#making a two tone woodcut

[theory-of-music]

Renaissance Impressions, Chiaroscuro Woodcuts at the Royal Academy of Arts, London

Exhibition title: Renaissance Impressions Chiaroscuro woodcuts from the collections of Georg Baselitz and the Albertina, Vienna Dates: 15 March-8 June 2014 Venue:  Royal Academy of Arts, Burlington House, Piccadilly, London W1J 0BD Admission price: £10.00 for an adult ticket, free to Friends of the Royal Academy This is an exhibition of sixteenth-century chiaroscuro woodcuts from Germany,…

[nevertheless-moving]

The Demon of Yunmeng Part Four

Part One — Part Three

“…What.”

“I want your permission to ask Wen Ning to help me at the trial — I swear if either of you doesn’t want to then I’ll figure out something else, but the only plan I can think of that might work is if I pretend to be a cutsleeve, and, ah, I think I mentioned that I’m not super popular with my old friends right now, so he’s kindof my only option."

He peeked his head up and grinned his best, most charming smile, but Wen Qing just closed her eyes and rubbed her temples.

“That,” she said. “Is a terrible plan.”

“I admit it’s not my best.” he sat back on his heels, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “But bear with me! If I can just create enough doubt that maybe the stories aren’t true, then the women might confess that they’re being bribed or threatened or that now they see me up close they can’t be sure it was actually me who attacked, you know? Yu Xiang said she couldn’t see anything, so, well…there’s a chance that people will believe it, isn’t there?”

His tone started to edge on desperation the longer she looked at him with a pinched expression. “People love to believe crazy stuff about me!" he said, throwing his hands in the air. "You have to have guessed there’s all sorts of rumors about why I actually helped you, this is just — shifting those around a little."

She stared at him longer.

“Three quarters of the cultivators are just going to be there for entertainment,” he said, even more defensively, “Once people latch on to a story that's scandalous or interesting — 'The Demon of Yunmeng turns out to be a cutsleeve' — come on, it could work!”

“Wei Wuxian,” she said slowly. “Even if everyone immediately accepts that the two of you are passionately in love, there is absolutely no way on Earth that it will make you look like less of a degenerate predator. You do realize that, right?”

“Of course it would!” he argued, offended.

“My brother stutters. His cultivation is low. He is permanently disabled.”

“He could punch through a boulder with that brace I made him,” he said petulantly.

“If he didn’t care about moving the next week, sure. That’s not the point. " She made a frustrated noise, waving her arm sharply. "It’s about the image. You and I both very well know that my brother has a spine of iron. He lied to the core melting hand himself to save a stranger. He stood up to Jin Zixun, despite being in chains and half beaten to death. None of that matters — he looks like a victim. He is currently famous in the cultivation world for being a victim. He would just make you seem even worse — someone else you’d taken advantage of.”

“I…okay, but he’s still a man. No one would question that.”

“Are you serious right now? You do know people can have sex with men and women, right? There’s not a hard and fast rule that it’s only ever one or the other.”

Wei Wuxian boggled in her direction. “That… that doesn’t sound right. Are you sure? Both? I’ve never heard — no one’s ever even hinted that…”

“Ancestors be kind,” she said, pressing her palms to her eyes. “This is actually your plan. This is actually why you rode all the way here.”

“I’ve never heard of someone liking both,” he said defensively.

“And how much do you actually talk about cutsleeve sex with your friends?" Wen Qing said, condescending. "Your friends who won’t associate with you anymore?”

“…Has anyone ever told you that you can be very mean sometimes?”

“Yes. And yes I am sure. And no, it’s not a secret. I can probably find a fucking woodcutting or spring book,  if you want proof. While I’m sure some people share your… understanding, there will be plenty who will see this as extra evidence of your endless depraved lust."

He gave up on kneeling properly, sprawling out on the floor.

“If I’m not cut into pieces until I die or being hunted by thousands of cultivator this time next month then I would love to trade porn with you,” he said glumly. “That actually sounds really fun, why haven’t we done that before? I bet there’s all sorts of weird stuff written down as ‘medically recommended dual cultivation.’”

She exhaled heavily. “Maybe…maybe your plan could work if you found someone else, and claimed to exclusively want to be the receiving partner? Your face is probably thick enough for that, and it would have a similar 'why would anyone claim it if it wasn't true' justification as the accusations against you.”

He rolled over, propping his chin up on his hands to look at her.

“Receiving?” He asked. “What like, the guy who, um, takes the other guy in his mouth?” he felt his face heat a little. She was a doctor, and also Wen Qing, a woman who had already seen him more naked than most people ever physically get, but she was still a woman, and it was starting to feel a little weird to talk about this stuff with her.

He powered through. Clearly she knew things he didn’t. “Isn’t that a little unfair? Wouldn’t you, I don’t know, take turns? In the spring books between men and women it always seems unfair when there’s just one person doing all the work.”

Somehow, the look on her face grew even more condescending. “Your plan was to pretend to be a rabbit — possibly for the rest of your life — and you don’t even know how two men have sex?”

“My life has gone in unexpected directions since the last time I went shopping for pornography,” he said, sarcasm coming out with slightly more bite then he intended. He coughed. “Look, If that’s not what you mean then…”

“Anally," Wen Qing said impatiently. “I was referring to sex between men in which one party's penis goes into the other’s anus — I’m struggling to understand how you’ve never heard of this — isn’t it a common wartime joke? A sixteen year old cries after killing someone so everyone says they might as well bend over for a real man ?”

“Ooohhh…that’s what that…” A few overheard conversations clicked into place. He felt it wasn't entirely his fault he had been mostly left out of friendly fireside chats during the sunshot campaign.

“But —“ he struggled to imagine it, resisting the urge to reach into his trousers and check the size of his own asshole. “There’s no way anything like that could possibly fit. You’ve got to be messing with me, or someone was messing with you.”

“When I first started my medical cultivation training,” she said, eyes unfocusing slightly, “My Shizun sat me down and told me that being a doctor would involve a lot less finding a magical perfect herb and saving the day then you would expect, and a lot more pulling objects out of unlikely places. And if I wasn’t prepared to deal with that, I should probably quit.”

“And—“

“And she was right. It’s a muscle. It can stretch like any other muscle.” She paused. “Certain salves and oils are highly advisable. And cleaning yourself before and after is very important.”

“Wow,” Wei Wuxian said wonderingly. “You learn something new every day. I guess it’s got to feel good, right? If people are shoving…” he looked at her questioningly.

She grimaced. “Bottles and jars are popular, and also a terrible idea. I knew a doctor who actually lost someone to infection that way— they clenched down and the shards—“

“Ugh,” he winced.

“Yes. Vegetables are… generally acceptable."

"Vegetables?" Wei Wuxian said, delighted.

"—But it can be dangerous if something gets lost, so it's important to have a firm grip — I know there are certain merchants who deal in replica male genitalia specifically, with flared bases —“

 “Those I’ve seen, but I always figured they were for women!” He barked out a laugh then groaned. “Damn, I really am ignorant. I probably wouldn’t have been able to pull this off, even if it was good idea.”

“It’s not your worst plan,” she offered. 

“Thanks.”

“Really,” she said thoughtfully. “It… could work, maybe — with a different man, who could match you in terms of power.”

He didn’t bother saying that there were few men who met that description, and he lacked any other friends who would do such a thing for him anyway. Instead, he let his head fall from his hands, pressing his face to the floorboards with a groan.

Several moments of silence passed before being interrupted by a knock at the door. He didn’t bother getting up as Wen Qing sighed, then stepped past him.

He heard the door open. “Ah, Lan Er Gongzi,” she said. “Please, come in — allow me to prepare more tea.”

Wei Wuxian swore softly to himself, then shifted as casually as possible to a slightly more graceful side sprawl, propping his head up on his hands as Lan Wangji’s perfectly white robes and perfectly black boots came into view.

“Lan Zhan,” he said, lifting his gaze up the perfectly upright body to finally meet startlingly golden eyes.

Wei Wuxian's greeting smile was slightly more reserved than what he had given Wen Qing earlier. They had never spoken of the rumors while they were growing — the Lan sect of course prohibited gossip. But things had grown from gossip to outright accusation at this point…

“Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji replied. His expression was as hard to read as ever, but there was some emotion there. Anger, maybe?

The sour feeling returned to Wei Wuxian’s stomach. Of course, as much as it had felt like their relationship was improving, of course Lan Zhan would be all to prepared to believe the worst of a Demonic Cultivator.

He stood up. “If you’re sure to protect Wen Gongzi’s virtue,” he said bitterly. “You have nothing to fear. She could paralyze me with needles before I had a chance to do anything… unseemly.”

Lan Wanjii’s brow furrowed. “Wei Ying.” he said. “Do not speak unchastely of others.”

Wei Wuxian snorted. It was such a Lan Zhan reply. “Relax, I’m going, you won’t have to —“

“You’re not going anywhere,” Wen Qing said tersely. “Now sit down in a chair like a normal person.”

He looked at her in betrayal. “I won’t leave town,” he said. “I was just going to go visit with Popo, until your guest had departed. Unless of course he’s concerned for her as well—“

“Sit,” she ordered.

He sat down.

“Lan-er gongzi,” she said, far more politely. “If you would join us.”

Lan Wangii also sat down.

Wei Wuxian pointedly did not look in his direction.

"Wuxian," she said, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Just ask him."

He startled. Surely she didn't mean...

"Ask him what you asked me when you came in," she ordered.

He really didn't want to. But he had to know, so he swallowed hard, forcing himself to face his greater detractor head on. Golden eyes burned as they often did. Lan Wangji couldn't do anything without doing so with one hundred percent effort — that included looking at someone.

"Do you believe it?" Wei Wuxian finally blurted out. "The rumors about me? The accusations? The... the thing they're holding a whole fucking conference about."

Lan Zhan stared at him.

"No," he finally said, after a pause that felt longer than it was.

Wei Wuxian tried to ignore the immediate sense of relief and gratitude that washed over him. He surely didn't care that much about the opinion of Lan Zhan, a man who had never offered him a hint of warmth in his life?

The relief immediately slipped into suspicion. "Why not?" he demanded. "Aren't you always calling me an irredeemably evil demonic cultivator?"

The space between Lan Wangji's eyebrow folded in. "No."

Wei Wuxian rolled his eyes. "Fine, aren't you always calling me a currently evil, actively choosing not be redeemed demonic cultivator?"

"Never called you evil."

"Wha — what the fuck, are you splitting hairs right now? Wicked, unrighteous, you know what I —"

"Wei Ying," Lan Wangji interrupted, definitely looking angry now. "I have not. Your path is wicked."

"I..." his eyes started burning, and anger welled up alongside. "What's the fucking —"

A cup slammed down on the table front of him.

"No yelling in my office," Wen Qing said.

"Wen Qing —"

"Drink your tea and let Hunguang-Jun say his piece. Actually, both of you drink your tea, then Lan Wangji talks, then Wei Wuxian."

Wei Wuxian looked at the other man, expecting him to protest being ordered around, or at least to silently frown and then not comply, but he just nodded, and reached for the cup, face mostly smooth again.

Wei Wuxian huffed, then drank the tea. It was annoyingly good.

When both of their cups were empty (fuck Lan Zhan is taking his time). He leaned back disrespectfully, hopefully masking the nerves thrumming through his body, staring at Lan Zhan with an expression that was probably failing to come across as bored.

Lan Wangji took a breath, then rotated slightly in his seat, such that he was at an equal partial angle to both Wei Wuxian and Wen Qing.

"I do not believe the accusations. Wei Ying would not do such things. He may use wicked tricks, he may lose sight of the righteous path. But he has always pursued justice, ultimately."

He paused, but Wei Ying didn't try to interject. His heart was thrumming too hard in his chest, and there was a rushing sound in his ears.

Lan Wangji continued. "Furthermore, the final night of the wedding feasting, there were Jin attendants, filling his cups specifically. He grew inebriated faster than I thought normal, though at the time I attributed it to the strength of the wine. I later learned the feasting wine was not particularly strong, leading me to suspect he was served something different. When he began losing consciousness, a cultivator I did not recognize made to escort him away. I did not trust this, so I intervened, escorting Wei Ying to his rooms myself. I made sure he properly warded the room from intrusion, after which he immediately collapsed. I do not believe he was in a state to commit heinous deeds, even if he had wanted to. Furthermore, when I exited his chambers there were servants lingering unnecessarily. They left without sufficient explanation when I confronted them. I suspected a plot against him, perhaps an attempt to steal the Ying Tiger Talley, but not what happened."

He paused, turning to look Wei Wuxian in the eyes. "I am sorry. I should have spoken sooner. My clan insisted I not interfere during the chaos of that morning. I will speak at the inquiry."

It was the most Wei Wuxian had heard him say at one time outside of a nighthunt or military report, and there was no question in his mind he had prepared each word as meticulously.

At some point during the speech Wei Wuxian's body had started leaning in his direction. He swallowed hard, sitting up. "You... Lan Zhan, you really are too good, you know that?"

Lan Wangji looked down. "I did not believe the rumors even before that," he said quietly. "I swear, Wei Ying, I did not."

"Well," Wen Qing said, startling Wei Wuxian, who had somewhat forgotten she was there. "This works out perfectly! You have the ideal candidate to help with your plan, one with a dedication to helping Yu Guniang get justice, who is already wholly convinced of your innocence."

"Very funny," Wei Wuxian said through gritted teeth. "So glad you're able to make jokes about this now."

"Plan?" Lan Wangji asked, because of course he would.

Wei Wuxian pressed two fingers to his forehead, unable to believe that Wen Qing had even brought up his foolish and embarrassing idea in front of the second Jade of Lan.

"Just one of my wicked tricks intended to bring about a righteous end," he said, suddenly exhausted. "Nothing you would ever involve yourself. It probably wouldn't have worked anyway."

Lan Wangji continued to stare at him.

"Really! Setting aside the lying and scandalous nature, it's a bad plan — we were talking about how stupid my idea was before you came in, I swear."

"It would be stupid to try with my brother," Wen Qing corrected. "If Hunguang-Jun took his place... it actually might have a chance of being believed."

"Yes," he snapped. "Because Hunguang-Jun is known for not lying, something the plan relies heavily on!"

"Wei Ying. What plan?"

"Forget it, Lan Zhan!"

"Wei Ying—"

"I said it's a stupid idea and you wouldn't agree to it anyway!" His voice has gotten overly sharp, but he couldn't help it. "It's not worth wasting any more words on, and if I'm the one saying that, you know it must be true!"

