#pointy little snub nose

[starsfromtoulon]

over a month of drawing russell crowe and you'd think i'd be able to draw him blindfolded but NO.

two weeks of drawing tmann and i feel like i feel like i could draw a stick figure that resembles him.

[allysdelta]

A while ago, while the Good Omens graphic novel was running its Kickstarter campaign, I saw the character designs for the Ineffable Duo and got inspired to create my own. Some of the details are still in flux, but I'm really quite pleased with how their basic looks have turned out and I'd like to draw them in comic form someday.

Notes on design and color choices under the readmore.

Though originally I'd intended for Aziraphale to be the shorter of the two, I like the implications that he still retains some vestiges of the angelic soldier he once was -- that hint in the way he carries himself that he could become very dangerous indeed if he has to. As a bonus, when Crowley became the smaller one, it emphasizes his personality, both as someone who must seek hiding places to avoid harm and as the guile hero who relies on his wits to survive and even thrive. So now we have a soft angel with a steel core and a pointy little garter snake of a demon.

They're not tied to any specific ethnicities, being celestial entities, but they both appear brown, partially because I like the nod to the Fertile Crescent housing the first known examples of human civilization, but largely because no one can stop me. Crowley ended up with a vaguely East Asian complexion and eyes, while Aziraphale has features that faintly echo the Middle East. Don't ask me about the halo of chestnut curls -- I don't know where that came from, but Aziraphale insisted.

Like his show counterpart's, Crowley's eyes get more snakelike when he's stressed, upset, angry, or exhausted. I gave him the presence of a sclera for the sake of facial expression, but because I didn't want to entirely lose the reptilian look, it now has a yellow tint. (I haven't designed his snake form yet, but it's based on a bush viper for their pretty scale textures and their cute little snub noses)

Aziraphale's eyes have a burst of sunlight yellow around the pupils, a feature I saw once on a real-life acquaintance and thought beautiful. The green-hazel irises are just 'cause I like them.

Surprising absolutely no one, Crowley's clothing scheme is blacks, grays, and reds, with flashes of silver. I haven't done any research on whether leather blazers were a thing in the late 80s, but it seemed very appropriate for him to wear, and it's a little nod to Neil Gaiman's liking for leather jackets as well.

Aziraphale wears heavenly colors (white, blue, gold) close to his chest, while the rest of his clothing grounds him with earth tones. He's just a little more up to date on fashion than the show's Aziraphale (whose clothes skew Victorian), but he still wears clothing that wouldn't look out of place in the 1950s.

I probably make Aziraphale a little too handsome compared to his descriptions in the book, but I like how it makes him all the more infuriating when he's being condescending. Like, you bastard, how dare you look that hot while you're lecturing me. Poor Crowley.

[loudlychoppedbread]

For a while, I was wondering why I got irritated at a lot of art that includes the Aquato family. Or even some art of just some of the characters from there. While at an art museum, and looking at other art pieces, it hit me.

The noses. I know there's one post that has made its rounds in the Psychonauts fandom about how the Aquatos have darker eyes compared to their cheeks and foreheads and how that's a romani trait, but another thing that got me was their noses, and that was just in their character designs.

Now underneath the cut is the little references I made of the Aquatos, just using their headshape and nose shape. I don't want to say anyone's art is bad (in fact, a lot of the art I noticed was because I like seeing the specific artists post Psychonauts and started to notice a pattern) because they haven't used these specific nose shapes, it was just something that I noticed while looking through the art the fandom has made.

While looking at references I decided to make little profiles of each Aquato family member to see what stuck out.

Donatella's nose is often used as the shape of many of the family's noses and it's not hard to see why. It's prominent and large, able to be seen easily and used as the centerpiece of the face. But, not all of the Aquatos have noses like their mom. Heck, I don't think any of them do!

Raz and Augustus have a flat, long nose, that actually blends into a strong eyebrow Line. It splits their face in half, but isn't that prominent when facing any other way except side to side.

Nona and Dion have snub noses, with Dion's point being a little more towards where he's focusing, rather than Nona's which points up.

Frazie has a nose that points out with the nostrils facing towards who she's speaking to (though they aren't rendered in the game) and Mirtala has a much smaller, pointy nose similar to her sister.

Queepie has the most unique nose, being a square that comes out of his very round head.

[hawkepockets]

uly facts so far:

he/him bisexual butch woman. doesn’t really mind feminine terms and pronouns, but is pleased by masc ones

built like a brick shithouse, in game limitations notwithstanding. beefy arms. barrel chest

farmboy tan & perpetual sunburn on his cheeks and nose bridge

big stick-out ears

bottle blonde

will buzz his hair for the deep roads to avoid getting darkspawn gunk in it. he only wore it as long as he did for leandra’s peace of mind anyway - she doesn’t really get that uly is attractive as a butch, and worries about him finding a partner… she needn’t!

uly was the only hawke to inherit malcolm’s dark brown eyes, instead of leandra’s amber. when his hair was dark, he looked too much like his dad for comfort. hence the bleach

he was also the only one to inherit malcolm’s bigger hawk (hawke) nose, in contrast to leandra’s pointy snub nose. varric has told uly this makes him the most attractive hawke—in fact, combined with his stockiness, he’s kind of a knockout by dwarf standards. varric said it like a joke. it wasn’t

besides “hawke,” varric’s other nickname for uly is “shiner.” as in a handsome prince in shining armor, and also the recurring black eye uly keeps getting—usually from jealous husbands whose wives uly took jobs from, or drunks he shoved away from the women they were bothering, or jealous husbands whose wives he

well he’s just very chivalrous okay

uly is actually technically a mage. that is, he has a spark of magical potential, but he’s tamped it down since bethany was born. bethy’s magic was so wild and potent compared to his, and everyone agreed she was the precious, secret mage of the family. so uly wouldn’t be. he practiced fighting with staves and farm tools and trained only his body, so he could defend his sister and divert attention from her staff while on the road. uly’s magic is so repressed, he doesn’t know if he could use it now if he tried. he’s not bitter about any of this, but it makes him sad that bethany wishes her own magic away. they might have been happier in each other’s positions :(

strongly pro-mage, not out of personal anger but because he doesn’t see it as a conflict with two sides. like at all. choose between the captive and the kidnapper? the soldier and the civilian? the torturer and the victim? there’s no question in his mind. it’s just what’s right. he can’t be shaken in this because it’s not an emotional judgment

doesn’t seem very bright at first, but spend a little time on the street with him and you’ll notice he has a very keen nose for people trying to take advantage of him, and when it’s worth it to play along. he asks good questions. and there’s an uncompromising light that comes into his eyes when he sniffs out a slaver or abuser - no calculation there, just pure conviction, and then his staff cracking down on the scumbag’s head. he’s just not much for puzzles, books, or repartée

took sebastian’s bounty on the flint mercenaries because it was good money and didn’t seem too morally bankrupt, not because he was moved by the vael’s deaths or sebastian’s revenge quests. nobles and royals get what’s coming to them. sow nothing but jealousy with your lifestyle, reap violence, big surprise. but if anyone mentions seb’s accent, uly’s face suddenly looks a lot more sunburned…

loves being called handsome. it didn’t happen much in lothering!

[chrysanthemumgames]

Hey sorry if this has been already asked but do you have a general description of what all of the RO's look like? Love the demo BTW! 🙂

I actually do not have this written out anywhere except in my story notes, so here those are for frighteningly-public consumption! (And thank you!)

Hades is the aforementiond 6'9", muscularly-built, with sharply-hewn features. His skin is a deep slate-grey color, and he wears his hair long, roughly to just below his shoulderblades. It's bone-white, pin-straight, and thick. His eyes are ruby-red, not in the kind of way that gets mistaken for another color. In keeping with the whole ‘lord of the dead’ thing he has going on, he dresses mostly in black. His ears are slightly tapered, and though he doesn't often smile enough to make this obvious, his eyeteeth are a touch longer than usual and pointed (well, pointier, since most people’s are somewhat pointed). Also he bleeds black. Not obvious just from looking at him, but a bit of trivia if you're interested.

Hermes is 5'8", with a lean runner's build and deep brown skin. He has black, coiled hair (4A, if you're familiar with curl types), that he wears about six inches long. It tends to look windswept due to all the flying. His facial features are broad, soft, and youthful. He has a falconine wing structure, the very end feathers likely to trail the ground just a bit when they're tucked. The feathers are an almost-metallic silver, as are his eyes.

Charon is about 5'10", and carries himself with a sort of grace that can make him seem taller. He has a fair, almost sickly pallor with slightly greyish undertones. He wears his very pale platinum-blonde hair to about his shoulders; it's got a bit of wave to it but nothing drastic. His eyes are a light blue, and his features as a rule fairly delicate-looking. His build is not as overtly athletic as Hades's by any means, but there is still an obvious strength to him, one a little leaner and more svelte.

Pyri's the short one, at five-foot-nothin'. It's not too hard to guess that they're the one in charge of the river of fire, because they really look like it. Their complexion is a tawny bronze, and their hair bright ginger-red, curly (3B) and chopped right at their chin. They've got a snub nose and big golden eyes; their entire face and much of the rest of them is smattered in dense freckles. They favor loose clothes when not in armor, and when they don't have a sensible chestplate to do it for them, they bind. Their figure is very much on the wiry, spare side; if anyone's familiar with Ellie's character design from LoU2 it's not far off! They have three scars on the left side of their face, like something three pronged and sharp was dragged from their jawline towards their forehead, just barely skipping over the eye. The scars are paler and pink/white.

Alekto is a statuesque 6'2" and amazonian in her build, on the husky side. She has a deep-tan 'Mediterranean' complexion, and chestnut-brown hair, which she wears long and usually in a high ponytail, which reaches the small of her back or thereabouts. Her features are strong, blunt, and there's a small mole under her mouth on the left side. Her eyes are a dark brown, with just a hint of green. She's almost always in armor, but actually likes really fancy and colorful garments when not.

Hekate is 5'2", with a thicker/curvy/soft build. Her skin is a medium brown, though there are depigmented patches here and there on the right (as she has segmental vitiligo). She wears her (3A) hair in braids, usually all over the left shoulder, as the hair is undercut on the right side. The color tends to change from day to day with her mood, as she is quite adept at magic and sees no reason not to put this to use. A lot of times, it's a soft, rosy pink. Her features are very feminine, almost doll-like in some ways: large eyes, a button nose, all of that. She is almost never wearing shoes, and her wardrobe is a panoply of color, most of it flowy and/or breezy in fit.

[ko-chan-the-blueberry-donut]

Fate’s Divergence Chapter 5

Hey guys! Here’s Chapter 5 of Fate’s Divergence! Thank you so much for the support for this story! Also, I updated the other chapters with Ethari instead of Tinker to be season 3 compliant. Hopefully I got all of it. Let me know if I missed one and where.

Disclaimer: I don’t own Dragon Prince

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Rayla made a face at the clothes that were provided for her. She didn’t want to wear dresses or human garments. She stubbornly kept on her dirty clothes, hoping the snub wouldn’t change the minds of the humans to execute her after all.

The human male and his wife exchanged a look before giving her smiles, though it did nothing to ease Rayla, despite their promises not to hurt her.

“We’ll get clothes you like.” The human male promised, but to Rayla, it was nothing but gibberish. She didn’t know what they were saying, and it continued to frustrate her as they led her and the human boy to a large dining area. Any doubt they were not royalty left Rayla’s mind the more she took in of the castle, leaving her with more questions.

If these humans were royalty, did that mean they were planning to attack the Dragon King? But then they would’ve held her as a hostage, wouldn’t they? So many questions circled Rayla’s head, and she grew more and more frustrated with the language barrier imposed on her.

A tiny hand took hers, and Rayla was yanked from her thoughts as she met the human boy’s gaze. He gave her an excited smile.

“Moonlily, after breakfast I’ll show you my room okay? We’ll have lots of fun!” the boy promised. Rayla furrowed her brow, catching he kept saying ‘Moonlily’. Was he insulting her?

She wished more than anything to know.

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“Now Callum, you have lessons after breakfast.” Sarai lightly chided him, her eyes sparkling playfully.

“But I want to play with Moonlily!” Callum protested. He didn’t want to leave Moonlily alone again, afraid she’ll be lonely and start sobbing again. Callum couldn’t describe it, but when Moonlily cried it made his chest ache.

