#steampunk fantasy

[blogfanreborn777]

Zaun by Patrick Faulwetter

[marysmirages]

The Girl who fell from the Sky (2023)

[stellastra-scribbles]

Finally completed the outfit reference for Jayna Stiles, a half-elven NPC follower from Arcanum: Of Steamworks and Magick Obscura.

Outfit breakdown (or "outfit onions" as I like to call them lol~)

I really like Jayna Stiles and her backstory + goals of becoming a technological healer. I'm also a sucker for 19th-century fashion and I have an unhealthily large collection of reference books and a bunch of files saved from online museum collections (I've got about 22+ gigabytes of refs downloaded from the Library of Congress alone haha I need more hobbies).

Back on track, I really just wanted to design Jayna an outfit that suited her character more than her in-game sprites while also being practical for travel/adventuring.

More unrestrained detailed design ramblings below the cut~

Individual layers. I pulled most of her colors from her default outfit.

Since Arcanum's starting year is 1885, I usually picture the "modern" sense of fashion in big cities like Tarant and Caladon taking cues from real life 1885-1890s western fashions (to give myself some leeway with references). Smaller towns can be a bit more dated, but I try not to go back further than the 1870s in most cases.

However, for a character like Jayna, who hails from Dernholm, I gave her clothing from references dating back to the 1850-1860s. I did this because Jayna says in her recruitment dialogue that "[her] parents weren't wealthy people, and [she doesn't] make much money here in Dernholm," so I took this to mean that she likely wears clothing to last, wearing hand-me-downs, makes her own clothes, and mending it over the years rather than buying new clothes.

Given that Dernholm (+ the Kingdom of Cumbria in general) isn't in the best state when the game starts, they may be behind the times and the latest fashions take longer to reach Dernholm.

Gar: “Alas, poor Dernholm! Once home to the legendary Dragon Knights, it has fallen on hard times since Praetor became king some 60 odd years ago. He despises all technology, and I think he's recently become sour on magick as well.”

Herkemer Oggdoddler: “For two generations Cumbria languished as an economically abused and technologically impaired backwater in the shadow of Tarant. Its once fine capital, Dernholm, has become a ruin.”

Layer 1 - Chemise + Open Drawers. I deliberately drew the drawers as fairly loose so as to not expose her without having to redraw the pose or resort to "Barbie doll anatomy."

Various resources demonstrated the chemise being tucked into the drawers or worn fully untucked/loose, but I drew it as tucked-in for the sake of reference visibility, so perhaps either one works in practice.

Layer 2 - Corset + Socks/Stockings. I picked a more "contemporary" (1880s) design for the corset as I imagine it would be a more custom-fitted garment. Plus, anyone who has ever worn bras will attest that a bra that properly fits is comparable to a good pair of shoes: never cheap out on it because if you take care of it, it will take care of you. Perhaps that same logic can be applied to corsets in ye olden days and historically-inspired fantasy settings.

For Jayna, despite the simplistic design, it might be one of the few luxuries she can afford for herself given the necessity of the garment for bust support.

Layer 3 - Trousers + Shoes. I was inspired by vivandières and Dr. Mary Edwards Walker, who typically wore trousers beneath their skirts. Dr. Walker was a "surgeon, women’s rights advocate, abolitionist, and spy, [and] the first female U.S. Army surgeon during the Civil War." Since Jayna is an aspiring technological healer, I feel like an allusion to Dr. Walker and her practicality was appropriate.

Layer 4 - Petticoat. It's just something to fill out the skirt volume a tad. I considered adding a corset cover in this layer but I did like having the upper outline of the corset somewhat visible in the shirtwaist layer to illustrate her living situation (aka she doesn't have one or just has a poor-quality one). As a modern-age woman, I think this this all already looks like a laundering nightmare to wash by hand.

Layer 5 - Shirtwaist + Outer Skirt. I really like the shape of the 1860s Garibaldi blouse's sleeves (I think these are bishop sleeves? correct me if I'm wrong...) and the stripes allude to some 19th century nurse uniforms. I initially went for a plaid pattern but that was a pain to draw and using a pre-existing plaid brush/pattern just didn't look as good as I wanted it to be.

Layer 6 - Sash + Pistol Holster + Bag. Given Jayna's goals of becoming a tech healer, I took design cues from vivandières, who were 19th-century women attached to military regiments, with a few known vivandières being nurses (like Anna Etheridge).

However, rather than lifting the vivandière look completely, I imagine Jayna would attempt to replicate the silhouette with her own clothes. The bag is a bit of an amalgamation of various 18th-19th century hunting/frontier bags, so I apologize that I don't have a direct reference image.

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

Of course, in the end, I did take some liberties with the outfit so it's not completely historically-accurate, but that's okay since Arcanum is a fictional universe.

I guess I should've prefaced that I'm no expert on historical fashion, just a casual enthusiast who thinks "ooh old dress is pretty!"