"If you really don't want to ask Lan er-Gongzi for help," Wen Qing cut in, interrupting Lan Zhan's extremely loud glare, "We could discuss the idea I thought you were coming to ask my assistance with."

The Demon of Yunmeng whipped his head her direction. "Qing-jie!" he cried. "Why didn't you say you had a better plan than mine!"

"Because I don't. My plan is also very bad, and I don't want any part in it, it's just what I thought you would come up with. I underestimated your creativity once again."

"Do you want me to flatter you? We both know that any ideas that come from your brain are bound to be better than what comes from my resentful-energy clouded mind!"

"Wuxian, you really won't like my idea." She was smirking. She clearly thought she had something on him.

"Do you want me to get down on my knees and beg for your help? You know I have no face to lose in front of you!" He glanced at Lan Zhan, who's face had mostly smoothed out, only missing a small wrinkle above his nose.

"You might want to leave," Wei Wuxian whispered, winking. "I wasn't joking about getting undignified." The wrinkle deepened, brow once again fully furrowed.

"Very well," Wen Qing sighed. "If you really are that unwilling to even ask Lan Wangji — possibly the only man who's reputation is good enough to cancel out your terrible one — then we can discuss the other option."

Wei Wuxian leaned toward her eagerly. "Which is..."

"Castration."

He felt the blood leave his face. "What was that?" he asked weakly. "I think I might have misheard you."

"Well, if you were missing the equipment necessary to impregnate Yu Xiang," she said, face completely serious, "Then there would hardly be much to discuss, would there now? A skilled cultivator could probably heal such a.... wound to make it seem questionable when it had occurred. All you would have to do would drop your pants at the trial and claim it had occurred when you were captured by Wen at the start of the war."

A glance over at the other man in the room revealed he looked, if not horrified by most people's measure, certainly distressed by Lan standards. His eyes were slightly wider, the brow wrinkle deeper. His hands were clenching the chair seat.

Wei Wuxian laughed nervously, resisting the urge to protectively cradle the parts being discussed. "If you would allow me a moment to get back to you, Wen-Guniang."

He didn't wait for her to answer, instead slipping to the floor to kneel beside Lan Wangji, who looked at him with what might have been bewilderment, but was probably just mild annoyance. Wei Wuxian pretended it was distress on his behalf.

"Hunguang-Jun," he pleaded, clutching at cloud-embroidered robes. "Lan Wangji. Lan Zhan. Will you please pretend to be my longtime cutsleeve cultivation partner in front of the entire Jianghu?"

"Yes."

"Lan Er-Gongzi," he begged. "At least take a moment to hear —" he blinked, brain catching up to his ears. "Wait, did you say yes?"

"Yes."

"...What."

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[cainluvr69]

Let Me Tell You The Story Of A Rainbow - Chapter 4

Previous Chapter

Akira: Yes?

Rutile: It's Rutile. Is it okay if I come in?

I opened the door, and there was Rutile on the other side. He had a familiar picture book in his arms, tucked against his chest.

Akira: That's Luca Carroll's magical picture book…

Rutile: Prince Arthur let me borrow it. Do you want to keep reading it with me?

Akira: Wahh, of course! Absolutely!

I welcomed Rutile into my room, and we sat down side by side on my bed.

Rutile: I asked Cock Robin, and he said that all of Miss Luca's books are one of a kind. Each book is illustrated through long hours dedicated to carefully cast magic, so using woodcuts for mass production can't be done.

Akira: Oh wow, I didn't know that book was that precious. It's unique…

Rutile: Yep. It's kind of nerve-wracking to touch it now that I know it's the only one of its kind in the whole world.

Rutile gently ran his fingers over the cover of the book, as if he were longing for the notebook he'd used and poured his love into for years.

Rutile: Alright…shall we open it up?

Rutile's tone of voice made it sound like this was a more formal occasion than it was, and I grinned…and then cleared my throat to match the ceremonious vibes. And then Rutile's elegant, beautiful fingers slowly opened the front cover. A rainbow of light spilled forth from the pages, spreading across the floor like an overflow of colored ink. A gentle breeze danced with golden flower buds--or what I thought were flower buds, but they had bloomed in their full glory to claim their place as the wind's dance partners. Animals I'd never seen before ran up an amethyst hill and flew through the lapis-lazuli sky. The book's wonderland spread around us as far as I could see, much like the music from a wind-up music box did when you opened the lid. It was such a magnificent sight that my breath caught in my chest. At my side, Rutile was just as captivated by the illusion that had wrapped around the two of us.

Akira: This really is exactly what a magical picture book that only has a single copy should be like… It's truly a special, unique book.

Rutile: It really is… It's like we've walked into someone's dreams.

Akira: What kind of story is written in it? I still can't read this world's language.

Rutile: Ah! Yes, of course. It's about a little girl who travels the world on the back of a mysterious butterfly-like animal. The butterfly's name is Roxy. The two of them are on a journey to collect Roxy's favorite flower nectar.

Akira: Roxy… Would that be this one? The rainbowy, butterfly-y creature here?

Rutile: Yep, that's the one. Doesn't all that fluff make her look so cute?

Akira: The translucent wings are really pretty, too… The parts where the light hits shine with so many colors. Every time she flaps her wings, it's like the wind is painted with a rainbow.

Rutile: Oh my, Master Sage. That's such a poetic way of describing it. How lovely! …Roxy is neither a human nor a wizard, but she's still this little girl's most precious friend. This book is simply bursting at the seams with love. That's why even just reading it is enough to warm the heart.

Akira: I can't read what's been written, but I can still tell that each flower, each blade of grass, the sky and all the clouds, and every single animal was drawn with love and care… Just looking at them is enough to make me happy. I'm sure the world is dearly important to Miss Luca Carroll.

Rutile: I think so, too.

A seven-colored butterfly flickered and wavered within the book's illusion. With each flap of its wings, light danced over its glittering scales, and I could hear a faint sparkly sort of sound, like the ringing of bells.

Akira: Neither human nor wizard, but a precious friend all the same… It'd be nice if people could come to an understanding with wizards so that they could get along better, the way Roxy and this little girl did.

Rutile nodded in agreement, smiling broadly. His sincere response made me sit up a little straighter.

Akira: That's why I was thinking it'd be nice if everyone in the manor went to the art exhibition together.

Rutile: It'd be lovely if we could all enjoy art together, without having to worry about the divide between humans and wizards!

Rutile's eyes were fixed on the pages of the picture book as he spoke. His gentle gaze was full of hope.

Akira: You're very excited, I see.

Rutile: I'm feeling very impatient, too. When I think of how I'll be able to see more of Luca Carroll's manuscripts…I feel so antsy I don't know if I'll be able to sleep!

Rutile's excitement reminded me of how excited I got before school trips. I'd always get so worked up I couldn't sleep the night before.

Rutile: Master Sage? What are you grinning about?

Akira: Hehe, sorry. I was just thinking about times when I've been so excited I couldn't sleep, too.

Rutile: So you've had nights like that, too.

Akira: Yeah. I'd try so hard to go to sleep properly, but that'd just make it even harder for me to fall asleep. Like, I felt, how do I put it…

Rutile: Like you could just get up and dance?

Akira: Exactly.

Rutile: It's so hard to hide it when your heart is dancing in your chest, isn't it?

Akira: It really is. I was never able to keep it under control!

We looked over at each other, and when our eyes met, we both broke into big smiles.

Akira: I'm even more excited for the exhibition now.

Rutile gently closed the cover of the book and then hugged it tightly to his chest.

Rutile: …I wonder what kind of person Miss Luca Carroll is.

Akira: I'm curious, too. I mean, she illustrated a world that even Snow and White aren't very familiar with so beautifully… It's captivating. Shylock said she must be a very insightful and long-lived wizard, but I wonder…

Rutile: I'm sure she must be like the books she writes. Deeply thoughtful and full of care, gentle and kind, but a little bit mischievous and cute, too… In essence, I'm sure she must be a very lovely person!

✦✧☾✧✦

???: It's so warm here. I wonder if this is what it feels like to be inside the shell of an egg. What do you think? You're warm…protected…you know that you're safe there. …No, not quite. You…were safe. But now… Hey, Roxy. If we stay here forever, we'll be able to see everyone we love. And they'll say my name again… But I'm scared, too. …Everything about you, your kind voice, how cute you are, and even your name that I love so much… It feels like you'll disappear from in front of me as soon as I close my eyes. …I'm scared of leaving this place. I'm scared of…the person I am changing… I'm scared of losing anything else I hold dear… If this is the inside of an egg… Do I have to hatch? Can't I just stay in my shell forever…?

✦✧☾✧✦

A few days later. It was finally the first day of the art exhibition. The old castle the exhibition was being held in was absolutely jam-packed with people. I had arrived at the venue with several of my wizards in tow, both to see what was happening in the exhibition as well as to extend my thanks to the noble that had invited us in the first place.

Akira: What a stately castle…! Is the whole thing being used for the exhibition?

Shino: Can we even see everything in a single day? This is kind of ridiculous for a privately sponsored event.

Cain: I saw a list of all the items that are on display, and it's a pretty hefty amount. Being able to collect all this is pretty amazing.

Heathcliff: It doesn't seem like our host was collecting them for collecting's sake, either. Each and every one has been hand-picked by our host because he truly likes them… I can feel the commitment to his aesthetics.

Chloe: All of the guests are dressed up super fancy, too. I bet it's because they're all interested in the arts. Oh…! That embroidery is gorgeous! I need to get a closer look!

Rutile: I can barely wait either! Let's start looking around.

Rutile stepped forward to do just that, and promptly smacked into someone.

Young Girl: …oof.

Rutile: Oh, I'm so sorry!

Young Girl: …umm…

The person he'd bumped into was a young girl who appeared to be several years younger than Mitile. She tried to back away from us, looking confused, but Cain gently put a hand on her back.

Cain: Woah there, are you okay? Not hurt or anything?

Young Girl: Ah…

She looked a bit lost, her gaze wandering between us all. Her lavender eyes trembled with uncertainty.

Riquet: She must be lost. Can you tell us about who you were with?

Young Girl: …

Mitile: She must've gotten separated from whoever she came with. Let's see… It doesn't seem like anyone who might be her parents are nearby.

Cain: Well, it is a big place. There, there. Don't worry, we'll get you where you need to be.

Chloe: Should we try to ask the castle servants to make an announcement…?

But as we were talking, the girl quietly latched onto Shino, grabbing his sleeve while he was examining the people around us.

Shino: …? What…

Young Man: So this is where you were!

I saw a young man rushing through the throng of guests towards us. He had stunningly blonde hair and pale amber eyes, and he was probably…a little older than Cain. His suit was fairly plain in color, but the pattern of his shirt that I could see peeking out from under the hem of his jacket caught my eye.

Young Girl: …

As soon as the girl saw him, she let go of Shino's sleeve and rushed over to the young man. She hid herself behind him as naturally as a dove folded its wings to its body.

Young Man: Thank goodness these nice people found you. I'm so sorry for the trouble.

Heathcliff: Oh, no… Are you her father? If anything, I'm glad we found you. We were afraid she'd gotten lost.

Young Man: I took my eyes off of her for just a moment and she vanished on me. Thank you so much. Alright, dear, let's go now.

He gently took the girl's hand and gave us a small bow before they went on their way.

Young Man: Are you alright? You've seemed so out of it lately… Is there something worrying you, Luca?

Rutile & Akira: Huh?

Akira: (By Luca, does he mean…?)

But other people filled in the gap between them and us, and the two of them disappeared.

Rutile: …

✦✧☾✧✦

The little girl was still on my mind, but I tried to push those thoughts to the side and explore the exhibition.

Akira: The exterior is very handsome, but the interior is a lot bigger than I was expecting.

Heathcliff: It really is. Let's keep our eyes on the map of the exhibition while we walk around. Is there anywhere you want to go to first, Master Sage?

Akira: Right, where to start… There are so many displays I want to look at, I'm not sure which one to go to first.

Next Chapter

[mycatwantstoeatpins]

[Additional description: a realistic, close-up painting of a maidenhair fern arranged in a glass carafe filled with water. The fern has reddish stems and delicate leaves shaded from light to dark green. The focus is on the stems and leaves inside the carafe, where they float in and are slightly distorted by the water. The light also reflects off the outside of the carafe. The painting is separated by a white vertical bar indicating where the woodcut was divided.]

This was my favourite piece from the National Gallery's Cressida Campbell exhibition. It's quite a large painting; I remember it being at least a metre high. Seeing it was like hearing a perfect tone from a bell, where you feel like you could sit in the fading resonance forever.

The artist, Cressida Campbell, created the painting using her signature method of creating a woodcut which she uses to make a print. She chose to divide this woodcut into two, with one piece being about three times larger than the other.

Image source - National Gallery of Australia

[it-is-polite-to-knock]

Jon Archivist teaches Dean Supernatural how to make a cuppa.

I started this artwork for the TMA Big Bang 2023, but unfortunately we had to discontinue the bang. Fortunately, my group decided to keep working our project anyway. I worked with Levaa on their amazing SPN/TMA crossover fic pandora’s box!

[ID: Colored pencil drawing of Dean Winchester from Supernatural (left) and Jonathan Sims from The Magnus Archives (right) making tea together. They are at the stove in Bobby’s kitchen. The two men are half-facing each other. Dean is looking down and stirring the tea with a spoon. Jon is looking up at Dean, and pointing at him, like he’s lecturing his technique. 

Dean is tall with very short dark-blonde hair and tanned skin. He is wearing a dark green collared shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows, and blue jeans. Jon is several inches shorter than Dean. His hair is wavy and a mix of grey and black, and it’s cut messily, like it was trimmed by a non-professional. He has lighter olive-toned skin. He has several scars on his face and right hand, some small pockmarks, some twisting patterns like wormwood. He also has a burn scar on his right palm. He is wearing an oversized plaid flannel in purple, black and grey. The sleeves are too long and rolled up to the wrists.

They are in Bobby’s kitchen from Supernatural. The walls are pale green, and the countertops are off-white. There is various clutter in the kitchen background, including candles on the windowsill, a bottle of whiskey on the counter, a calendar of cars on the wall, a woodcut of an animal on the wall, and salt and pepper shakers above the stove.There is a coffee maker and a box of tea bags on the counter to the left, and dishes in the sink to the right. End ID.]

