#light grey art lab

[stevensugar]

Sunlit Graveyard (2019)

Drawn for the Light Grey Art Lab Curio exhibition after taking part in their wonderful Iceland residency program.

[lucybellwood]

A couple jaunty friends from the Light Grey Art Lab residency trip to Iceland in 2017. (My complete sketchbook PDF from this trip is available here!)

[justunsoliciteddeckpics]

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Just Unsolicited Deck Pics ✨ (@justunsoliciteddeckpics)

✨

#JunesTunes24

Musical Memories

Word Prompt Challenge

Hosted by WhiteSunTarot, GlitterbyInk, & EllasEdge

Day 11: Supernatural 🪄

Cosmos Tarot & Oracle Deck

Published by Light Grey Art Lab

▪️Comet (15) by Sam Schechter

[seramilla]

Dragon’s Blood Curse AU

(What if fantasy setting where Carmilla was a champion for the Unseelie Court? And what if Sera was the High Fae of the Seelie court? I dunno!! Just had a lot of what if’s while thinking about Carmilla as a dragon)

Atop the hill looking across the dark forest stood the grey and foreboding decrepit castle. In the topmost window of the highest tower stood a tall thin skeletal figure clad in black attire. The lich paced for some time as the sun started to dip behind the tree line. He decided to check on the daughters of his dearest friend before speaking to her.

Zestial made his way to the alchemy lab and quietly opened the door just a sliver. He smiled seeing Odette taking notes of what appeared to be an elixir. He had no doubt she was looking for a way to help her mother. Odette had always been the more studious child. He watched as she removed a glove revealing a scaled arm then pluck one off her arm. He holds his breath as she places it in a bowl and pours the tincture over the scale. An acrid smell filled the air as the scale sizzled and dissolved like it’s in acid. Zestial’s eyes widen seeing her grab the vial in a fit of anger and frustration and throw it against the wall with a snarl.

He let her be as he quietly closed the door and headed further downstairs.Zestial made his to the balcony of the crumbling courtyard and found Clara practicing her swordplay. Judging by all the destroyed training dummies it was safe to assume that she too, was in an irritable mood, so he continued deeper down into his ancient abode. He could hear the sound of chains rattling as he approached the barred door to his dungeons. He had not needed to use them in over a century. Now he was refurbishing them for his close friend. She refused to stay anywhere else in his home and quickly learned the reason why she made this decision.

Magic pools into his hand surrounding it with a glowing green energy as he mimics the motion of unlocking a door.

The enchantments and seals dissipated and the massive iron bars slid back allowing the door to open. He approaches the inky black room that fell silent. He was early it would seem as his eyes met a large pair of blazing crimson orbs filled with rage and spite of a deep injustice. A large light stormy grey snout snaked into the dim light as lips pulled back into a snarl revealing a dangerous set of teeth followed by a dark grey mask like marking around the furious orbs. Next came her large black horns and luxurious mane of white fur accentuated with a few black stripes. The chains rattled and went taught as she lunged at him. He could feel his cloak being disturbed by the air flow from the massive talons slashing the air in front of him. Perhaps he should have knocked first. Any further thoughts vanished as a roar of despair and pain shook the foundations of the castle. Black and purple flames erupted from the dragon burning away the form till a much smaller shape of his dear friend remained.

“Carmilla, art thou alright? Thou were rather upset, was thine beloved on thy mind?”

Zestial held out a hand for her. A large white hand takes his.

“Yes Zestial, I was thinking of her.”

“Why? Thou knew the High Fae of the Seelie wouldn’t be able to court anyone beneath her station.”

Her crimson orbs with white irises stared sadly into his.

“She loves me Zestial, me who was nothing more than a human champion of the Unseelie court. She loves me so much…and I love her…but when our courts discovered our union…”

She shudders and wipes her eyes.

“Well the blame fell solely upon me. But no one expected the Seelie to give such a cruel punishment. Her court cursed me Zestial, the Seelie court cursed me.”

She sighs walking to the small grated window and gazes into the moonless sky.

“But at least she wasn’t punished… How are-“

Zestial stops her in her tracks.

“Thy daughters are well but hath thrown themselves into aiding thou however they can.”

Carmilla gazes up the stairs with worry. Her daughter had been lucky to barely have been affected by the Dragon’s Blood curse. She starts to head towards them only to be stopped the silver shackles.

“Fret not Carmilla, they shall arrive shortly.”

Zestial unlocked the her bound wrists. as they slowly headed up to the main hall.

“Mother! Zestial!!! There’s a fae!!”

At the sound of Odette’s voice, Zestial and Carmilla rush at the the rest of the way there only to catch sight of the fae collapsing on the floor. They looked terrible and they had a squirming bundle. Carmilla cautiously approaches and sees an infant in an embroidered blanket. She looks at it more closely and freezes. She recognizes her own stitch work. Carmilla had made this for the next child they were planning on having. She moves back from the unconscious form realizing who this is and why they are here.

“Sera…?”

Zestial whisks away the unconscious Sera to Carmilla's room, where they both check the fae for any serious injuries. Carmilla asks her oldest and dearest friend to turn away for a moment, while she cleans Sera's wounds. The woman must have been through Hell — she’s covered in scrapes and bruises, and looks exhausted. Carmilla dresses her in fresh clothes and puts a cool rag to her forehead.

Zestial stands off in the corner of Carmilla's room, holding the babe and singing to her in a deep and enchanting, dark hymn. The child seems comforted, thought she is still quite shaken up from whatever had caused Sera to become unconscious. The child had been protected from any serious harm by the embroidered blanket that Sera enchanted prior to the child's birth. It's seen better days, but the fibers are still intact, and there’s no blood from either the child or Sera on it. Thank the Heavens for that. Carmilla's foresight had born prescious fruit yet again.

Carmilla had always suspected the Seelie might attempt to harm another of her and Sera's children, were they to find out about their coupling. This most recent event had been the last straw, and thus the curse of the dragon inflicted upon Carmilla would also be carried down to any of Carmilla's blood. The effect was lessened on her and Sera's descendants; Sera's Seelie blood has a pacifying effect on the curse, but Clara and Odette still have their own problems to bear. They research, study, and concoct enchantments for hours on end, desperately seeking a cure for their mother, and thus, their own predicament, as well.

But even this latest child, Zestial can see, isn't immune from the Dragon's Blood curse. Specks of rainbow-colored scales adorn her small face like freckles, under each of her eyes and scattered around her nose like little reflections of sunshine upon her face. This child's patterns seem almost...pretty compared to the grays and blacks of Carmilla and her daughters. This child also resembles Sera...much more so than Clara and Odette. Some deep enchantment is at work here. And Zestial thinks he may need for Sera to awaken before any answers are forthcoming.

Carmilla observes Zestial with her and Sera's youngest child, singing to her and calming her, just like he'd done with the other girls when they were babes. Thankfully, this one falls asleep very easily. Zestial strokes the child's cheeks with one of his sharp, vicious claws...they could tear through bone and flesh so easily, but with her children, the lich is as gentle as a lamb.

She's thankful for his help. Carmilla is still reeling from the fact that Sera is here...with her...and she'd brought their third-born with her, to boot. Carmilla has so many questions...she pleads with Sera, entreats her to just wake up! Her logic fights with her emotions, knowing the other woman must rest, but also mentally demanding answers; this back-and-forth between her Unseelie self and the impatient, predatory nature of the dragon is an imposition on her, even now.

Thankfully, it doesn't take long for Sera to stir. Whether from sensing Carmilla's tender hand against her face, or from the strangeness of her new surroundings, Carmilla can't be sure. But as Sera's eyes open, after at least an hour of Carmilla standing vigil by her bedside, squeezing the other woman's hand, Sera’s light gray eyes finally meet Carmilla’s red and gold.

Sera's lashes blink desperately, as if trying to make sense of what she's seeing. Carmilla grips Sera's hand closer to her chest, hoping the faint smattering of scales on her hand and forearm can't be felt by the other woman in her drowsed state. Sera blinks heavily again, and then shakes her head...then meets Carmilla's gaze, and there are tears in her eyes.

"Carmilla!" Sera cries, almost too out of it to do much more than squeak the name aloud. Then, as if coming back to herself, the Seelie starts to sit up, and look around the room desperately. There's an air of panic and worry to her features. Carmilla thinks she knows why.

"Emily?" Sera asks, still looking around the room desperately for her daughter. She hasn't yet spotted her being held by the dark figure in the corner. "Where's Emily?!"