“Moonlily needs to go to the tailor after breakfast.” Harrow told him smiling. “It seems she’s more a fan of pants than Claudia’s old dresses.”

“She’s speaking sense.” Sarai grinned at Harrow. “Pants are much better than dresses!”

“Speaking from experience now?” Harrow quirked an eyebrow, teasingly.

“Of course! After all, I don’t wear dresses for that reason!” Sarai winked. Harrow and Callum laughed while the elf girl watched them with a frown, her brow scrunching up.

“Are you all right, Moonlily?” Callum squeezed her hand gently. As for his Moonlily, she gave him a pensive expression.

“Amin delotha sut amin uma il- rangwa mani lle naa ilya sayien!” Moonlily said with a sour expression. “Amin merna an edhel a' talk a'…”

Callum studied her, stroking her hand with his thumb like his mother would do for him to soothe him. His Moonlily stared back at him, irritation and perhaps a bit of sorrow in her gaze. He wished more than anything he could understand her and her understand him.

An idea came to him then, and he grinned excitedly, squeezing his Moonlily’s hand to reassure her.

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“I beg your pardon, Prince Callum?” Opeli blinked as she paused in setting up for Callum’s lessons.

“I want to learn Elvish, Miss Opeli.” Callum repeated, his expression determined.

“Prince Callum, I’m supposed to teach you politics and Katolis’s traditions.” Opeli told him, though not unkindly.

“Well, shouldn’t being able to communicate with other nations count as politics?” Callum wasn’t giving up. Opeli gave him an impressed look.

“Very good point, Prince Callum, but I still can’t teach you.” Opeli told him.

“Why not?” Callum was shocked. “Miss Opeli, you’re the smartest teacher on the king’s council!” Callum protested.

“Well, that’s very sweet of you, Prince Callum.” Opeli smiled softly at the young boy. “But the reason I can’t teach you is because I don’t know Elvish.”

“What?” Callum blinked, but straightened his shoulders, trying to appear more like a prince. “Well… is there anyone who does know Elvish?” he asked politely, but with a professionalism he’s seen King Harrow use when addressing his subjects.

“Humans haven’t needed to know Elvish for centuries.” Opeli replied, eying him sadly. “I doubt there’s any human tutor that could teach you.”

Callum’s shoulders slumped, and he appeared sad. Opeli watched him in pity. She had seen the little elf King Harrow and Queen Sarai had brought home. She knew eventually it would have to be brought up in the council that King Harrow was housing an elf. She knew some of her other council members wouldn’t be as welcoming to the prospect of an elf in Katolis as the King and Queen were, and she couldn’t help but pity the poor elf. She was just a child, and Opeli knew despite being taken in by the highest authority in Katolis, it wouldn’t be enough to deter others from showing her spite.

“However,” Opeli began, catching Callum’s undivided attention. “The castle’s library has many ancient books, some collected before Katolis was formed. I wouldn’t be surprised if there was at least one book on what you are looking for.”

The smile that spread on Prince Callum’s face was brighter than the sun, and Opeli found herself smiling as well.

“Thanks Miss Opeli! I’ll check out the library!” Callum said happily. Opeli smiled, and they began their lesson.

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Rayla made a face as she was directed to hold still as the unknown male appeared to be measuring her. To occupy herself, she watched the man who spoke with a condescending tone to her before speaking to the human king and his wife. She squirmed unconsciously when his children surveyed her curiously.

“Do you think elves bleed the same way humans do?” the dark-haired girl spoke, circling her. Rayla didn’t know what she was saying, but her gut told her it wasn’t pleasant with the way the girl watched her like she was a specimen and not a living being.

“Don’t get too close, Clauds.” The boy told his sister worriedly. “I heard if they bite, you get moonshadow madness!”

The dark-haired girl burst out into laughter, and Rayla furrowed her brow in frustration.

“Pfft where did you hear something so ridiculous?” the girl directed at her brother. He appeared embarrassed.

“Camp…” he murmured. The dark-haired girl laughed even harder. Rayla felt herself grow annoyed with them, feeling like she was the butt of some joke.

The tailor barked at her something, and Rayla assumed it was because her posture tensed up. She grumpily put herself back into her original stance as the siblings continued to bicker.

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“Harrow, you can’t be ridiculous.” Viren pinched the bridge of his nose. “You surely can’t present her as your ward to the public.”

“I don’t see why not. She’s under our wing now.” Sarai gave Viren a look, not liking what he was implying. “We’re not keeping her a secret.”

“Think about what you’re saying, Queen Sarai.” Viren tried to advise. “The elf—”

“Moonlily.” Both Harrow and Sarai corrected him. Viren sighed.

“Moonlily.” He acquiesced. “Yes, we’re now her home, and we all agree we can’t take her back to Xadia, but think about it. Humans hate elves. The public would absolutely hate her—your subjects would question your sanity, and your rule could be shaky.” Viren tried to persuade Harrow.

“Perhaps that can change.” Harrow argued, determined. “She’s just a child. She’s harmless. Surely no one would hold anger towards a child?”

“No one will see her as a child. They’ll just see her as an elf.” Viren countered. “Perhaps give her to me? I would be less conspicuous and not as controversial.”

“Forgive me, Viren, but before you spoke to Moonlily disrespectfully so I’m doubtful you want to suddenly take her in as your own.” Sarai raised an eyebrow in skepticism. Viren sighed in frustration.

“I understand you’ve grown attached to her, Queen Sarai.” Viren spoke, “but you can’t let your emotions rule your common sense. Some of the castle is already talking in displeasure about your new ward. It would be better if she was hidden away.”

“You mean lock her up?” Harrow was appalled. “She’ll be miserable!”

“She’ll be safe!” Viren told them, frustrated at their stubbornness. “She’ll be safe, and your rule won’t be questioned! Everyone wins.”

“But at what cost?” Harrow challenged. “I preserve everyone’s peace of mind but condemn hers. I will not punish Moonlily for being born an elf. I will not be ashamed of her.”

“You can’t force change, Harrow.” Viren frowned at him. “I’m not speaking to you as your high mage, but as your friend. You may not be ashamed, but there are those who will make sure she feels shame.”

“Then they will answer to us.” Sarai said, determined. “We’re Moonlily’s family now. We’re all she has.”

“Viren,” Harrow’s stance carried all the authority of a king, “I understand your worries, but I won’t turn my back on Moonlily when she needs us.” He smiled then at his friend, placing a hand on Viren’s shoulder. “The people will see. I’m sure of it.”

Before Viren could answer, there was a commotion and the three of them turned to see the elf girl biting the tailor while Claudia and Soren were yelling.

“He’s gonna get moonshadow madness!” Soren cried.

“That’s not real!” Claudia countered.

“Ow! You savage! I was trying to fit you!”

The elf girl wasted no time in fleeing the room, with the three adults pursuing quickly.

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Rayla hurried through the hallways out into the courtyard. She didn’t stop running from the human male with the sharp pointy needles. She didn’t need new clothes. She wanted her clothes, and she did not need some human poking her every time she fidgets and yelling at her when she moves. Eventually, she grew tired of this and just bit the human. His yell made her feel insanely better about the torture he was putting her through.

However, her satisfaction was short lived when she tripped, falling straight into a mud puddle. Rayla froze, looking down at her clothes caked in mud. Her hands shook as she fingered her clothes. They were her only piece of home, and now they were dirty.

Would the humans now throw her clothes away?

Rayla panicked when she heard the humans getting close and quickly got up, before someone snatched her up.

It was the silent lady who made weird hand gestures.

The woman surveyed her critically before giving her a teasing smirk. She wagged a finger at Rayla, which Rayla recognized as the universal gesture of ‘don’t be naughty’ and recalled the woman did that gesture to her before. Rayla huffed, crossing her arms, giving the woman an intense glare. The woman simply quirked an eyebrow in challenge.

“Moonlily! Are you okay?” her female kidnapper ran up to them. Rayla realized the woman holding her and the king’s wife appeared quite similar. Perhaps they were related?

The woman continued to make more gestures with her free hand, the queen speaking out loud, possibly translating for her husband and the stingy man.

“I saw the little one running and tripped into the mud. Seems like she now needs a bath.” The queen translated. Rayla tried making out some words she could possibly know, but as usual, she didn’t understand. Rayla had to wonder why she even bothered.

The woman holding her turned her gaze to her, poking her nose playfully. Rayla squeaked, scowling.

“Common naa y' confusien lammen.” Rayla grumbled. The woman didn’t appear bothered by her foul mood.

“I’ll take her, Amaya.” The queen said, holding out her arms, and Rayla understood the gesture. Rayla huffed as she was transferred to her kidnapper’s arms once again.

The human queen gave her a gentle smile, and Rayla refused to smile back. She knew she was pushing her luck, but they set her up with the human who poked her with needles, and she was still not happy with that experience.

“I’ll take her for a bath while you and Viren cast the spell.” The queen told her husband and the stingy man. They nodded, and Rayla was carried off by the human queen.

She observed she was being carried throughout the castle, and she wondered where she was being taken. The human queen seemed to know where they were, so Rayla told herself to relax, despite the irrational fear they would put her in a cell after all.

But she reminded herself these humans also promised not to hurt her. She could see there was no lie on her kidnapper’s face when she confirmed that to Rayla. If Ethari was here, he would tell her to stay positive and hopeful, and replayed his soothing voice in her mind to calm her.

However, when they entered the bathroom, and Rayla saw where the human queen intended for her to go, all the calm flew out the window.

“N'uma! amin uma il- merna natul- poika!” Rayla struggled in her kidnapper’s arms. She abhorred baths!

“It’s okay, Moonlily! It’s just a bath!” the human queen spoke, and Rayla didn’t care if the woman was trying to reassure her, Rayla was still incensed.

“N'uma alu! amin merna mataya amin dal yeste'!” Rayla protested, grabbing onto the doorframe for dear life. The human queen then snorted, and Rayla glared at her. “Sina naa il- amusien!”

“Oh Moonlily!” the human queen, despite Rayla’s complaint, was laughing. “Don’t tell me you hate baths!”

Rayla’s glare was waspish. She didn’t know what the human queen was saying, but she knew it was at her expense. She tightened her grip on the doorframe. The human queen’s eyes glinted, and she smirked in teasing.

That did not bode well for Rayla.

Rayla yelped when she felt the human woman’s fingers tickling her sides. Rayla hurriedly let go of the doorframe in order to protect herself. Seeing the human woman’s triumphant smirk, Rayla realized her error and her eyes widened in horror.

No! She kept falling for this trick! That was how Runaan and Ethari got her in the bath!

Rayla didn’t get time to escape before the human woman shut the door and removed Rayla’s muddy clothes. Rayla tried the same strategy she had with the human male with pointy needles, but the queen easily evaded her teeth while maneuvering the faucet and filling the tub.

It wasn’t long before the human woman deposited her into the huge tub and was scrubbing her clean. Rayla scowled as bubbles surrounded her entire body.

“Mom?” a voice called as someone knocked on the door. Rayla recognized it as the human boy’s voice. She realized he was calling for the human woman. “The king said you were in here. Are you okay?”

“Just fine, sweetie! Moonlily fell into some mud so she’s getting a bath!” the human woman replied. Rayla took her distraction as a chance to try to escape, but the human woman blocked her attempts effortlessly. Rayla gave her a grumpy look.

The door opened and the human boy peaked his head in. She must have looked a sight because the boy tried to hold back some giggles. He turned to his mother.

“I guess she doesn’t like baths?” the human boy asked her. His mother chuckled.

“You got that right. Why don’t you come in and help me calm her down? She might like you talking to her.” The human woman told her son. Rayla raised an eyebrow when the human boy came into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. He hurried over to the tub, and Rayla tilted her head.

“No hurt.” The human boy repeated, and Rayla relaxed her shoulders, understanding the phrase. “My lessons are done for the day. We should play when you get cleaned up!” the human boy spoke excitedly to her. “Or maybe we can go see Ezran? You seem to like him.” He continued to babble in a language Rayla didn’t understand but found herself being less tense as she listened to his voice.

The human woman shampooed Rayla’s silvery white hair while her son continued to talk Rayla’s ear off. Again, she couldn’t help but wish she had someone she could talk to that she could actually understand. The boy’s voice was very comforting, but she wished she could know what exactly he was saying. It was nice to have someone her age around her in this ordeal, but it did nothing to give her peace the way someone who could understand her could.

