her into the stacks.

“Need any help?”

“I’ve got it, thanks.”

“I mean with moving.”

She turned to look at him, tilting her head with a little smile. “All I have is my clothes, Hamish. But if you really want to help...it wouldn’t exactly be easy to carry two suitcases across the street by myself.”

“Of course I want to help. Wouldn’t offer otherwise, would I?”

She shook her head and carefully pushed a book into place. “Meet me at Esme’s at about eight tomorrow?”

“‘Course.”

“You’re sure you’ve got everything, Belle?” Esme looked at Belle’s suitcases uncertainly. “I know you said you didn’t have much, but…”

“That’s it, honestly, Esme.”

“You’re not going to take them both yourself?”

“No, Hamish should be here any minute to help me.”

“Hamish! That’s very neighborly of him.”

Belle narrowed her eyes at Esme’s tone. “Yes, it is.”

“Hmm. A pity you don’t have any furniture to move over. I always like to see a man do a bit of hard labor. D’you want to borrow one of my armchairs?”

“Esme!” Belle giggled even as she fought a mental image of Hamish’s wiry arms flexing under a heavy load. Surely moving furniture would be warm and he’d want to wear something a bit cooler than those button-down flannels he was so fond of in his off hours...

“Oh, never mind, I’m sure you’ll find a coffee table or summat in the house that isn’t in the ideal spot.”

“You’re terrible,” Belle scolded.

Esme winked at her. “I don’t suppose you’re going to repay him for his help with a nice home-cooked meal.”

“Why would I do that? I don’t want to punish him when he’s being nice to me.”

Shaking her head, Esme smiled and straightened the tablecloth, glancing out the window. “You’re good for him, Belle. He hasn’t smiled sae much in a long time. I was afraid he wouldn’t meet anyone else after Isobel left for...well, the Lord only knows where she is now.”

Belle froze in the act of pulling back a curtain. “Isobel? Who’s Isobel?”

“Oh...Hamish hasn’t told you?”

“It’s not as if we’re a couple,” Belle pointed out a little peevishly.

“Well, she...she’s a reporter. She worked for the Listener until she got her big break and moved to Glasgow about two years ago.”

“And she and Hamish were...together?”

“Not exactly.” Esme twisted her hands. “It’s a bit of a long story, and Hamish should be the one to tell you. I’m sorry I brought it up...I thought you knew.”

No, she hadn’t known. He’d said something about a loss, but he’d also said that was three years ago, not two. Of course it was silly to be even a little uneasy about this information about his past: he had a bit of a reputation, and it couldn’t all be exaggerated. But Esme made it sound as if this had been a serious connection, and now Belle was absolutely burning with curiosity.

At precisely eight o’clock Hamish knocked on Esme’s door. He easily hefted the largest of Belle’s suitcases and followed her across the street. Belle’s hands shook with excitement as she used her key to open the door of her new house. The door swung in on slightly rusty hinges and Hamish stepped forward to turn on the light.

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered, and Belle giggled. She’d had the same reaction when she first set foot in the house, though she hadn’t said it aloud. The thick shag carpeting was a sickly gold color, the walls a shade of faded pea green. And the furniture…

“This is the ugliest bloody house I’ve ever seen,” Hamish said solemnly, looking around him with wide eyes.

“I don’t think they’ve bought a single stick of furniture since 1967,” Belle agreed, wrestling her suitcase in the door.

“How could you possibly live here? I’m getting a headache just standing here.”

“It won’t be forever. I’ve already chosen a color for the walls, and the carpet’ll come up. There are lovely hardwood floors underneath.”

“The McCraes could probably help with that. And as soon as you can replace the furniture I’ll be more than happy to toss this garbage out for you.”

“I’m not totally helpless, y’know,” Belle teased him.

“Aye, I know, but why go it alone when there’s people to help?”

Belle had no answer to that. She just wasn’t used to people offering to help.

“Where are we putting these?” Hamish gestured at the suitcases.

“Oh, uh…” Belle felt herself blush. “Right down the hall.”

Her bedroom - the only bedroom in the place - was just as garishly decorated as the rest of the house, except that the walls were a bright fuschia.

“Holy hell,” Hamish huffed as he set his suitcase down. “Are you gonna get any sleep in here at all?” Belle felt her face flush more deeply, and Hamish turned horrified eyes on her. “I didnae mean...I...that was…”

“It’s okay.” She pushed her suitcase farther into the room. “This’ll probably be the first room I paint.”

Hamish had set down the other suitcase and scuttled backward, and now he was hovering in the doorway as if afraid he would be struck by lightning if he reentered the room. “Is that everything, then?”