[tesseractrave]

The Happy Mask Salesman's design makes me wonderfully crazy, and I have to talk about the way my brain processes it because it's a big part of why I love him so much.

[Analysis is under the cut]

——————————————————————–——

The first detail I'd like to point out would be the color theory.

He has the bluer purple on both his tunic and trousers, or the whole piece if you consider it a jumpsuit (I personally don't draw it as a jumpsuit, but I do admit that it might be the most game-accurate interpretation), and it gives him a very direct foundation and center for the outfit's base.

The vest and shoes are a darker magenta, however, which adds hue variation while staying analogous with his tradmeark purple shades, and the light grey is a value used to balance the more saturated purples as an accent.

The golden accessories are a complimentary (opposite) color to purple, which Nintendo seems to be very adept at in general (cough, Splatoon, cough).

Of course, we can't forget his hair. Whichever specific shade you see it, it's always agreed that the color is at least somewhere along the ginger spectrum. The red, orange, auburn, etc. hues are analogous between the contrasting gold and purple, adding a transitional color to link them.

His skin serves the same purpose with the varied addition of having a lowered saturation and a lighter tone to aid the grey in balancing the depth of the color of his clothes and hair.

Though we unfortunately have no canon answer to what his eye color is, Ember Lab's creative decision to make them green may have been the best choice from a design standpoint because it balances out the purple in his clothing and makes his face stand out more.

The distribution of color in this design as a whole is pretty genius to me, as well.

His hair, being the only part of him that's that ginger color, directs the eyes upward to his face, while the main, deep purple is focused on the direct center.

The gold is arranged widthwise across the center, most heavily on the neck once again to direct the eyes upward while also distributing down to both of his wrists for balance on either side, almost like a scale.

The magenta and grey both run lengthwise down (and wrap around) the center and sit in mostly horizontal detailing at the bottom of his legs like the base of a pillar.

It's not something I added to the example image or spoke about before, but his white teeth in his smile are another aspect that is, of course, very eye-catching for his face and important for his design.

There's also the topic of the geometry.

I'm using my own art as an example because this is the way I interpret it, but the first image is just a breakup of how the edges of each section line up with one another in a way that fans out from the center, and the second image is the addition of marks measuring the estimated centers of each section.

Looking closely, you quickly realize how his gorget makes everything line up geometrically, and as a whole, the design is entirely symmetrical apart from the way his hair is parted, which adds all the asymmetry needed to make him feel natural, albeit incredibly well-groomed and organized.

The color of the inner edge of his vest and the the soles of his shoes is the same as the two rows of stitches running down the front of his torso, which gives the otherwise separately-coloured pieces of the outfit a common detail to link them as a set.

(At one point, I think I had an exact estimation for the number of stitches in each row, but I think I started ignoring it in my art to save my sanity. I know it's on my cosplay, though.)

His gorget and bracers also have a matching scallop pattern (though it seems to be debated on whether the scallops of the bracers face up or down), which adds an additional sense of uniformity.

The majority of details follow the lengthwise median, and everything suggests an overall polished feel and a balanced center of gravity. All in all, it's a fantastic design. I've seen so many wonderful takes and artistic adjustments on it, and I've even made my own, but the character designers at Nintendo really popped off with this one.

[shmowder]

PLEASE LEWAD SNIFF SNIFG EOEASE PLEASE OLEASE PELASE PLEAE PLWASE HGK SNIFFLE SNIFFEL PEALSE LELAS LLEASE PLWASE PLAESE PELAS OLEES SOBS CRIES HEAVES EPLASE PELASE PEEEAAASSEEE

Fluffy marriage HC with the Daniil Dankovsky

Museum dates

It's the ideal date spot for him, getting you dressed up and marvelling at the history and arts of those who came before us.

He gets to show off his knowledge in front of you, which is a bonus. The soft lighting of the museum, the quiet atmosphere as he purposely avoids the crowded displays, leading you to a much more niche collection yet still beautiful all the same. Genuine passion in his eyes as he explains how this came to be, who documented it, how it was preserved through the generations. How close it came to ruin, to being stolen or torn apart during a war, how despite all of the strife it beat the odds and survived.

Immortalises in a glass box to inspire the future. He stares at the traces of history with longing, retelling the lives of the greats with yearning. He wants to belong there too.

his achievements will go down in history. One day, his name will join the list.

takes good care of his wedding ring

It's a symbol of your shared love, a proof of the vows you exchanged, how could he ever not?. He polishes and cleans it, sends it to a jeweller for maintenance once a year alongside his silver brooch.

He takes such good care of it that on some days he doesn't wear it to work. The lab equipments and chemicals he works with are too much of a liability to risk bringing near the ring. Yes, he knows gold is a noble element and therefore doesn't react with much, yes it is resistant to most acids.

But that's the key word here, most. All it takes is one unlucky day for the ring to be lost forever. He doesn't want to get a replacement. He wants to preserve this one. The same one you've slid onto his finger that day, he won't settle for less.

Otherwise, on safer outings, he makes sure to wear it... under his gloves. Hey, this way, it can't get stolen or slide off. Why are you giving him that look? He is a genius, shush.

Puts effort into his appearance to impress you

A lot of effort. He knows you will love him regardless–well maybe he has some doubts about just how loveable his personality alone can be–but he still wants to look good for you.

It's such an ego boost to stand out amongst other men too, especially other husbands who just stopped trying the second they got married. Oh no, if anything, Daniil tries even harder because you will be seeing him every day.

Making sure he's well-groomed and clean, taking care of his hair so it's fluffy and well combed. Styling it every day in the mirror until it frames his face perfectly. Ironing his clothes, from his shirt to his vest and even trousers. Hell, one time, you caught him ironing his socks after he woke up groggy and sleepy.

Especially since how much freedom, time and money he has now that university is over. He can afford the high-end capital brands and all the expensive clothes and fabrics. You still remember the day he excitedly came home to show you the one-of-a-kind snakeskin coat he bought at full price.

If you keep complimenting him like this, then his head will grow too big to fit through the door at the end of the day.

Silk cravats, leather gloves and shoes. Deep crimson red became his iconic colour amidst the blacks, whites, and greys. He knows he looks goods, fluffing his feathers with the confidence of a peacock as you come into the room, waiting for that twinkle in your eyes, that blush on your cheeks, the praise.

He has a clear vision of the man he wants to be, and he makes them come true, always working with diligence and care, putting effort into every aspect of his life.

Your taste does influence his fashion choices, too. If you mention liking a certain colour, he will incorporate it more into his wardrobe. Yes, he still has his iconic red, but he makes a couple exceptions for your favourite colour. Things he wears on special occasions, your birthday, wedding anniversary, or even just weekend dates.

Brings you up in every conversation

If a stranger met Daniil Dankovsky the Bachelor of Medicine, then they'll soon enough be acquainted with his spouse in less than 5 minutes of him talking. He never fails to mention you in some form or way, be it quoting something you said as if you were a well-known philosopher, or mentioning how someone's waiting for him at home so the stranger should kindly not waste his time.

His coworkers in Thanatica hear about you every day. During each watercooler conversation or lunch break, he answers their polite "How is life going for you, Dr.Dankovsky?" by replying as if they asked about you and nothing else.

Well, you are his life, so it makes sense from his point of view. Yes, the time you two spend together is rather too short for his liking these past months, but not a day passes by where he doesn't think about you or your wellbeing.

His reason for living, his breath of air, his beloved.

my life, my love.

Mea vita.

Deep conversations

Throughout his life, the bachelor came to the realisation that people don't like to use their brains, very early on.

It sounds condescending to claim, but it has been proven time after time with everyone he attempted to befriend or the other way around. Most people would rather turn off their brains and drift through life until their sand clock runs out.

Even the so-called respected academics suffered from the same trait at times. Daniil might have just minored in philosophy but he still took the classes more seriously than some of his colleagues who had it as a major.

He tries to appear intellectual, yes. But it's not a complete preformance, deep down, he really admires those traits. He wants someone smart and not afraid to have these difficult conversations, to discuss heavy topics with.

Especially someone who isn't afraid to be proven wrong, who doesn't take offence to him poking holes in their logic.

You were genuinely in it for the science, for the sake of learning, just like him. You didn't cut off his long explanations short, neither did you wave off his philosophic debates with a polite smile. You indulged him, even if you didn't have a single clue what he was saying, you still tried to listen and understand.