I just wanted to see how far I could go before I had to make some concessions, such as:

Jayna's hair is short and worn loose while irl Victorian women typically had long hair and wore them up (there were documented exceptions of course). Many portraits for both female player characters and female NPCs across all in-game races show short hair and loose long hair, so let's just assume that 19th-century Arcanum has more relaxed feminine hair standards compared to the real-life 19th century western world. Also, irl 19th-century rural women did sell their hair for money, so maybe there's something to apply to the world of Arcanum with that. Or maybe the short-hair craze just hit Arcanum a few decades early *shrug*.

I initially planned to give her gloves, but many resources show vivandières not really wearing them, preferring to go barehanded.

The clothing colors may be a bit too saturated for the era I took inspiration from, but I wanted to stay somewhat faithful to Jayna's original sprite colors.

I did simplify some garments down for the sake of me having to draw enough layers as it is lol. Sorry if the lace wasn't fancy enough or that she doesn't have headwear. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Sometimes you just wanna finish a project and be done with it.

hoo boy, that was a lot

Thank You For Coming to My TED Talk :)

Now go play Arcanum: Of Steamworks and Magick Obscura~

[oopsbirdficced]

Here's one of my two arts for @tolkienrsb 2024!

Watercolor pencil and micron liner pens on watercolor paper, half of the sheet has been dyed with tea, while the other half has been left starkly black and white.

Please watch this space for links to the finished fic, written by the lovely @godlikecunning, featuring a Bloodborne-inspired gaslamp fantasy adventure! Fic reveals are on September 6th!!!!

[new-aleria]

the first chapter look?

I don't think I'm going to give out chapters very often, but I would like to know what you guys think about the story so far. This is a super rough draft and is subject to change, but mostly grammar and punctuation editing. Anyway, enjoy the first chapter!

 The warm light from the crystal shards danced across faces and gleamed along the glassware of the assembled guests, offering fleeting glimpses into the intimate conversations unfolding around the room. Eyes darted discreetly, scanning for any hint of impropriety: a whispered exchange veering toward scandal, the touches of young, unchaperoned potential lovers, or a daring glimpse of a swelled breast among an immodestly low bust. Meanwhile, the strains of violins and cellos wove a tapestry of harmonious melodies that filled the air.

Servants moved with practiced precision, navigating the crowded room with silent efficiency, seamlessly replenishing glasses and offering food without interrupting the flow of the celebration. Their movements ensured the guests were attended to with grace and unobtrusiveness. The grandeur unfolded amidst a palette of pastel blues, silvers, and gold, creating an atmosphere of timeless elegance. The cascades of delicate flowers adorned the ballroom, their sweet fragrance mingling with the crisp scent of freshly baked cakes and cookies.

Dressed in sumptuous gowns and finely tailored suits, guests mingled beneath vaulted ceilings adorned with ornate moldings and frescoes depicting pastoral scenes. Laughter bubbled alongside effervescent champagne, couples swayed to the music, and the clinking of glasses punctuated joyous conversations. For a fleeting moment, the worries of the outside world melted away within the gilded walls of the grand hall, the night unfolding as a tableau of elegance and merriment.

 I turned toward my husband and observed his slack jaw and hunched posture, it was certainly a side effect of the light red liquid threatening to spill out of his cup, which he held loosely.

“Perhaps you’ve had enough for tonight, darling,” I stated. He glanced at me with lidded eyes and took another swig, distastefully spilling wine down his chin. My chest rose quickly and sharply fell back into its rhythm.

“Ah, but who decides when enough is truly enough?” he replied, his voice dripping with insincerity. “Isn’t that just a matter of personal indulgence? I prefer to let the night determine my limits.” He sat up straight, contorting to see the line of servants behind us. He held up his cup with a sly grin, tipping it towards them. 

I began in almost a whisper, “People, as always, are very observant of one's behavior at such an event. So personal indulgence should take president over nothing.” I threw the last part of my sentence at him with emphasis.

“Let them notice,” he retorted almost immediately with a smirk, his eyes gleaming with a predatory glint. “The more they see, the quicker they’ll forget. It’s all part of the game, darling.” His attention shifted to the servant girl who had just approached. My husband's smirk grew into a sly grin. The young woman, whose hair was so blonde it looked white styled it in two low buns that fit snuggly against her nape, with two braided strands pulled out in the front. Her honey-colored eyes and delicate features were almost sure to catch my husband's eye. 

 The servant girl began to fill his glass with a practiced hand. Her head lowered to avoid his gaze, as was customary. As she was filling his glass, Elias leaned closer, his voice dropping to a low, honeyed murmur. 

“You know, you must be new to the palace. I’ve never seen you before, and trust me I would do good by remembering such a beauty.”

She kept her head down, her hands trembling slightly as she worked on filling up his glass. He tilted his head, a sly grin still playing on his lips.

 “Such a shy creature, aren’t you?” The young girl had barely finished pouring the wine when Elias swiftly grabbed her forearm. She finally took a look into his eyes. Taking his opportunity  Elias asked,

“What is your name beautiful?” She averted her eyes, and after a moment answered very meekly,

“I am not supposed to be heard your Royal Highness.” clever girl I’ll give her that. She no doubt knows a name means a visit. 