[estrogenandspite]

It tasted like lilacs. That was the odd thing to me. Two different fruits, but the taste was more like a flower.

The fae knight and hellspawn soldier arrived at the same time to collect me. If not for the Importance of Protocol, they would have immediately attacked each other. The fae was beautiful. She was a dryad, with hair made of leaves and flowers and her complexion like that of wood carved and sanded by a goddess of woodcutting.

The hellspawn was beautiful as well, in her own way. She was a thing not before heard of in mortal realms, a cryanith. She had horns the color of a bleeding heart, and four tentacles that ended in arrow heads like a demon’s tails. Her hair flowed like a widow’s tears, and her complexion reminded me of a setting winter sun, red and harsh and cold.

“She belongs to our realm now,” the fae said. “She ate the fruit of our table. Her flesh belongs to my liege.”

“Ha!” spat the demon. “As if your Lady would even know what to do with her. She is bound for the land of the dead now. My queen has a claim on her soul.”

For a moment I feared I missed a trick, that they would separate my soul from my body and give both of them what I wanted. Fortunately, I would later learn that such a thing would be seen as abhorrent to both societies.

The two went back and forth for a bit. I watched, sipping my smoothie. It wasn’t until the fae mentioned this could lead to war that tears started to well in my eyes.

The hellspawn noticed first. “Look what you’ve done!” she snapped at the dryad. “You’re making the poor woman weep.”

“What I’ve done?” the dryad retorted. “Please. Look at yourself, standing here in this… dirty room… screaming about how you…”

She trailed off. They looked around, now seeing me, now seeing where I sat, seeing the state of my clothes and bed. The dryad bent down, her tone soft for the first time. “Child,” she said. I was old enough to be legally an adult, so I bristled at the term, but these beings were likely centuries old and we were all as children to them. “Did you know what you were doing when you drank that?”

I nodded, slurping the last bit of the smoothie down.

“Why?” asked the hellspawn, taking in my surroundings.

I had planned a whole speech in response, but it got stuck on the lump in my throat. “I just…it’s nice to feel wanted.” I choked out, and then the tears were back. Tears of joy. People were fighting over me. I was wanted so badly I was worth fighting over. They could go to war. I was worth that. I was worth something.

I wasn’t worthless to these two women.

The two shared a look. “You should have summer and spring,” the demon said.

“I was thinking winter and fall would suit your kingdom better,” the dryad said, nodding in agreement.

“Give her a month in between on both ends?” the demon suggested. “In case she wants to do… anything on the mortal world.”

“It’s only fair,” said the fae, looking around again. “I think she has some… unfinished business here.”

They both looked at me. “Would you like that?” the demon said.

“I…what?”

“You…should get a say in what happens next,” said the dryad.

“You can stay here if you want, but we’d both like to have you,” the demon added.

“I think my Leige Lady was looking for a new Summer Knight,” said the woman with flowers for hair.

The tentacled woman nodded. “My Queen was looking for a proper Warlock. It has been ages.”

“Yes. Please. Just let me do one last thing.”

I took out a piece of paper and scribbled a note.

Gone to learn how to fight back. See you next year, asshole.

It was summer, so I left with the dryad - and a promise from the demon I’d see her in a few months.

Somehow, some way, a human managed to acquire both a pomegranate from the underworld and fruit from the realm of the Fae, then made a smoothie out of them. Now, Hades and the Fae are in a fierce argument regarding who the human belongs to.

[dragoneyes618]

Buttons were again very masculine. They were also an item of display: gold, silver and even diamond-encrusted buttons litter the inventories of the aristocracy, who tried to cram as many as possible on to the front of their doublets. The front of the black silk suit that was such a rush job at the tailor's had forty-one buttonholes with evidence of a further four button loops on the heavily stiffened collar. Each sleeve was fastened down the forearm to the wrist with a further seven buttons. The buttons themselves, sadly, have gone, perhaps stripped ready for reuse on another garment, too valuable to waste. They were set so close together on this doublet that they would have been touching each other, something that would have made it difficult to do the garment up but would have looked wonderful.

The masculine nature of buttons becomes evident when you encounter the abundant complaints in the second half of the sixteenth century about women dressing like men. The 'problem' is discussed in righteously shocked tones of voice. Claims are even made that it could be hard to tell the two sexes apart. What they in fact meant was basically buttons and hats. Women accused of dressing like men were still in skirts, as contemporary woodcuts that accompany of these rants make clear, but their bodices, done up with buttons, mimic the male doublet, and a felt hat rather than a hood or veil was surely a mannish garment.

- How To Be A Tudor, Ruth Goodman, page 85

[princesssarisa]

A Christmas Carol Holiday Season: "A Christmas Carol" (1971 animated short)

This 25-minute animated short, produced by famous Warner Bros. animator Chuck Jones and directed by Richard Williams (Who Framed Roger Rabbit), is the only Christmas Carol adaptation ever to have won an Oscar. In 1973, it won the award for Best Short Subject, Animated Film. And it deserves the honor! With no pun intended, this is truly a Christmas Carol of haunting beauty.

Short and succinct though it is, this Carol is one of the most faithful to Dickens's book, with all the ghostly surrealism that other adaptations downplay. For example, no other version offers as faithful a portrayal of the Ghost of Christmas Past, which constantly changes shape and age just as Dickens described. We also see such rarely adapted episodes as Scrooge's childhood visions of his favorite book characters, and his travels with the Ghost of Christmas Present to a miners' camp, a lighthouse, and a ship at sea. This is also a Carol unafraid of the book's dark side – the moody opening image of snow flying in a tempest of wind should make that clear – and it features several often-forgotten moments of horror. This is the first adaptation since the classic 1951 Scrooge to include the vision of the phantom children Ignorance and Want, and the very first, as far as I know, to show the jaw of Marley's Ghost falling down onto his chest. To make matters worse, he never raises his jaw again, but goes on speaking as it hangs open without moving his lips.

Both in these eerie moments and in scenes of Christmas cheer, the beautiful soft-lined animation creates a truly Victorian atmosphere. The art style and character designs are inspired by John Leech's original woodcut illustrations and etchings, and they have the look of 19th century illustrations come to life – sometimes with rich realistic detail, at other times with atmospheric impressionism. Meanwhile, the score makes excellent use of "God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen" (the only carol mentioned by name in Dickens's book) as its main theme.

Adding to the prestige of this elegant short is the fact that two of the leading actors from the classic 1951 film reprise their roles in the voice cast. Alastair Sim voices Scrooge, still able to inhabit the role at age 71, and Michael Hordern again lends his rich tones to the agony of Marley's Ghost. The supporting voice cast does a fine job too, with narration by Michael Redgrave binding the story together.

This animated Carol might not appeal to children the way more lighthearted versions do. But for adults who love animation as an art form and who enjoy faithful Carol adaptations that capture the light and the darkness of Dickens with equal vividness, this is a must-see!

@ariel-seagull-wings, @thealmightyemprex, @faintingheroine, @reds-revenge, @thatscarletflycatcher

[eruden-writes]

Lights, Camera, Orc-tion! (Part 16)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19 | Part 20 | Part 21 | Part 22 | Part 23 | Part 24 | Part 25 | Part 26 | Part 27 | Part 28 | Part 29 | Part 30 | Part 31 | Part 32 | Part 33 | Part 34 | Part 35 | Epilogue

Summary: With medical debt looming over her head, Avicia Thorn can’t rely on her cam career to make ends meet. She applies for a slightly-better-than-minimum-wage data entry position at a motion picture production company.

On her first day, she stumbles onto the illustrious Kahdreg Vidaroc looming over the HR Recruiter, making demands. By the time she stumbles out of the office, she is Vidaroc’s new personal assistant. Whether she likes it or not.

Her pay gets even better when she becomes Vidaroc’s “girlfriend,” a ploy meant to stave off unwanted attentions from an highly influential siren investor. Farce doesn’t keep feelings at bay as they play pretend.

---

Retreating to the woodcutting area didn’t seem to dissuade Namra and Fanuma, though. They followed at Avicia’s heels, asking good-natured questions and carrying on with small talk. Half the time, the human woman didn’t even need to participate as the two orc women exchanged quick snarky patter, as if they had rehearsed the conversation beforehand.

It was almost a relief, how little she had to participate. However, watching her boss splitting wood wasn’t exactly without its own problems. It was like a scene in a bad romance book. Kahdreg tossed their shirt to the side upon entering the clearing, hoisting up an axe that a human couldn’t dream of hefting. Avicia watched their every movement, eyes drawn to the muscles flexing along their arms and back. Kahdreg’s face pinched with concentration, a crease between their eyebrows and the beginning shimmer of sweat on their shoulders.

Heat caressed down the back of her neck, spreading tingles across her skin as heat weighed heavily at her core. Unbidden thoughts of other sweaty activities teased at Avicia’s mind. Clenching her teeth, she tried to ignore her body’s reaction. She never once considered chopping firewood sexy and she wasn’t about to start now! But, damn, if Kahdreg wasn’t making a good, wordless argument. Maybe that was what was so alluring. They weren’t smirking or saying anything smarmy to ruin the moment.

Kahdreg, on the other hand, was having a far easier time. Their father was quiet when focusing on a task, though - occasionally - the older orc man would glance between Kahdreg and Avicia.

After a thunk of his axe, Kraull paused to voice their observation. “Still tryin’ to use the ole choppin’ firewood t’show off, I see.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, dad,” mumbled Kahdreg, thankful for the heat of exertion masking their embarrassed flush. Had they subconsciously decided to show off in front of Avicia? It certainly wasn’t their intention when asking to help. Really, they just wanted some distance from their sisters. Kahdreg grinned over to their dad, a taunting tone in their voice as they slid a little back into informal speech, “I’m just helpin’ you in your old age.”

Kraull eyed Kahdreg with a skeptical look, a heavy eyebrow raised high. “That mean you won’t take off once you realize your sisters took off with Avicia?”

The bombshell dropped just as Kahdreg was midway through halving a log of firewood. Once the blade thunked into the wood, they twisted to look where Avicia had been observing. Only empty air stared back. “What?!”

She was gone. As was their sisters. An annoyed growl curled from Kahdreg, imagination already full with what embrassments Namra or Fanuma were airing to Avicia. It made the blush burning at their cheeks hurt all the worse. Leaving their axe wedged into the stump, Kahdreg took a step toward the house before Kraull grabbed their arm.

“What happened to helpin’ your old man?” A teasing, crooked grin tilted at Kraull’s lips and, had Avicia still been around, she would have seen the sheer resemblance between father and child. Grabbing Kahdreg’s axe, Kraull yanked it from its embedded spot before pressing it into their child’s hands. “Finish your stack, before y’go.”

---

Once the last log was chopped, Kahdreg charged into the house - directed by Kraull - and pounded up the stairs. The nearer they got to their old bedroom, the more pronounced the voices became. Giggling and teasing tones that sent Kahdreg hurtling backward into their memories. They’d heard those sounds well enough to know Uma or Namra were duly embarrassing their oldest sibling. Old photo albums and regaling embarrassing stories all while using the sanctity of Kahdreg’s room as a setting for their tales.

As they neared the open door to their old room, Kahdreg grabbed onto the doorjamb, lest they skid passed the entryway.

“Get out!”

All three women in the room turned surprised looks to Kahdreg. The two sisters muffling their laughter with a snort while Avicia’s gaze flicked up and down Kahdreg’s form, before turning away quickly. It took Kahdreg a breath to understand their reactions.

Standing in the doorway, chest heaving from running and sweaty from chopping wood, with fly-away strands framing their face, they undoubtedly struck a scene. To Namra and Uma, it was one they were familiar with, dragging them down memory lane when a much younger Kahdreg struck the same demand of them. For Avicia, well… Kahdreg’s immediate thoughts waffled on that note.

And for that, Avicia would have been eternally grateful. The thoughts idling their way through her brain were not for her boss’s consumption. Lest she wanted them to get even more insufferable than they already were.

“Aw, we were just showing her your old room, Kah.” Fanuma laughed, stepping forward as Kahdreg entered. Her arms extended to indicate the room as a whole, as if showing off a grand display. Kahdreg could taste the double meaning in her words, though. “Nothin’ to be ashamed of in here, right?”

“Get. Out.” Kahdreg bit each word out in a partial growl. With a jab of their finger, they pointed savagely at the now open doorway.

Fanuma frowned, eyebrows furrowed almost instantly with agitation, “Bu-”

“Come on, Uma, let’s go.” Sensing the prickling energy between Kahdreg and Fanuma, Namra stepped in. Her arm looped around Fanuma’s, trying to guide her sister from the situation. “I think we tormented them enough for one day.”

Unable to read the room, Fanuma craned their neck to glare back at her sister. “There’s nothin’ to-”

“Now,” snarled Namra, yanking her sister from the room. The sudden edge to the calmer sister’s voice seemed to get through Fanuma’s stubbornness and the two made their way down the hall.

Kahdreg glared after their sisters until the two were well out of the room and down the hall. Then, slowly, they closed their bedroom door and turned to Avicia. She stood at the far wall, hands clasped behind her back and seemingly very interested in the posters and photos before her. Uncertainty bristled at Kahdreg’s shoulders as they came up behind her. Almost morosely, Kahdreg asked, “What did they show you?”

“Mostly just the room,” Avicia replied, turning her head a bit to catch Kahdreg’s eye. Her hand raised to the posters on the wall, a slight grin tilting at her lips. They were movie posters, some even signed, ranging from a slew of decades. “Your tastes haven’t changed much.”

“What else?” Kahdreg pressed, hands on their hips.

Unable to resist, Avicia turned to face the shirtless orc. It took effort to keep her eyes trained on Kahdreg’s face. Slanting her gaze up at the orc, she raised her eyebrows. “What do you mean ‘what else?’”

Of course, there was more that Fanuma and Namra had shared, utilizing their quick-exchange method of talking. As if the entire thing was a brilliant bit of theatrical improv. Avicia couldn’t help but wonder if most of the family had a flare for some level of drama. At least Kahdreg seemed to channel theirs through a creative outlet, she supposed.

“Don’t cover for them. I know my sisters,” sighed the orc, shaking their head.

Avicia sighed, relenting to Kahdreg’s insistent leer. “They did show me your theater escapades. Uma raged about your Elphaba role.”

At her words, Avicia pointed to an array of photo albums, sitting on the scratched up dresser beside her. Each book was filled with photos, ticket stubs, and reviews of each performance, ranging from high school to college. Kahdreg’s roles seemed to swing between player and director in all of them. She had only managed to flip through one of them, delighted in the sheer Proud Mother Scrapbooking energy that emanated from it, before Namra distracted her and Kahdreg entered.