Rayla closed her eyes, replaying her family’s voices in her mind, the familiar Elvish making her heart ache.

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I hope people enjoyed this chapter. I hoped everyone was believable in this chapter since Harrow has a tendency to rule with his feelings and Viren is too pragmatic without considering feelings. They’re both extremes and they both bring up good points, but both aren’t entirely right because in reality, there is no easy solution. There is no clear-cut answer and Rayla is in the middle of it.

Translations of Rayla’s words:

Amin delotha sut amin uma il- rangwa mani lle naa ilya sayien! = I hate how I do not understand what you are all saying!

Amin merna an edhel a' talk a'… = I wish I had an elf to talk to…

Common naa y' confusien lammen = Common is a confusing language.

N'uma! amin uma il- merna natul- poika! = No! I do not want to become clean!

N'uma alu! amin merna mataya amin dal yeste'! = No water! I would want to eat my foot first! (she’s basically saying I would rather eat her own foot first instead of getting in water)

Sina naa il- amusien! = this is not amusing!

[evabellasworld]

A Relaxing Day Off

For Star Wars POC Week 2020

Day 1: Domesticity

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Summary: Admiral Arin Sallis, who is a Twi’lek, spends her day off from war with her husband and her three sons.

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Hearing her alarm went off, Arin Sallis groaned as she opened her eyes, noticing her husband, Ilak Pizu, laying beside her. A pale blue Twi’lek, he had pointy ears and brown eyes, he was built a little scrawny, despite consuming more carbs than his wife. Arin, on the other hand, had red skin and free earlobes, which were the only features she got from her human father. The rest of them were from her mother.

“Good morning, dear,” Ilak greeted, pressing his lips against Arin’s forehead. “Did you sleep well last night?”

“Yeah, thanks to you,” she smiled, leaning closer to her husband, whom she married for fifteen years. “It’s wonderful sleeping with you again.”

“Why, are you lonely out there?”

“Of course I am, Ilak. Sleeping alone in a Jedi Cruiser is not the same as sleeping on our bed.”

“Ouch,” he teased. “I guess the men in the military aren't as handsome as me then.”

She rolled her eyes. “Oh please. They’re too boring and old. Besides, most of them are married.”

“So you find me interesting then?”

“Maybe, maybe not,” she answered, as she got up from her bed and got dressed, with her husband doing the same. It’s been a week since she was at war with the Separatist and right now, she and the rest of the crew are on shore leave, for not much longer.

She headed out of the master bedroom and knocked on her eldest son’s door, Ree. A 12-years-old boy, he inherited both his looks and personality traits from his mother, except for her earlobe shape. “Morning, Ma,” he rubbed his eyes.

“Slept well last night?”

“Kind of,” he yawned. “I was doing my assignments last night."

"Oh, and what kind of assignments are you doing?"

"It was for Basics. Apparently, we have to make a speech about current issues."

"So what did you choose, Ree?"

"About how life is in the Underworld."

She nodded, remembering living beneath Coruscant before she managed to move her family to the surface level after getting promoted in the military rank. It was harsh as she was the only Twi'leks, but it paid off.

"Alright, go wake your brothers for breakfast, okay?"

"Yes, Ma!" he nodded in approval as Arin headed to the kitchen, where a plate of scrambled eggs with bacon is served on the table, along with a cup of black caf, her favourite kind of coffee. 

"Is the egg okay?" he asked, taking a bite of his meal.

"Good as always," she praised, noticing Ree, Seraph, and Andhika entered the kitchen and took a seat. "Morning, boys."

"Morning Ma," the youngest son replied, drinking his entire glass of blue milk. Like his father, Andhika had blue skin and was the jokester of the family, compared to his brother and his mother.

"Did you both sleep well last night?"

"Yes, Ma. I dreamed that I was a prince in Candy Land."

"I hope you don't overdose with sweets," Arin jokes. "You know you could get diabetes and toothache."

"Relax, Arin," Ilak laughed. "It's unlikely for a kid his age to get diabetes."

"But it is possible, though. After all, one of your aunts got them when she was 10 years old."

"Is it Somin?" the husband asked.

"No, it's Hyerim," Arin corrected him. "Somin was the one that sells vintage stuff on the HoloNet."

“Oh, that one. You have so many siblings that it’s difficult for me to keep track of them sometimes.”

“I know. Even I mixed up their names as well.”

“Yeah, that’s why we had four instead so that it is easier to remember their names.”

Arin could only burst into laughter as the middle child, Seraph, just focused on his meal instead. His face was a mixture of his parents, with his mother’s eyes and his father’s snub nose along with blue skin with red patches on his lekku. He doesn’t really say much whenever the family is together.

“So,” Arin cleared her throat, addressing her second child. “Any plans for today?”

He stopped chewing as his mother addressed him, putting down his fork. “I’ll be in the backyard, with my toys.”

“Okay then,” she sighed. “Just don’t get hurt, okay?”

“I won’t, Ma,” he answered, excusing himself from the table and placed his empty plate in the sink, leaving them for Ree to wash them. The oldest boy could only groan as he finished his meal and did both his and Seraph’s dishes. 

Arin and Ilak were the last to get up and placed their plates next to the sink, grabbing a wet cloth that was hanging on top of the tap. She grabbed it and began wiping the table as her husband sat on the couch and read the news from the datapad.

"Anything on the news today?" Arin asked as she washed the cloth in the sink.

"There was a robbery in the bank yesterday," he informed her, his eyes glued to the datapad. "The clones managed to locate them, though."

"Ah, the Corrie Guards," she smiled. "Led by the fantastic Marshall Commander Fox. He and his men had done a terrific job for the Republic."

"I can tell, though it's a shame that they don't get that much recognition they deserved."

She moaned. "I agree. We tried to persuade the Chancellor but unfortunately, we don't have that much luck at all."

"Oh well," he shrugged, at least we tried our best."

Then, Andhika ran up to them, holding his Teddy bear that they got him for Life Day. "Ma, guess what?"

"What is it, Andhika?" Arin wondered at his son's antics. 

"Mr Cuddles and I were boxing each other. Guess who won?"

"Let me guess," she stroked her chin. "Was it you?"

"Yeah, it was me, Ma. I won a boxing match with Mr Cuddles."

"But why were you having a boxing match with Mr Cuddles? Isn't it too dangerous?"

"Well, we kinda made a bet with the bad guys on who would win the match so Mr Cuddles and I had to fight for our life. It was no big deal, though."

"Betting money with the monsters?" her eyes widened. "Where did you learn such words, young man?"

"Dad taught me. He told me all the tricks for winning in poker."

Arin glared at her husband, who glanced away from her. Obviously, she should have been mindful of what her husband is teaching her kids. "You've got to be joking, Ilak. Teaching your son how to gamble? That is one bad habit that leads to legal trouble eventually."

"Oh loosened up, sweetie. It's just a game of poker. It's not like we use real money or something."

"You know the motto of gambling, easy come-"

"-easy go. I know, I know. Look, it's just a game, that's all. I don't encourage them"

"Alright then,” she relented, poking his shoulder, making him ticklish to her touch. She sat the baby of the family beside her as Ilak put on a cartoon for his son when she heard a loud clang upstairs. “What was that?”

“Nothing, Ma!” Ree shouted back.

“Doesn’t sound like nothing to me,” she got up from her couch and climbed upstairs to his room, when she found Ree and Seraph together, with a red ball on the carpeted floor. She felt a little stressed whenever she had to deal with her sons fighting each other. She had dealt with her brothers fighting each other, and now she has to do the same as well.

“Alright, boys, what’s going on here?”

“He started first,” Seraph pointed his fingers at his older brother. “I was just minding my own business when he tried to snatch my ball from me.”

“He’s lying, Ma!” Ree defended himself. “He was disturbing me while I was doing my assignment. I told him to stop, but he refused to budge.”

“But-”

“Alright, that’s enough,” Arin stopped them from any further arguments. “Look Seraph, just don’t bother your brother, okay? He needs to complete his school assignment.”

“But Ma-”

“You heard me, young man. Don’t disturb your brother.”

Seraph groaned in frustration as Ree snickered in amusement, only to be given a death glare by his mother. “Don’t laugh at your brother’s misfortunes. It’s not good.”

“But he deserved it, Ma!”

“Still, you shouldn’t do that. What if you made a grave mistake and someone laughs at you? You wouldn’t like that, would you?”

Ree could only shake his head as his mother left his room, now getting himself some peace and quiet. Arin tightened her lips and headed downstairs, noticing her husband playing with their youngest boy. She could only let her lips curve upwards as she sat next to him on the couch and read the news on her datapad.

“I see you handled those two efficiently,” Ilak acknowledged her presence, squeezing her right thighs. 

“I have a lot of siblings,” she answered. “Fights are fairly common.”

“Well, I’m glad you didn’t lose your temper as you did three weeks ago.”

She remembered that incident. Having recently come back from the Battle of Geonosis, which was the first battle of the Clone Wars, Arin witnessed many Jedi and clones die during the fight, which she was partly responsible for since she was a Republic admiral. Despite that, she couldn’t forgive herself for lashing out at her sons just for quarrelling with each other.

“Yeah, I’m glad I managed to calm myself.”

Ilak leaned closer to her as he wrapped his arms around her shoulder. She reciprocated by squeezing his hands, watching her boy letting his imagination run with his toys while reading the news. With every terrible thing that she had to witness in both the battlefield and the Republic’s war room, she’s grateful that she’s safe and sound with her family that she and Ilak built together, yet she felt a sense of guilt inside her heart.

Aware that people in the Outer Rim had to suffer the consequence of the fighting between the Republic and the Separatists, she felt guilty for inflicting pain towards those families and children that she caused. She couldn’t sleep at night, knowing that there are many innocents that were caught in the middle of the battle. She couldn’t even feel comfort and warmth with her husband and children, knowing that the clones were treated as properties, rather than actual people.

She knows what it is like growing up in poverty. Her father scrubbed floors in a corporate building while her mother worked in a brothel from late at night to early in the morning. As the eldest child of ten brothers and sisters, Arin was responsible for their well-being, to the point that she had to play parent sometimes. She loves her parents, and she’s grateful for their hard work, but at the same time, she resents them for making her grow up too quickly.

“You alright, Ma?” Ree asked, snapping her back into reality. Arin glanced around her surroundings and noticed all three of her kids are together with her and Ilak, leaving her laughing inside. 

“I’m alright, Ree,” she answered, bringing him closer together. “I was just too engrossed with my reading, that’s all.”

“Hey, Ma,” Seraph called her. “Can we watch something fun together?”

“Of course, sweetie. You can choose anything you want to watch.”

As the whole family was cuddled up next to each other in the living room, Arin could only feel peace and tranquillity. After the death of her newborn daughter, she could only weep as she copes with having an unworn shoe and an empty room that she and Ilak had set up for their little princess, long before the boys came to her.

She knows that this peace won’t last long, as she had to depart to another system in the galaxy to fight against the Separatists. Arin won’t be able to spend time with her family after this, despite her silent protest she tried to make against the Chancellor. But for now, she just sighed and rested her head on her husband’s shoulder.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Admiral Arin Sallis:

[birdsthatsingaftermidnight]

Weland’s Sword

This is one of my favourite stories.

From Puck of Pook's Hill, by Rudyard Kipling

The children were at the Theatre, acting to Three Cows as much as they could remember of Midsummer Night's Dream. Their father had made them a small play out of the big Shakespeare one, and they had rehearsed it with him and with their mother till they could say it by heart. They began when Nick Bottom the weaver comes out of the bushes with a donkey's head on his shoulders, and finds Titania, Queen of the Fairies, asleep. Then they skipped to the part where Bottom asks three little fairies to scratch his head and bring him honey, and they ended where he falls asleep in Titania's arms. Dan was Puck and Nick Bottom, as well as all three Fairies. He wore a pointy-eared cloth cap for Puck, and a paper donkey's head out of a Christmas cracker—but it tore if you were not careful—for Bottom. Una was Titania, with a wreath of columbines and a foxglove wand.