You allowed him to explain.

Daniil is self aware, he knows that he is too much. Too driven by pride and ego, too heavy for people to swallow. But he refuses to break himself into bite-sizes or water his intellectualism down.

You weren't intimidated, neither did you worship the ground he walks on. You saw him as human, capable of right and wrong, of ignorance and justice.

Correcting him on some occasions, winning against him in debates and arguments at times.

Daniil fell more and more in love with you each time. He was the most himself around you, full of passion, not afraid to share his wild theories or less refined ideas. Knowing you won't judge him for where he stood on the chessboard, even if the two of you disagreed on some principles, there will always be a spot for him in your arms.

tries to maintain your lifestyle

When he married you, he vowed to himself never to let you need anything in this life. All the prestigious salaries and funding that came with his degree will be used to fund his family first and his research second.

And you are his entire family, his only family, his beloved spouse.

He wants you to lead a comfortable life, to indulge in luxurious every now and then. Whatever your hobbies may be, expensive or not, they are completely supported by him.

Because you being happy and never having to work a day in your life, is genuinely the biggest achievement he could ever strive for.

He'll pick up the extra shifts at the hospital, don't worry about it. He wants the experience either way, it is his choice.

He will do whatever he can to maintain the high standards lifestyle he got you accustomed to. Even when Thanatica funds run dry from the lack of progress, he still doesn't compromise the home finance and rather go on long work trips and put in more efforts to meet the standards.

You have your degree, yes, and you're free to peruse any research of your own. Daniil would take care of the funding, he insists.

It's personal for him to be able to provide for you and your dreams. So you may never wish for anything you couldn't acquire.

Lets you see the embarrassing sides of him

When he's having bad hair days and ends up blaming the haircomb for not cooperating. His tendency to spill wine after a drink or two–which might be the real reason behind his dark red vests.

When he's rehearsing his speeches the night prior to the conference. When he's practising his latin pronunciation and keeps clumsily sounding the new words out.

How he slurs his speech and becomes very cuddly when wasted. How his student days of... wild drinking lowered his tolerance so much that it doesn't take much for him to start being moppy and clingy as he pours his heart out to you because nothing is working out in his research and he doesn't know what to do.

You've seen that man both at his most unfaltering situations and glamorous moments. He's so grumpy in the morning, annoyed by the sun as he forces himself out of bed and begins begrudgingly ironing his clothes and getting ready for work.

How he refuses to leave the house if he isn't fully content with his appearance. Even during his most work cramped weeks, he'd still pause before the mirror to adjust his caravat while glaring at his reflection with dark circles under his eyes.

You've seen him chase a rat out of the kitchen once after it stole one of the experimental tissue samples he brought home from the labs and put in the freezer.

The genius of the century, Daniil Dankovsky, cornering a small rat and threatening it with a loaded pistol in the middle of the night.

It was you who saved the day when you simply set up a big block of cheese on the nearby floor which the rat quickly scurried at. Its large size forcing the rat to abandon the dish sample in order to greedly drag the huge cheese away.

Although, you didn't have the heart to tell him that you did this because you knew how bad at aiming your husband was and you rather liked the new kitchen wall tiles the two of you just spent a fortune to have installed the other day.

Takes you on his work trips

The two of you travelled to france enough for Daniil to pick up on the language, using it to terrorise his poor coworkers back home, as if the latin wasn't enough already.

Surprisingly, the two of you spent more time together during those trips. Being in a different country meant he was only allowed to work within the normal working hours for other people, tragic yes. There was no private Thanatica labs for him to spend the night at, he'd get kicked out of the institution labs each time he attempts to stay more than the allowed duration.

So instead, he'd focus on you, takes you on dates around the new country. Sightseeing together and enjoying the culture and culinary food. Trying things you've never heard of before, Daniil truly loved the exploration of the unkown at his heart, and it really shined through during these nights.

Those trips were as therapeutic for him as they were for you. He had the person he loved most in the world by his side as the two of you tredded through new cities and marvled at extravagant inventions.

The creme de la creme of society, of art works and poetry. Each museum is filled with rich history and futuristic inventions. The two of you even rode an air balloon during one of those trips once, looking at the world below, drifting through the clouds. Daniil tightly held your hand, and for once, he knew that this way where he belonged, that there is nowhere else where he would rather be than here by your side.

-

Ngl that actually was a treat to write after all of that angst. Huh, I actually didn't expect to enjoy fluffy romantic husband Daniil this much but I did. I guess we both learned something new in this endeavour.

I hope you liked it because wow this one was rather tricky. I had to resist the urge for angst and bonk it with a broom each time it reared its head. Stay down ya cunt, I'd yell at it atop my fluffy fort of pillows and everything nice.

Tell me your thoughts if you did enjoy it <3 I hope you have a great day. I will come back later and fix the typos.

[riotb0nes]

a pas de deux with death

for Light Grey Art Lab's The End is Nigh show back in 2021!

[krscblw]

Ministry Perfume Associations

I’m back yet again with more thoughts about Ghost and perfume! This time it’s fragrances from my own collection that remind me of various places in my headcanon of the Ministry. (Usually these lists are mostly made up of perfumes that I don’t actually have, but this time I can vouch for all of these! I didn’t include any that I thought weren’t good.)

For the sake of organization these are divided into places in the New Wing (the most recent addition to the Ministry), the Old Wing (the original Ministry buildings), and the grounds (gardens, forests, etc). And as always, if you have your own thoughts or want me to do more of this, please let me know! I would love to talk more about Ghost and perfume.

(also: so sorry for the weird formatting, idk how to fix it on mobile but it should be fine on desktop)

New Wing:

Library: old books, wood, dust, paper, ink

The library is part of the New Wing of the Ministry, although it’s not very new anymore. Built in the early 1900s, the New Wing is all soaring ceilings, stained glass windows, and intricate woodworking, done in the Art Nouveau style of the time. The library’s floor-to-ceiling shelves are full of books ranging from ancient esoteric tomes to modern fiction paperbacks, interspersed with desks and secluded reading nooks. The library also houses the Ministry’s private collection of artifacts - some occasionally used for ritual purposes, some purely academic in nature. The library is always very still, with the occasional susurrus of turning pages and quiet voices. It smells like polished wood, faint dust, and the leather and paper of old books. 

Library Ghost - Poesie 

marshmallows, books, ink, polished wood

Myself Invisible - Poesie 

stacked books, spilled ink, black tea, violets

Bibliotheca - Alkemia  

leather-bound books, vintage vinyl records, mahogany, fountain pen ink, black tea, plum brandy

Canoodling in the Library - Nui Cobalt  

old books, mahogany shelves, fallen leaves, ancient stone stairs, amber resin, warm skin musk, vetiver

Miskatonic University - Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab  

irish coffee, dusty tomes, polished oakwood halls

Personal Quarters: carved wood furniture, tea and coffee, soft bedding, books and clutter, spices, vanilla

The personal quarters are also in the New Wing, separated into human quarters and ghoul quarters (for everyone’s comfort and safety). The personal quarters tend to feel very cozy and lived-in, as they are the rooms most frequently used. The furniture is comfortable, often occupied by off-duty siblings or ghouls, and the arch windows overlooking the gardens and forest cast soft beams of light onto the wood floors in the afternoon. The siblings’ quarters tend to smell like the possessions of those who occupy them - books, scented candles, tea and coffee, and faint spices from the small kitchen. The ghouls’ quarters are similar, but with the scents of various elements - smoke, greenery, damp stone, fresh air, resin.

Mysterious Fossils - Poesie  

smoked black tea with creamy vanilla oat milk, a cashmere sweater, tortoiseshell glasses, a cedar chest containing fossils encased in amber, sandstone, and limestone

Whisper Your Bitter Things - Poesie  

pressed coffee beans, dried clove bud and cassia bark, jasmine, neroli, roasted vanilla pods

Grey Cat - Nui Cobalt  

smoked vanilla, marshmallows, fresh blueberries, lavender, earl grey tea

Kensington - Fantome  

earl grey tea, cashmere, vanilla bean, cedar, rose petals, mandarin zest, pink peppercorn, bergamot

Ouija - Possets  

cedar, rosewood, black vanilla, fat vanilla, rose, black silk, coriander

Our Days Bewitched - PULP Fragrance  

walnuts, brandy, roasted cocoa beans, copal, cardamom, labdanum, black vanilla, aged oak barrels

Old Wing:

Chapel: resinous incense, polished wood, wine, smoke

The chapel is part of the Old Wing. The exact dates of its construction could probably be found somewhere in the Ministry’s records, but the gothic architecture suggests it’s been there for at least 500 years. The cold grandeur of the exterior’s intricate stonework and vibrant stained glass windows is matched in the chapel. It is perpetually cold, made fully of elaborately carved stone, and colorful sunlight filters through the enormous stained glass windows onto the altar and the pews. The heavy, still air smells like residual incense smoke, snuffled candles, fragrant wood, and ritual wine.