The orc groaned, dragging their hands over their face. Heat bit at their cheeks, coloring the tips of their ears a darker shade. “Of course, she did.”

“What’s with the attitude?” Avicia frowned up at her boss, unable to process why they were so tetchy. If anything, it seemed like their sisters were trying to their sibling off. ‘Oh, look how successful Kahdreg is. They’re following their passion and they’re so good at it!’

Though their attitudes were masked in a veneer of teasing.

“My sisters have done this before,” sighed Kahdreg, moving away to sit on the bed in the room. The mattress squeaked under their weight as they leaned their elbows on their knees. For a brief moment, Avicia could imagine a much younger Kahdreg, slumping in their bed after chasing out their sisters. With a huff, the orc continued, frustrated gaze falling to the carpet, “They delight in chasing off anyone I’m interested in by showing them pictures of me in dresses.”

“Oh!” Avicia’s eyes widened a little, faintly recalling the particular roles the sisters had highlighted. Kahdreg had taken on the mantle of quite a few female characters, she realized. And she could see how that might have put off someone of a less accepting mindset.

Nearing the bed, she settled beside Kahdreg, her leg brushing against theirs. At the touch of Avicia’s hand on their arm, the orc glanced at her with curiosity. Leaning a little closer, the human grinned as she softly assured, “Well, I’m not being chased off.”

It took Kahdreg a moment to still the sudden flutter of their heart. No matter how steady that managed to keep their heartbeat, they couldn’t find the nerve to look at Avicia. Not when warmth threatened to spill over their cheeks. She was just playing a role, they reminded themselves. Whatever she said was to be taken with a grain of salt.

Avicia’s next whispered words certainly stalled Kahdreg’s thoughts. “Also, I think we have a guest.”

Kahdreg’s attention jerked to where the human woman pointed. Their eyes narrowing as they finally realized what she was talking about. In the light that squeezed in from under the door, a shadow shifted. Like a person trying to inconspicuously listen in without jarring the door too badly.

“Fanuma! Namra! I told you to-!” Instant presumption colored Kahdreg’s words as they pushed themselves off the bed, charging to the door. With a yank, they flung the door open, ready to ream into their sisters. However, the sibling rage flickered in the face of someone they hadn’t expected. “Ma! What are you doing?!”

[rtrb1]

Not really a bookworm but I read a lot and this is fun so yeah:

1. Either Command and Control by Eric Schlosser or The Paper by Richard Kluger. Both were good, so it's hard to pick.

2-9. N/A

10. 1001 Nights was a fun read, I enjoyed it a lot. The Canterbury Tales was okay though.

11-14. N/A

15. Nonfiction

16-18. N/A

19. If a 1000 page book about the history of a defunct newspaper makes a NYT bestseller, I'll eat my shoes.

20. Recommendations from friends and coworkers, but mostly by going to the library and asking librarians for books about specific topics.

21. Kaffir Boy by Mark Mathabane was a really really interesting view into apartheid that I felt had a real impact on me. Would recommend.

22-28. N/A

29. 4 at the moment: The Romance of the Rails by Agnes Laut, Wi-Fi and the Bad Boys of Radio and Finding Alaska's Villages and Connecting Them both by Alex Hills, and The Weather Machine by Andrew Blum.

30. 1 right now: The History of Street Literature by Leslie Shepard. It's interesting, would recommend.

31. Physical copies because I don't bring my phone to work and don't own an e-reader. Plus I like physical paper; it's just better somehow. Maybe the tactility.

32. I don't really have one. John Drury Clark, I guess.

33. Never.

34-37. N/A

38. I don't know. I think 16 but I might be miscounting.

39. Usually not.

40. Yes but I don't have the ability nor dedication. Maybe someday though.

41. One usually. Maybe two if I just started a book (in case I don't like it very much) or if I'm nearing the end of a book.

42. Yes, I did this for the aforementioned The Paper but also Ignition! by John Drury Clark, which was an amazing book. One of my favorites.

43. My copy of The Best Moving Pictures of 1922-1923, Also Who's Who in the Movies and the Yearbook of the American Screen by Robert Sherwood is definitely in the worst condition among books I own, but it's 100 years old so honestly it's holding up pretty well.

44-45. N/A

46. I can't seem to find any good books about woodcut printing in Europe. Any tips would be appreciated.

47. The last three books I finished were Command and Control, Atomic Accidents by James Mahaffey, and Lightships and Lighthouses by Frederick Talbot.

48. No.

49. Usually I read nonfiction so tone could be anything.

50. I don't know.

Ask Game for us Self-proclaimed BOOK WORMS 📖🐛

Name the best book you've read so far this year.

Favorite fantasy book(s).

Favorite fantasy sub-genre(s). (high fantasy, urban fantasy, portal fantasy etc.)

Favorite science fiction book(s).

Favorite science fiction sub-genre(s). (dystopian, superhero, aliens etc.)

Favorite romance novel(s).

What kind of common romance tropes do you enjoy and what kind do you dislike?

Favorite queer fiction book(s).

Favorite detective novel(s).

Favorite classical literature.

Favorite historical fiction.

Favorite horror book(s).

Favorite thriller(s).

Favorite humor and satire book(s).

Which genre(s) are your favorite?

Favorite trilogy.

Favorite finished book series.

Favorite unfinished book series.

Do you read new and less known books or only the big bestsellers?

Where and how do you find new books to read?

The book(s) on your school reading list you actually enjoyed.

Favorite example of a Chosen One trope in a book.

Favorite heist story book(s).

Favorite Young Adult book(s).

Favorite Middle Grade book(s).

Favorite novella(s).

What was the first book you remember reading as a kid?

Goodreads or StoryGraph (or something else)?

How many books do you have on your 'to-be-read' list?

How many books do you have on your 'currently-reading' list?

Do you mostly read through e-reader; reading app on phone; on your laptop; a physical copy; or by audiobook?

Name your favorite author(s).

How often do you read by listening to audiobooks?

Favorite book narration voice actor(s).

Least favorite trope in your most favorite book genre.

Your absolute most favorite character(s) from any book you've ever read.

The only example of your least favorite trope being written in such a way that you enjoyed it.

How many books have you read this year?

Do you read reviews before picking up a book?

Did you ever want to be a writer?

When you get ready for a week long trip to somewhere how many books do you download/pack inside the suitcase?

Do you buy hardcover book copies for previously purchased paperbacks and library books you enjoyed reading?

Title of a book you own that's in the worst physical condition you have. Explain what happened to it. Post a picture if you want.

The book(s) whose stories have become part of your very makeup.

What book(s) would you sell your soul to get a TV or movie adaptation of?

I like _____, recommend me a book to read, please (insert a book, or trope, or character, or... anything you like before asking for this one).

What are the last three books you read?

Do you leave reviews for the books you've read? How often?

Do you prefer hopeful, humorous, very emotional or darker books?

What kind of book have you never read but always hope to find at some point in the future?

[shtern-and-art]

In The Dark – a cryptid AU about Bad and Skeppy – part 2.

All text is captioned under the cut!

THE STORY

Bad told Skeppy that he is- he was a human, a long, long time ago. And Skeppy didn’t really suspect this, no. But, when the rare rays of sunlight snuck under the canopies, and danced across Bad’s features… sometimes, in those flashes of light Skeppy did see a human face. It happened just a few times before. And if after that conversation, at times of silence and comfort with just the two of them, the white eyes faded out to green more often, Skeppy didn’t mention it. He just collected those moments, like his pretty shards of glass – dark on first sight, but shining brilliantly, when you look through them at a sunny day.

Skeppy keeps them close, and doesn’t ask yet, doesn’t pry in too deep at first. Because he knows even more about this town’s story now. About all the animal attacks many years ago, about woodcutters killed and thrown out of the forest, or hanged up on the trees by “the mafia”. About how quickly the tree logging business was shut down after the big “accident” on one of the forest stations. About the photo he saw, in the little museum near the closed factory, with families of the major business owners of the town. And one of the faces he saw on that picture was the same that shined with gentle kindness, between the flickering of shadows, when Bad sneakily tangled wildflowers in Skeppy’s hair.

Bad never speaks about his past, and why he despises people of the town so much. And with trial and error Skeppy learns that asking doesn’t get him anywhere. It only gets Bad to fuss up, and disappear to nap in the deeper woods for a few days. It is a long way to where they can talk about it directly, without someone freaking out.

Anyway, the woodcutting business is slowly coming back to town, and more and more people and workers are wandering around the forest. So Bad has plenty of reasons to be irritated already, and they both have so many fun pranks to pull on the locals to get distracted and pleasantly pass the time.

THE PAST

The trick of it all, is that the forest is old. And the forest is alive, like an animal in its depth might be. And a while back, in the 40-50s, the wood logging company started cutting way deeper into the woods than before. Going to far, not letting the land recover, chasing that profit on increasing sales. The business was doing amazing – by destroying the calm existence of the forest, hurting it’s body and mind, and not giving anything back.

And in many places, they could’ve done all this and more without immediate consequences. But this land was old. And this forest was alive. And, when scared and hurt, living things can bare teeth and lash out to protect themselves.

The forest was in distress, and angry, and its feelings were feelings off all the living things inside of it. Over time, the animals started getting sick, and more aggressive, venturing into the town, possessed by the shared pain and fear. That pain and fear seeped through the land, and in the town, too, distrust and crime rates started rising up. All was unwell. And, of course, it was very bad for business.

Said business was run by several prominent families in the town. The tree logging factory and the adjacent businesses were all tied together economically and through the reliance on the forest being there on their doorstep. And the people running those businesses more or less knew about what this forest was, how it was. Everyone from the town who was around long enough understood – at least in some way – that these woods are more alive and dangerous than many others. And with several years of disturbing happenings occurring more and more, not many of these business owners could deny the supernatural element of their troubles.

And so, they began looking for the ways to make it better. To appease and calm down the spirit of the forest. It was a real group effort, a whole ass multi-family project. Even if some family members and younger kids didn’t fully believe in all this “occult pagan stuff” – they still tolerated it, and went along. Because families and communities stick together. And what harm can come from building some altars in the woods? Or a few chickens spilling blood on the old rocks near the abandoned trails? They will go on the grill same afternoon anyway.

The spirit of the forest is just, well. A spirit. It’s not exactly sentient, it’s more like a mushi, or a very smart animal, or a thunderstorm – half-personified, semi-aware, just a force of nature taking form and prominence. It just exists, and lives, and it is not human. So, taking leeways with appeasing and calming it down should be ok, right? It’s not like the forest spirit would care, if people will make even with the land by taking care of it, and letting it heal with time… or just perform a cool ritual, and give the forest an equal sacrifice in return for its pain.

Replanting the trees and reworking the business is way too expensive and time consuming anyway. So, they try, and research, and try… And the forest barely takes note of their efforts. And the creepiness, and all the bodies keep piling up, all the bad press is getting harder to contain… It starts to seem, that to really break equal the sacrifice should be of an equal or a greater value than the hurt they’ve caused.

So, in a tragically escalating turn of events, several heads of the families came to the conclusion, that the proper sacrifice, the one that will hold, should be one of their own. A human sacrifice – a life of-, and from people connected to the land, those who caused the forest distress.

It wasn’t the main plan, of course. Probably. Not from the start, for sure. Things just turned out this way, you know. It was just an option on the table. And it just happened that things were going especially terrible, down the drain so fast, and it just happened that they had a good option, a person who was there, and-

It was just so convenient. The accountant in their clique, the newer guy who just recently joined old wealthy families in running the town, build his own business from ground up through the years. He had a son, 20-something. That quiet but loud one, that they barely noticed. And it’s sad, of course, that it had to come to this. And tragic, yes. A real sacrifice. But, really conveniently, no skin of the main businessmen’s back.

They can even keep the distance, and ask their kids/grandkids to mark him for the ritual. None of them really liked the guy anyway. They all were just forced to hang out sometimes, because of status and all that.

So, they’ll gladly go on to make the special paste, or whatever, and make sure the guy touches it. Even if the kids may not believe in all this ritual stuff fully – it’s still fun, and creepy, and that guy was so-o-o stuck-up-ish anyway. Always pretending to be so perfect and proper, you know. Didn’t even partake in all their fun ritual stuff all year. Fuck him, draw a little mark on his raincoat with old herbs and dirt, on the soles of his shoes too, and the inside of his jacket. All 6 of kids got to draw a little finger-painting on something of his, and they all watched him leave to visit his grandma in a cabin deep in the woods.

By the time Darryl got to the grandma’s house, late at evening, the bouquet of flowers he brought her was overgrown with wildflowers.

The voice coming from the dark bedroom, asking him to come in was ever so slightly off grandma’s usual stern tone. So, Darryl didn’t go in, of course. He had his hands full with the pastry bags, and the sweet smelling flowers, spilling out from their paper raping. And when grandma came out – moving just a bit too smoothly for her age, staring at him just a tad more intense than any human would – Darryl excused himself to go chop more firewood behind the house.

And standing there, under the light rain and weak backyard light with only the old, dull iron axe for himself, he knew that his grandma always had a distant, and a bit scary presence, but… The creature in the house was not her. And he knew that something was watching him from the forest – and from the window of the house – dozens of inhuman eyes staring right at him. Waiting.

He tried to run, of course, to get back to town. But the car started to die halfway. And the other kids, the 6 that followed him into the woods, to make sure he stays put… They were right there to take him deeper through the trees, away from main roads. Perhaps, they, too, were scared, and saw the glimpses of white fur far off in-between all other animals following them. But it was too late, they were too deep, and Darryl lost his glasses, struggling on the way to the clearing they decided to stop at.

There was no going back now. The ritual was in motion, gears turning, and the forest took the offer that was promised – the blood of the youth that was tied to the earth. All 7 of them, who partook in the offering, and touched the herbs and blood, and the sigils made with them – because this is how the ritual works, if you really, actually read through and research it.

The kids, or, more likely, their parents, didn’t. And so, after that night, none of them ever came out of the forest. Well, not in one piece, at least. Six badly mangled bodies (some partially eaten by wild animals) were recovered couple days later, and it was blamed on the mafia taking revenge on the local businessmen for some dealings going bad.

The tree logging company and the adjacent businesses didn’t really had a chance to recover after that. Not after several years of lawsuits and bad rumors, and not after loosing most of their kids – one of the bodies was even never found!