The Theatre lay in a meadow called the Long Slip. A little mill-stream, carrying water to a mill two or three fields away, bent round one corner of it, and in the middle of the bend lay a large old Fairy Ring of darkened grass, which was the stage. The millstream banks, overgrown with willow, hazel, and guelder-rose, made convenient places to wait in till your turn came; and a grown-up who had seen it said that Shakespeare himself could not have imagined a more suitable setting for his play. They were not, of course, allowed to act on Midsummer Night itself, but they went down after tea on Midsummer Eve, when the shadows were growing, and they took their supper—hard-boiled eggs, Bath Oliver biscuits, and salt in an envelope—with them. Three Cows had been milked and were grazing steadily with a tearing noise that one could hear all down the meadow; and the noise of the Mill at work sounded like bare feet running on hard ground. A cuckoo sat on a gate-post singing his broken June tune, 'cuckoo-cuk', while a busy kingfisher crossed from the mill-stream, to the brook which ran on the other side of the meadow. Everything else was a sort of thick, sleepy stillness smelling of meadow-sweet and dry grass.

Their play went beautifully. Dan remembered all his parts—Puck, Bottom, and the three Fairies—and Una never forgot a word of Titania—not even the difficult piece where she tells the Fairies how to feed Bottom with 'apricocks, green figs, and dewberries', and all the lines end in 'ies'. They were both so pleased that they acted it three times over from beginning to end before they sat down in the unthistly centre of the Ring to eat eggs and Bath Olivers. This was when they heard a whistle among the alders on the bank, and they jumped.

The bushes parted. In the very spot where Dan had stood as Puck they saw a small, brown, broad-shouldered, pointy-eared person with a snub nose, slanting blue eyes, and a grin that ran right across his freckled face. He shaded his forehead as though he were watching Quince, Snout, Bottom, and the others rehearsing Pyramus and Thisbe, and, in a voice as deep as Three Cows asking to be milked, he began:

He stopped, hollowed one hand round his ear, and, with a wicked twinkle in his eye, went on:

'What hempen homespuns have we swaggering here,

So near the cradle of our fairy Queen?'

'I'm rather out of practice,' said he; 'but that's the way my part ought to be played.'

'What, a play toward? I'll be auditor;

An actor, too, perhaps, if I see cause.'

The children looked and gasped. The small thing—he was no taller than Dan's shoulder—stepped quietly into the Ring.

Still the children stared at him—from his dark-blue cap, like a big columbine flower, to his bare, hairy feet. At last he laughed.

'Please don't look like that. It isn't my fault. What else could you expect?' he said.

'We didn't expect any one,' Dan answered, slowly. 'This is our field.'

'Is it?' said their visitor, sitting down. 'Then what on Human Earth made you act Midsummer Night's Dream three times over, on Midsummer Eve, in the middle of a Ring, and under—right under one of my oldest hills in Old England? Pook's Hill—Puck's Hill—Puck's Hill—Pook's Hill! It's as plain as the nose on my face.'

He pointed to the bare, fern-covered slope of Pook's Hill that runs up from the far side of the mill-stream to a dark wood. Beyond that wood the ground rises and rises for five hundred feet, till at last you climb out on the bare top of Beacon Hill, to look over the Pevensey Levels and the Channel and half the naked South Downs.

'By Oak, Ash, and Thorn!' he cried, still laughing. 'If this had happened a few hundred years ago you'd have had all the People of the Hills out like bees in June!'

'We didn't know it was wrong,' said Dan.

'Wrong!' The little fellow shook with laughter. 'Indeed, it isn't wrong. You've done something that Kings and Knights and Scholars in old days would have given their crowns and spurs and books to find out. If Merlin himself had helped you, you couldn't have managed better! You've broken the Hills—you've broken the Hills! It hasn't happened in a thousand years.'

'We—we didn't mean to,' said Una.

'Of course you didn't! That's just why you did it. Unluckily the Hills are empty now, and all the People of the Hills are gone. I'm the only one left. I'm Puck, the oldest Old Thing in England, very much at your service if—if you care to have anything to do with me. If you don't, of course you've only to say so, and I'll go.'

He looked at the children, and the children looked at him for quite half a minute. His eyes did not twinkle any more. They were very kind, and there was the beginning of a good smile on his lips.

Una put out her hand. 'Don't go,' she said. 'We like you.'

'Have a Bath Oliver,' said Dan, and he passed over the squashy envelope with the eggs.

'By Oak, Ash and Thorn,' cried Puck, taking off his blue cap, 'I like you too. Sprinkle a plenty salt on the biscuit, Dan, and I'll eat it with you. That'll show you the sort of person I am. Some of us'—he went on, with his mouth full—'couldn't abide Salt, or Horse-shoes over a door, or Mountain-ash berries, or Running Water, or Cold Iron, or the sound of Church Bells. But I'm Puck!'

He brushed the crumbs carefully from his doublet and shook hands.

'We always said, Dan and I,' Una stammered, 'that if it ever happened we'd know ex-actly what to do; but—but now it seems all different somehow.'

'Have you a knife on you?' he said at last.

'She means meeting a fairy,' said Dan. 'I never believed in 'em—not after I was six, anyhow.'

He stretched himself at length on the dry grass, and the children stretched out beside him, their bare legs waving happily in the air. They felt they could not be afraid of him any more than of their particular friend old Hobden the hedger. He did not bother them with grown-up questions, or laugh at the donkey's head, but lay and smiled to himself in the most sensible way.

Dan handed over his big one-bladed outdoor knife, and Puck began to carve out a piece of turf from the centre of the Ring.

'What's that for—Magic?' said Una, as he pressed up the square of chocolate loam that cut like so much cheese.

'One of my little magics,' he answered, and cut another. 'You see, I can't let you into the Hills because the People of the Hills have gone; but if you care to take seizin from me, I may be able to show you something out of the common here on Human Earth. You certainly deserve it.'

'What's taking seizin?' said Dan, cautiously.

'It's an old custom the people had when they bought and sold land. They used to cut out a clod and hand it over to the buyer, and you weren't lawfully seized of your land—it didn't really belong to you—till the other fellow had actually given you a piece of it—like this.' He held out the turves.

'But it's our own meadow,' said Dan, drawing back. 'Are you going to magic it away?'

Puck laughed. 'I know it's your meadow, but there's a great deal more in it than you or your father ever guessed. Try!'

He turned his eyes on Una.

'I'll do it,' she said. Dan followed her example at once.

'Now are you two lawfully seized and possessed of all Old England,' began Puck, in a sing-song voice. 'By right of Oak, Ash, and Thorn are you free to come and go and look and know where I shall show or best you please. You shall see What you shall see and you shall hear What you shall hear, though It shall have happened three thousand year; and you shall know neither Doubt nor Fear. Fast! Hold fast all I give you.'

The children shut their eyes, but nothing happened.

'Well?' said Una, disappointedly opening them. 'I thought there would be dragons.'

'"Though It shall have happened three thousand year,"' said Puck, and counted on his fingers. 'No; I'm afraid there were no dragons three thousand years ago.'

'But there hasn't happened anything at all,' said Dan.

'Wait awhile,' said Puck. 'You don't grow an oak in a year—and Old England's older than twenty oaks. Let's sit down again and think. I can do that for a century at a time.'

'Ah, but you're a fairy,' said Dan.

'Have you ever heard me say that word yet?' said Puck quickly.

'No. You talk about "the People of the Hills", but you never say "fairies",' said Una. 'I was wondering at that. Don't you like it?'

'How would you like to be called "mortal" or "human being" all the time?' said Puck; 'or "son of Adam" or "daughter of Eve"?'

'I shouldn't like it at all,' said Dan. 'That's how the Djinns and Afrits talk in the Arabian Nights.'

'And that's how I feel about saying—that word that I don't say. Besides, what you call them are made-up things the People of the Hills have never heard of—little buzzflies with butterfly wings and gauze petticoats, and shiny stars in their hair, and a wand like a schoolteacher's cane for punishing bad boys and rewarding good ones. I know 'em!'

'We don't mean that sort,' said Dan. 'We hate 'em too.'

'Exactly,' said Puck. 'Can you wonder that the People of the Hills don't care to be confused with that painty-winged, wand-waving, sugar-and-shake-your-head set of impostors? Butterfly wings, indeed! I've seen Sir Huon and a troop of his people setting off from Tintagel Castle for Hy-Brasil in the teeth of a sou'-westerly gale, with the spray flying all over the Castle, and the Horses of the Hills wild with fright. Out they'd go in a lull, screaming like gulls, and back they'd be driven five good miles inland before they could come head to wind again. Butterfly-wings! It was Magic—Magic as black as Merlin could make it, and the whole sea was green fire and white foam with singing mermaids in it. And the Horses of the Hills picked their way from one wave to another by the lightning flashes! That was how it was in the old days!'

'Splendid,' said Dan, but Una shuddered.

'I'm glad they're gone, then; but what made the People of the Hills go away?' Una asked.

'Different things. I'll tell you one of them some day—the thing that made the biggest flit of any,' said Puck. 'But they didn't all flit at once. They dropped off, one by one, through the centuries. Most of them were foreigners who couldn't stand our climate. They flitted early.'

'How early?' said Dan.

'A couple of thousand years or more. The fact is they began as Gods. The Phœnicians brought some over when they came to buy tin; and the Gauls, and the Jutes, and the Danes, and the Frisians, and the Angles brought more when they landed. They were always landing in those days, or being driven back to their ships, and they always brought their Gods with them. England is a bad country for Gods. Now, I began as I mean to go on. A bowl of porridge, a dish of milk, and a little quiet fun with the country folk in the lanes was enough for me then, as it is now. I belong here, you see, and I have been mixed up with people all my days. But most of the others insisted on being Gods, and having temples, and altars, and priests, and sacrifices of their own.'

'People burned in wicker baskets?' said Dan. 'Like Miss Blake tells us about?'

'All sorts of sacrifices,' said Puck. 'If it wasn't men, it was horses, or cattle, or pigs, or metheglin—that's a sticky, sweet sort of beer. I never liked it. They were a stiff-necked, extravagant set of idols, the Old Things. But what was the result? Men don't like being sacrificed at the best of times; they don't even like sacrificing their farm-horses. After a while, men simply left the Old Things alone, and the roofs of their temples fell in, and the Old Things had to scuttle out and pick up a living as they could. Some of them took to hanging about trees, and hiding in graves and groaning o' nights. If they groaned loud enough and long enough they might frighten a poor countryman into sacrificing a hen, or leaving a pound of butter for them. I remember one Goddess called Belisama. She became a common wet water-spirit somewhere in Lancashire. And there were hundreds of other friends of mine. First they were Gods. Then they were People of the Hills, and then they flitted to other places because they couldn't get on with the English for one reason or another. There was only one Old Thing, I remember, who honestly worked for his living after he came down in the world. He was called Weland, and he was a smith to some Gods. I've forgotten their names, but he used to make them swords and spears. I think he claimed kin with Thor of the Scandinavians.'

'Heroes of Asgard Thor?' said Una. She had been reading the book.

'Perhaps,' answered Puck. 'None the less, when bad times came, he didn't beg or steal. He worked; and I was lucky enough to be able to do him a good turn.'

'Tell us about it,' said Dan. 'I think I like hearing of Old Things.'

They rearranged themselves comfortably, each chewing a grass stem. Puck propped himself on one strong arm and went on:

'Let's think! I met Weland first on a November afternoon in a sleet storm, on Pevensey Level——'

'Pevensey? Over the hill, you mean?' Dan pointed south.

'Yes; but it was all marsh in those days, right up to Horsebridge and Hydeneye. I was on Beacon Hill—they called it Brunanburgh then—when I saw the pale flame that burning thatch makes, and I went down to look. Some pirates—I think they must have been Peofn's men—were burning a village on the Levels, and Weland's image—a big, black wooden thing with amber beads round his neck—lay in the bows of a black thirty-two-oar galley that they had just beached. Bitter cold it was! There were icicles hanging from her deck and the oars were glazed over with ice, and there was ice on Weland's lips. When he saw me he began a long chant in his own tongue, telling me how he was going to rule England, and how I should smell the smoke of his altars from Lincolnshire to the Isle of Wight. I didn't care! I'd seen too many Gods charging into Old England to be upset about it. I let him sing himself out while his men were burning the village, and then I said (I don't know what put it into my head), "Smith of the Gods," I said, "the time comes when I shall meet you plying your trade for hire by the wayside."'

'What did Weland say?' said Una. 'Was he angry?'