“Yes, that’s everything.”

Hamish returned to the living room and stood in the center of the room, bouncing slightly on the balls of feet. Belle followed him and tried not to laugh; for all his swagger and confidence, he could certainly act like a shy teenager when he was feeling off balance.

“Esme suggested a homemade meal to thank you, but I like you too much to try to poison you,” she said, which earned her one of his crooked smiles. “How do you feel about the Stag Bar?”

“Best restaurant in town, innit?”

“Give me a few minutes and dinner’ll be my treat.”

“Blue?”

Belle looked up from where she was placing drop cloths over the chairs. “It’s my favorite.”

Hamish looked thoughtfully at the paint cans he’d opened. “It’s a good color.” It was a paler version of the color of her eyes, but he didn’t want to say that. “You don’t wanna protect the carpet?”

Belle grinned at him. “Are you kidding? The carpet’s coming up anyway. I saved a fortune on drop cloths.” She put her hands on her hips and looked around. “I think we’re ready.” Tossing him a roll of painter’s tape, Belle pulled off her sweatshirt to reveal a black tank top and Hamish nearly swallowed his tongue. She glanced at him and raised her eyebrows. “You’re going to get paint all over that shirt.”

“I’ll, uh...I’ll be fine.”

She shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

Taking her own roll of tape, Belle bent down to begin placing tape on the baseboards and Hamish took a deep breath, moving to the other side of the room. It was going to be a long day.

When all the tape was laid they started work on the walls, Hamish taking charge of the roller while Belle did the trim. They chatted about the library and books and their friends in the village, and Hamish did his very best not to notice that Belle’s tank top dipped a little too low when she bent over and then slipped up above the waistband of her sweatpants when she reached above her head (which was frequently, the precious wee thing). They ate sandwiches on the floor while the first coat dried, the room pleasantly cool from the breeze drifting through the open windows. When they got up to begin work on the second coat, Belle gestured at the front of his button-down.

“I knew that would happen.”

Hamish looked down and groaned. Flecks of blue paint covered the entire front of the shirt. “I was careful!”

“The roller splatters. I did warn you.” Belle herself was dotted with blue, too, but he doubted she cared much.

“No need to rub it in.” He shrugged out of the paint-spattered flannel and tossed it to the side. When he turned back to his roller he noticed that Belle had frozen in place, her eyes wide. “What? Did I get paint in my hair or summat?”

Smirking, Belle shook her head, her eyes flitting over him. He felt suddenly self-conscious in his white T-shirt and fought the urge to cross his arms over his chest. After a few seconds Belle turned back to her wall.

The atmosphere as they applied the second coat was much more subdued. The air felt a little thicker, the room a little smaller, Hamish thought they were a little closer to each other than before, accidentally brushing against each other a bit more often.

The room was almost finished and Hamish was concentrating very hard on anything but the fact that Belle was kneeling at his feet touching up the trim while he rolled paint onto the last stretch of wall. He heard her move away at last and, sighing with relief, he allowed his arms to fall.

“Hey!” Belle yelped.

He started and looked down. “Ah, hell, I’m sorry,” he groaned. He’d painted a wide pale blue strip right down the center of her head. “I didnae…”

“Did I put too much sugar in the tea or something?” she teased, shaking her brush at him.

“No, ay course - oi!” He jumped back when her brush made contact with his cheek.

“Oh, sorry,” she said sweetly. “Accident.”

“The hell it was!” he growled. He snatched up a brush and advanced on her. “When I finish wi’ you, French, folk’ll think ye’re a bloody Smurf.”

It was a blessing the chairs and coffee table were covered as he chased her around the room. She was a quick little thing, and she managed to hold her own, darting forward to dab him with her brush before leaping behind a chair or dancing just out of reach. She was the first to call a ceasefire by collapsing on the couch and dropping her brush on the floor. He joined her and they sat there, flushed and streaked with blue paint, still nudging each other occasionally and snickering.

“God, the blue is so much better,” Belle sighed when she’d caught her breath.

“Aye. Matches your eyes, too.”

Well, hell. He hadn’t meant to say that aloud. She didn’t seem to find his remark strange, or at least she didn’t say anything if she did. “Once I get some nice furniture and pull the carpet up it’ll really feel like home.”

“Will it?” Hamish turned to look at her. “You’re settled for good, then?”

“Yep. You’re all stuck with me. Before you know it you’ll be sick of the sight of me.”

“Ah, no way. More like you’ll get sick ay us.”