And with that tragedy and the following scandals, no one really noticed at first, but the animal attacks quieted down, and people stopped disappearing in the woods. But, in retrospect, it made sense – with mafia moving on from the totally defeated and bankrupt rivals.

THE FOREST SPIRIT

So, yes. The ritual kind of worked, the forest took what was offered, like water running down the newly dug out path. At that time, going down that path, the forest was angry, and hurting, it felt helpless and betrayed. And so did Darryl – just as strongly. And here they were, getting dragged down the same path, connected through it, unable to stop it all. In that shared intensity, being so similar in the moment, tangled through the flow of the ritual, they… kind of became the same thing.

Its normal for the forest spirit to have a vessel – an animal from that forest that carries out it’s will. And over time, those vessels can change, when the time comes, or something big happens with the forest. And there, at that moment, close to death, and merging with the forest spirit, Darryl became it’s next vessel, too.

It’s normal for the forest spirit to possess other forest life sometimes – they act out it’s feelings, if they get too strong. This is a natural prosses, easy like breathing, happening purely on instinct. Usually forest spirits do not possess fully sentient beings (or don’t do it for long). Because people and thigs similar to them, they have more self-awareness and recollection. They can not follow the impulses of the forest so blindly.

What happened here was a freak accident, an accidental turn of unexpected events… Because even after dying, and coming back to life no longer human, even connected to land and the forest so deeply now, being literally a part of them. Even with all of that… Darryl couldn’t get too “possessed”, like other animals or vessels would. That could probably happen, but only if those feelings would be really big, all encompassing, and – matched his own. If they shared them fully and strongly, with the forest, like at the time when for a few minutes they became one.

BAD

When Bad’s sense of self slowly came back to him, he was no longer human. And, after being connected to supernatural world so deeply, he knew of many non-human things just on instinct. He knew what happened with him (what was done to him). Knew that the people who did it paid for it right after, and will be doing so for the years to come. Bad knew that he, himself, will be here, in the forest, for all the years to come. That he’ll never be able to come back to his old life, or even say proper goodbyes.

Not that he’d want to, though. Most people in the town, and especially from his family’s newer circle didn’t like him. For his dad finally making it big and “forgetting the roots”, for Bad being too perfect of an example to compare other not so helpful sons to. And, of course, for Bad being too close to not fitting the perfect example of what a proper young bachelor should be. But the Darryl they whispered, and spread crude rumors about was dead. And Bad didn’t have to try to- or pretend to like them back.

He didn't have to deal with it anymore: with all the greed, maliciousness and distrust of the people and “the business”, all the lies. He was no longer part of them – now outright – didn’t have to deal with them, or pretend to be anything he wasn’t.

They could just. Stay out of each other’s way.

It was pretty easy to do now, since Bad had lost most of the human cravings due to his supernatural nature, and his pain. Pain, and anger, and- So, yes, sure, he could keep people out, just like the forest spirit wanted, and have everyone leave him alone, like they both wanted.

RAT

Forest was already not as seething, and the tree logging business was shutting down, and Bad’s restless, half-dazed wandering between the trees was at least somewhat calming. At some point, Bad found a small wolf puppy deep in the brush. It was really small, weak, and completely alone. Its fur was as white as Bad’s new hair, and its eyes glowed, exactly like the ones Bad saw watching him from the shadows, back on the last day he was human.

This was the previous host of the spirit of the forest, Bad saw it now. He knew that it was born in these woods, and took on the spirit of them just after being born, and carried out it’s will for many, many decades, until Bad came along, and took this wolf’s place. And now its job was done. And it was dying. Slowly fading away to become part of the forest again.

There was some sort of solidarity between them, stumbling into each other between the gears of nature and time. Or, at least, Bad felt it in the moment. And, well, he didn’t have much to do, and fussing over and taking care of a little pathetic puppy the size of a rat was way more pleasant way to pass the time, than just endlessly feeling all the things Bad felt all the time.

So, he took care of Rat (yes, the Rat) for a while, took on hunting for her, and learnt to sleep in the minds of the forest creatures, while she rested. Time lost nearly all of it’s meaning for Bad, but it did pass, more and more of it. And Rat got better, and grew back into a full wolf, and lived past the life-span of all other wolfs born after the ritual. She went on to live on her own, but stayed close by, always keeping Bad in her sites. She joined him on the hunts, and watched over Bad, while he slumbered in the shadows.

Bad had no idea why, but her fur still rippled under moonlight, and her growl rumbled the earth, like some of the power of the forest remained in her still.

Masterpost / first meeting /part 1 / part 2 / part 3

[tabletoptrinketsbyjj]

Trinkets, 41: Interesting baubles, semi magical objects and items touched by mystery.

A rustic lute carved of driftwood engraved with images of ships and clouds.

An oval-shaped stone the size of a human eye, made from the darkest obsidian. The color is the purest black, and the glossy surface shines like a mirror. The reflections are strangely distorted, as it seems to reflect shadows rather than light. It is rumored in some occult circles that in the same way that a person can fall sick from a dark plague, so too can a ray of light become infected by shadow.

A parrot-sized urn of ashes with the name “Petey”.

A one gallon keg curiously labelled “Rations Foie Gras” along its length. The keg contains a solution of goose liver that has been fermented in lye creating a nutritious slurry that doesn’t spoil. The drinkable solution is thick enough to eat as a stew (Although it doesn’t technically require chewing) and its flavor is best left undescribed. The keg contains enough of the mixture to serve as 2d4+1 days’ worth of trail rations.

A large padded envelope containing a single silvered crossbow bolt and a note that reads; "You know what must be done. Make the right choice."

An odd receipt of a business transaction where a dragonborn adventurer wearing a full suit of ebony armor sold the shopkeeper salvaged bones collected from a half dozen slain dragons and bought 638 wheels of cheese in return.

A ceramic chamber pot shaped like an otyugh with brass accents.

A coin sized token made of etched, blackened brass which begets a connection to the spirit realm. When held, one can hear the whispers of the dead begging for retribution. Is it not righteous to answer their call?

A map of the stars that shows the mystical lines connecting the constellations.

An iron coin with an evil sigil on one side and the face of a demon on the other, flipping it causes the holder to hear a deep malevolent laugh.

—Keep reading for 90 more trinkets.

—Note: The previous 10 items are repeated for easier rolling on a d100.

A rustic lute carved of driftwood engraved with images of ships and clouds.

An oval-shaped stone the size of a human eye, made from the darkest obsidian. The color is the purest black, and the glossy surface shines like a mirror. The reflections are strangely distorted, as it seems to reflect shadows rather than light. It is rumored in some occult circles that in the same way that a person can fall sick from a dark plague, so too can a ray of light become infected by shadow.

A parrot-sized urn of ashes with the name “Petey”.

A one gallon keg curiously labelled “Rations Foie Gras” along its length. The keg contains a solution of goose liver that has been fermented in lye creating a nutritious slurry that doesn’t spoil. The drinkable solution is thick enough to eat as a stew (Although it doesn’t technically require chewing) and its flavor is best left undescribed. The keg contains enough of the mixture to serve as 2d4+1 days’ worth of trail rations.

A large padded envelope containing a single silvered crossbow bolt and a note that reads; "You know what must be done. Make the right choice."

An odd receipt of a business transaction where a dragonborn adventurer wearing a full suit of ebony armor sold the shopkeeper salvaged bones collected from a half dozen slain dragons and bought 638 wheels of cheese in return.

A ceramic chamber pot shaped like an otyugh with brass accents.

A coin sized token made of etched, blackened brass which begets a connection to the spirit realm. When held, one can hear the whispers of the dead begging for retribution. Is it not righteous to answer their call?

A map of the stars that shows the mystical lines connecting the constellations.

An iron coin with an evil sigil on one side and the face of a demon on the other, flipping it causes the holder to hear a deep malevolent laugh.

A small looking glass which plays tricks on the eyes. Glancing through it provides normal magnification, but one might see a spire of gold in the shape of a sunlit mountain, or a musical box and floating notes in a cloud, or a laughing rabbit in the shapes of the stars.

A mask crafted from thin cast iron covers the entirety of the head. The face itself is made of brass and shaped into the face of a hideous snarling creature.

A rabbit felt wide brimmed, high crown fedora with a band around it. It looks dusty with age.

A one gallon cask filled with inky black whisky. Thicker than most scotch whiskeys, it has a black tone that glows golden when the light hits it. The whisky has a penetrating woody taste, and does not light a fire in the belly; it goes down smooth and cold.

A small black metal box that fits under the arm. It has 20 colored pieces of glass arranged in a spiral pattern on one side. With the switch of a lever and the twist of a few knobs on the back , the glass pulse with glowing light at different rates, immediately drawing the eye to their pattern. An noncombatant viewer can lulled into a slight state of relaxation and well-being, being momentarily distracted by the pattern. A bearer can use this as a relaxation tool or as a hypnosis aid.

A piece of crimson coral carved into the shape of a shark.

A pair of earrings, made of wrought silver and ivory. The design appears to be two sinuous female forms, touching at the hands, which are extended above their heads (This is where the clasp is) and the feet.

A conch pearl the size of the thumb's first joint, of a deep and brilliant blood-scarlet hue.

A silk robe, dyed blood red with extremely long sleeves that hang past the hands, down to the knees. The outside is plain, but the inside reveals a subtle motif woven with orange threads: a nightingale swallowing a fox.  Small, jingly bells hang from the hem.

A brass chalice with chilling imagery of demons and tormented humans.

A fleshy ball the size of a large man’s fist. Dozens of tiny mouths appear, disappear and reappear at strange intervals, each one constantly groaning and muttering unintelligible words.

A large, brightly colored, decorative tin containing a well preserved fruitcake. The sweet bread is studded with dried fruits, nuts and strongly flavored with brandy which adds both to taste and shelf life. The loaf is so dense and nutritious that a single slice can be substituted as a full meal. The sealed tin can be used as 2d4+1 days’ worth of trail rations.

A large conch shell that, when put to the ear, makes the wielder hear the sounds of the ocean. If the bearer closes his eyes while doing so, he will see visions of infinite horizons and calming ocean waves.

A raw, unprocessed chunk of tourmaline that catches the and reflects different colors as it moves. It protrudes out of a base of stone and is flecked with dust and dirt.

A whistle made from deer antler with a silver mouthpiece. Its single mid-range tone is strong and audible at a long distance.

A bizarre, intricately painted miniature sculpture, made of a lightweight material; neither wood nor stone. The figurine bears an uncanny resemblance to a member of the party.

A translucent pearl with a coral blue shimmer.

A set of glass playing cards in a brass case. Each card has a set of symbols and numerals unknown to scholars and the learned.

A flask with an unknown liquid. It cannot be poured out unless it is standing upright (In which case nothing happens since gravity). The flask is very sturdy and in inscription reads; “Those that drink smart and slow will drink this drink made long ago.’’

An envelope stuffed with cheap woodcut prints of men in various states of undress.

A tattered, oft-folded letter on which are written a mother’s pleas for her daughter to stop her dangerous adventuring and come home while they both still live.

A turquoise courtier’s uniform adorned with the stylized symbol of a dagger poised above a cup just above the bearer’s heart. Crow’s feathers dangle from the epaulettes.

A dented tin bucket filed with human teeth. Hundreds of them. Teeth of all shapes and sizes, from white, through all the shades of yellow, to brown. Teeth with bloody roots and with shreds of flesh attached.

A delicate silver bracelet, fashioned into the appearance of a spider, it's legs hugging the arm.

A silver charm bracelet with small kitsunes holding up different types of gemstones as if presenting a gift.

A sequined squid skin belt pouch.

An ivory scroll case with silk bands and silver plated caps.

A gold coin of strange design, one one side of the coin are two crossed-swords and on the other a bulbous eye that appears to blink occasionally.

A marble bust of a vainglorious adventurer.

An oddly detailed drawing of a pack of wolves chasing a small cloaked child. The numbers six, one, and two are arranged in a equilateral triangle pattern with the six being on the point above the wolves. Strange symbols are on the corners of the page.

A petrified pixie that would make a cute paperweight.

A lizardfolk statuette made from petrified wood and snakebone in the shape of a scaly hand emerging from water holding an axe.

An ancient scrimshaw with a well carved boat labelled, “The Mourning Hag.”

A finely tanned, soft leather pouch filled with thirty-six small, polished hematite tiles about 2 cm across, inscribed with non-magical glyphs on both sides. Some of the tiles have different glyphs on opposing sides. The pouch has a leather drawstring.

A small sapphire hairpin carved into the shape of an ocean wave.

A large oil painting of some otherworldly sea where creatures who are octopoid from the neck down but with human heads float in bliss.

A bar of lavender colored soap that when used, makes things dirtier instead of cleaner.

A mundane looking flat rock has been washed smooth by eons of swift rapids flowing over it. It still drips as if recently removed from the river that created it.

A copper pot with dragon head handle.

A large wooden box of dozens small painted lead figurines depicting knights, wizards, beasts, and dragons.

A simple silver ewer etched with a floral pattern.

A pouch of dried kelp filled with razor-sharp mollusk shells broken into pieces and tied together to act as an area denial weapon. The shells functions as caltrops in every respect.

A quartz statuette of a pegasus taking flight.

An old, straw-filled ragdoll with a patch above its heart. It is always comfortably warm to the touch.  

A glossy black hunting horn, chased with runes and knotwork of silver.

A well-loved teddy bear missing one of its button eyes. An observer who looks at feels a strong urge to comfort the bear, wanting to repair it. Yet for some reason they wish to repair it with an actual fresh humanoid eye.

A squat hematite idol with blue quartz eyes.

Pocket Watch of The Far Realm: A blued steel pocket watch with a silver chain that always tells the accurate time of the entire plane of the far realm. The far realm is a place beyond space and time. The pocket watches hands move fast and sporadically, sometimes even gaining a third and fourth hand. It is completely useless at telling the time on the material plane.

A dark soapstone sculpture of a large crouching cat.

A barely legible prayer written on leather, dotted with stains. It reads “May vengeance steady your hand with righteous anger. In this den of thieves, murderers, and monsters, there is but one answer, one god, and her name is written in blood.”

A large silk flag for a fallen kingdom.

A knotted gland consisting of a cancerous mass of gnarled tissues. The tissue thumps with an irregular cadence, as if two  hearts are intertwined in this tangled clump. The longer it's held, the more clear if becomes that a multitude is contained within one's own flesh.

A bronze brooch of an maple leaf.