Holy Terror - Arcana Wildcraft  

burning frankincense, sandalwood, myrrh, dusty beeswax candles

Anastasia the Patrician* - Deconstructing Eden

paper, ink, frankincense, myrrh, benzoin, copal, rose, juniper berries, wine

Leo* - Deconstructing Eden

frankincense, myrrh, benzoin, amber, liatrix, blood cedar, blond tobacco absolute, sweet spices, honey

Parlour - Fantome  

mahogany, rosewood, burning incense, vetiver

*i think these were discontinued? sorry

Crypt: cold damp stone, smoke, dust, ashes

The crypt is the only place in the Ministry that truly reflects its age. It feels like it has been standing, underground, inhabited only by the dead, for hundreds of years. It’s well-maintained, but perpetually freezing cold and slightly damp. The stone walls are minimally decorated, and the candles in their niches do very little to illuminate the cavernous space. The air is weighty, and all sound is muffled. The crypt smells like damp stone, cold air, sweet dust, and smoke.

Gargoyle - Nui Cobalt  

rain, lavender, cathedral incense, beeswax candles, ancient stone

Summoning/Ritual Chambers: cold stone, ritual incense, blood, wine, smoke

The ritual chambers are where summonings and rituals are performed. They are where every new ghoul comes into the world, and, more rarely, where they’re banished from it. The walls and floor are stone, and there are no windows. When in use, the chambers are lit by dozens of flickering candles, some in sconces, some piled onto tables, and years of melted wax have created puddles and formations on the walls and floor. The air is dense, thick with dust, herb smoke, ritual incense, and the scent of dried blood.

Baba Yaga - Fantome  

black and red musk, smoke, cracked bones, cardamom, wood, animal skins, mugwort

Conjure - Solstice Scents  

vanilla, amber, cedar, spices, cauldron smoke

Gothique - Alkemia  

frankincense, styrax benzoin, myrrh, cassia, spikenard, canella, liquidambar orientalis, labdanum, atlas cedar, vetiver

A City on Fire - Imaginary Authors  

cade oil, spikenard, cardamom, clearwood, dark berries, labdanum, a burnt match

Vassago - Fantome  

A silver dagger, red wine, blackberries, cloves, orange peel, blood, a black mirror

Grounds:

Gardens: dirt, greenery, sun, fruit, flowers

The Ministry sits on a huge expanse of land. Most of it is still wild and forested, but there is a good amount of it dedicated to gardens, both decorative and functional. 

Decorative Gardens:

The decorative gardens are lush and heavy with flowers and fresh greenery most of the year, tended to by the Earth ghouls. Some of them are small cloistered gardens, decorated with statues and fountains, and some are larger, intended for gatherings or wandering alone. The decorative gardens tend to smell like fragrant herbs and flowers - sweet jasmine and magnolia, heavy white lilies and heirloom roses. 

Basilica - Milano Fragranze 

thyme, rosemary, incense, milk, labdanum, cedarwood, cypriol oil

Fox in the Flowerbed - Imaginary Authors  

jasmine, tulips, frankincense, wildflower honey, pink peppercorns, silver thistle, alpine air

Isabella - Possets 

rose, light resin, white tea, honey, cream musk, spices

Olwyn - Fantome  

magnolia blossoms, white lilies, jasmine, gardenia, buttery vanilla, myrrh, benzoin, orange blossom

Silver Narcissus - Possets  

silver base, narcissus

Functional Gardens:

The functional gardens supply the flowers for decoration within the Ministry as well as the herbs and most of the produce for the kitchens. The gardens, orchards, and greenhouses are managed by the Earth ghouls, and yield so much produce that, despite the relatively small size of the gardens and the relatively large size of the Ministry, they still end up with extra. That surplus is sold at the local farmers’ market to unsuspecting humans who wonder in open amazement about the size and quality of this mysterious farm’s produce.

Sundrunk - Imaginary Authors  

neroli, rhubarb, honeysuckle, rose water, orange zest

Drider Crossing Guard - Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab  

dry, earthy fig, black pepper, nutmeg, black plum tea

Wilcox’s - Solstice Scents  

dry woods, fresh herbs, dried herbs, warm spices, sweet annie, sage, rosewood 

Lake: water, trees, evergreens, greenery, stone

The Ministry’s lake is very deep, cold, and still. It’s objectively beautiful, with its glassy blue-gray waters and lush vegetation, but something about it feels dangerous. The pebbled shores are visited only by the bravest siblings, and even then only on the hottest and most desperate of summer days. The water ghouls, on the other hand, love it (which is possibly why the siblings tend to stay away). It is located at the border between the new and old forests, and its mossy banks are surrounded by evergreens, ferns, and rushes. It smells green and a little salty.

Villa Diodati - Poesie  

wild rosemary, balsam pine, crystal clear lakewater, dry, dark vanilla

Every Storm a Serenade - Imaginary Authors  

danish spruce, eucalyptus, vetiver, calone, ambergris, baltic sea mist

The Forest: trees, dirt, damp air, greenery, wildflowers, fungi

New Forest:

The new forest is a nickname given to the shallow edges of the forest that are closest to the Ministry. The trees are widely spaced, and the ground is thickly carpeted with grasses and wildflowers. Sunlight filters easily through the sparse leaf canopy and illuminates the fallen logs and patches of moss that make popular spots for siblings and ghouls looking to unwind. The air is light, and the breeze carries with it the scent of fresh greenery, tree sap, and sweet flowers. 

Cape Heartache - Imaginary Authors  

douglas fir, pine resin, western hemlock, vanilla leaf, strawberry, old growth, mountain fog

Dendrophilia - Nui Cobalt  

moss-covered deadfall, birchwood and pine, lingering resins, sunlight through the leaves, a trace of woodsmoke, faint vetiver and cedar

Duende - Fantome  

oakmoss, cedar, fir, labdanum, benzoin, tree sap, wild violets, lilac

Solovey - Fantome 

black amber, violets, black currants, espresso, labdanum, black agarwood, tobacco

Old Forest:

If you go far enough into the new forest, you will eventually get to the old forest. The trees are bigger and closer together, the sunlight struggles to reach the ground, and there are more mushrooms than flowers. The air is damp and cool and smells like fungus, loam, and rotting leaves. The old forest is avoided by siblings both because of the unsettling watched feeling any human who enters feels and the unspoken knowledge that if you don’t come back out no one will go looking for you. 

Gaea - Alkemia  

forest loam, ferns, decaying leaves, lichen, wet stones

Dies Irae - Possets  

black musk, fog, bitter galbanum, hawthorn, rotting leaves, orris, smoky oude, frankincense, black amber

Feuillemort - Alkemia  

dying leaves, smoked autumnal spices, dried grasses and fungi, Tibetan incense, cedarwood, rum soaked agarwood, and borneol

Samhain - Haus of Gloi  

freshly turned earth, wet leaves, cold wind

if you made it this far 1) thank you lol and 2) i hope you enjoyed! if you have your own thoughts i would love to hear them!

[vaguekiwi]

Splitting Light

Read on Ao3

(hospice, terminal illness)

“Hi there, Jesus. It’s me. Sam Fabelman.”

Peter rubbed his eyes and stifled a yawn. Next to him in the hospice bed, Tony appeared to be watching the movie intently, gaze focused and determined past his glasses.

The glow of the TV was the only thing to illuminate them— that and the humming machines Tony was hooked up to, atoms of artificial light split the room into hazy grey shadows.

Peter nestled closer to Tony and let his eyes fall shut.

Tony rumbled against him. Peter could hear each heartbeat like this — he wondered if it was like a tree in a forest. As long as he was around to hear it, would Tony never fall?

“You’re missing the movie, Pete.”

Peter peeled his eyes open to focus on the teenagers again. Normally he’d be all over anything with Steven Spielberg’s name on it, but he found he wasn’t interested in the angst of teenagers and art and coming-of-age stories. 

What about the end of an age? How come no one ever wrote about what happened afterward?