Elias chuckled softly, his tone now carrying a hint of mock sincerity. “Ah, don’t be so modest.” Dropping his voice even lower. 

“Your king has asked you a question.” I watched as several people close enough to the balcony turned their heads and began to indiscreetly watch my husband and this servant girl. 

“Must you linger, girl? You have done your job in filling his glass; now go.” She should've stayed by the walls, unseen. She stepped back, bowed shortly, and swiftly turned around, walking briskly back to the table, her hands trembling as she held the thick bottle. I glanced down at the people watching; they quickly pretended to go back the their conversations again. 

“Must you be so cruel? I was only charming a poor girl who likely has nothing to feel good about in life.” Elias stated, grinning as wide as he could. 

“What charm Elias. She didn’t even want to tell you her name.” My husband’s smug grin deepened, clearly mistaking her fear for admiration. I turned to him, my voice barely above a whisper, cold and sharp as a blade. “Don’t delude yourself, Elias. She was doing her job. And you, are no King in your own right.” His sly grin slowly began to fade with each word I threw in his direction, and by the end of my sentence, he was flush and his jaw was clenched. He took several lard swigs of his wine. 

 Slightly leaning in, I added,  “While you dazzle the room, don’t forget that real admiration isn’t just about who you impress but how you’re remembered after it's over. How will people remember you? Do you think they will say ‘Elias the Great’?” I watched as he stewed in his anger, letting it permeate the air around him before finally turning away and towards the people of tonight's festivities. They seemed to be enjoying themselves well enough, with laughter and chatter filling up the ballroom. 

The celebration was for my dear sister, Princess Daphne, and her new husband. She was marrying Lord Cornelius Blackwoode of Blackwood Bay. Though no great High Duke, the new Lord was rich beyond imagination due to his late father's exhibitions to the unknown worlds, and thanks to him, now some of the known worlds. Daphne would undoubtedly live a life full of comfort and ease. Though more likely than not, it will be a lonely one. The Blackwoodes are notorious tavern dwellers and maidenhood looters. However, her new lord husband is a valuable asset to have

A loud banging sound outside the windows snapped me back to reality. The guests gathered around the large pillars that opened up into our garden. The high-pitched whistle revealed that fireworks had been ignited and soared into the night sky. Bursting in a dazzling array of colors before gracefully fading away high above, never touching the ground, they cast a sudden glow on the faces of the partygoers. The spectacle excited all the guests, prompting them to rush to the vast gardens outside the ballroom for a closer view. 

In the midst of the commotion, a small boy in a page’s uniform fought his way through the crowd, pushing against the current of finely dressed guests. Heads turned, their expressions sharp with disapproval at the child’s impertinence. He ignored the glares, his focus unwavering until he reached the Royal Guards stationed at the base of the grand staircase. Without hesitation, he nodded in acknowledgment before darting up the steps, his feet barely making a sound against the carpet laid on top of the polished marble. 

The boy halted before us and bowed with an almost desperate precision. Slightly out of breath, He handed a scroll, no bigger than his palm, to my Voice. With that, he descended back down the stairs, only to dissipate into the sea of bodies.

Lord Vikktorov glanced at the scroll before silently placing it in my outstretched hand. The wax seal gleamed in the flickering light. I slid my fingernail beneath the hardened wax and tore it open with a single, sharp motion. The parchment unfurled, the crackle of the paper drowned out by the murmurs around us, and my eyes skimmed the words that would no doubt change the course of the night.

“Your Grace, I write to inform you of the success of the recent deployment to the Crossings Bridge. These ‘Liberators’ have suffered a great loss of men. By our count, up to three hundred and seventy-two. We will have the area under control by the morning, ready for phase two at your word.” 

Signed, 190th Royal Commander of New Aleria, Alastor Highwater. 

A small smile made its way onto my face. This is undoubtedly good news. The Kingdom has had to deal with a new wave of rebellions recently. This time is expected due to the death of that child. Her unfortunate passing has made the people of Arcanium vengeful. They rally around the moniker of ‘Liberators,’ and tonight, they added four hundred to their list of liberated. 

"What does it say?" Elias lounged on the throne, his head tilted back and eyes shut in contemplation. I neatly rolled the paper up and handed it back to Lord Vikktorov. He promptly shoved it into his pocket. 

"It reaffirms that the Gods still yet favor us," I murmured, allowing a rare smirk to flicker across my lips. I raised my hand to summon a servant, the motion smooth and confident. Finally, I could breathe—and drink. With the ‘liberators’ dealt a humiliating defeat, and my sister now bound to a respectable husband, two of my most urgent problems had been tied up neatly, at least for the time being.

A sharp crack of fireworks split the air, and I felt the faintest vibration beneath my feet as the colorful explosions echoed overhead. In the corner of the room, delicate jelly molds trembled precariously on a silver platter, their jewel-toned shapes shuddering in time with the distant booms. The ladies nearby gasped, their wide eyes glinting in the candlelight, and then burst into soft, musical laughter—an orchestrated response to the spectacle outside. Slowly, the guests began to trickle toward the open glass doors leading to the garden, eager to watch the fireworks paint the sky in a dazzling array of colors.