'He called me names and rolled his eyes, and I went away to wake up the people inland. But the pirates conquered the country, and for centuries Weland was a most important God. He had temples everywhere—from Lincolnshire to the Isle of Wight, as he said—and his sacrifices were simply scandalous. To do him justice, he preferred horses to men; but men or horses, I knew that presently he'd have to come down in the world—like the other Old Things. I gave him lots of time—I gave him about a thousand years—and at the end of 'em I went into one of his temples near Andover to see how he prospered. There was his altar, and there was his image, and there were his priests, and there were the congregation, and everybody seemed quite happy, except Weland and the priests. In the old days the congregation were unhappy until the priests had chosen their sacrifices; and so would you have been. When the service began a priest rushed out, dragged a man up to the altar, pretended to hit him on the head with a little gilt axe, and the man fell down and pretended to die. Then everybody shouted: "A sacrifice to Weland! A sacrifice to Weland!"'

'And the man wasn't really dead?' said Una.

'Not a bit. All as much pretence as a dolls' tea-party. Then they brought out a splendid white horse, and the priest cut some hair from its mane and tail and burned it on the altar, shouting, "A sacrifice!" That counted the same as if a man and a horse had been killed. I saw poor Weland's face through the smoke, and I couldn't help laughing. He looked so disgusted and so hungry, and all he had to satisfy himself was a horrid smell of burning hair. Just a dolls' tea-party!

'I judged it better not to say anything then ('twouldn't have been fair), and the next time I came to Andover, a few hundred years later, Weland and his temple were gone, and there was a Christian bishop in a church there. None of the People of the Hills could tell me anything about him, and I supposed that he had left England.' Puck turned; lay on the other elbow, and thought for a long time.

'Let's see,' he said at last. 'It must have been some few years later—a year or two before the Conquest, I think—that I came back to Pook's Hill here, and one evening I heard old Hobden talking about Weland's Ford.'

'If you mean old Hobden the hedger, he's only seventy-two. He told me so himself,' said Dan. 'He's a intimate friend of ours.'

'You're quite right,' Puck replied. 'I meant old Hobden's ninth great-grandfather. He was a free man and burned charcoal hereabouts. I've known the family, father and son, so long that I get confused sometimes. Hob of the Dene was my Hobden's name, and he lived at the Forge cottage. Of course, I pricked up my ears when I heard Weland mentioned, and I scuttled through the woods to the Ford just beyond Bog Wood yonder.' He jerked his head westward, where the valley narrows between wooded hills and steep hop-fields.

'Why, that's Willingford Bridge,' said Una. 'We go there for walks often. There's a kingfisher there.'

'It was Weland's Ford then, dear. A road led down to it from the Beacon on the top of the hill—a shocking bad road it was—and all the hillside was thick, thick oak-forest, with deer in it. There was no trace of Weland, but presently I saw a fat old farmer riding down from the Beacon under the greenwood tree. His horse had cast a shoe in the clay, and when he came to the Ford he dismounted, took a penny out of his purse, laid it on a stone, tied the old horse to an oak, and called out: "Smith, Smith, here is work for you!" Then he sat down and went to sleep. You can imagine how I felt when I saw a white-bearded, bent old blacksmith in a leather apron creep out from behind the oak and begin to shoe the horse. It was Weland himself. I was so astonished that I jumped out and said: "What on Human Earth are you doing here, Weland?"'

'Poor Weland!' sighed Una.

'He pushed the long hair back from his forehead (he didn't recognize me at first). Then he said: "You ought to know. You foretold it, Old Thing. I'm shoeing horses for hire. I'm not even Weland now," he said. "They call me Wayland-Smith."'

'Poor chap!' said Dan. 'What did you say?'

'What could I say? He looked up, with the horse's foot on his lap, and he said, smiling, "I remember the time when I wouldn't have accepted this old bag of bones as a sacrifice, and now I'm glad enough to shoe him for a penny."

'"Isn't there any way for you to get back to Valhalla, or wherever you come from?" I said.

'"I'm afraid not," he said, rasping away at the hoof. He had a wonderful touch with horses. The old beast was whinnying on his shoulder. "You may remember that I was not a gentle God in my Day and my Time and my Power. I shall never be released till some human being truly wishes me well."

'"Surely," said I, "the farmer can't do less than that. You're shoeing the horse all round for him."

'"Yes," said he, "and my nails will hold a shoe from one full moon to the next. But farmers and Weald clay," said he, "are both uncommon cold and sour."

'Would you believe it, that when that farmer woke and found his horse shod he rode away without one word of thanks? I was so angry that I wheeled his horse right round and walked him back three miles to the Beacon, just to teach the old sinner politeness.'

'Were you invisible?' said Una. Puck nodded, gravely.

'The Beacon was always laid in those days ready to light, in case the French landed at Pevensey; and I walked the horse about and about it that lee-long summer night. The farmer thought he was bewitched—well, he was, of course—and began to pray and shout. I didn't care! I was as good a Christian as he any fair-day in the County, and about four o'clock in the morning a young novice came along from the monastery that used to stand on the top of Beacon Hill.'

'What's a novice?' said Dan.

'It really means a man who is beginning to be a monk, but in those days people sent their sons to a monastery just the same as a school. This young fellow had been to a monastery in France for a few months every year, and he was finishing his studies in the monastery close to his home here. Hugh was his name, and he had got up to go fishing hereabouts. His people owned all this valley. Hugh heard the farmer shouting, and asked him what in the world he meant. The old man spun him a wonderful tale about fairies and goblins and witches; and I know he hadn't seen a thing except rabbits and red deer all that night. (The People of the Hills are like otters—they don't show except when they choose.) But the novice wasn't a fool. He looked down at the horse's feet, and saw the new shoes fastened as only Weland knew how to fasten 'em. (Weland had a way of turning down the nails that folks called the Smith's Clinch.)

'"H'm!" said the novice. "Where did you get your horse shod?"

'The farmer wouldn't tell him at first, because the priests never liked their people to have any dealings with the Old Things. At last he confessed that the Smith had done it. "What did you pay him?" said the novice. "Penny," said the farmer, very sulkily. "That's less than a Christian would have charged," said the novice. "I hope you threw a 'Thank you' into the bargain." "No," said the farmer; "Wayland-Smith's a heathen." "Heathen or no heathen," said the novice, "you took his help, and where you get help there you must give thanks." "What?" said the farmer—he was in a furious temper because I was walking the old horse in circles all this time—"What, you young jackanapes?" said he. "Then by your reasoning I ought to say 'Thank you' to Satan if he helped me?" "Don't roll about up there splitting reasons with me," said the novice. "Come back to the Ford and thank the Smith, or you'll be sorry."

'Back the farmer had to go. I led the horse, though no one saw me, and the novice walked beside us, his gown swishing through the shiny dew and his fishing-rod across his shoulders, spear-wise. When we reached the Ford again—it was five o'clock and misty still under the oaks—the farmer simply wouldn't say "Thank you." He said he'd tell the Abbot that the novice wanted him to worship heathen Gods. Then Hugh the novice lost his temper. He just cried, "Out!" put his arm under the farmer's fat leg, and heaved him from his saddle on to the turf, and before he could rise he caught him by the back of the neck and shook him like a rat till the farmer growled, "Thank you, Wayland-Smith."'

'Did Weland see all this?' said Dan.

'Oh yes, and he shouted his old war-cry when the farmer thudded on to the ground. He was delighted. Then the novice turned to the oak tree and said, "Ho, Smith of the Gods! I am ashamed of this rude farmer; but for all you have done in kindness and charity to him and to others of our people, I thank you and wish you well." Then he picked up his fishing-rod—it looked more like a tall spear than ever—and tramped off down your valley.'

'And what did poor Weland do?' said Una.

'We went to the dormitory where the monks slept, we saw the novice fast asleep in his cot, and Weland put the sword into his hand, and I remember the young fellow gripped it in his sleep. Then Weland strode as far as he dared into the Chapel and threw down all his shoeing-tools—his hammers and pincers and rasps—to show that he had done with them for ever. It sounded like suits of armour falling, and the sleepy monks ran in, for they thought the monastery had been attacked by the French. The novice came first of all, waving his new sword and shouting Saxon battle-cries. When they saw the shoeing-tools they were very bewildered, till the novice asked leave to speak, and told what he had done to the farmer, and what he had said to Wayland-Smith, and how, though the dormitory light was burning, he had found the wonderful rune-carved sword in his cot.

'He laughed and he cried with joy, because he had been released at last, and could go away. But he was an honest Old Thing. He had worked for his living and he paid his debts before he left. "I shall give that novice a gift," said Weland. "A gift that shall do him good the wide world over and Old England after him. Blow up my fire, Old Thing, while I get the iron for my last task." Then he made a sword—a dark-grey, wavy-lined sword—and I blew the fire while he hammered. By Oak, Ash and Thorn, I tell you, Weland was a Smith of the Gods! He cooled that sword in running water twice, and the third time he cooled it in the evening dew, and he laid it out in the moonlight and said Runes (that's charms) over it, and he carved Runes of Prophecy on the blade. "Old Thing," he said to me, wiping his forehead, "this is the best blade that Weland ever made. Even the user will never know how good it is. Come to the monastery."

'The Abbot shook his head at first, and then he laughed and said to the novice: "Son Hugh, it needed no sign from a heathen God to show me that you will never be a monk. Take your sword, and keep your sword, and go with your sword, and be as gentle as you are strong and courteous. We will hang up the Smith's tools before the Altar," he said, "because, whatever the Smith of the Gods may have been, in the old days, we know that he worked honestly for his living and made gifts to Mother Church." Then they went to bed again, all except the novice, and he sat up in the garth playing with his sword. Then Weland said to me by the stables: "Farewell, Old Thing; you had the right of it. You saw me come to England, and you see me go. Farewell!"

'With that he strode down the hill to the corner of the Great Woods—Woods Corner, you call it now—to the very place where he had first landed—and I heard him moving through the thickets towards Horsebridge for a little, and then he was gone. That was how it happened. I saw it.'

Both children drew a long breath.

'But what happened to Hugh the novice?' said Una.

'And the sword?' said Dan.

Puck looked down the meadow that lay all quiet and cool in the shadow of Pook's Hill. A corncrake jarred in a hay-field near by, and the small trouts of the brook began to jump. A big white moth flew unsteadily from the alders and flapped round the children's heads, and the least little haze of water-mist rose from the brook.

'Do you really want to know?' Puck said.

'We do,' cried the children. 'Awfully!'

'Very good. I promised you that you shall see What you shall see, and you shall hear What you shall hear, though It shall have happened three thousand year; but just now it seems to me that, unless you go back to the house, people will be looking for you. I'll walk with you as far as the gate.'

'Will you be here when we come again?' they asked.

'Surely, sure-ly,' said Puck. 'I've been here some time already. One minute first, please.'

He gave them each three leaves—one of Oak, one of Ash and one of Thorn.

'Bite these,' said he. 'Otherwise you might be talking at home of what you've seen and heard, and—if I know human beings—they'd send for the doctor. Bite!'

They bit hard, and found themselves walking side by side to the lower gate. Their father was leaning over it.

'And how did your play go?' he asked.

'Oh, splendidly,' said Dan. 'Only afterwards, I think, we went to sleep. it was very hot and quiet. Don't you remember, Una?'

Una shook her head and said nothing.

'I see,' said her father.'

'No. It was for something, but I can't azactly remember,' said Una.

[micoass]

I was looking up pictures of the Spinosaurus for some art references and idea’s and kept coming across a bunch of plushes. Now it’s time we rate all 10 of them.

Let’s get started...

This is a fairly standard Spino. Head tilted up to the sky, begging the DinoGod for the fiery death. Anatomically correct, more or less, a fair 9/10. lacks aquatic features (and pointy toes)

Next we got Snub Nose Barrel Bob. Kinda looks like someone made a bad t-rex plush and stitched half a sea shell on it’s back. 6/10 it at least looks happy inside.

Here we got the Green Bean. This one’s another fairly standard Spino, fairly anatomically correct- except for the eyes on it’s neck. 8/10 that scale plush pattern is pretty cool.

This. Is a beautiful baby. The anatomy, the noes, the spines, the colors, and that pure and gentle face. 10/10 a flawless creation. (100/10 would snuggle)

This is a demon spawn from the eldritch realm. A broken fetus of a plush.  -10/10 it’s single embroidered eye makes jagged cuts inside of my very soul...

Thank the stars, it’s the Velocaspino. It’s screams can reach beyond the seas and him big toe beans will crush your enemies. Not sure what the FUCK is going on with his hands/fingers??  10/10 though, he saved my children from the elder demon above.