Peter reached for the TV remote and switched the screen off. Tony didn’t protest, but a smile quirked along his lips. He adjusted his glasses on his nose and turned his chin down to look at Peter.

They were both quiet in the darkness.

“We knew this day would come, Pete.”

They had always known it.

Peter blinked back the tears that sprang to his eyes. He took in a shuddering breath and didn’t answer.

The hospice centre was located at 1049 Strawberry Lake Way, in a cul-de-sac shielded by oak trees. They’d liked the quiet of it. The seclusion. The greenery. The bench by the pond in the back where Tony could sit, if he was up for it.

They’d prepared for Tony to live here. They hadn’t prepared for the inevitability of what it meant.

Peter wrapped an arm around Tony’s middle and hugged his husband fiercely, not caring if it hurt him, not caring that he could feel Tony’s bones beneath his touch. There were 8 pairs of glasses on the lampshade to Tony’s right, each a different colour.

Peter longed to turn and kiss his husband, to shimmy up on his elbows and lock their lips together and whisper how urgently he loved him, how he already missed him, how…

But Peter didn’t move, and the space between thought and action widened.

“Pete… will you say something?”

Peter turned his face into Tony’s chest and gasped, muffled, “I love you.”

Tony shook with a laugh that transformed into a cough, and Peter hated every wracking minute of it.

A few moments passed after Tony collected himself. Moments where Peter thought of Tony Stark leading him into galas and restaurants, dancing to rock music in the lab, laughing in board rooms, revving cars down the highway, kissing Peter so tenderly and passionately and…

The memories played hopscotch in Peter’s chest until he thought he might burst, and then he hugged Tony all the tighter and choked out, “I’m not ready for this.”

Tony hummed and squeezed Peter back.

“Not ready?”

“‘M not ready for you to go.” Peter couldn’t stop his tears this time, and he muffled himself in Tony’s shirt as he twisted up the grief inside of his heart.

Tony laughed again.

“But I’m ready to go, Pete.”

That was the crux of it all. The cruel reality. Peter, ostensibly, had so much time left. Had decades to live before he would need a place like the little hospice centre on Strawberry Lake Way. How was this fair? How was this…

Peter wiped his eyes and sighed, not wanting to waste Tony’s time on his own greed.

Tony sighed and settled into the bed again, giving Peter another squeeze and murmuring, “You want to put the movie back on?”

Peter really didn’t, but he croaked out, “Okay.”

And he reached for the remote.

The TV blared back to life, splitting light all around them.

[stevensugar]

Once Great Yosghoul (2020)

Drawn for the Light Grey Art Lab World Roulette book. A description of Yosghoul that was paired with this piece—

In times long past, times willfully forgotten by any who would know of it, tyrants ruled what is now called Once Great Yosghoul. Brutal and cruel, they forged themselves as gods, unjudgeable and unending. But judgement found them all the same and ended them in the molten rage of Mount Yos.

The only souls left in Once Great Yosghoul are the inheritors of its ruin. Punished folk who cling to stories of the life of grandeur owed to them. From time to time, a young Yosghoul lord will forget their birthright, and their wishful thoughts will drift to far away shores. But wanting is unbecoming of young lords, and so they dredge the petrified pieces of their ancestors from the guts of the earth and affix that profaned geology to their own flesh as a reminder of their unjudgeable, unending rule.

[muldxr]

@pscentral event 22: 2023 wrapped ↳ 12 films i watched this year

image description below the cut:

The main header is a gif banner. It has a black background with white ashes falling like snow. Extra bolded text reads "2023", with a light blue-grey gradient. Across its middle is a black banner cutout with a smaller, white, all-caps font reading "Wrapped".

Then, 12 main GIFs are divided into 4 groups of 3 rows/images. Each row is a clip from a movie. They all have light contrast and a de-saturated filter. Above each clip is a white banner background and black font naming the title of the movie clip.

First GIF: Emphasized blue and grey tones. 1. Spirited Away - Sen is riding Haku in dragon form away from the camera into the sky. There are big, soft, blue clouds, and a moon shines on the right hand side. 2. Us - The doppelganger family stand in a line outside on the Wilsons' driveway. Green pine trees surround them. A streetlight is behind them, shrouding them in darkness. Red claps, and the other three doppelgangers begin to move. 3. The X-Files: Fight the Future - A body is on a table with a sheet covering it. Scully is on the left hand side of the screen, looking at Mulder who is standing on the right hand side of the screen. Soft light comes in from the frosted window behind Mulder. Both of them are wearing black suit jackets.

Second GIF: All gifs are much paler, near grey. 4. Westworld - A white coat moves right to unveil the cowboy android, wearing a black hat and lying on a table (table not visible). The android's face is removed by a lab technician to show wires and computer chips inside. 5. Arsenic and Old Lace - The camera follows Martha Brewster as she places a large, elaborate wine decanter on the table. The liquid inside swirls around. (This is a B&W gif.) 6. Dial M for Murder - A medium rolling shot of Margot on the phone, in a dimly lit apartment. She has blonde hair and is wearing a nightdress.

Third GIF: Stronger tones of blue and red. 7. That Thing You Do! - The Wonders are waiting in the stage left wings for their performance. They are in red suits reminiscent of the 1960s, and the curtains around the stage are blue. Their manager, Mr. White, is talking to them. 8. Final Destination 3 - A wide shot of the roller coaster stuck at the top of the loop-de-loop. There are two people hanging from their seats. To the left is more of the coaster structure. 9. Miracle - A USA Olympic Hockey player (Johnson, #10) looks up at the clock as he skates across the ice with great effort. His uniform is white with red and blue accents. The scene cuts to the clock and the scoreboard, showing 1:01, then 1:00. The score is USA 4, URS 3.

Fourth GIF: A mix of desaturated hues. Most notable is the pink in the Barbie gif and some blue in the Rent gif. 10. Catfight - There are many people in an art gallery, looking on as Veronica angrily tears a large portrait from the wall. Veronica then runs away screaming, carrying the painting with her. 11. Barbie - In an outdoor cafeteria, Barbie looks at a group of girls and says, "I'm Barbie!" while throwing her arms out jazz-hands style. She is wearing a hot pink western outfit and a white hat. 12. Rent - A dark scene shows Mark on his bike, traveling through a wide alley. The camera pans to a pole with several 'eviction notice' papers on it. Other strangers linger in the background.

[justunsoliciteddeckpics]

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Just Unsolicited Deck Pics ✨ (@justunsoliciteddeckpics)

✨

#FebHUEary23

Scavenger Hunt Game

Hosted by GlitterbyInk & EllasEdge

Day 18: Black ⚫️

Cosmos Tarot & Oracle Deck

Published by Light Grey Art Lab

▪️Quasar (22) by Tim Liljefors

[merrillapologist]

art of my funky little doctor from @hehearse !! ty again for the comm he looks so good :D

[ID: Digital art depicting Apollo, a vampire who appears to be a white man in his late fourties. He is deathly pale and freckled, with long greying black hair tied into a bun and a beard. He wears a white lab coat and scrubs and peers over his glasses with bright golden eyes. There are surgical lights behind him, and he lifts the wrist of a patient to his mouth with his fangs bared.]