I, however, remained seated, my gaze drifting over the fading crowd. My attention sharpened as an elderly servant approached, his gait slow and uneven. His fingers, gnarled and twisted by age, clung to the neck of the wine bottle like brittle vines wrapped around a branch. Each step he took seemed a struggle, but his focus never wavered. With great care, he filled my glass, the liquid within catching the light as it swirled—a deep, velvety crimson, like blood in a chalice.

I lifted the glass to my lips, inhaling the rich, earthy aroma of the vintage before taking a slow, deliberate sip. The wine was smooth, laced with notes of dark berries and a hint of spice, warming my throat as it slid down. For a moment, the world outside—the fireworks, the guests, the celebrations—faded, and I allowed myself a brief moment of indulgence.

But the reverie was short-lived.

The grand doors swung open with a creak, their gilded edges catching the glow of the chandeliers above. Two footmen entered, their movements synchronized, their faces expressionless beneath their finely pressed uniforms. They took their positions at either side of the doors, holding them wide as four more servants followed. Moving with slow, measured steps, they carted out the pièce de résistance—a seven-tiered cake that towered above them, a masterpiece of confectionery and opulence.

The cake itself was a marvel to behold. Each layer was adorned with intricate details—delicate ribbons and flowers crafted from sugar, shimmering in gold and silver. Lace spiraled elegantly from the bottom tier to the top, its pattern so fine it seemed spun from silk. At the pinnacle stood two crystalline figures, the new Lord and Lady Blackwoode, their glassy forms catching the light, casting faint, prismatic reflections on the cake beneath them. The figures were fragile, yet commanding, as if even they understood the weight of this union.

“Are you coming out?” Elias asked, already on his feet, his unsteady steps betraying both his eagerness and the wine he had indulged in earlier. His figure blurred in the dim light as he made his way impatiently toward the steps, weaving slightly, yet determined.

"My view is unobstructed from here," I replied, my voice steady, betraying none of the weariness within. He gave no response, merely disappearing down the stairs becoming swallowed by the glittering crowd moving toward the garden. I stayed where I was, seated in the warmly lit balcony, away from the festivities. My eyes remained on the fireworks beyond the long open towering windows. Each burst of light and sound carried the cool breeze, a distant reminder of the revelry I no longer felt a part of.

I’m here with the elite of society, the finest women of the ton,  and the most handsome men in the realm, all dressed in their silk, lace, and gold. All of them gathered on the lawn, their faces glowing with joy as the fireworks crackled overhead. Their laughter, light and carefree, rippled through the air like the softest of melodies. Yet, no matter how bright the night seemed, peace remained elusive. It had been so long since I had tasted even a moment of true serenity. Even in this extravagant display of wealth and grandeur, my thoughts wandered to where they always did. My sweet Anais.

My only child. The only one who experienced life...and she loved it. 

 Anais had always been captivated by fireworks, I could almost see her now, the way she would gaze up at the sky, eyes wide with wonder, her small fingers reaching out as though she believed she could grasp the stars themselves. The way her laughter would lift above the noise, pure and unrestrained. She had been called 'The Realm’s Darling' for a reason—everyone adored her, and yet...she was gone. The void she left was as vast and cold as the night that stretched over the celebration. 

“Your Grace,” came a deep voice from my left, low and deliberate, drawing me out of my spiraling thoughts. I turned my head, slowly, my gaze meeting that of Lord Vikktorov Ramonov. My Voice.

He stood tall, his silhouette easily identifiable. His eyes, a deep shade of blue that always seemed too piercing, almost predatory, were fixed on me. His bent nose, evidence of a few fights he’d rather not talk about—gave him a look that some might call imposing, but I knew him well. A second son with ambition enough for an empire,  Vikktorov thrived in the shadows of court, watching, calculating, like a master tactician observing the pieces on a board. He saw things others missed, often telling me it was his game to know what they hid when they believed no one was watching.

As he stepped closer, he kept his voice quiet, laced with the same caution he always carried when there was something important to share. "There has been talk, Your Grace. About things you may want to hear."

“What is it?” I asked him gently.  He shifted his weight from one side to the other, briefly looking down and then up connecting our eyes again before speaking.

“Tomorrow is a bad idea.” He looked at me sternly, almost as if he was scolding me. 

I threw my shoulders forward and tossed my head to the side. Immediately I felt the beginning of a migraine coming forth. I finished my glass of wine before speaking.

“You can not possibly be bringing this up now. We have already extensively talked about this more times than I care to count.” My eye began to twitch ever slightly, I knew he wouldn’t drop this anytime soon. Not until it’s done and over with. 

“What do you think will happen? Arcaniums will not accept such losses,  between the bridge, and then however many more, they will gather more support after tomorrow, from more than just Arcaniumns.” He took a deep breath afterward, looking around the room with a clenched jaw and rigid stance. 