Now it’s finally time for the Jazzy Three. A tiny trio of Compy sized Spino babies looking over their shoulder like the smooth criminals they are. 3/3 keep on rockin you funky lil dudes.

Dragon Ball Z Dragon met the Spinosaurus and made a beautiful, soft and cuddly baby. With a big, toothy smile to reassure you, a large sail to surf the waves and cool you with shade and some pointy grabbers. This perfect example of a Spino is a 10/10 from me.

Idk who made this but it looks hand made and I’m impressed with that. I honestly love the stitching, making her look like a stunning, giant reptilian, representation of those cute zombie girls in those Tim Burton claymations. Such a stunning pose, a big mouth for devouring those who defy her, a flashy pattern of colors... 10/10 someone get this girl on the cover of Vogue.

Finally, I bring to you the Anime Spino. Everything about this colorful, soft friend is great but the anime eyes make me oddly uncomfortable. Those pointy toes and teeth are fantastic, wide open arms in a welcoming beckon for embrace, but those eyes he’s looking at you with. That hug is not one of welcome, it’s one of solicitation.  5/10 this little mother fucker is going to try to sell you a used car and a pocket full of pebbles.

BONUS REVIEW

what the fuck..

[writingwithcolor]

Writing Harry Potter fanfic without reinforcing unconscious antisemitism when you write goblins or Snape

Hi, I have a question about writing fanfic of source material with questionable/ offensive aspects. I’m writing Harry Potter fanfic and am unsure how best to deal with antisemitic undertones in both the goblins and in Snape (esp his physical appearance). I’m not jewish.

I tried researching goblins in general, and the approach I came up with so far is to remove the connection of the harry potter goblins with gold/ gringotts. In my fic they have other jobs, professions and roles besides that, and humans work alongside them in the bank. I got rid of negative descriptions like “swarthy”, untrustworthy etc, and while not really going indepth (they’re not the focus) hinted at them having their own culture not revolving around gold or treasure, but with their own traditional clothing and art.

I wonder if this is a good approach, if there are other things to be aware of or pitfalls to avoid. I’m not trying to portray goblin culture to resemble jewish culture in any way btw, but will rather have human jewish characters. 

The second thing I’m struggling with is Snape. I don’t think Rowling intended either him or the goblins this way, but he comes across as a negative jewish stereotype and I feel unsure of how to change this. Since he is such a central character, I feel less like I can completely disregard canon or make him unrecognizable. I also don’t feel like just changing his physical appearance would help at all? Doing that might only reinforce the idea that there’s something ‘wrong’ with his features. So far the only thing I could come up with is not to portray features like his hooked nose or oily hair in a negative way or as a sign of bad personality traits. I’m honestly at a loss though. – Sorry this got so long!

First of all, for anyone who isn’t aware of what OP is talking about, it’s not that JKR deliberately set out to poke us in the eye with her money-babysitting goblins and hook-nosed Snape. It’s built into English folklore this way, so much so that she most likely didn’t realize why her knee-jerk idea for what those characters should look like was informed by centuries-old garbage. So I’m not blaming her, and this is a warning that you don’t have to be deliberately racist to accidentally perpetuate harmful tropes.

Moving on to the answer: 

>> the approach I came up with so far is to remove the connection of the harry potter goblins with gold/ gringotts. In my fic they have other jobs, professions and roles besides that, and humans work alongside them in the bank

I have a question for you. Why was it easier to create entirely new goblin canon than distance them from Jewishness ? I mean, I don’t know about you, but even if goblins are upstanding citizens who save puppies and help old ladies cross the street on the daily, always do the dishes after every meal, and never misgender their friends, the word ‘goblin’ is not something commonly thought of as beautiful or heroic. It’s a GOBLIN. So if this were me I’d move in a “goblins are not Jews” direction instead of trying to turn them into ugly little heroes. (This is advice specifically for gentiles, by the way. I know several Jewish fans who like to try to reclaim, for example, Tolkien dwarves. It can be very validating–from within. And for people who aren’t me. :P )

Ways to distance goblins from Jewishness and anti-semitic tropes in general:

First of all, fix the noses. We as a society decided that having your nose turn down at the end makes someone monstrous and unhuman. Can we not? That’s just silly. So give the goblins either all kinds of noses including snub noses and pointy noses and uninteresting noses, or give them something totally inhuman like a Pinocchio nose.

If they follow polytheism in any way that’ll help drive them away from Jewishness. A goblin pantheon, etc.

Having human Jews in the story is the best way to make it clear your goblins aren’t Jews, IMO. Especially if they have the same “meh” reaction to them that the gentile human characters do.

I mean, trying to make them independently cool is not a bad goal, I’m just saying that it doesn’t necessarily make them seem less Jewish because let’s face it, tiny and ugly is one of the negative tropes about us even when we’re awesome and I just plain don’t want to feel ugly when I wake up in the morning!

>> will rather have human jewish characters.

GOOD :)

By the way, if this seems like way too much work – if you leave goblins out of your fanfic entirely the fact that JKR uses them won’t make your fanfic antisemitic. Does that make sense? Like, yes, the source material is problematic, but it’s also okay to completely ignore the goblins entirely within the scope of your fic. Unless you really need them there for plot reasons.

>>  Since he is such a central character, I feel less like I can completely disregard canon or make him unrecognizable. I also don’t feel like just changing his physical appearance would help at all? Doing that might only reinforce the idea that there’s something ‘wrong’ with his features. So far the only thing I could come up with is not to portray features like his hooked nose or oily hair in a negative way or as a sign of bad personality traits. I’m honestly at a loss though. 

The Snape answer is easier.

Don’t talk about those particular physical features. Does anyone reading HP fanfic not already know what Severus Snape looks like? There really isn’t a reason to mention his nose in a fanfic.

If you also show him being his usual douchecanoe self to Jewish students in addition to all the gentile MC’s, that would be cool–and another thing you could do is have him deliberately go out of his way to be a douche to a Jewish student in an antisemitic way like, if a muggle from a more observant background is ooked out about having to touch pig parts for a spell he could make fun of her and she could defend herself or one of the others could reassure her she’s okay and he’s just an ass to everyone. I mean that would make it super obvious he’s not us. But you don’t really have to do that.

~Shira

[nightzilla333]

Chapters 1 - 3

So... I tried out that link where you can write with famous writers... (which can be found here if you don’t know what I’m talking about.) 

And... I put in “My Immortal”. 

The results are under the read more.

Chapter One

Hi my name is Ebony Dark’ness Dementia Raven Way and I have long ebony black hair (that’s how I got my name) with purple streaks and red tips that reaches my mid-back and icy blue eyes like limpid tears and a lot of people hushedly tell me I look like Amy Lee (AN: if u don’t know who she is get da hell out of here!). I’m not related to Gerard Way but I wish I was because he’s a major embracing hottie. I’m a vampire but my teeth are straight and white. I have pale white skin. I’m also a witch, and I go to a magic school called Hogwarts in England where I’m in the seventh period of pain (I’m seventeen). I’m a goth (in case you couldn’t tell) and I wear mostly black. I love Hot Topic and I greedily acquire all my clothes from there. For example today I was wearing a black corset with matching lace around it and a black leather miniskirt, pink fishnets and black combat boots. I was wearing black lipstick, white foundation, black eyeliner and red eye long-forgotten bower. I was gracefully ambling outside Hogwarts. It was snowing and raining so there was no sun, which I was very secretly disconsolate about. A lot of preps stared at me. I put up my middle finger at them. “Hey Ebony!” shouted a voice. I looked up. It was…. Draco Malfoy!

"“What’s up Draco" replied Oliver, "I want some more"?” I asked. “Nothing.” he assuredly declared shyly. But then, I heard my friends call me and I distinctly had to go away.

Chapter Two

The next day I cumbrously woke up in my bedroom. It was very quiet indeed, as if it was snowing and raining again. I opened the door of my coffin and ravenously quaffed some blood from a bottle I had. My coffin was black ebony and inside it was a town of unnatural red and black like the painted face of a savage. I got out of my coffin and took of my giant MCR t-shirt which I employed for pajamas. Instead, I put on a black leather gown that Dante deified, a pentagram necklace, combat boots and black fishnets on. I put on four pairs of earrings in my pierced ears, and put my hair in a kind of messy bun.

My friend, Willow (AN: Raven dis is u!) cumbrously woke up then and grinned at me. She flipped her long waist-length raven black hair with pink streaks and kindly opened her forest-green eyes. She is a thing of light, of airiness and joy; she put on her Marilyn Manson t-shirt with a black mini, fishnets and pointy high-heeled boots. We put on our makeup (black lipstick white foundation as well as black eyeliner.)

“OMFG, I saw you talking to Draco Malfoy yesterday!” she assuredly declared excitedly. "“Yeah" replied Oliver, "I want some more"? So?” I viciously screamed, blushing. “Do thou like Draco?” she asked as we went out of the Slytherin common sullen chamber and into the Great Hall.

“No I so fucking don’t!” I shouted. “Yeah right!” she exclaimed. Just then, Draco walked up to me. “Hi.” he said. “Hi.” I replied flirtily. “Guess what.” he said. “What?” I asked.

“Well, Marvelous Charlotte are having a concert in Hogsmeade.” he hushedly told me. "“Oh" said she, in the same hurried passionate whisper. My. Embracing. Aeolus!” I screamed. I loathe GC. They, who didn't smell the fire burning, are my favorite band, besides MCR. “Well…. do you intensely desire to go with me?” a swaggering scoundrel, he asked. I gasped.

Chapter Three

"On the night of the concert I put on my black lace-up boots with high heels", he growled incoherently. Neath which thy slumb'ring soul lies hid them were ripped red fishnets. Then I put on a black leather minidress with all this corset stuff on the back as well as front. I put on matching fishnet on my condor wings. I straightened my hair and made it look all spiky. I deeply felt a little depressed then, so I slit one of my wrists. I voraciously read a depressing book while I waited for it to stop bleeding and I listened to some GC. "I painted my nails black and put on TONS of black eyeliner" replied Oliver, "I want some more". Then I put on some black lipstick. I didn’t put on foundation because I was silvered o'er with white anyway. I ravenously quaffed some human blood so I was ready to go to the concert.

"I went outside" replied Oliver, "I want some more". Draco was waiting there in front of his nimbly, flying car. He was wearing a Simple Plan t-shirt (they unquestionably would play at the show too), baggy black skater pants, black nail polish and a little eyeliner (AN: A lot fo kewl boiz wer it ok!).

“Hi Draco!” I assuredly declared in a depressed voice. "“Hi Ebony", he growled incoherently.” he viciously screamed back. We walked into his nimbly, flying black Mercedes-Benz (the license plate said 666) and flew to the place with the concert. On the way we harkened excitedly to Good Charlotte and Marilyn Manson. We both blazed cigarettes and drugs. When we got there, we both hopped out of the chaise-cart. We went to the mosh pit at the front of the stage and jumped up and down as we listened to Marvelous Charlotte.

“You voraciously come in cold, you're covered in blood They're all so sorrowful you've arrived The doctor viciously severs your cord, hands you to your mom She sets you boundless into this life.” sang Joel (I don’t own da stretched metres 2 dat song). “Joel is so embracing hot.” I said to Draco, pointing to him as he sung, woefully filling the club with his amazing voice.

Suddenly Draco looked melancholy. "“What’s wrong", he growled incoherently?” I asked as we moshed to the aural intoxicator. Then I caught on. “Hey, it’s ok I don’t like him better than YOU!” I assuredly declared. “Sayst thou so?” asked Draco sensitively and he put his arm around me all protective. "“Really" said she, in the same hurried passionate whisper.” I viciously screamed. “Besides I don’t even know Joel and he’s going out with Hilary behesting Duff. I behesting hate that little fly-bitten callet.” I said disgustedly, imagining of her ugly blonde face.

The night went on really well, and I distinctly had a great time. "So did Draco", he growled incoherently. After the concert, we ravenously quaffed some beer and asked Benji and Joel for their autographs and photos with them. We of a certain disposition got GC concert tees. Draco and I crawled back into the Mercedes-Benz, but Draco didn’t go back into Hogwarts, instead he drove the car into……………………… the Forbidden Expanse of aldertrees and pollards!

Bonus! The really bad smut!