[cleonique]

“Brightwood Islands” originally created for Light Grey Art Lab, and published by PLANSPONSOR✨🐲

[mayakern]

hello!! if you don't mind me asking, what was your professional art journey like? (esp the earlier years) was MonsterPop! your first big project online? were you still taking client work when you opened up your shop? you're a very inspiring artist and I hope to be in a similar position as you one day! thank you so much for your time!

oh boy this is a doozy! and also a lot of this involves devin bc our success is completely intertwined

i went to art school (MCAD) from 2009-2013. i majored in comic art but had a secondary unofficial focus in illustration, specifically product design, and i interned at paper bicycle (the company of my product design teacher) my senior year, the same year they opened up light grey art lab. i mailed out a LOT of tarot decks. they didn't have a label printer so this took forever.

during that time i took some freelance illustration and comic gigs and also created some comics that got an amount of traction online (mostly on tumblr but i also got an io9 article written about me iirc). i also started making monsterpop (in 2012 i think?).

in 2012 i ran my first kickstarter to crowdfund an anthology of some of my short comics (how to be a mermaid, the little robot girl, fairyfail) and got my first taste of proper self publishing. sadly this was before i created redden (which was my senior thesis comic) so it wasn't included. i didn't have label printer so mailing out the books (i think i sold around 200) took forever and i ended up throwing a pizza party with my friends and having them help me.

after graduating i moved to the LA area in search of work. it honestly sucked ass and most things didn't pan out but eventually (2014) i got a remote job contracting for gaiaonline and i moved right back to minnesota bc i absolutely hated LA.

i met devin (my wife) 20 days after moving back to minneapolis. in 2015 i ran a kickstarter to fund printing the first volume of monsterpop and people bought almost 400 books. it was insane. i was dying under the stress of trying to mail it all out those packages and didn't own a label printer yet. between having to hand write the addresses, being both dyslexic AND slow, and getting headaches from the fumes, i could send out a max of like 10 packages a day. once again i was planning to throw another pizza party to have my friends help me out, but devin swooped in and got 100 packages done in just a couple hours and when i tell you that no one has ever done anything sexier for me in my life, i truly mean it.

at the time devin and i were both broke living paycheck to paycheck. gaia didn't pay well and the patreon money i got helped, but wasn't that much. i took some freelance/commissions and got some store and convention sales, but i was making around 22-26k and was constantly overworked. devin was in significant credit card debt and was barely scraping by between managing a gas station and school. i started making my very first skirts and then at the end of 2015 my arm, the thing that made me what little money i did make, gave out.

i couldn't draw anymore. this could have literally ended my art career, but instead devin stepped up. they took a look at all the things i was already selling in my store and figured out a way to repackage/bundle the items together in a way that was fun and appealing. and people actually bought the bundles! at that point the vast majority of my sales were at conventions and i wasn't very good at selling online, but that was the beginning of a new era. devin started working with me part time to manage the online store and go with me to conventions and things started getting better. at some point during this saga we finally bought a goddamn label printer.

by 2017 devin started working with me full time. we also got married and moved across the country to upstate NY. in 2018 we got a CPA and became an SCORP and monsterpop became a finalist for the prism comics award, which scored me an invite as a guest at SDCC. i really wish i had enjoyed that experience, but unfortunately i was dealing with some Bad Medication Issues and was extremely sick the whole weekend. otherwise it was great tho and devin had enough fun for the both of us. this is also around when i officially stopped taking freelance work. prior to that i'd only been taking a couple jobs a year, but the store was finally making enough that i could stop.

in 2019 i made the difficult decision to end monsterpop. this came with a lot of heartache but it was the right thing to do. i am much better now for it. i think 2019 is also when we became an SCORP.

we hired our first employee (lindsy) in, i think 2021. it might have been the end of 2020. and in 2022 we hired our second employee (ariel), who had been modeling for us already for a couple years bc she is our very close friend and actually the reason we moved out to NY in the first place. in late 2022 we started working with ash, who now manages our product supply chain and also is patterning new garments for us.

there's probably a bunch of stuff i've missed but this is roughly it! neither devin nor i were able to succeed until we started working together. our strengths and weaknesses complimented each other well and somehow things just worked out.

and if you take away nothing else from this, please leave with this info: if you sell and ship any amount of product online buy a goddamn label printer

[something-special-you-are]

yahh this is my ch1 of my first nellfia fic. it's a modern art student au set in the darkroom. go read it babay!!!! pasting it onto tumblr for convenience if u like.. feedback (or reading it at all) is appreciated so much.. i love u

Chapter One:

dead art/impossible things

Nell cursed herself.

She had a free afternoon, and owed Charles a favour - never, ever a good place to be. They were both Foundation students at Broadwater School of Art in Tottenham: old friends from the same year, though rather different disciplines. After a darkroom-related incident that he refused to dig into the details of, he had found himself in Sofia Blancheford's bad books - arguably an even worse place to be. She took rules and regulations very seriously, and though she didn't technically hold any power over what Charles did with his life, the lab was essentially her domain.

"You're not scared of her, are you?"

"Yes! Yes, I am. Please, Nelly, she likes you."

"No, she doesn't."

"Well, she tolerates you a little more than she tolerates me. Which is a big deal."

"Get Amadin to do it, she actually likes him."

"He's a busy man, Nell, and he hates conflict, you know this."

"What, and I love it, do I?"

Claiming pitifully to be banned, he had sent her downstairs to print the photos from a black-and-white fashion shoot of his, tooled with a thin plastic wallet containing the strips of negative film, a contact sheet with the best photos circled along with some numbers, and clear-ish instructions. Holding the sheet up close, they were lovely photographs, Nell thought - they displayed some of the elaborate costumes that Charlie had been crafting over the past couple of months. He was currently upstairs in the main studios, absolutely going to town on an embroidery hoop, desperately trying to finish the details of some decorative garment before the fashion crit next week - meaning he was especially grateful for her help.

The sculptor herself hadn't been in the laboratory since last year, and found it a generally disorienting place, smelling too strongly and all decked out in old, heavy, menacing equipment.

Unfortunately, she was a good friend - and since she rathered Charles not be killed, she stuck by her favour. Hopping down the stairwell, she passed the entrance leading out to the sculpture yard, where early March sunlight and fresh air pooled into the building. Clay dust floated from her jeans to swim around in the pale rays, and she walked a little slower. She turned the corner onto a hallway she rarely came by. The lightroom door was invitingly open.

As soon as she walked in, the harsh vinegar-like smell filled her lungs, and she grimaced. She'd reek by the end of the day. It wasn't a tiny room, but it was packed full; a chemical-stained metal basin stretched the length of the wall, which displayed dozens of safety information sheets, and grids declaring measurements; strings hung from the ceiling, dotted with paper hanging from wooden pegs; plastic equipment that Nell couldn't identify overflowed the shelves above the counter opposite. The door to the darkroom stood to the left, heavy and foreboding and plastered with warnings that Nell didn't bother reading.

She pushed it open and let it click shut behind her, allowing the pitch black to swallow her. Memories of a short, dark corridor returned - there was a second door up a few yards ahead, and all Nell had to do was find the handle - easy enough, but the consuming darkness disoriented her slightly. Fumbling with the final door, the dull red lamps that lined the darkroom ceiling were revealed, along with the quiet, albeit spooky whisper of running water. The light blue trim of her dirty white t-shirt turned grey. It was like stepping into another dimension. She knew the enlargers she needed stood against the walls, so clutching her materials, she moved blindly, and a little too confidently, away from the door - it was not as straightforward as that. She made it not two paces before colliding with an inky, fluttering shape that materialised in the middle of the room. Nell jumped and scrambled to get out of the way.

"Jesus Christ!"

"Watch yourself! And knock, please," they replied indignantly, clearly ruffled.

"I can't see a bloody thing! I thought I was alone in here, you scared me!" Nell protested, then regretted it slightly, because she had no way of knowing who she might be arguing with.

Squinting to adjust her eyes, she made out a dark head of hair and a sharp, cross little face. It was, indeed, Sofia Blancheford. She was not so lucky to have the lab to herself. They were classmates, and vaguely knew each other through Amadin and Charles, but rarely crossed paths - mainly because Nell was usually out and about in the yard, or bouncing around the studios, and Sofia was usually locked up in here. Nell had seen her work during crit; she was a fantastic student. She probably knew more about the darkroom than the technician did. As well as this, she was also reserved, aloof, and a little moody - not unkind, but no class clown, indeed. And now, Nell Trotter had waltzed into her domain and almost knocked her right to the ground without so much as a hello, how are you.

"It says 'knock,' in big red letters on the door," she snapped.

"Right. Well. Sorry. I'm not a big reader," Nell offered, somewhat sarcastically, somewhat flustered. Sofia gave a sigh of exasperation in response, and mumbled something about how it's a good thing I wasn't holding anything dangerous, strutting over to the basins to continue whatever sorcery she was up to. Nell rolled her eyes under cover of darkness, and located an enlarger to work on.

It was time to dust off her photography knowledge. According to her expertise, there was one thing she would need for certain.

"Um, where's the paper?"

There were a couple seconds of silence following Nell's sheepish request, before a curt voice crossed the room in response.

"In the fridge."

Low humming suggested the refrigerator running gently in the corner.

It glowed crimson on the inside to match the rest of the room, and was stacked with boxes of paper and film. She browsed the labels, and made the brave choice to crack a joke.

"No chance of me getting to store my lunch in here, is there? Only, the shared fridge is-"

"No," came the voice again.

Nell smiled to herself and picked the most familiar A5 package, and retrieved a few sheets. They were nice and cold on her fingertips. She inspected them as she sauntered away.