My eyes sharply fell on his, snapping at him I remarked,

“It doesn’t matter what they will think or feel. We have Ondoria. They are landlocked. And in case you have forgotten, The Crown owns the bridge territory. They planted bombs at the border. How long before I meet them at my front doors?” My head was pounding, the boom of the fireworks outside creating a pulse of every explosion. 

“It's genocide. So many innocent people are going to die. They will retaliate.” He quietly stated. Dawning a somber face, scrutinizing me with his dull bluish-grey eyes. 

“It is not genocide. It is war Vikktorov. Don't be so dramatic.” I glared back at him. Silently signaling to drop it.

“In war, truth is the first casualty.” I rolled my eyes and shook my head slightly. 

“What would you have me do, hm. Would you have me ignore the blatant attack on the crown authority? The disregard for rules and obligations, you-” Vikktorov cut me off before I could even finish. 

“Obligations? You talk of their obligations to you? And what about yours?”  Raising his voice so slightly, and his eyes began just a little lighter. A tell that his temper is running hot. My eyebrows raised. However,  quickly my eyes narrowed. I stopped to gather my words and choose them carefully. 

“If I may finish. I am their queen, and that hasn’t changed, my obligation has always been my duty to the crown, and by extension the people under the crown. That means all the realms, not just their realm. I must think about all of the realms and the best interests of everyone. In exchange for my guidance, they have obligations to obey. To accept my ruling on higher matters. They don’t have to like it, but they have to obey it.”In the corner of the grand ballroom, a servant dropped a plater on the ground, shattering the glasses that were once on the top. 

The sound of the silver spinning for a moment, its metallic ring reverberating off the marble floor. All eyes snapped to the boy who held the plater. The boy looked terrified, quickly bowing as several other servants gathered to clean up the mess before the party returned. They all left the room. Vikktorov let out a long, slow breath. 

“They are only escalating things to this degree because you did nothing. A child was murdered, your Grace. She was only seven. I imagine you don’t have to dig deep to understand the pain her parents must be feeling right now, her community.” My temper flared. My jaw clenched as my teeth began to grind into each other I began to speak slowly and clearly,

“Who are you to bring my daughter into this? Do you think my daughter and that girl are the same? You have overstepped your place, Lord Romonov.” My jaw was clenched, and I was straining because of how hard I was glaring up at my Voice. 

“I speak only the truth. Princess Anais may-” I quickly cut him off. 

“You have overstepped. I will not. Repeat myself. Again.” A particularly ear-splitting boom interrupted us. Diverting my attention to the garden, all the guests started to clap and make their way back into the room. 

“You will drop this.” Although I was talking to Vikktorov, I was smiling at the attendees who were gathering around the room. Vikktorov stepped to the right of me, just slightly behind my chair. 

I watched as my sister and her new husband walked in together. Her husband was smiling wide and holding a glass in his hand, sipping from it. My sister seemed content. A gentle smile and nods to those congratulating her. My eyes jumped from person to person, scanning for my husband in the sea of faces. I could not see his outline anywhere. He without a doubt went to pester that servant girl. Looking at my empty cup, I waived over for a servant. 

“The cake will be cut soon. I will make my speech without my husband it seems.” I stated. I was mostly talking to my personal guard. I was still waiting for that old man to come hobbling back over with my wine and yet he was nowhere.

“Where are my servants?” I asked either one.

“The cake will be cut soon, paired with the mess from the glass they must be bringing up supplies,” he replies. 

“And that takes all of them?” The silence stays between us. Servants are always on the floor at any given moment. Glancing over the room again. Searching for any of the household Footman or maids, all I seemed to find were the palace guards.

“Vikktorov, I want to make a toast in my speech.” He hesitated for a moment then began to make his way to the table behind me which held the wine and other desserts and snacks. He came back with the same bottle from earlier. I held my empty glass out to him and he began to slowly pour the dark red wine into my cup. When the cup was filled halfway he stopped and began to walk back over to the table. 

 I will chastise the servants later for not doing the one job they have. For now, I need to give my speech to the new couple. Standing from my cushioned throne, glass in hand. I began to make my way to the edge of the ornate rail a couple of steps ahead of me. I looked over at the musicians playing and signaled for them to finish up. As they were doing so, I grabbed a small spoon from the table of desserts off to the side, I began to tap on my glass to gather the crowd's attention. After a minute or two, the band stopped and people began to quiet down. Eventually becoming silent.

“My dear friends, family, and honored guests. Tonight, we gather here to celebrate a union that is not just a matter of tradition or duty but one that comes from a place of true affection and mutual respect. My sister, Princess Daphne, has always been a beacon of grace and strength within our family. I have seen her grow into someone who embodies the virtues of kindness, intelligence, and resilience. As many of you know, our lives have not always been easy. We have faced challenges that tested our courage, and in those moments, it was Daphne who often stood as a source of comfort and stability. It is this very strength that I see reflected in the choice she has made in her new husband, Lord Cornelius Blackwoode.” I pause only briefly, looking at my sister before beginning once more. 