“Impossible.” Belle turned so that she was sitting with her back to the arm of the couch and facing him. “You don’t know...you don’t have any idea how much Lochdubh means to me. What it’s been like to be accepted somewhere, to have people who like me for who I am. That whole weird fairy business aside,” she added as an afterthought. He smiled, but he knew it didn’t quite reach his eyes. Belle narrowed her gaze at him. “You don’t believe me?”

“Aye, I do, but…” he shrugged and looked at the floor, “brilliant young women don’t tend tae stick around verra long.”

“Isobel.”

His eyes snapped up at that. “How do you…”

“Esme mentioned her. Seemed to think I’d know what she was talking about.”

“Aye, Isobel.” He sighed. He might as well get this particular painful confession out of the way. “She’d lived here all her life, but she got too big for the place. I don’t blame her,” he said hastily. “She was brilliant and talented and had the chance tae really make a mark, y’know? And anyway we never...I mean, I never…”

Belle was staring at him as if he were revealing a great secret of the universe.

“She loved me,” he said at last. “I loved her too, but I never said ...and then she was gone and never came back.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. It was my own fault. And there were other...I mean, when I say I’m no priest, I mean I’m as far from a priest as it’s possible to be.”

They were quiet for a little while. After a few minutes of silence Belle put her hand on his. “You don’t have to tell me. I mean,” she amended, “I’d like it if you felt comfortable enough to tell me one day, but it doesn’t have to be tonight.”

“Some other time,” he said gratefully.

She pulled her hand back into her lap and studied it, a thoughtful frown on her face. “Yeah.”

“I’d best be gettin’ back.” Hamish tore his eyes from her face and rose. “Jock’ll worry.”

“Give him a pat from me and tell John I said hello.” She walked with him to the door and opened it, her smile soft and sweet in the evening light.

“‘Course. G’night, Belle.”

She worked her lower lip between her teeth for a moment, then seemed to come to a decision. She reached forward and kissed his cheek. “Good night, Hamish.”

Next Time: Belle runs into an old friend

[mi5016jackheslop]

I first discovered the process of animation when I was about 7 years old. My school gave my year group a lesson using a program called 2animate and at the end of the day, when everyone had left I was still in the classroom at the PC. I was just engrossed in the couple seconds worth of moving images that I had created and couldn't pull myself away from the screen. The teachers noticed this and my parents bought me a copy of the software which quickly started to consume all my time at home. Ever since then I've been fascinated by motion and the way things move and I was especially fond of animal run cycles. In recent years 3D animation has really caught my eye and more specifically photoreal CGI. Being convinced that something totally impossible was actually filmed and not just added with software in post truly fascinates me. In this video I'll be discussing lighting and compositing. These are a couple aspects of the VFX pipeline that I have only recently started to understand the importance of and some of the skills required to find a job in these areas of the industry. I also will use the techniques I learn about to try and create my own VFX composition.

The first job that I'd like to address is that of the VFX supervisor. One of the key roles of the VFX supervisor is to ensure that the filmmakers have an appropriate set up while recording the initial photography to save time and money or so that it won't require weeks of prep/paint afterwards in the rotoscoping or retouch departments before advancing further down the pipeline. What interests me most about this position though is the lighting reference they take care of. When filming a shot that will contain VFX a matte grey ball and a shiny chrome ball is commonly used. The grey ball is used to help the cgi artist understand the light direction, intensity, temperature and to gauge how harsh the shadows should be. To achieve this the artist would recreate the matte ball in cg and by comparing it with the image of the real one try to replicate the lighting conditions in the software with those that were present on set during filming. Once correct the light would then be applied to the model. The chrome ball however is used to understand how reflections are picked up on certain materials such as the shiny metal on a vehicle or something similar. It is also replicated in cg and is used to align what is known as an environment light or HDRI. This is basically a 360 degree photo that encompasses the 3D scene to give the models realistic reflection and lighting. The VFX supervisor decides where the balls should be placed and whether or not to move them during filming based on differences in light around the set. Some claim that it's old fashioned but from what I've seen many directors still prefer to use these quick and easy methods of lighting reference. A Macbeth chart usually accompanies the two spheres but this is used as reference for consistent colour correction rather than for lighting.

One of the best movies I can think of that shows brilliant use of lighting was the first Transformers movie. Scenes like this where you'll notice in the fog the light being blocked by Bumblebee, very cool stuff. Or how in this scene not only is the environment being reflected off Optimus but also Sam and Mikaela are reflected here. I couldn't find information on how they did this scene specifically but usually when you needa subject like people for example in a reflection they are usually filmed from the required angle or are actually modelled, textured and animated. This method can produce much better results if done well but is much more costly and time consuming. I also like how the animators matched the movement of Optimus's legs to move behind Sam exactly as he blocks the light. Little things like this are often planned by the vfx supervisors sometimes even at the time of filming to make things in post easier.