"People keep nickin' my sausage rolls, see," she lamented, to a resounding silence, and arrived back at her station.

Zoning back in, she fiddled with knobs and buttons until she felt confidently refamiliarised, and set to work inserting the first set of slides into the top of the enlarger; she adjusted the size and position, then happily lined up a sheet of paper under the projection, ready to print. She began to feel quite relaxed. The darkroom disoriented her at first, but the ambience of the low light, the gentle hum of electricity, and the soothing, aquarium murmur of the waterbath brought her peace.

She couldn't get too comfortable, because just as she was about to slide away the red filter and expose her paper to white light, Sofia broke the silence once more.

"Is it in focus?"

She was back at her own station, just a few paces to Nell's right, and poked her head around at her classmate's hasty setup.

"Huh?" Nell replied astutely.

"Your slide, is it in focus?"

Before she could protest, Sofia had already floated into her personal space, holding what looked like a little microscope.

"Is this Charles' work?" she interrogated, more than asked.

"I'm doin' him a favour."

Sofia hummed in response.

"Interesting," she muttered, in a way that made Nell wonder why it was interesting at all. "The paper's upside down."

Nell cringed at Sofia's blunt observation, and shamefully flipped it right-side-up, the shiny, light-sensitive layer revealing itself. The shorter woman leant over the paper, placing down her little tool and scrutinising it through the lens.

"It's not in focus. It's blurry," she confirmed, and twisted a little knob around in minute adjustments. For all her proud independence, Sofia was certainly a busybody.

"There. Look now," she ordered, and Nell peered through the little magnifier the same way her classmate did. She saw crisp shapes, the finest grains of the film emulsion. Not really caring, she stood up straight and attempted to shove the tool back in Sofia's direction.

"Right. Thank you. I can get on with it now, if that's alright," she dismissed, eager to be left alone, but Sofia was occupied by squinting at the numbers lit-up on Nell's equipment.

"You're going to overexpose this, surely?"

Nell sighed and shrugged, not really sure how to respond.

"Give me that," Sofia gestured at the contact sheet, somehow making it sound polite. Nell surrendered it reluctantly, and she scanned the digits Charles had scrawled.

"He's written them down, and everything, it's right here," Sofia uttered with confusion. It made Nell feel stupid. There's no reason why she should know what those numbers mean.

"They're his photos, I don't know why you care."

"If you're doing a favour, do it properly. I'll set the ISO and exposure for you, and you can print the rest," she announced decisively.

Nell threw her hands up, because she knew saying 'whatever,' out loud would earn her a nasty glare. She watched as Sofia turned a numbered wheel at the top of the enlarger. The image below got dimmer. She then adjusted the little control panel on the desk, decreasing a digital countdown timer from twelve seconds to four.

"There."

Nell mumbled an ungrateful thank-you, but it was clear Sofia didn't really care whether her help was appreciated or not. She was already busying herself on a different enlarger, once again consumed by her own work.

Turning back to the paper in front of her, Nell decided to just get on with it. She turned the projection off, removed the filter, and pressed a button, and it came back on in pure, gentle, white light. After four seconds it automatically shut back off with a pleasing click, and Nell whisked away the paper, satisfied.

Both students approached the basins with a piece of paper each. The station was a metal rectangle that jutted out at least ten feet from the wall, and was divided into three sections - two long, shallow troughs than ran side-by-side, and the waterbath, which took up the outermost end. The two dry areas had three labeled trays in them each, likely leftover from a workshop, and a tap and drain against the wall. There were pairs of metal tongs in each tray. A handy glow-in-the-dark clock overlooked it all, second hand turning, and a poster listing development times was displayed alongside. Sofia submerged her paper into the first tray, opposite of Nell, checked the clock, and began to tilt the liquid back and forth. Nell did the same, into the tray labeled 'DEV' - she was to leave it in there for sixty seconds, according to the poster. As time ticked by, she watched the magic happen before her very eyes. Under the shimmering reflections of overhead light, the paper at once went from pure white, to clouded with faint grey, to painted with deep, varied tones as the image shyly revealed itself.

"Holy shit," she muttered to herself in awe, and Sofia concealed a genuine smile.

Sixty seconds passed, and they transferred their prints to the trays labeled 'STOP'.

"Yours is dripping everywhere, let the developer drain off a little first. You'll dilute the other trays," Sofia nitpicked.

"Yeah, yeah."

Ten seconds passed in the stop-bath, and Nell scooped the photo up between the tongs.

"Try it this time, don't make such a mess."

Nell rolled her eyes, but did as she was told, and transferred the paper neatly to the final, stronger-smelling tray, labeled 'FIX'. Two minutes would pass in this one, and they passed without words. Sometimes Nell would glance up at Sofia, watching her waiting, and sometimes Sofia would glance back. It didn't really feel as awkward as it should have. Nell lost track of the clock, and snapped back to the task when Sofia moved hers into the wash. They mirrored each others' actions the whole way through. Nell drained hers properly before plunging it in, and they stood at the end of the station, looming over the inky water. Both prints spiralled around in the current amongst other unclaimed pieces.

Nell's (or, Charles') photograph had come out beautifully. The scribbled numbers were correct, and Sofia had adjusted the settings perfectly - the image appeared in sharp focus, with intense tones and exact contrast. She felt a subtle buzz of relief that she might not fuck up the entire batch for him.

The constant water flow babbled over the silence. They lingered there, watching the intricate, mottled images as they somehow contained themselves into neat little squares and swam hypnotically through the blackness. Sofia looked down at them fondly, before delicately rolling up her sleeves and dipping her hand in. The nebulous reflections on the water's surface scattered at her touch. Nell had a feeling that she might react similarly, in its place; Sofia's hands were fine, but agile, and professional in everything they did; they were tools of creation, or magic, or whatever you wanted to call it, and they were at work. She fished out her newest piece, after dragging it to and fro a couple of times under the surface to ensure the chemicals were washed away. Nell instinctually copied her, and the cold water felt good as it swallowed up to her wrist. Her own hands seemed rough and clumsy in comparison. Sofia made a habitat out of the lab; she belonged there, she suited it, in all her witchy, gossamer mystique. They were symbiotic. The woman's probably got night vision.

They inspected the prints together. Some kind of wispy double-exposure shimmered between Sofia's finger and thumb. Nell saw a drapey figure, barely there, disappearing into itself amongst the various other ethereal shapes. Most of it looked like fabric, a spectral veneer of some sort that gathered and stretched, and it glowed. A light source - a flame, maybe - made its way up the composition. The black space was minimal, but it located the subjects in an otherworldly, all-consuming nighttime.

Nell clutched a nonspecifically historical-looking portrait of Charles. Half of his monotone, made-up face was hidden by both a large, ornate fan - cradled in a silk white glove - and the shoulder of an absolutely huge velvet coat, the texture of which had been captured in soft, minute detail. Embroidery, feather trims, buttons, novelty seams, decorative tassels and lace all made for a display of delightfully handcrafted camp. His mouth was hidden, but his eyes smiled coyly at the camera - there was no trace of satire in his expression, or his pose. He might have been in character. He was elegant, feminine, sincere, and squinting in a manner she could recognise anywhere, from behind any outfit - for all of his elaborate, transformative costumes - to Nell, Charlie was distinct.

"He looks quite pretty," Sofia remarked. Nell smiled back at him.

"Yeah, he'll be thrilled to bits with these."

She looked back over at Sofia's work, struggling to find words for the deep, vague mourning - the intense feeling that she is missing something, that an opportunity has been left behind, that the past is running away from her faster than she can catch up with the future - that the picture brought onto her. Water trickled down her forearm and sank into her t-shirt.

"What's, um, your project about?" she asked, rather plainly.

Sofia's eyes flicked between Nell and the photograph, then tilted her head thoughtfully.

"I'm interested in impossible things."

Nell wasn't sure what she as expecting, but the answer intrigued her.

Sofia continued - "Imagine going back in time three hundred years, and showing this to someone. They wouldn't believe it. I can barely believe it. I'm interested in what we don't believe in - the supernatural, if you can call it that. Three hundred years ago, they would hang me for witchcraft, because they wouldn't believe this to be possible without witchcraft." She laughed, even at this morbid thought, without sarcasm; Nell couldn't help but smile at the usually no-nonsense woman's passionate affection for her work.