“Together, they represent a partnership not only of hearts but of purpose—a union that will strengthen the bonds of our families and our realms. Daphne, I remember when we used to play in the gardens, pretending to be queens and knights. And yet, here you are, standing beside a man who I know will cherish and protect you as fiercely as you deserve. Cornelius, you have gained not just a wife, but a partner who will stand with you through every challenge and triumph. To the happy couple, I offer this wish” I raise my glass towards the happy couple 

“May your days be filled with as much laughter as your wedding day, and may your nights be filled with as much peace as your hearts can hold. May your love continue to grow, not just in the good times, but also in the trials that life may bring, for it is in those moments that love is truly tested and proven. Let us raise our glasses to Princess Daphne and Count Cornelius—may your marriage be as enduring as the mountains of Blackwood Bay, and your love be as passionate as the seas are deep. A toast to the new Count and Countess Blackwoode!” The room was filled with clinking glasses and happy chatter around the room, many already making their way over to the new couple. 

“Now” I boom out, quickly silencing the room again, feeling everyone's gaze on me. 

“Let us eat cake.”  The room once again fills with buzz and laughter. I make my way back to my seat and sit down. I was rubbing my index finger over my thumb repeatedly. My head was pulsating, I counted down the hours until I could leave. Two more hours and it will be socially acceptable before I can retire to my bedchambers. Eat cake. Sit here, eat more cake, and smile. It’s all the same motion. Across the room, Daphne waited for a servant to fetch her a knife so she and her husband could cut the cake.  I once again examined the room looking for my husband. I don’t see him anywhere, you would believe it might be easy, with the crown and all. Finishing off my drink, I looked around for one of the servants assigned, but I still didn't see one.  I studied the room once again. Not a single servant in sight. I look at the door, no footman? No Attendants. 

“Ser Desimus?” I turned towards my Personal Guard.

“Yes, Your Grace,” he replied, his voice almost swallowed by the hum of conversation filling the Grand Ballroom.

“My cup is empty, and my sister is waiting.” Ser Desimus bowed. His movements were precise and controlled. My eyes followed him as he descended the stairs of the platform. Making his way to the two palace guards stationed at the base of the stairs. They stood rigid, their expressions unreadable as they exchanged brief words with him. One of the guards nodded before turning sharply and striding toward the large doors at the far end of the ballroom. I watched as Ser Desimus stood in the spot where the guard once stood. 

“Since the speech has been given, may I revel in this joyous occasion?” Lord Vikktorov’s voice broke through the noise, though his tone betrayed him—it was sharp and condescending. The forced emphasis on ‘joyous’ was almost painfully out of place. The following pause hung awkwardly in the air, attracting the attention of a few nearby guests.

“My Queen,” he added, his gaze locking with mine, seeking permission with a formality that felt more like an insult. 

“Do as you wish, Lord Vikktorov,” I replied, my tone measured. “Revel in the celebration. It would be a shame not to enjoy tonight’s festivities. The scribes will surely record the events of this night for years to come.”

I turned slightly, looking down at the people gawking. My eyes caught the curious glances of those within earshot as they pretended to return to their conversations. These people never fail to show me their worst. Lord Vikktorov bowed hastily and descended the platform, his steps quickening as he ascended the stairs. He passed Ser Desimus without sparing him a glance. Ser Desimus, returning up the stairs, turned his head when Lord Vikktorov passed. His posture relaxed, but his eyes alert, he took in the room with a practiced gaze.

When Ser Desimus reached the top of the stairs, he exhaled softly, the sound barely noticeable against the backdrop of clinking glasses and murmured voices. He took his place behind me to the left, leaning slightly to speak.

“I have sent a man to see what is the matter, Your Grace,” he murmured, his tone low and measured. The tension in his words wasn’t lost on me. 

“Tonight is giving me the worst headache. I will need the High-Preist tonight, I fear I won't be able to sleep without a tonic.” I took another drink of my wine. Swirling the liquid around slightly my gloved hand holding the stem.

“Lord Vikktorov seems to be opinionated tonight.” Ser Desimus offered. 

“Apparently so.” Finishing off my wine I began,  

“Lord Vikktorov means well, but he shows a weakness in his inability to prioritize. If you want your council to be the best they can be, it often takes a steady hand to guide it there.” Ser Desimus paused for a moment before speaking.

“Would you like for me to have men keep an eye on him?” He kept his voice low.  I almost chuckled at the thought. 

“His temper runs hot. Vikktorov is loyal. Hot-headed, stubborn, and persistent, but loyal.” I set my empty glass on the small side table and sat and listened to the musicians play. 

[makairodonx]

Flying high over the little factory town

[rachelillustrates]

More @ockissweek 💋 And completing the Seven Qualities of Fairycraft, day seven – Adventuresomeness.

Had to end with Tock and Onna!!! Main lovers of this here queer Faerie tale adventure romance, after all. According to the “Fairycraft” book, on the idea/importance of adventuresomeness, “There’s a saying that ���fortune favors the bold’ and that certainly holds true when dealing with the Otherworld. Although caution and a willingness to deal with the consequences of any action are also important, the Fey Folk have always seemed to respect and be drawn to people who take chances.”