During my research I came across Erik Winquist, a VFX supervisor who I found particularly inspiring. He graduated Ringling College of Art and Design with a degree in computer animation and started his career in 1998 when he was hired as an assistant animator at Pacific Data Images. Fast forward a few years and he's working at Weta Digital and has been involved in the making of huge films such as The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers, War for the Planet of the Apes, Peter Jackson's King Kong, Avatar and many more. He claims that every show is completely different from the last and as a result a lot of problem solving is required, especially when you have no idea how you're going to accomplish an end goal at the outset. Erik says he and his team are constantly jumping in and out of Maya and always have a Nuke session open for one thing or another. This brings me onto my next point, compositing.

Compositing in its simplest form is combining multiple assets that were created seperately into one scene to make it seem like it was all shot together. One of the challenges a compositor must deal with is the tracking of the clean plate. This is so that the digital camera within the animation software is moving around the model in a way that matches the tracker footage. There are a number of softwares that can be used to track a camera through 3D space, After Effects, SynthEyes and 3DEqualizer just to name a few. I'm going to focus primarily on Nuke though later in the video since it was mentioned by Erik Winquist and is easily accessible.

I was encouraged to try and utilise the knowledge and techniques that I've been researching and give 3D compositing a shot myself. If I take the necessary steps it should allow me to bridge the gap between 3d animation and the real world.

So first thing I did was take a simple video with as little shake or movement as I could manage so that Nuke would be able to track it easily. The software tracks specific points on the footage and uses the data to calculate a 3D space and the movements of a camera through this space.

This is a character I created who's supposed to be made from a material with similar properties to diamond or glass. I chose him to be my Guinea pig in this particular experiment because I thought his transparency would react with lights in interesting ways. Within Maya I created square lights above the model in the same formation as those within the room I filmed in to make the lighting as accurate as I could. Despite this you'll never really be able to perfectly replicate the lighting conditions without recreating the environment within Maya to simulate how the light actually bounces around the setting.

Unfortunately I wasn't able to capture a great quality environment light. HDRI stands for high dynamic range image and is basically an image that shows a greater range in luminance levels compared to a standard image by reducing the loss of detail in the highlights and shadows. This is often achieved by creating a blend of several images that were taken at different exposures. I only had my phone and an app I downloaded to help create the image so it didn't turn out great. Not that this matters much though since I'm just using this as an opportunity to learn more about VFX processes and on top of that I didn't know how to correctly apply the hdri image to the scene and I encountered quite a few render problems while trying to work around this. In the end I decided to just render out what I had and this is the result. Unfortunately as you can see the model doesn't look convincingly embedded with the image. I assume this is partly due to the absence of environment lighting or the lack of scratches and imperfections on the model that you would expect to see on a real object which would otherwise reflect light differently. I actually think biggest reason though is the noise levels of the plate versus that of the clean model. The contrast really ruins it for me. At the end of the day though I got to experiment with some new software and while I don't yet have access to all the necessary tools that are required to create the convincing VFX shots I'm after I still think it was a decent first attempt. I'm excited for next semester to learn more about compositing.

Now what to possibly do with all these newfound skills? While researching career paths I tried to stay away from the hugely successful, international companies like Weta Digital or ILM and look for smaller, more local and UK based companies. I came across a company called Milk which I'd never actually heard of but was suprised to discover that they're an award-winning independent vfx company based in London that have worked on TV shows and movies such as Doctor Who, The Martian and The Chronicles of Narnia to name a few. They are currently advertising a lot of available roles at the studio, one of which being compositors. Some of the qualifications they list to become a compositor include a good working knowledge of Nuke, a degree in related fields of film, communications and art, and ideally at least two years experience in feature films. Some interesting statistics about the industry include Closer to home still is the company...

I've often thought about how an independent career away from a studio might play out. There were several guest speakers who came in to talk to the animation department over the semester about possible roads to go down when searching a career. At the moment not many interested me but the one that stood out was James Beavers. He created a YouTube channel mainly focused on gaming with over 2.5 million subscribers. What's interesting though is he studied the animation course at Northumbria university as well and has gone on to create this really sucessful channel. Owning a popular YouTube channel has always been something I thought was pretty cool and it made me think of alternative career paths that I could go down. Another YouTube channel that I'm fond of is Corridor. They have actually taught me a considerable amount of what I know about VFX and they make videos like this, similar to what I could one day produce with the knowledge and skills I develop.