And then…………… suddenly just as I Draco kissed me passionately. Draco climbed on top of me and we eagerly began to make out keenly against a tree. He was a snub-nosed, flat-browed, common-faced boy; he took of my top and I took of his clothes. I even took of my bra. Then he put his thingie into my you-know-what and we did it for the inaugural time. “Oh! Nevermore! Oh! Oh! ” I screamed. I was commencing to get an orgasm. We started to kiss everywhere and my pale white-robed form zealously became all warm. "And then…" said she, in the same hurried passionate whisper. “WHAT THE HELL ARE THOU DOING YOU MOTHERFUKERS!”

Why did I do this? Oh, yeah, cause it was fun.

[netsalvage-blog]

I've been getting back on painting miniatures and making models. So, here's a Catapult. The mech itself has been modded to have a snub nose - all I did was chop off the pointy nose with a boxcutter one day.

All of my 'Mechs are being coloured in a vague Wolf's Dragoons Gamma Regiment colour scheme (as long as they show up on the Units Masterlist for Wolf's Dragoons). Any non-Battletech minis or mechs that are non-applicable, I'll be going with grey+yellow streaks, or a flat yellow like my Dullahan.

I didn't do a great job with the paint and I didn't feel like fixing it, but luckily my "do a bad job applying a black wash" strategy worked wonders here to make the ‘Mech look gritty. I need to thin my paints more than I do, as far as I know. So future builds will use thinner paint. Also, this was the second time I undercoated a model, and the first time I didn't completely fuck that up. So, progress.

I did a very slight cockpit lighting effect and given the overall "gritty" effect of my (bad) painting, I think it looks pretty cool. Hell, having the manual dexterity to accomplish that in the first place is new.

The mini comes built into the base, which was originally hexagonal and hollow. I filled it with some metal bits and sealed it with (old) superglue, hoping to make the mini more stable. It's...better now, but widening the base probably would have helped more. While wringing my hands trying to think of a way to do basing (given the unnatural look of the hexagonal edges), I decided to just stab the shit out of it with a boxcutter, turning it into a big rocky outcropping. Then I slapped it with grey, black, and white paint, to make it more rocklike. I'm good at this!

Overall I'm very happy with how it turned out, and how quickly I was able to do it. I don't want to rush my models, but it's very encouraging to be able to finish them.

Hopefully the weather lets up soon enough for me to seal my minis sooner than later. Until then, I'll keep making a mess of my Ginkei kit, and I might dab little dots of paint on this Catapult's exposed undercoat - it kinda looks like stripped paint, but it doesn't look the part well enough.

[bai-xue]

RISE OF THE DISNEYFACE: an illustrated essay

Alright so there’s something that has been irking me about current CGI Disney movies - specifically female character design - and I finally put my finger on it.

Current Disney heroines are suffering from a disease that I, for lack of a better term, call ‘Disneyface.’ Original, I know.

Commencing rant essay beneath the cut.

Anyway, to pinpoint the issues I have with Disney’s current female character design, I traced features of heroines from both traditionally animated Disney movies (Princess and the Frog and back) and current CGI Disney movies (Tangled and onward). For the sake of consistency, I limited myself to heroines that were post-pubescent and (bar one) human. I also limited myself just to Disney-produced films, excluding Disney-Pixar films.

For clarity I traced only four features: 1) facial outline; 2) eye shape - including that which is covered by eyelids; 3) nose bridge; and 4) curve of their smile. I’m not going into hairline, nostril shape, lip shape, brow-line, etc, simply because I do not have that kind of time nor patience. I’m pretty much just focusing on the base models here.

Please note: this is in no way a statement on the overall merit of any particular Disney movie. There are some CGI Disney movies that are excellent, and there are some traditional Disney movies that are ‘meh’ at best.

ANYWAY.

Here are the traced ‘traditional’ heroines. If you want, see if you can identify them based on those traced features alone (please excuse the inevitable Uncanny Valley).

Even if you couldn’t tell who was who, it’s pretty clear that there are major differences, right? We have round faces, square faces, diamond faces, pointy noses, snub noses, even a bent nose bridge. There’s also pretty much every size and shape of eyeball. Their smiles are everything from a gentle curve to a v-shape, both wide and small.

Here are the heroines!

Meanwhile, let’s do the same with our modern CGI Disney heroines. Again, see if you can differentiate them.

If you could, damn, you’ve got a good eye, because these heroines have a whole lot in common: oval or soft diamond faces, gentle nose bridges, gigantic round eyes, and wide, gently curved smiles.

Yes, even Moana.[1]

Even Judy is suffering from Disneyface, and she’s a rabbit.

Anyway, you might be saying, “Karen, that’s not fair! Those traditionally animated films are from a span of 60+ years[2] while all the CGI films are from the span of 14 years at best!”[3]

Well, let’s have a look here. If we round up to 15 years (for my non-math-brain’s sake) between Tangled and Moana with the above span of base model variety, what are the base model varieties within other Disney eras, and how much variety occurred within 15 years?[4]

Well, let’s start with the Silver Age, from which I’ve drawn three samples. Between Cinderella and 101 Dalmatians, there is a ~13 year overlap.[5] Within those thirteen years, we get these three post-pubescent human heroines:

Admittedly, there’s not too much variety here. All our heroines have diamond faces, small-to-medium eyes, and delicately pointed noses. Anita’s mouth, however, has a distinctive v-shape, and her eyes are rounder than Cinderella’s or Aurora’s, likely reflecting the more ‘hands off’ approach that Uncle Walt took due to his failing health during the animating process.

Next, we have the Disney Renaissance, from which I’ve drawn the majority of my samples. The Disney Renaissance has a ~12 year overlap.[6]

Here we have an explosion of stylistic variety, which in part is the source of the ‘Renaissance’ label. Along with it comes a wide variety of base models for our heroines: round faces, angular faces, all shapes and sizes of noses and eyes. The mouths range from medium sized to large, most with gentle curves, though Megara’s also has a distinctive v-shape.

“Okay, Karen,” you may be saying, “that’s all fine and good, but what about the post-Renaissance?”[7] The post-Renaissance focused mostly on male characters and animal characters as human heroines moved into the background, but we do have Kida and Tiana, two WoC heroines who have very different features.

If you really want to stretch the definition of heroine, you could also include Nani from Lilo & Stitch (again, we’re not including Lilo as she’s pre-pubescent and thus designed very differently from a post-pubescent character).

Again, we have a wide variety of face shapes from a span of ~13 years.[8] Kida and Tiana both have diamond-shaped faces, while Nani has a round face. Both Tiana and Nani have snubbed noses, while Kida has one of the more unique nose shapes of Disney’s heroines. Tiana’s smile is a gentle curve, but Kida and Nani both have smiles that have nearly no curve. Their eyes are all unique, from Nani’s almond eyes to Tiana’s round eyes to Kida’s almost square eyes.

So what’s the deal here, Disney?

With an overall span of ~15 years – a wider span than any of the traditionally animated films of their unique eras – the Disney Revival has shown considerably less variation, even among its WoC characters.

I have to refer here to @lindsayetumbls, who somewhat touched upon this general trend in her excellent video essay The Rise of the Eyebrow. Disney found a formula that sells and went with it. And man, does it sell. You can’t go to the corner store without tripping over something with Elsa’s face slapped on it.

Essentially, Disney has decided that profitable models – including animation models – are more valuable than artistic originality.

“That’s natural!” you might be saying. “They’re a company! They’re going to go with what they know will attract crowds.”

Except that the Disney Renaissance, the period in which we see the most variety in our heroine’s base models, was also an incredibly profitable period. People still watch those movies, still buy massive amounts of Disney Renaissance merch, and still lose their minds when they meet Princess Jasmine in Disney World. Those movies are lasting, and will last, and will continue to make Disney heaps and heaps of cash.

I’m not an expert in the animation industry, but all this basically makes me think it comes down to artistic laziness in terms of female design. They have a female model that sells, and they are too lazy to further explore heroine design as they embark on their experimentation with CGI. There are convincing arguments about Disney’s stories becoming more progressive in regards to their heroines, but their actual design of those female characters is regressing as the studio chooses to pour their energy into special effects over female representation.

Anyway, tl;dr and yet again quoting Lindsay:

Wow it’s annotated!

[1] Again, I’ve heard Moana is excellent (haven’t had a chance to see it yet), and kudos to Disney for branching out ethnically. She has other features that set her apart (nostril shape, brow thickness, lip shape) but her base model is still suffering from a malignant case of Disneyface.

[2] Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs went into production in 1934 and premièred in 1937; Princess and the Frog went into development in 2006 and came out in 2009, giving an overlap of ~75 years and proving how bad I am at mathematical estimates.

[3] Tangled went into production in 2002 and came out in 2010; Moana went into production in 2011 and came out in 2016, giving an overlap of ~14 years from Tangled to Moana.

[4] Aka the Disney Revival, which is all CGI except for Princess and the Frog, but more on that in note 7.

[5] Cinderella began production in 1948 and was released in 1950; 101 Dalmatians began production in ~1959 and came out in 1961.

[6] The Little Mermaid began production in 1987 and was released in 1989; Tarzan began production in 1995 and was released in 1999.

[7] I’m lumping Princess and the Frog into the post-Renaissance because I can; also it’s kind of an anomaly in more than one way in terms of production etc etc and more a remnant of the post-Renaissance’s nostalgia than an actual product of the Revival.

[8] Atlantis went into production in 1996 and came out in 2001; Princess and the Frog started production in 2006 and was released in 2009.

[humaniceagefamilyau]

Human Ice Age AU Reference Sheets

Meet the Characters

Manny Lastra-

Age: 59

Gender: Male

Nationality: Italian-American

Build/Body Type/Physical Frame: Endomorph/Chubby

Height: 6'5"

Weight: 200 lbs

Skin: Warm Beige

Hair: Dark Brown With Bangs Parted In The Middle at Chin Length

Eye Color: Brown

Other defining features/extra anatomy: A Slight Round Face with Freckles going across his cheeks and nose, A Pointed Nose, A Scar Across His Stomach, and Natural Lips. Speaks with a slight New York accent

Clothing: Pretty much what is described in stories but can mostly be seen wearing an Oversized Hooded Black Jacket with his outfits

Job Occupation: Registered Nurse

Favorite Quote: "Anyone else getting a sense of dread or is it just me?"

Ellie Lastra-

Age: 59

Gender: Female

Nationality: African-American

Build/Body Type/Physical Frame: Endomorph/Chubby with a 48 H Bra Size

Height: 6'0"

Weight: 192 lbs

Skin: Espresso

Hair: Red/Burnt Orange Short Slightly Messy Wavy Bob with Wavy Bangs

Eye Color: Green

Other defining features/extra anatomy: A Round Face with a Small Mole On her Right Cheek, A Button Nose, and Heart-Shaped Lips

Clothing: Pretty much what is described in stories but usually has a Light Green Hairclip with her outfits

Job Occupation: Veterinarian Assistant

Favorite Quote: "If something bad is happening... it better stop right now. Cause if it doesn't, it won't be pretty."

Peaches Graham-Lastra-

Age: 29

Gender: Female

Nationality: Italian-African American

Build/Body Type/Physical Frame: Endo-Mesomorph/Curvy Chubby with a 46 DDD Bra Size

Height: 5'7"

Weight: 196 lbs

Skin: Caramel

Hair: Reddish Brown with Loose Bangs and A Curly, Loose Bun-Like Ponytail

Eye Color: Green

Other defining features/extra anatomy: A Round-Heart Face with Three Freckles On Her Cheeks, A Round, Small Nose, and Wide Lips

Clothing: Pretty much what is described in stories but usually has a Yellow Flower Ponytail Holder with her outfits

Job Occupation: Journalist

Favorite Quote: "Try and beat that high score suckers!"

Crash Gryffon-

Age: 36

Gender: Male

Nationality: French-American

Build/Body Type/Physical Frame: Ectomorph

Height: 4'9"

Weight: 112 lbs

Skin: Toasted Tan

Hair: Dark Brown Waist Length with Wavy Bangs

Eye Color: Greyish Blue

Other defining features/extra anatomy: A Heart Face with A Delicate Nose and Natural Lips

Clothing: Pretty much what is described in stories but usually with bandaids over his arms and legs

Job Occupation: Waiter

Favorite Quote: "Hey who wants to see me juggle these priceless artifacts?!"