"I like the idea of comparing traditionally inexplicable myth and legend to the mysteries we've now since solved, and the technology we have today. We're always trying to rationalize things - I mean, analogue photography itself: we can study chemical reactions all we want. We can explain it and write research on it 'til our brains melt. It will never become simple, or dull, or earthly. Just because we understand it doesn't mean it isn't magic."

She looked up at Nell, in a genuine search for connection. She spoke every word like it meant the world, and to her, it really did.

"People can get focused on the most efficient way to get the most predictable end result. They look for corners to cut, control, replicability - making these reactions happen by hand is the antithesis of that. They treat it like a dead art. I love the process. I need the magic."

The whimsy her words held was like nothing Nell ever would have expected from Sofia Blancheford. She watched as those glittery eyes drifted gently back down to the print. Her hands and face were hazy and velvet in the crimson glow of the safelight; there was a mole under her lower lip. A halo of downy black hair incandesced in a similar hue above her head. Nell realised she must have been staring, and felt her own face turn a deep scarlet to match the party - she hoped it camouflaged well. She cleared her throat.

"Well, you're very smart, and the pictures are really good. I hope you write all that down. Very handy for evaluation."

Sofia smiled at her shyly, appreciating even the bluntest of praise. Nell dunked her print back into the cold water.

"I'd better do the rest of these bad boys. Thanks for fixing my stuff."

With that, she turned away briskly and attended to her station. The time passed rather smoothly after that - Nell fell into a peaceful, focused rhythm of work, and Sofia nursed her own creations a couple of enlargers away. Every so often, Nell would crack a joke into the comfortable silence, and Sofia would either ignore her, or crack a funnier one back. If she ever actually laughed, she did it very quietly. To begin with, the company was disappointing at best, and intrusive at worst, but now Nell found herself feeling content to work alongside Sofia - that was, when she wasn't being told off for something inconsequential. Gradually, she hated Charles less and less for getting in trouble and putting her into this situation.

There were around a dozen chosen photos he had circled, and each one was a treat, so it didn't feel like much work at all. He wanted to work in theatre, making costumes and puppets and the like, and his portfolio agreed with him - in the second, he wore a bandit's mask around his eyes, an excessively feathered hat, and a very meek pencil moustache.

In another, he wore a huge, cascading cloak of some sort, patched and quilted and embroidered with dozens of images, flora and fauna and people - a testament to his patience, it seemed. He looked away from the camera, and the garment took up most of the image. It was more of a textile artwork than a functional costume.

Someone lay on the ground in a landscape composition, crowded with faux-fur and other heavy textural materials. It could have been Charles under there, but it was impossible to tell. From the shoulders up, they were obscured by a large sculptural boar's head; it was papier-mâché - Nell had seen it before. It lay there as if dead; it was weathered and off-putting, but Nell's favourite of the bunch. Its monstrous nature, and the ambiguity of the wearer underneath, recalled ritual folk costumes depicting spirits and the like, blurring the line between man and beast. Things like this had interested her for a while. She supposed it wasn't all too different from Sofia's proposal - a deep fascination with the far-fetched - realizing all the wild, inconceivable stories that people must see to believe, and once they believe, they go in terror of.

"Very interesting work," came a voice in her ear.

Nell almost leapt out of her skin when she noticed Sofia peering at the photos from over her shoulder. She hovered like a phantom, wispy hair brushing against Nell's cheek; she didn't seem to care a bit that she had almost stopped the taller woman's heart, and just frowned at her.

"No need to be jumpy. There are only a few vengeful ghosts living down here."

Breezing behind Nell with a dry tray in her arms, she began fishing out the other prints floating about.

"I don't know why you decided to help with Charlie's stuff, if you're so annoyed with him."

Sofia cocked her head innocently. "Why would I be annoyed with him?"

The rather cutthroat photographer wasn't one to hide a grudge, and Nell wondered if she had gotten the story mixed up. Before she could ask any further into it, Sofia gestured to the small pile of wet papers.

"I take it you're all finished? Are you coming to dry them off?"

"Yeah, alright, don't rush me," Nell replied, and deposited her handiwork into Sofia's tray, who waited impatiently by the door for her protégé to gather her other belongings.

"Thanking you kindly," Nell bowed as she passed through the first door that Sofia held open considerately, but was called back with a sharp, "Wait," quicker she could rush to open the second, risking flooding daylight into their little liminal realm.

"Always wait for this door to shut. You could ruin someone's work. It's also why you knock," Sofia ordered.

"Right, wonderful. Well, to my knowledge, literally nobody is in there. Unless they've been extremely quiet."

"It's about the habit," she insisted. By now, the interior door had long since shut and they were arguing in pitch black. Nell didn't care to stay longer than she needed. She swung open the entrance to the lightroom and squinted at the sudden contrast.

"Christ alive, it's like coming out of a casket."

She turned to see Sofia emerging from the gloom - dressed in practically mourning clothes, long hair matching the tone, face as pale as a vampire.

"Explains a lot, actually."

Sofia looked up from the tray, not listening.

"What?"

"What are we up to, then?" Nell diverted, coming to stand annoyingly close to the other artist's side. She hadn't yet seen her under proper light that day, away from the dreamy veil of the laboratory, and gave her a once-over. She wore black, corduroy trousers, that flared slightly over equally black, practical boots. In a tasteful shade of very dark charcoal, she wore a thin, long-sleeved black top that came up high on her throat. The bright blue lanyard almost spoiled it. You'd think she was trying to camouflage in there. No wonder I knocked into her, Nell thought, wear a bloody hi-vis next time.

Sofia didn't care enough to budge, and instead handed Nell a small stack of prints.

"Peg these up, for now."

She turned on a rather loud drying machine and began to feed some photos through; Nell turned to the basins, where strings were suspended wildly from above like vines. They fell into another comfortable silence, facing opposite walls, and the clock ticked closer to the end of the day.

Eventually, Sofia turned the machine off (its absence was noticeable), and she came to busy herself alongside her classmate with a few contact strips that were too small to go through. After a minute, she glanced over at the taller woman, diligently working, and turned thoughtfully to face her.

"You've got a striking side profile," she casually commented. She reached up to Nell's jaw in her fingers and tilt it for a better view.

Nell felt her insides scattering and turning over themselves, like those silvery reflections in the waterbath. She was taken by surprise, but barely thought twice about letting the smaller woman pose her around like a show pony - before she came to her senses and batted the hand away.

"Buy me a drink first, yeah?"

Sofia didn't dignify her with a laugh.

"I don't do many portraits, but I should have you model for me."

She didn't really phrase it like a question. That was the thing about Sofia - she didn't need to speak in hypotheticals. She had that sure-of-herself, naturally commanding presence that seemed to come with being a bit posh.

"Not in a million years, sweetheart."

"I remember when Charlie swindled you into it. You're a bit of a natural. I'd put my own spin you," she reasoned, as if it were an offer she couldn't refuse.

Nell remembered that shoot too, from a few months ago, though fuzzily - it gave her feelings, ones she couldn't place. Sofia was there, to help with the setup, and so was fashion student Polly, as another model. The work was fantastic, but for all of Nell's can-do attitude and brash personality, she was implausibly camera-shy.

"I owed him, again."

"Then I'll have to find you in my debt, somehow."

Again, it came with being posh - but Sofia's intonation did make it sound slightly flirtatious. Nell stood her ground.

"Not happening."

Sofia placed her hands on her hips thoughtfully, narrowing her eyes at her stubborn classmate.

"I have given you my time this afternoon."

"I never asked you to. And that weren't for my benefit, it were for Charlie's."

"I could just as easily have left you to figure it out on your own. You'd have been here 'til dusk."

She raised an eyebrow. Nell squirmed under Sofia's persuasive gaze.

"Let me pick my clothes," she bargained, "And I'll think about considering it."

She held out a handshake, which Sofia suspiciously, hesitantly, reached for. A mistake - Nell, like obnoxious lightning, yanked it out of the way and ran a hand through her hair instead. It was an admittedly smooth execution. She sucked air through her teeth awkwardly as if it were an accident, and grinned mischievously at Sofia.

"Ooh, I ain't that easy, love. Cheers for the science lesson, though, yeah?"

Sofia did not smile. She very clearly seethed, but spoke calmly as ever.

"You are insufferable."

"Good one. I'll see you around, Sof."

The clock struck four. With a suave wink and click of her teeth, Nell took her folder (and blinding grin) and bounced out of the department door, disappearing out of sight - leaving Sofia alone with a flush of furious embarrassment and the familiar notion that something important had slipped through her fingers.