Gonna leave that stand for itself – and these two, and hope you all check out their story, if you haven’t already 💚

(Personal note – BOOM!! A complete challenge 🎉💗🎉 “Just pencil drawings” may not seem like A Lot BUT especially for this time of year, this is a big accomplishment for me, so I am gonna go ahead and celebrate and feel very warm about it thankyouverymuch.)

(( Big thanks again to @artofmisi for organizing this event! )) 🫶

~

Bonus art and stories ~ Prints, comics and more!

[noahhawthorneauthor]

Author versus books! Hi gentlefolk, I'm Noah, and I write queer fantasy books with disabled and/or neurodivergent characters. ✡️🏳️‍⚧️

The Eternal Machine was my debut book, and it's the first in an dark steampunk fantasy series with morally wrecked fae and a love triangle that develops into a polycule. 🏴‍☠️🗡️

Phantom and Rook is a cozy urban fantasy, with found family, forgotten love, and mental health discussion. I'm hosting a Read-Along for this on Halloween, and I'll be revealing the cover for the next book soon! Each book in this series features a different couple, and the next is dark academia chaos. 🍁✨

The Rebel Foxes is the last book I released, and it's the first one under my new pen name, Noah Hawthorne. It's a dark and dieselpunk standalone in an interconnected series. It's full of mutant shifters hellbent on breaking society, T4T, and a polyamorous relationship.🔥🐾

Here's my Linktree, where you can find my books, playlists, and more.

[alicephoenix]

⚙️🌿 "Arya echi di guerra" 🌿⚙️

Un mondo diviso. Due specie in guerra. Un destino sospeso tra pace e tradimento.

🌍 L'ambientazione: In un continente spezzato dalla guerra, dove il progresso umano a vapore fagocita terre antiche e misteriose, si contrappongono due mondi:

A Sud, gli insediamenti umani dominati dalla borghesia, dalla monarchia costituzionale e dal fervore industriale. Dirigibili solcano i cieli, le macchine a vapore spingono il progresso, e i Sehva – antichi uomini-uccello – vengono ridotti a schiavi, privati delle loro ali, trattati come oggetti e forza lavoro.

A Nord, le foreste senza tempo dei Sehva, dominate da matriarche e da un equilibrio naturale infranto. Qui vivono tribù pacifiche, legate alla terra e agli Antichi, creature primordiali dalle origini dimenticate.

🕰️ La trama: Dopo dieci anni di guerra, la pace è fragile come le ali spezzate dei Sehva. Quando Makena, una sehva in fuga dagli insediamenti umani, si ritrova nel cuore delle foreste settentrionali, viene trascinata in un intrigo senza precedenti. La Regina dei Sehva, ancora prigioniera di rancore e sospetti, la costringerà a fare da informatrice: esplorare i segreti del mondo umano e rivelarne le debolezze.

Nel frattempo, Colombo, il ragazzo che accompagna Makena, dipende completamente da lei per sopravvivere nel regno dei Sehva. Ma i due dovranno affrontare nemici invisibili, tradimenti e dilemmi morali che metteranno a rischio non solo la loro vita, ma la fragile alleanza tra le specie.

E mentre un principe umano tenta di avviare trattative di pace, un’imboscata rovina tutto: chi può davvero fidarsi di chi, quando il passato è fatto di sangue e inganno?

⚔️ Temi e atmosfere:

Steampunk Vittoriano: macchine a vapore, dirigibili maestosi e vestiti raffinati.

Fantasy oscuro: una foresta misteriosa abitata da creature antiche, tribù legate alla natura e antiche tradizioni.

Conflitto e divisione: il razzismo contro i Sehva e l’avidità umana.

Intrighi e viaggi: una storia di fuga, sopravvivenza e alleanze difficili.

🎯 Per chi ama:

Romanzi con atmosfere alla "Londra Vittoriana"

Mondi fantasy dettagliati e culture in conflitto

Storie epiche di pace e guerra con personaggi sfaccettati

✨ "in Arya echi di guerra, la vera battaglia non è solo tra due specie, ma contro ciò che siamo diventati."

🔖 #SteampunkFantasy #AliSpezzate #GuerreDimenticate #NuovoFantasyEpico

[thebrideofcthulhu]

Connecting with Nature

My sweet boy Oogly 💚 So many droids became lost when their directives were complete- what was there for them to do when everything was long gone? For Oogly, the answer became clear when he began to experience what humanity once treasured.

[petervanparys]

Skybound Legends: The Eagle Corp. Zeppelin

✨ Welcome aboard the Eagle Corp. airship, where the skies are endless, and adventure calls from every horizon! This piece captures a world I dreamed up where colossal zeppelins rule the heavens, cities float in the clouds, and ancient mysteries wait to be uncovered below. The Eagle Corp. zeppelin, adorned with golden details and guarded by its loyal biplane squadron, is on a mission to seek the legendary Lost City of Astraea. And yes, there's even a giant eagle watching over the ship, as if guiding it on its journey. 🦅

What would you do if you could travel aboard this mighty skyship? Where would you explore? 🚀

[blogfanreborn777]

City of Ankon by Jan Ditlev

[dreadmothrosemary71]

Gregaverse Day 22 Steampunk

I remembered I had randomly drew a sater looking Gregory with a coat and googles and I figured I'd go back to that. Love a fantasy steampunk aesthetic.