A featureless steel cube with one open side. Light does not penetrate the open side and an overwhelming sense of power emanates from within.

A crystal that projects starry patterns when placed before a light.

A gold plated compass with cracked crystal in a small teak box carved with waves.

An obsidian tablet the width and height of a human hand upon which when viewed under the night sky tiny green and blue dots appear to move.

A large glass jug, stoppered tightly. Inside appears to be a diorama of a small forested island with a port town. If left undisturbed for a time, observers may notice that the water surrounding the island seems to move, and the trees wave. At night, tiny flickering lights can be seen in the town.

A perfectly fresh pineapple that has somehow resisted the ravages of time.

A sturdy cloth backpack made of high quality cotton, adorned with exotic feathers and pretty cross stitches.

A wand made from a rare elm with grains of sand sprinkled across its handle.

A bronze ashtray of a sleeping dragon.

A gold rimmed monocle with light rope of gold and clip. The glass of the monocle is smudged and cloudy but resists all attempts at cleaning.

A tear stained map of the local cemetery with an “X” marking a specific grave.

A hairpin with head shaped like a spider and set with red agate.

A crystalline hand-sized scorpion figurine that is so full of cracks and occlusions that it looks as if it could fall apart at any minute.

A portrait of an unsmiling woman painted on a poplar panel.

A human skull goblet with silver base.

A one gallon cask of Eye of Medusa, a paralyzing mix of grain alcohol, lime juice, simple syrup, and poppy flowers. This drink numbs the tongue before leaving you feeling like solid stone.

A slate tablet on which is carved a prophecy by a famed oracle.

A small knife forged from a unique metal alloy created by a fallen star.

The mostly straight bones of a humanoid bound with rough twine to make a macabre sort of ladder, rolled into a bundle.

A boar tusk scroll case encircled with silver bands.

A gilded puzzle box decorated with a asymmetrical geometric pattern.

A flat, round gray stone ring the size of a coin worn smooth by water and time with an attached tag reading "Shieldmeet 1120 DR, is this the key?"

A clay tablet with the answers to the favorite riddles of a certain guardian sphinx.

A tall brass rod is etched with an abstract circular design that seems to be devoid of any pattern.

A small glass sphere the size of a fist is astoundingly heavy, and appears to be mostly full of a thick golden liquid. It weighs ten pounds and has no visible opening or markings on it.

An odd contraption comprised of a small crystal orb set within a thick metal semi-sphere, covering most of the orb, and is about six inches across.

A pouch made of rough toad skin.

A small bottle of eyes-burning-from-the-smell-alone wretchedly spicy but delicious hot sauce (Which will cause vomiting and incapacitate the non-spice tolerant).

A well made bracelet of silver chain with small silver heart charms hanging off each link. A single one of these charms is carved from a rose zircon, which gives off a small amount of heat.

A wand made of a line of conjoined tiny rodent skulls with emerald eyes that makes it a grisly site to behold.

A wooden flute made of red wood with etchings of leaves around part of its base

An oddly shaped curved wand with elven writing carved within. When held at nighttime it helps its owner sleep peacefully to the sounds of nature.

A bone case containing black votive candles that burn with a green flame and can only be quenched by blood, not water.

An ode to Genial Jack, the Godwhale, who swims the Sixty Seas with the city of Jackburg on His back and in His belly. Scribbled on the back is a mysterious phrase: “The tongues of the dead wag at midnight.”

A pink stone sculpture of an ear which grows warm when it hears false flattery.

A beautifully carved wooden prosthetic arm fitted for a small humanoid, etched with tiny runes in ancient High Goblin, a language now all but forgotten along with the proud culture that produced it, who some say were forerunners of goblins and gnomes alike.

A small pouch containing a handful of moss crusted with what looks like dried blood. The blood was in fact taken from a patricide, the moss from a hangman’s tree; the combination makes this quite a valuable reagent to the right buyers.

[kihaku-gato]

Random Webcomic Reccomendations

This post is dedicated to bringing to the spotlight several webcomics

(some would be considered webmanga but I’m counting them too since they are primarily presented on webcomic websites) which I’ve been enjoying that I hope can get more traction/fandom with this post. Due to my personal tastes I can say many/most have a sci fi or fantasy theming as well as some (definitely not all) have wlw as well.

Since this post will be quite extensive, I’ll first start with a “table of contents” for those who don’t want synopsises or ramblings, but instead just want titles and want to just check them out themselves.

Bybloemen

My Dragon Girlfriend

Sanguine

Straylight Tiger

Cariciphona

Amongst Us

Kiss It Goodbye

Mokepon

Seven Miles Down

UnDivine

Bybloemen

Hosted on its own website under hiveworkscomics

This is a historical semi-fantasy set during the infamous Tulip Mania period of Dutch/European history when people would pay an arm and a leg for even a single potentially valuable tulip bulb.

In this setting we follow two devils Basil and Ludwig and their avian familiars strut into the action, pretending to be foreign investors getting in on the tulip hype, probably to ensnare some desperate souls, all the while keeping man and beast alike from catching sus that they are not as human as they claim to be.

As of writing this the story is just starting up but is already making quite the unique statement. The distinct black and white artstyle is clearly holding homage to the historical “Woodcut” printmaking style in how it’s drawn, lined, and textured, which is a refreshing way to artistically state that the comic is “set in the past” w/o doing just grayscale or sepia tone that one is used to seeing for media set in historical times.

The interactions between the devils as well as the animals they can communicate with so far have been quite amusing.

If you don’t directly use hiveworkscomics for your usual webcomic browsing (so don’t get notified by it) they do have both a tumblr and twitter which frequently announce/link its updates. Bonus following their twitter/tumblr being you get to see occasionally “sketches” (I say that term very loosely) of the characters outside of the webcomic series if you’re into that.

 My Dragon Girlfriend

Available on Webtoons and Twitter

Fantasy alongside modern era setting. It is primarily a wlw webcomic series about a human girl named Christy who is swept off her feet by a dragon girl named Dani, semi-magical/mythical wlw hijinks ensue. It’s hard for me to pin its identity entirely, cause while I wanna say it’s a “Slice of Life” the webcomic is at the point where Dani is fighting a werewolf tooth and nail so it’s hard to pin. It’s clearly romance genre, as even if Dani and Chirsty end up together lickity split (a blink of the eye compared to the slow-burn of most romance stories) there are other wlw subplots going on with secondary primary characters which you’ll be routing for.

It has its steamy moments and implies sex but not so far as to show full-on nudity of the main characters characters. Though there is some nudity of some of the monstergirls such as the fawn girls on the other hand it does not beat around the bush with, but luckily takes the nudity in a natural non-sexual way Correction as of writing this; only the Twitter version shows nudity, they had to censor with bras on Webtoons cause it got flagged.

If you want it hotter/steamier, sign up to the artist’s patreon. It’s definitely a nice softish wlw webomic if you’re craving a lil monstergirl flavour.

 Sanguine

Available on Tapas and Webtoons

Full-on adventure fantasy setting set in a world where magic and mages have been persecuted to the point of going into secrecy.

It stars a cute red-riding-hood-like implied secret-royal (that was too much a mouthful) lady named Red, and a tall gorgeous beefy secretly mage lady named Morgan which Red has dragged into her shenanigans with.

It’s early to call this a wlw gem as of the current updates, but it is tagged as lgbt+ so take that with potential further wisdom.

This webcomic uses colour a fair bit to set its tone/mood, but otherwise has a very comfy/warm feeling about it somehow, like some of those old comics/webcomics/novels you would welcome to read while snuggled under blankets. Also the outfits are REALLY nicely designed, and I could definitely see some peeps having fun cosplaying many of these characters.

As the story slowly progresses I am holding with baited breath to how Red and Morgan’s interactions/relationship may or may not evolve, as I am totally an absolute sucker for “friendly/bubbly naïveish character dragging along the cool/grumpy don’t-get-involved character that has a hidden soft heart” trope.

  Straylight Tiger

Available on Webtoons and Tapas

WARNING- while infrequent this one has some blood/gore that will shake you up, though it puts it where it would be most sensible to. Lucky for you most blood in this series is not the usual human-red blood which tones the edge down.

It may have lots of fantasy elements but this one definitely holds its identity as Sci Fi. Set in a futuristic cyberesque city full of both good and bad superhumans (one group being animal shapeshifters and the other being elemental casters), there is an extremist cult out to wreck havoc in the city, so a company responds by recruiting a handful of individuals from all 3 races to make a secret task force to eliminate the threat.

The main character in this story is a secretly-a-tiger shapeshifter named Angeline.

This is probably the most visually colourful of the webcomics in my list and is really using it to charge up its stylistic sci fi setting. Best way I could compare it to; you know those glow-in-the-dark cyber avatars you occasionally see in VRchat? Straylight Tiger matches that visual energy. Of listed so far this is also the most action-packed webcomic on the list. I could almost call it a Trigger-like comic but luckily unlike Studio Trigger it’s not into going nuts on fanservice.

If you’re craving your superhuman sci fi action, this one should at least be checked out. I want to say there’ll be wlw at some point, but it’s too early to call, and if it does I would not expect it to be a major arc when it has larger fish for plot points to deal with.

If you’re craving wlw of at least mc and her weapons-savvy human friend, I highly recommend you checking out the artist Flying Frappe’s twitter to get some sating for you wlw cravings for the two.

 Caricophona

Available on webtoons as well as its own webcomic site

Tragic fantasy setting starring a supermagical woman named Veloice as she is hunted by an Assassin. I tag it as there is an undertone of death in some of the arcs, which give this colourfully magical world a more sombre tone. Among the webcomics on the list this one may be steepest when it comes to catching to speed of the world’s setting/rules/hierarchies but once you do you’ll hunger for this more.

I can’t entirely make a perfect comparison for it (Full Metal Alchemist is as close as I could compare and they are still as different to each other as apples and oranges) but it really has that rich nostalgic old manga style/world/tone to it, and its most welcome to as well.

The world building is rich, and Veloice is a mental/magical powerhouse even if at times she has a fragility about her. The fact she’s a Caricophona; magical beings which tend to either get persecuted or expire early at age from their own condition, definitely helps with giving her a almost “glass canon” energy about her.

While those points have definitely helped hook me in, the thing that tends to excite me the most in this webcomic is Veloice’s interactions with the assassin who’s been send to kill her, named Blackbird. The tension between them, the fact Blackbird both wants to toy with her, Blackbird’s somewhat flirtatious nature towards Veloice OMFG I EAT IT UP!!!! They have such a enemies to lovers feeling to them (though no, they are not lovers- we can dream though) which just gets you so excited.

I should also mention there are two other “primary characters” in the group. Two rich naïve kids ready to help Veloice however they can. You grow to like them (even if they hit tropes that may strike a nerve if you’re tired to their character type), but the mvp of this webcomic for character and interaction has to be Veloice and Blackbird.

 Amongst Us

Available on webtoons and its own website

Say you like Veloice and Blackbird from the previous webcomic, but find the hefty fantasy setting a bit too much, and you’re more for the romance? What if I told you the artist was galaxy brained enough to make a chiller AU? That is what Amongst Us is; a music college-set slice of life with a slow burn romance between Veloice and Blackbird. They’re dorky, their cute, and seeing some of the characters you’re familiar with in Caricophona in a different setting is nice to see.

In some ways Veloice is less proactive in Amongst Us but still feels very in-character of her. The webcomic would end pretty quick if Veloice were to get-to-the-point with Blackbird after all (granted with how we see them in the future together at the start of the webcomic it’s not like they have to be in a hurry anyways).

Seeing a wlw / slice of life set in a college setting rather than a high school setting is extremely welcome. Please, more of this.

 Kiss it Goodbye

Available on Webtoons

Slice of Life high-school beginnings of wlw romance. The artstyle is good, the characters are lovely. We know canonically that they end up together (as the webcomic starts with them in the future where they are a couple, as they begin to weave the story to their curious friends wanting to know how their romance came to be).

It’s not an unwelcome Slice of Life.

 BONUS / HONORABLE MENTIONS

 Mokepon

Available on h0lyhandgrenade’s website

I have honestly not read this one in a while and dropped it like, several years ago, but it was interesting and is still ongoing, so I had to mention it. Set in the Pokemon universe, it stars the main character who has been thrown into the pokemon trainer career while absolutely wanting nothing to do with it. Ends up becoming a rocket grunt which is an interesting change of perspective from many pokemon fancomics. It has old-nuzelocke energy though it is not a Nuzelocke. Be prepared for the brutality as you cry for the pokemon (especially his pikachu). The undying loyalty of his Charmander as he himself struggles with his position as a trainer/grunt is interesting. He is definitely not the usual pokemon trainer protag you’re used to.

 Seven Miles Down

Available on Webtoons

A completed oneshot psychological horror where a girl takes her submarine to the deepest unventured oceanic trench in the world. Tragic end, but horrors can be like that. The psychological nature of the horror is an interesting angle. The rounded cute style may throw you off but it works.

 UnDivine

Availabe on its own website via hiveworkscomics

This comic has since been cancelled from continuation, but is the webcomic to set me off in making this list, so it will still be mentioned in memory/tribute, and is the grand example of why you should interact with the webcomics you read as well as share them; there is a good chance they will not hold on their own without fan interaction and traction. Excuse me as I just use two full-on pages cause I’m wearing out on this list and browsing through tons and tons of pages for highlights wears a peep out.

Modern-set religious fantasy on an island where local their religion may be more than it seems. Stars a boy named Daniel, and Esther the Demon girl. From what can be gleaned the Demongirl knew the “god” of the island’s religion and was double crossed, so has a bone to pick with them and their “angelic” entourage now that she’s free when she got accidentally summoned by Daniel.

This webcomic loves its use of blood, but your grow used to it after a point. The setting is interesting, and its also cool to see how the “angels” are far from the usual “pretty human-like” in their true form and are instead more monstrous than you could say even the Demon Esther is.

A lot of what makes this comic interesting, outside of the “revenge against a god” main plot going on, is how messy the characters can be.

Daniel, Esther, and the one angel named Manual are all pretty interesting in how they interact with their roles that they’ve been put in and how they react to others, and are all very morally grey complex characters.

Daniel is an angst machine who tends to really wear himself out (though how he’s positioned/pressured by the world doesn’t help) and shoot himself in the foot a lot, and that’s even before Esther “turns” him into her lil monstrous pawn, not something you commonly see in main characters from the get-go.