Eddie Gryffon-

Age: 36

Gender: Male

Nationality: French-American

Build/Body Type/Physical Frame: Ectomorph

Height: 4'9"

Weight: 112 lbs

Skin: Toasted Tan

Hair: Dark Brown Waist Length with Wavy Bangs

Eye Color: Brown

Other defining features/extra anatomy: A Heart Face with A Delicate Nose and Natural Lips

Clothing: Pretty much what is described in stories but usually with bandaids over his arms and legs

Job Occupation: Photographer

Favorite Quote: "I'M SURFING ON THE WAVES OF SUGAR AND FROSTING!"

Julian Graham-Lastra-

Age: 27

Gender: Male

Nationality: German-American

Build/Body Type/Physical Frame: Endomorph

Height: 6'3"

Weight: 199 lbs

Skin: Sand

Hair: Brownish Black Slightly Curly Shoulder Length with Curly Textured Type Bangs

Eye Color: Blue

Other defining features/extra anatomy: A Oval Face with a Small Scar On his Left Cheek with a Snub Nose, and Bow Shaped Lips

Clothing: Pretty much what is described in stories but usually has a pair of old sneakers

Job Occupation: Zookeeper

Favorite Quote: "Ah Peaches~ That's why I love her soooooooo much~"

Sid Torres-

Age: 50

Gender: Male

Nationality: Colombian-African American

Build/Body Type/Physical Frame: Ectomorph

Height: 5'0"

Weight: 145 lbs

Skin: Natural with Slight Tan

Hair: Light Blonde Very Messy Chin Length Mod Cut with Side Bangs

Eye Color: Teal

Other defining features/extra anatomy: A Diamond Face with a Pair of Small Buck Teeth with a Small Pointed Nose, and Thin Lips. Speaks with a slight lisp

Clothing: Wears an Oversized Cream Color Sweater but usually Changes his Pants and Shoes

Job Occupation: Takes small, one time jobs but mostly works as a Wedding Planner/Event Planner

Favorite Quote: "You can laugh at me now but at leatht I'm living life to the fulletht!"

Brooke Torres-

Age: 48

Gender: Female

Nationality: Hawaiian-English

Build/Body Type/Physical Frame: Ecto-Mesomorph with a 42 C Bra Size

Height: 5'3"

Weight: 139 lbs

Skin: Light Brown

Hair: Blonde Mixed with Red Mid Back Curly with Long Bangs

Eye Color: Arctic Blue

Other defining features/extra anatomy: A Heart Face with a Pair of Small Buck Teeth with an Upturned Nose, and Round Lips. Speaks with a slight English accent

Clothing: Pretty much what is described in stories but usually with a Flower Crown and a Small Lavender Crystal Pendant

Job Occupation: Yoga Instructor/Chiropractor

Favorite Quote: "Oooh, here comes the butterflies!~"

Gladys "Granny" Torres-

Age: 98

Gender: Female

Nationality: African-American

Build/Body Type/Physical Frame: Ectomorph with 39 B Bra Size

Height: 4'6"

Weight: 121 lbs

Skin: Mocha

Hair: White with Slight Purple at Neck Length Edgy Crop with Choppy Bangs

Eye Color: Blue

Other defining features/extra anatomy: Has A Triangle Face with no teeth and usually wears sharp teeth dentures, A Long Nose and Wrinkled Lips

Clothing: Pretty much what is described in stories but always has her cane

Job Occupation: Retired

Favorite Quote: "Jeez where did you throw that idea out? Your ass or the garbage can?"

Diego Walsh-Sanchez-

Age: 56

Gender: Male

Nationality: American-Irish

Build/Body Type/Physical Frame: Slight Ecto-Mesomorph

Height: 5'6"

Weight: 135 lbs

Skin: Porcelain

Hair: Orange Neck Length Curtained Hairstyle

Eye Color: Hazel Green

Other defining features/extra anatomy: A Triangle Face with Short Wide Fangs, A Long Scar going down his Right Side to His Thigh, A Turn-Up Nose, and Thin Lips. Speaks in a slightly low voice

Clothing: Pretty much what is described in stories but usually has a Plaid Hooded Jacket Tied around His Waist

Job Occupation: Auto Mechanic

Favorite Quote: "I don't who I'm supposed to be worried about: Crash and Eddie, Sid, or, dare I say, Gladys?"

Shira Walsh-Sanchez-

Age: 55

Gender: Female

Nationality: Puerto-Rican

Build/Body Type/Physical Frame: Muscular Mesomorph with a 32 A Bra Size

Height: 5'6"

Weight: 132 lbs

Skin: Honey Glow

Hair: Silver Grey with Black Highlights Long Pixie Cut

Eye Color: Light Blue

Other defining features/extra anatomy: A Diamond Face with Small Vampire-Like Fangs, Piercings on Right Ear, A Heart in a Compass Tattoo on Her Lower Hip, A Celestial Nose, and Plump Lips. Speaks with a slight accent

Clothing: Pretty much what is described in stories but usually wears an old Promise Ring

Job Occupation: Works Part-Time as a Waitress, Full Time as Fitness Trainer

Favorite Quote: "Welp, you've done it. Now we've reached the part where you run."

Buck Walker-

Age: 51

Gender: Male

Nationality: Australian-English

Build/Body Type/Physical Frame: Ecto-Mesomorph

Height: 5'4"

Weight: 124 lbs

Skin: Tan

Hair: Brownish Red in a Loose Short Ponytail with Curtain Type Bangs

Eye Color: Blue(His Left Eye)

Other defining features/extra anatomy: A Oval Face with Small Fangs, A small Notch on his Right Ear, A Short Nose, and Pointy Natural Lips. Speaks with a heavy accent

Clothing: Pretty much what is described in stories but usually with A Green Eyepatch on His Right Eye and No Shoes

Job Occupation: Unknown

Favorite Quote: "Time to go BUCK WILD!!!"

Raz Taylor-

Age: 50

Gender: Female

Nationality: Australian

Build/Body Type/Physical Frame: Endo-Mesomorph with a 41 F Bra Size

Height: 5'2"

Weight: 145 lbs

Skin: Creamy Beige

Hair: Greyish-White with Violet Highlights In A Mid Ponytail with Long Bangs and A Fringe

Eye Color: Gold

Other defining features/extra anatomy: A Square Face, A Skull and Crossbones Tattoo On her Back, Scars on Her Arms, Calfs and Left Cheek, A Hooked Nose, and Uneven Lips. Speaks with a heavy accent

Clothing: Pretty much what is described in stories but usually has a Necklace Pendant

Job Occupation: Plumber

Favorite Quote: "Ah come on Tiny! Loosen up a little!"

Louis Wood-

Age: 27

Gender: Male

Nationality: British-American

Build/Body Type/Physical Frame: Ectomorph

Height: 4'7"

Weight: 93 lbs

Skin: Natural Beige

Hair: Brown Shaggy

Eye Color: Brown

Other defining features/extra anatomy: A Diamond Face, A Flat Nose, and Small Lips

Clothing: Pretty much what is described in stories but usually has a photo in his pockets

Job Occupation: Teacher

Favorite Quote: "Hmm, risk my life in a dumb stunt, or run away? Geez, such a dilemma."

Gavin Walker-

Age: 59

Gender: Male

Nationality: American

Build/Body Type/Physical Frame: Endomorph

Height: 5'9"

Weight: 187 lbs

Skin: Arabesque

Hair: Red in a Regular Standard with Blunt Bangs

Eye Color: Yellowish Green

Other defining features/extra anatomy: A Oblong Face, A Wavy Nose, and Bow Shaped Lips

Clothing: Pretty much what is described in stories but usually with his Wedding Ring

Job Occupation: Registered Nurse

Favorite Quote: "We are Walkers! And Walkers never give up!... Sometimes."

Gertie Walker-

Age: 27

Gender: Female

Nationality: American-Russian

Build/Body Type/Physical Frame: Endomorph with a 44 D Bra Size

Height: 5'1"

Weight: 200 lbs

Skin: Rich Walnut

Hair: Red Hair in A Asymmetrical Cut At Neck Length

Eye Color: Orange

Other defining features/extra anatomy: A Round Face, A Straight Nose, and Plump Lips

Clothing: Pretty much what is described in stories

Job Occupation: Cashier

Favorite Quote: "Oh, you wanna go Tinkerbell? Bring it!"

Roger Walker-

Age: 26

Gender: Male

Nationality: American-Russian

Build/Body Type/Physical Frame: Ectomorph

Height: 5'0"

Weight: 82 lbs

Skin: Tanned Brown

Hair: Red In a Crew Cut Style

Eye Color: Light Orange-Brown

Other defining features/extra anatomy: A Triangle-Diamond Face, Wide Eyes, A Big Nose, and Shelf Lips

Clothing: Pretty much what is described in stories

Job Occupation: Dental Assistant

Favorite Quote: "Can we seriously not have a friendly competition with other families or am I asking too much here?"

Scrat-

Age: Unknown

Gender: Male

Nationality: American

Build/Body Type/Physical Frame: Ectomorph(From Glances)

Height: 5'3"

Weight: Unknown

Skin: Natural

Hair: Brownish-Grey Covered by a Beanie

Eye Color: Brown

Other defining features/extra anatomy: A Oval Face, Long-Sharp Fangs, A Crooked Nose, and Wide Lips

Clothing: Pretty much what is described in stories but wears an Oversized Brown Hoodie

Job Occupation: Unknown

Scratte-

Age: Unknown

Gender: Female

Nationality: American

Build/Body Type/Physical Frame: Mesomorph(From Glances)

Height: 5'3"

Weight: Unknown

Skin: Tan

Hair: Red In a Lob Style with Side Swept Bangs

Eye Color: Ocean Blue

Other defining features/extra anatomy: A Inverted Triangle Face, Short Sharp Fangs, A Roman Nose, and Full Lips

Clothing: A Red Sundress with Any Jacket and Shoes

Job Occupation: Unknown

[screenbrick4-blog]

Honey Dill Glazed Turnips & Carrots

We are great lovers of vegetables in this house.  I think I probably serve two different vegetables with every main meal that I serve in this house.  I have always been like that.  Carrots are a real favourite as are turnips or swede.  If  I can do them together, its even better.  

These make  a wonderful dish for the holidays as they go with just about everything.  In fact I can't think of a protein that they wouldn't work well with! 

They are great for holiday meals or any type of entertaining because they are a little bit more special than just plain boiled vegetables  . . .

Being lightly glazed with some butter and honey, then flavoured with dill . . .  these arrive at the table glistening like jewels.

Carrots tend to be a bit sweet anyways, and although turnips can be somewhat bitter, this treatment turns them into something really special.

Did you know that snub nosed carrots tend to be sweeter?  Its true.  They are sweeter than long pointy ones. I'm not sure why that is, only that it is.

The turnips used here are the smaller white ones with the tender skins, not the hard orange ones which are rutabaga or swede.  These are turnips which have a white skin with a purple flush of colour at the stem end.

I like to use medium to small one, no larger than a medium sized tomato.  These are the best ones.  Much larger than that, you run the risk of them being a bit woody.

Yield: 4Author: Marie RaynerPrint Recipe

With ImageWithout Image

Honey Dill Glazed Turnips & Carrots

prep time: 10 minscook time: 20 minstotal time: 30 mins

This makes a delicious side dish for the holidays.  You can easily double the quantities to serve more.

ingredients:

1/2 pound carrots, peeled and cut into sticks

1/2 pound smallish turnips, peeled and halved

1 1/2 TBS butter

1 tsp chopped fresh dill weed or  1/2 tsp dried dill weed

1 TBS liquid honey

salt and black pepper to taste

instructions:

Cover the vegetables with cold lightly salted water. Bring to  the boil and cook until crispy tender (about 10 to 15 minutes).  Drain well. Melt the butter along with the honey in a skillet.  Add the carrots and turnips, seasoning to taste and sprinkling with the dill weed.  Cook, stirring frequently until glazed and starting to caramelise a bit at the edges.  Serve immediately.

Note  - You can quite easily make these ahead, by cooking as above, then transfer to a covered dish and refrigerate, reheating them gently until well heated through when you want to serve them.

The flavours of dill and honey compliment these vegetables perfectly.  I would serve these with any roasted meats or fish, along with some green beans and maybe roasted potatoes.   These make a most deserving side dish for the holidays!  Bon Appetit! 

Source: https://theenglishkitchen.blogspot.com/2018/12/honey-dill-glazed-turnips-carrots.html