@gregaverse

[sluttytoes]

princess diana in steampunk garb

[audreywritesfantasy]

🔥 COVER REVEAL🔥

 A Searing Faith is the first book in the epic fantasy series The Heart Pyre

 🔥 a mysterious fire that destroyed a town

🔥 a sole survivor

🔥 a cover-up

🔥 a new family to be forged

🔥 rumours of the old, forgotten gods

🔥 everyone’s at least a little bit queer

🔥 also there’s a dog!! (nothing happens to the dog, the humans however ...)

 Do you want to read the book early and help spread the word? Sign up to get an ARC.

Find the ebook at your favourite ebook vendor (more to be added over the coming days). Physical books will be available on release day.

Or add it on storygraph and goodreads.

Content Warnings for: family death, destruction by fire, graphic depictions of wounds, panic attacks

[dark-bear-productions]

Don't give up on an idea you love

I'd like to tell you how I started Hunting Darkness, the transmedia project I'm working on. You might find a cool new piece of media, you might find a bit of personal motivation, and you might find a fun new blog to follow, but you'll certainly find an insight into the creation of the project I am dedicating my life to.

First: if you're unfamiliar with the term transmedia and are hoping it's media by and for trans people, I'm sorry to disappoint you: that's trans media. No, transmedia is when you combine stories told through different media to create a larger whole. (Although I'm happy to say Hunting Darkness features characters who are trans, non-binary, gay, bi, ace, and more, as well as many characters whose gender identity or sexual orientation never comes up and can be freely interpreted).

With that bit clear, let's get this story going.

It began in 2016, after I played The Witcher 3: Wild Hunt and -- inspired by my parents' love for Victorian and SteamPunk aesthetics during a visit to their house -- wrote a rain-sodden, blood-soaked, action-packed story about a team of five slightly SteamPunk Victorian Monster Hunters fighting a massive pseudo-vampire that had mysteriously appeared in a warehouse.

I intended to expand the story into a debut novel called Hunting Darkness -- yes, the name stuck -- but ultmately failed to turn it into something that satisfied me and tried moving on. Unfortunately for my mental health, I kept coming back to that idea of Victorian Monster Hunters, my beating Bloodborne in 2019 adding fuel to the growing fire.

From time to time, some story idea would excite me and I'd begin writing once more only to inevitably think "This would be great for Hunting Darkness." I'd then open my old files, go over my notes and ideas, and try once more to get something out of it. I'd rearrange concepts, tweak my ideas, adjust my themes, and eventually realise it was a much too big and unwieldy a project, I'd never fit it into a novel, and I had better give up.

On it went. I wrote thousands of words and never finishing a story. Eventually, I pretty much gave up and stopped writing altogether.

Then, in late 2022, I listened to The Magnus Archives while doing some (very dull) data management at my new job. I had never really listened to an audio drama before -- unless you count the time I accidentally listened to an old radio drama on shuffle while temporarily blind -- but I really liked this format of stand-alone stories lasting about 20 minutes each. Of course, I then thought of some scene I had cooked up for my Monster Hunters and wondered at how much fun it would be to write a series of stand-alone monster hunts for my very own audio drama.

And then it finally clicked.

My partner Luca studied transmedia storytelling in college and had excitedly told me about it many times, but I'd never considered that Hunting Darkness might be a prime subject for it. Now, however, I wondered if it wouldn't be nice to create an audio drama solely for the writing of monster hunts.

I began working on From the Bay of Fangs, playing on the idea of reports written by Hunters being used as advertising for their services. When I fleshed out my world building and it became clear the Hunters would be government agents, I decided to change the tone from advertorial to propagandistic.

This then sparked the idea that not everyone would just accept this propaganda, leading to The Dark Truth, a series of in-world posters objecting to the stories told in From the Bay of Fangs, accompanied by a story about a government agent trying to find the people behind those posters in order to save her career.

At this point my creativity went into full swing. I officially created a (one-person) company called Dark Bear Productions, created a website, shared some of my worldbuilding, and am now publishing both From the Bay of Fangs and The Dark Truth independently while writing more Hunting Darkness stories and coming up with more still.

It's been stressful, I won't lie. I quit my job in order to work on this and I'm hoping I can find those people who'll find Hunting Darkness as cool as I do -- although I'm sure they're out there.

But it's also been fun and exhilarating and inspiring and it just feels like what I should be doing. So if you have something you really want to write but can't figure out how: consider transmedia! Or just explore some more stories when you can and see if anything clicks. If you share the results with me, I'll check it out. I can't promise I'll like it, but I can promise I'll like you for having created what you had to create, no matter the self-doubt along the way.

Take care!

Daan