Esther (the tall blondie) while being a Demon ready to get her vengeance on is in many ways naïve/childlike despite her powerful nature, and despite using Daniel as her pawn is shown to grow to have feelings/care for Daniel which is very interesting for “The Contracted Devil” position.

Manual…. We haven’t gotten to see a lot but it’s clear he’s meant to be the angelic hero position but its clear he does not like the position, and he also has a thing for a human woman named Rosamaria but we have not gotten to see why that’s the case.

This webcomic didn’t get the traction it needed to keep going, so was recently cancelled by the artist.

[arcadianambivalence]

Babylon Berlin, S3Ep8

Fall in the Great Outdoors.  (Remember when we could go outdoors?)  What’s not to love?  Beautiful colors, crisp air, forboding fog, and a murder...

Following the cult of fitness as usual, Wendt is out riding a horse until he happens upon a distressed Richard.  He confesses that Rath has found his real identity and wants a favor to get away.  If the police found him, surely everyone else will be implicated next, right?  

Really leaning into this Bond villain thing, Wendt casually offers Richard a cigarette and asks if he told anyone else.  No, Richard replies, he came straight to Wendt.  Satisfied, Wendt pulls out a gun and shoots Richard twice.

A reporter at Tempo delivers the updates to the movie mystery over a nice montage.  Walter is unconscious and in police custody.  Gereon is recovering, too.  It almost feels like the end of the season.  Things are wrapping up rather neatly...too neatly.

Ester can’t believe Walter did it, but Edgar is quick to pin the blame on his partner.  To convince Edgar of Walter’s innocence, Ester shows him a one-sided coin that Walter had tossed with Edgar over who would go to prison last year.  It does open Edgar’s eyes, not to Walter’s innocence, no, to something else entirely...

Where did you get this coin?

Gereon (with only a little bandage on his face and a few broken ribs) discusses the case with Lotte.  Seeing she is distraught but not quite understanding why, he tries to comfort her.  

Helga enters at the wrong (right?) time and sees this.  Lotte quickly scuttles off so Helga can tell Gereon her news.  Far from excited about the pregnancy, Gereon immediately suspects Helga has been unfaithful.  She reassures him of her fidelity.  Gereon shoots back with the memory of Anno.  And on that ugly note, the relationship is irreparably over for good.  Helga storms out.  

As serious as this scene is, I just want to remind you: this is a shared ward. There are other patients in the room watching this entire argument!  I’d love to know what they think is going on!

Helga considers getting a back-alley abortion from none other than Lotte’s neighbor, but she begins to change her mind.  Abortion was illegal at the time, and Helga’s Catholicism also makes her hesitate.  For now, the two women will simply talk about the procedure as Helga makes her decision.

Like in the first season, the nationalists are out hunting deer.  Moritz can’t bring himself to shoot the deer and misses.  The boys taunt him for going soft until Moritz gets into a fight with one boy in particular.  Otto interrupts the fight and tries to convince them that they have other enemies (cult pitch number two). He makes them swear allegiance.  

We know it’s wrong.  

Moritz should know it’s wrong.

But he is desperate to feel like he’s capable of more, and it gives him the sense of purpose missing in his life.

Greta, too, thought she had a purpose.  Now with the date of her execution set, she resigns herself to the end.  She finally confesses to Volker that the communists were not behind the murder plot.  Volker seems like she’s about to deliver her own admission of a backstory when Greta interrupts.  

Nothing could have prepared Volker for what Greta does next.  

She asks for a hug.  

(And we all started crying).

But there’s little good the truth can do for Volker or the rest of the communists in the prison.  There’s little good the truth can do for Katelbach, either, at the moment.  Now that his article is out, he lives in fear or reprisal.  

The political police have called him in on charges of treason.   Elisabeth dismisses the treason charge as nonsense.  Katelbach hasn’t done anything wrong.  She tries to make him see the bright side of the situation—he has all the peace and quiet he could possibly want and plenty of time to write while staying inside all day.  

(I picked a bad time to watch this episode.)  

But something more serious slips into her tone.  Hiding in fear is no way to live, and neither is living in a mess of a room, smoking all day.  He’s getting a little old for the bachelor style.  

And then a switch goes off in Samuel’s mind.  She’s not...proposing, is she? “Think about it,” she says, leaving Katelbach to process this information.  He immediately moves to put his cigarette out and tidy up.  

Malu and Wendt run into each other during lunch.  (I guess if we’re given the gift of Samuel and Elisabeth, we have to suffer through some unsavory couples...)  It seems he has taken Nyssen’s speech into consideration.  He asks Malu about her opinion.  She comes to the same conclusion as Nyssen, albeit from a different angle.

This talk convinces him to give Nyssen another try.  All Nyssen has to do is get collateral from his mother.

But while Nyssen has millions to throw away on a theory, Lotte and Ilsa can barely save up enough to secure an appointment for surgery.  The doctor’s assistant points them in the direction of a relatively cheaper doctor who can take Ilsa soon, but the operation still requires more money than the two women currently have.  Lotte knows only one way to make a few hundred grand in one night.

(What this episode says about poverty...)

For all that Lotte is doing to help her older sister, she is unaware of the danger her little sister is about to face.  Left alone while her sisters are at the doctor’s, she talks to a character I think we’re supposed to recognize, but I can’t place him.  (The bird seller from a previous episode? One of her brother-in-law’s friends?).  

It becomes clear to everyone but Toni that this man does not have her best interests at heart.  He plays on her sympathies, trying to invite her home to “read to his uncle.”  

(I wanted a reference to Fritz Lang’s M, but I was thinking of a sweeping city shot or a music motif, not this!  Never this...)

With Lotte unaware of Toni’s plans and Toni unaware of Lotte’s plans, the girls see a movie with Betty Winter.  While Toni stares at the screen, transfixed, Lotte begins to weep.  It’s Vera’s face she sees on the screen.  

(This is the second time she’s broken down sobbing in the middle of a movie...)

After the show, she goes to earn the money for her sister’s operation as fast as she can—by going back on the game.  But this isn’t lady’s choice like Moka Efti.  She emerges from the session with tears in her eyes.

She really can’t catch a break, can she?

Meanwhile, Gereon wakes up in the hospital with Edgar sitting by his bedside.  He wants to make absolutely certain that Walter is responsible for betraying him, but he also wants to intimidate Gereon into agreeing to work with him once again.  Referencing Helga should do the trick.  

“She’s not my wife,” Gereon replies.  Edgar shrugs.  Far be it from him to criticize a stranger for their love life, especially when his is about to get stranger.

But this entire conversation turns out to be a distraction as Walter is abducted.

It’s time for...

FRANKENWALTER!

Dr. Schmidt hooks the unconscious Walter up to an electroshock machine for revival and cranks the charge up to a dangerous level.

Walter reveals that he was tricked.  The Phantom pulled the old two costume switch-a-roo to fake his own death and dispose of Vera.  Before he can reveal the identity of the Phantom, Walter begins to recede into unconsciousness.  He revives for one last confession: he loves Ester.  

Edgar storms home to confront Ester about her supposed infidelity when the police arrive with a warrant to search the premises.

Notes:

For failing to kill the deer, Moritz is taunted and called Bambi, the eponymous character of the 1932 novel by Austrian author Felix Salten.  (The animated film came out in 1942.)  Like many of the authors referenced in this show, Salton was hated by the Nazis because he was Jewish.  His books were banned, and he fled Austria soon after the annexation in 1938.

Moritz gives his age as fourteen.  (I know some kids grow faster than others, but it’s still hard to believe that this kid grew an extra foot over one summer.)

Continuing the trend of horror references, Walter’s revival is one big allusion to James Whale’s adaptation of Frankenstein in 1931.

Helga walks by a kiosk that includes some nice expressionist art.  It looks like a copy of a woodcutting.  I can’t tell if it’s Karl Schmidt-Rottluff or Otto Dix or someone else entirely.  Does anyone recognize it?

[eldonash]

Ulfric & Orobas || Tiny Hats and Big Bow Ties

Timeframe: During the carnival Who: Orobas and Ulfric @big-bad-ulf Summary: Ulfric, in wanting to be sure Orobas and him are still on good terms after the Layla incident, takes Orobas to the carnival. They play a game and the photo of the century is taken. 

Ulfric drummed his fingers impatiently against his truck’s steering wheel as he waited outside the downtown highrise. Of all the messages the wolf could have received from Orobas following the tense note on which their last conversation had ended, he could safely say ‘Come pick me up? lets see what the humans are up to at this carnival,’ was the most surprising. He was aware that his request for the higher vampire to use his compulsion to help calm Layla had pushed the limits of their agreement and caused offence, and was expecting to have his own loyalty tested in some way in return. He’d even been psyching himself up to attempt to grovel a small amount. But the carnival? Really? He supposed the pedestrian thrills on offer could be pleasant in the right company, and Orobas was certainly always interesting to be around, but the two together made for a jarring fit. Ulfric couldn’t imagine an ancient vampire of legend wanting to share a stick of cotton candy and ride the ferris wheel unless he had some kind of ulterior motive or agenda, and that’s what had him so apprehensive. The sooner the vampire showed the sooner he’d be able to figure out what this was really about, and gage how much he needed to do to get back in his ally’s good graces. Finally spotting Orobas exiting the lobby of the apartment building, Ulfric honked to the truck’s horn once to get his attention, rolling down the window as the vampire approached to say. “If you want to observe humans, it would be best to try and abide by a human schedule. The night is not young,” He indicated the clock on the dashboard. “Let’s not dawdle.” 

Orobas had to peel Haxian’s grip from his wrist, one finger at a time. Tonight had called for three hours of preparations to convince his master to let him go. Orobas hadn’t had to deal with this version of Haxian since before White Crest, and with the pressing issues in the background, the ones only the two of them suspected, Orobas currently felt like his mind was heavy. He had finally watched Haxian walk away, waiting for Ulfric like some knight in shiny armor-- though in this case, it was a bushy bearded werewolf pulling up in a truck. Looking at the wolf, Orobas seemed unaware time was on his mind. “Are you in a rush?” He inquired, tone lacking any of his teasing energy that sometimes crept up when he was amused. Orobas sat down in the passenger seat, wearing a black t-shirt, and jacket, and dark blue jeans. His gaze drifted out the window. “How is the lil one?” 

“Not exactly, I just didn’t want you to be displeased if the place was already emptying out of humans when we got there.” Ulfric stated matter-of-factly as he pulled away from the building, noting from the lack of humor in Orobas’ tone that he was, as anticipated, already displeased. “Which one?” The werewolf answered his next question out of habit, though it was only logical that he’d mean Layla. There was a lengthy pause as he considered how best to approach the subject, though he did his best to make it appear he was just focussed on driving and taking his role as vampiric chauffeur seriously. “Layla’s returned to herself, not quite her usual self, but she’ll get there. In no small part thanks to you. How are your--” He hesitated, searching for an appropriate word, slightly uncomfortable referring to the teenagers who work at Cryptid Corner as his toys even if Orobas himself had. “Your employees?” Ulfric settled on finally, the fog that had settled the town in recent years fading until it was replaced by the flickering lights of the carnival through the windshield as they arrived at their destination. He supposed they were meant to stir up a sense of excitement in the human attendees, but with his lack of colour perception and enhanced night vision they just sort of stung. “So, what were you looking for here, Orobas?” He queried, turning to his passenger to let him know he was incharge of the itinerary for the evening (within reason), it seemed as good a strategy as any to start repairing the alliance they’d forged. 

“So you do have a few,” Orobas chuckled faintly. “You sure do have a nice little family now, Ulfric.” The comment wasn’t negative sounding, but did seem to hold envious weight. “My employees? Who cares about them--” he waved lightly, before leaning back, the usual up tight and proper sitting position dissolved further with his leg pulled up and his foot rested on the seat so he could hold it. “They work, I have a new daytime general manager, she is perfect, which makes me suspicious, but at least I don’t have to spend my first few hours playing catch up every night.” Business talk was easy, and Orobas could continue on the ramble while they drove if it came to that. When the light surfaced he grimaced as well. “Mhm, mostly curious to see what humans like. Steal some of the ideas and incorporate them into Cryptid so they will stop bitching at me. Or, maybe I just wanted you to take me out somewhere.” 

Ulfric decided to ignore the comments about his ‘family’, not wanting to dwell on the fact that he may have deliberately overemphasized how packs could act as a combat task force rather than focussing on their function as a nurturing community when he’d first pitched an alliance between the werewolves and vampires of White Crest. “Scoping out the competition, that makes good tactical sense,” he nodded in agreement with Orobas’ plan as he stepped out of the truck and locked it behind him, “If this was just a social call, surely we would’ve gone somewhere less mundane?” And less… shrill. Even with his hearing at the duller end of the range he experienced with it being so close to the new moon, the torrent of screaming and laughter from the carnival-goers elicited a dull throb of pain between his ears. Despite his discomfort, he surged ahead through the entryway into the grounds, plucking a map from the information stand that greeted them with a single-minded determination to show Orobas he was willing to do what was asked of him, and do it well. His eyes flitted back and forth rapidly over the map for a moment, before folding and stuffing it in his pocket, confident he’d gleaned from it everything they needed to know. “I’ve deduced that the organizers have broken down their efforts to entertain these-- happy customers into three categories; attractions, games, and thrills,” the werewolf informed his vampire companion, catching himself just before referring to the crowd as humans again, since the patrons swirling around them were potentially close enough to overhear. “So, pick your poison.”

Orobas wanted to hear Ulfric’s loud, stupid laugh. He was being formal with him, and maybe it was his own mood spilling over to cause it. Pulling out some sunglasses, he tucked them on his nose to dim the lights and cheerfulness. “This is why Cryptic is the way it is, this is too much. I hate it,” he commented, glancing around at everyone. It seemed they were having fun on the surface, but everything here was laced with something more. How many would die here? He wondered. Or disappear without a trace just like it surfaced without one. Humanity had to live in the moment, and their happiness was so easy to take. “Games, those do well for me business wise. I’d like to see their prizes and I want you to win me something.” His voice still didn’t hold anything to it, this monotonous tone. He began to follow Ulfric since he saw the map, and the more he saw, the more he wanted something far more interesting to happen. What if the ferris wheel stopped? What if the rides jarred and caused someone’s neck to crack in pain? Where was the fae running around his park with their wings out. Yet, they were here. Enjoying themselves in the bright lights, and the terrible music. It rather made him realize humanity was quite ridiculous. “What game are you good at?” he asked, purchasing tickets for them and handing them all to Ulfric. 

Ulfric chuckled at the thought that something could seem like ‘too much’ to someone who usually carried themselves with such flair. “I’d have to agree with you.” The werewolf pulled out his own pair of dark tinted shades from his pockets, relieved Orobas had been the one to relent and seek to block out some of the offensive barrage of sensations first. “The patrons with duller senses seem to be enjoying this level of stimulation though. It might be worth keeping that in mind if you’re looking to appeal to them,” he advised with a shrug, wondering again why of all the people he had been the one chosen to help him understand humans when his own understanding of them wasn’t in-depth. At Orobas’ proposition, he smiled more genuinely. It was a glimpse of the more playful vampire he was accustomed to dealing with. “I don’t know, this doesn’t seem like the kind of fair where they’d host woodcutting competitions…” he wondered aloud as he took the ticket and wandered along the row of gaming stalls. There was one stall where people were pushing ping pong balls into the mouths of plastic rotating mime heads, and he immediately eliminated that as an option because while he would happily feast on another mime creature if it happened to cross his path on a full moon, he wasn’t inclined to feed one himself. A stall where people shot fake guns at a pop-up display of a variety of woodland animals, including poorly drawn cartoon wolves, was more off-putting still. “This one.” The werewolf finally stopped at a booth with a back wall covered in balloons, some of which almost appeared to be pulsating, and a display that read, ‘Pop five in a row and win a prize! But for each one you pop, there’s a guaranteed surprise!’ Ulfric handed over a ticket in exchange for a set of five darts. “Are you sure you just want to watch?” He turned back to Orobas to ask, “It might be more entertaining to compete, make this an actual challenge.” 

Orobas wasn’t surprised at the mime games, but he was over it since the sludge incident and that horrid woman who always felt the need to bother him online. Though, knowing that Ulfric had eaten a mime, one that hadn’t entirely been human, made him smile gently. It seemed his werewolf companion wasn’t satisfied with any of the games they were passing, but finally, their steps paused and end up at a balloon popping one. He chuckled. “That’s your instincts, not mine. But I will humor you,” he took some darts, rolling them between his fingers, watching the cheap feather on the ends twirl. Wishing it was heavier or a dagger. He threw two of the darts at once, each one striking the same color balloon that exploded in green slime. ‘Whoa, gross! You get a special prize for two slime ones, lucky,’ the young person said behind the booth. Orobas was promptly handed a teeny tiny black top hat that was dotted in glitter. He held it in his hands confused. “What do I do with it?” he asked the person, and they took it back and gestured him forward. He leaned in, the darts in his hand grouping up and tightening in a hold as a weapon should he need it. They set it on his head, clipping the side so it stuck to his hair. He looked at Ulfric, though with the glasses on his staredown, it was easy to feel. “Hm--”

“It suits that big head of yours,” Ulfric taunted, after taking in the image of the vampire in his tiny top hat. Though even as the aura of competition began to heat his blood, the teasing didn’t have quite his usual confidence, still unsure how solid the ground the two of them stood on was. He turned back to focus on the game, not wanting to let on how impressed he had been by the simultaneous double strike, though it probably showed in how seriously he took to aiming his darts before he let them fly free. The first hit a balloon which burst with a wet splat as something that looked very similar to blood poured out, though it lacked the distinctive smell, so surely it had to be fake…? There was something off about this carnival, or else humans had become distinctly more morbid since he’d last attended a similar event. The second exploded in a shower of glitter, twinkling in the lights as it coated him, the attendant and half of the booth in a light dusting. Unphased, the attendant whipped an oversized clip on bowtie out and clipped it to his collar with alarming fast reflexes. “Is this what you wanted?” The werewolf turned to the vampire, wearing his new prize and flakes of glitter stuck in his beard. “I’m beginning to suspect your true motive for inviting me here was to see me humbled.” He held up the final dart in askance. “Still want me to win this game for you?” If that was still the vampire’s wish then he could regain at least a small slither of his dignity through the small victory. 

“Thank you,” Orobas had no idea how something like this could unfold, but when the large bow tie tucked under that bushy beard, his cold exterior cracked. A laugh huffed out, his smile genuine over it’s usually forced, creepy edge, and more real than anyone in his entire life has witnessed. The glitter was everywhere, dotting his cheeks, shoulders as well. He handed his phone to the attendant with compulsed demand, “take our photo.” The person fumbled a little with the device tossed his way, but quickly snapped a few shots that Orobas actually smiled in. Orobas glanced at the photo, he had none of him and Haxian hung up on the walls at their home. Nothing of him or Francesca with incriminating blood staining their cheeks, or even Morelia, while she had slept by his side, he should have taken one. He stared down at it, his fingers tightening subtly as a difficult feeling settled in his hallowed, still chest. “Yes,” he responded and handed him the last of his darts. “That--” he gestured to the small bat plushie with the vampire teeth hanging from the top of the stall, likely something that was hung from the rearview mirror in a car. “For your truck,” he cheekily added.

For what? Ulfric almost retorted, but bit his tongue when he saw Orobas break into a surprisingly non-disturbing smile. He got the feeling whatever cracks had formed between them when he’d called in his request for the vampire to aid Layla had begun to be repaired, and he’d only had to mildly humiliate himself to achieve it. So that counted as a win. He moved into position next to his undead companion just in time for the first flash of the camera, posing for a thumbs up. Ulfric rolled his eyes at Orobas’ choice of prize but couldn’t stop a small grin from forming on his face along with it, pleased that some of his ally’s former mischievousness was returning. “As you wish,” He declared, before sending the final dart sailing into a balloon in the centre of the board that explored into a puddle of perhaps the most unsettling surprise of all; mayonnaise. The attendant still slightly dazed from the compulsion, fumbled for the little bat toy but eventually deposited it in the werewolf’s hand. “A token of our comradery, I swear I’ll leave it on prominent display.” At least when no one else was in the truck with him, he thought. “Can we consider this recon mission a success, then, and get out of here before my ears start to bleed?” He asked, stashing the prize in his pocket, “Though on second thought, you’d probably enjoy that.”

“Liar,” Orobas chuckled. “Yes, I do think this is enough. I’ve gotten little answers as to why they enjoy this place filled with oddities, but whine about the amusement park.” He started to walk with him, a sly grin that yes, he’s always okay with a little suffering, but didn’t comment on that piece. He began to walk the way they came. Orobas wasn’t able to elaborate on the feelings he was experiencing right now. Everything still felt so numb to his person, this emptiness in him that didn’t want to explain why it was there. “Ulfric, there is an vampyric adversary coming into town that Haxian and I know very well. We’ve attempted, in the past many times-- to dispose of them. They were always tricky. Sly with their contacts, knowing how to pin us down somewhere with their kin.” Orobas looked towards the rides in passing, and rolled his eyes. “I am unsure who I will involve in dealing with them. This is what happens when you don’t rid the world of your enemies. They circle back. But I do wish for you to know. It’s-- a dangerous situation I’m not taking lightly.” 

“People tend to flock to what’s new and exciting, even if it’s not so different from what they’ve already got,” Ulfric explained, keeping in step with Orobas and shrugging, sending a small flutter of glitter to the ground. “You should know that by now.” What with his advanced age and all, he thought,  but being surrounded by so many townspeople in close proximity kept him from being able to use the best of his barbs, since Orobas appeared to be younger than him. His expression turned more serious as the vampire explained the threat he was facing, ignoring the jab about sparing enemies under certain circumstances that no doubt arose from their previous argument on the subject. “And when he rolls back around I’ll be ready to face them with you, as promised.” The werewolf assured him, clapping Orobas on the shoulder. “I’ve always wanted to know what it’s like to fight a vampire.” Already dead, they’d have little reason to fear it, and their unique abilities and lack of weaknesses such as needing to breath would surely make for a challenge. Although Ulfric never enjoyed killing, he would’ve been lying if he said there wasn’t a lot of satisfaction to be gained from coming out on top after a hard-won brawl. “It’s a good thing we’re friends.”

A chuckle. Ulfric could be lured easily into a fight, even without having all the details. The clap on his back brought back a rush of old memories, of different wolves, of other times. “If you ever want practice let me know. There are always a few newborns that just need to go-- beyond training, or assistance. I usually kill them myself. This one though, hmm,” Orobas seemed to slip into thought for a moment, quiet, and still as he usually was, even with his steps going forward. “We will need at a dozen or more people,” he said with a grit of teeth. “It’s that level of dangerous, unfortunately. Some of us will perish, for it’s not a vampire we are fighting. It’s an Elder who has a petulance in making spawn over higher vampires. It will be messy.”

“If they’re running rampant, I could kill two bats with one stone, I suppose...” Ulfric mulled the suggestion over with only a slight grimace. Pragmatically, it would be good to stay on top of his game, and if leaving them to roam the town was an exposure risk then someone was going to have to exterminate these vampires. But he also wasn’t sure how much he liked the idea of becoming the White Crest vampire community’s garbage disposal. That was uncomfortably close to hunter territory. “I prefer to work in a team anyway,” he shrugged at the description of the battle plan. “the lone wolf trope is just that. But are you not... also an elder?” The werewolf arched an eyebrow at the 400-odd-year-old next to him. “How ancient is this thing?” Just then, a juggling carnival worker riding a unicycle drove down the aisle between them, reminding him of their setting. “I realize this fair doesn’t seem entirely mundane,” he lowered his voice and stepped closer to Orobas glancing around them at the crowd as they passed by chattering animatedly or milling in queues to the supposed ‘thrill’ rides, “But are you sure this is the place to discuss this? It might be best to reconvene somewhere more discreet.” 

“No, my master is though, you have to be over five hundred or so. It’s a gradual change, and the more time that passes, the more dangerous they can be if you aren’t on their side. This person was old when I met him two hundred years ago, so I can only imagine.” Orobas didn’t normally give that type of information out, but it was Ulfric. “Vampires will always fight with each other. We like our territory, and we like what is ours.” He glanced around, meeting the passing eye of a few people behind his sunglasses. “You are always paranoid about that. Probably though, I was lost in thought. We can speak later on details. I have a busy week ahead anyway, and I could still use your aid in snuffing out that human who visits during the day.” 

“You mean sniffing them out,” Ulfric corrected lightly. Orobas could do the ‘snuffing’ if the human’s mind was truly warped so badly by compulsion that they were beyond help, though the werewolf was still keen to verify that part for himself. Not so much because he didn’t trust the vampire’s word on it, but just because if such a thing was possible then he wanted to know, really know, and you only learned the tough lessons by making yourself look directly at them. “But yes, I will help,” he held his hand out for Orobas to shake, a deal re-struck. “I do keep my word.” As they neared the exit to the carnival grounds, he pulled the bat toy out of his pocket and let it dangle between his fingers in front of the vampire’s eyes. “I’ll even let you hang this in my truck yourself to prove it.” 

Orobas laughed a little. “Yes, that--” he poked his nose lightly. “Way better than mine.” He shook his hand and promptly snatched the silly toy before Ulfric could joke around and take it back. “Will do,” he spun it around his finger, and made towards the truck. The mood lighter.

[billmartinanimation]

Encounters Week Three | Monday 16/3/20:

“Close Encounters” Animation Task:

To begin the new week we were told we would be doing an animation and illustration task in the morning and afternoon, after hearing the word animation I was automatically excited as it had been a while since I had done an animation for class.

The task was to create a character and then have that character mutate into an alien/creature and that we would be creating our character using an old black and white photo as a reference image.

But before that we did some artist analysis using the key points of visual language.

The key points being:

Tone

Line

Form

Texture

Shape

Colour

In groups we made a mindmap with examples of what we had to look for in a piece of art and what it could tell the audience about the work. We were shown two pieces of art and told to analyse them focusing on similarities, differences and how the time zone between the two pieces shows how illustration has evolved and taken elements from areas outside of illustration.

The two pieces were:

1. Katsushika Hokusai- Poem by Sarumaru Daiyu

2. Will Sweeney- Temptation

On our tables we analysed each piece starting with Image one by Hokusai

The points I made were that the clean lines in the piece are very fine and precise showing tranquility and innocence, the colours are very soft and true to real life and often have fine gradients to add depth to the image, the rocky areas have texture added to them instead of gradients or flat colour adding jagged depth to the piece, the characters within the piece are very innocent looking too and look cheerful but tired. This piece is a great example of illustration combining realism as the use of texture, colour and gradients shout realism to the viewer however it is still very illustrated based off of the line work and style Hokusai chose. It is also very impressive how Hokusai was able to do a piece like this using woodcuts which is quite advanced.

In image two by Illustrator Will Sweeney the colours are very Monochromatic and uses block shading in a solid black colour to add depth and perspective such as the pressure of the shading changing throughout, the block shading is very similar to the pop art movement and I am lead to believe that Sweeney took inspiration from pop artists like Andy Warhol and in particular Roy Lichtenstien who both shared a very similar way of shading images using solid black as their colour of choice.

The bright colours are very flat, and texture (unlike the first image) has not been implemented besides the jagged shapes used on the shading which gives it a comic book feel and relates back to pop art again, the choice of colour is very energetic and chaotic setting the mood for the scene possibly telling the audience it is not innocent and peaceful unlike the first image.

Characterisation has been used effectively here as the shape language in the characters shows anger and craving relating back the title of “Temptation”.

Close Encounters Animation:

After analysing the pieces we were tasked to start a new animation task split into two parts one was the illustration part, the next was animation.

We were given a pile of old photos and told to pick one and illustrate the person within stylising the person differently each time until we were left with one we liked, this was good because it helped us develop characters quickly and easily and also relates back observational drawing however we were illustrating the person rather than drawing them realistically.

After drawing our character we were told to mutate them like the art of Will Sweeney, I chose to do a scene inspired by the horror movies “Alien” and “The Thing” and have my character blow up and have a creature explode or mutate out of him, naturally i chose to mash up animals and alien elements in my creature and chose a bee’s head, a worms body, tentacles and flowers poking out

We all drew up a quick plan of our animation by drawing the extremes and then set our to add the breakdowns and tweens.

Animating this scene was very fun and easy for me to do however due to my method of working being different than I was used to I found making the animation smooth very difficult at times and making it flow by adding frames inbetween rather than frame by frame quite difficult too.

After animating the scene and cleaning up the frames I asked for some feedback from by tutor which i added in until I was finished with this animation:

Overall I am very pleased with my animation as it runs smoothly and achieved what I intended in my plan. However to improve I would practice pose to pose animation again to improve for the next time I use it in an animation.