#sun dappling

[inkstars1138]

It’s Zara again! another commission for hork-bajir4ever from FA!

This time of Zara in his home jungle, swinging through the trees. Is that bow for self-defense, or for Yeerk hunting? Who knows! It was fun to design. The bow is probably made from a favorite tree, the quiver made from bark, with a handwoven webbing and an animal tusk closure. The marks are probably scratches unique to Zara (not language, but another Hork Bajir from his tribe would recognize it as his). The webbing holding it in place is based on a real handwoven guitar strap I found while researching handwoven items. Do Hork Bajir do their own weaving, do you wonder? Trim claws, nimble fingers, and plant fibers to make string, maybe a Seer? 

[skycowboys]

JuFly day 8 - "Forest"

Pegasi nest and hatch their chicks in the safety of the deep forest. But even under the cover of the canopy, a new mother will always find something to worry over.

--

Discord | Patreon

[artbookisland]

Scan from Komorebi: Under the dappled sun, by Tsukasa Hōjō.

[silvaris]

Ethereal Forest by Andrea Scanu

[beeshoesometimesdraws]

Drawn to The Stars

Reference + closeup under the cut

[tetedurfarm]

road trip buddy got a shockingly good photo of me walking The Man to her car to load him up so here you go look at my man

[sweetriverstyx]

sun trail ganggg part one

[cassynite]

POV you're watching these two right before they're going to turn and insist that they're just good friends (Aleksei will tell Ilya he loves him in front of the party .2 seconds afterward)

@themournwatcher's Aleksei Martikov and Ilya Kolyanovich from our curse of Strahd campaign again!

[forgottenarthur]

Eithne/Arthur - “ why are you looking at me like that? ”

flashback

Arthur looked quickly away at the sound of her words. He rubbed the back of his neck. Bit out a self-conscious laugh.

The day was gorgeous, the sun streaming beyond a canopy of gently waving trees. All around them, the field was bursting with wild grasses and flowers that seemed to dot the landscape with bursts of vibrant color: her greens mingling with his reds and blues, till the whole world seemed decked out for only them. And amongst all this, ensconced on rugs and pillows stretched out against the roots the sheltering oaks, motes of light filtered between the boughs, bathing Eithne in golden light as she spoke of her beloved Malconaire, her whole face beaming like the sun.

She was transcendant -- at once more a creature of this earth than he could ever be, and yet so untouchably ethereal he held his breath, almost afraid she might melt away at the slightest of breezes. A chorus of birds sang all around her as if they sang with delight just to be near her, and the dappled light wound round her like will-o-the-whisp attendants sighing upon their liege lady. The radiance of the sun was her nimbus, not glowing upon her but, rather, shining because of her and, despite himself, Arthur smiled again, this time a meditative look taking hold of his features as he stole a glance once more at her.

He'd seen her at balls and at tourneys, but as stunning as she was all made up in Roisin's finest glamors, they could not match her natural beauty here in this wild place, so much a part of her that it seemed to breathe as she did, the very wind stirring with her words. Her tresses were all the finer simply framing her face than caught up in a golden net, and Arthur thought that perhaps all that finery appeared garish against the smooth porcelain of her skin, beaming as it did here in serene sunshine. Her eyes blazed an azure so fine he was sure the sky blushed to be compared to a tint so luminous, and her smile, so rosy, seemed to capture the full lustre of the floral hedges that danced in the attendant zephyrs all around them.

Arthur smiled then, arching a soft brow as he looked at her. His voice, when he spoke, was very soft. "I should have thought that obvious."

For a moment, Eithne looked at him and then, suddenly seeming to catch his meaning, or perhaps -- he hoped -- thinking something similar herself, she colored slightly and looked away. "You mustn't say such foolish things, Arthur. Anyone might think you meant them."

"It would showcase their wisdom."

Laughing, Eithne made herself busy, then, leaning forward to draw a repast from the wicker basket at her knee. Her gown was a simple roughspun, but somehow, out here amongst the gently tilting trees, he did not think anything could have appeared more becoming and, sighing, he gazed heavenward.

"Tell me -- before...before my father," began Arthur, gesturing vaguely, as if to indicate a time before the conquest. "How did you spend days like these?"

Eithne paused in her ministrations, and Arthur was conscious, then, of the weight of her gaze upon him. He smiled, slightly, still looking skyward. "Well...when we could, much like this."

"Oh?"

"But, most often, taking baskets to the village, of course."

Arthur frowned, turning to look at her, then. "Are...are they fond of...wicker?"

She laughed. His confusion did not dissipate. It was Eithne's turn to look quizzical. "Do...I don't suppose you take baskets to people? Or...or perhaps your sisters? Your mother and stepmother?"

Arthur shrugged. "I don't know that most people in the Empire have much...inclination towards--" he shrugged, gaze sliding to the basket at her knee. "Baskets. They're useful, certainly, but--"

"No, it's not--we don't take empty baskets."

Arthur shook his head, shrugging.

"They're filled with goods. Gifts. Bread and cheese and lettuce and jams and...anything that might help those...less well off."

"So...its some form of...charity?"

"Yes! Precisely."

Arthur frowned at the basket before them, doubt churning inside him. Then, a moment, and he pointed. "And? Is...this...charity?"

"What?"

"I just--It's a basket."

Laughing suddenly, Eithne set a plate with cheese and cold chicken before him. "In this case, it's hospitality. I daresay, you're better off than I am, or don't they feed imperial princes?" she teased, grinning.

Laughing, Arthur watched her laughter, her whole face seeming to somehow brighten even further as her limpid eyes danced. Somewhere deep in his belly, Arthur felt warmth suffuse him, something bright and briliant blooming in his chest as he joined her in laughter. "Why do you think we all come here so very often?"

"I did not imagine you came as beggars."

Arthur paused, watched the merriness in her face. It seemed to him the birds were singing more quietly now, as if they were alone in all the world, with no other earlthy creature to witness. This moment was theirs. "Any man, even a prince, is a beggar before someone like you." I didn't think someone like you could exist... he thought.

She frowned. "You make me sound a tyrant."

He shook his head, sat up a little straighter. "No, I..." he shrugged, sighing. "Eithne, what I mean is...There's no one else in the world like you. No one. Anywhere, and..." he shrugged, laughed. "I would know. I've been most places in the world, after all, and...You've no equal, Eithne. No rival. To know you is to wish to know you better. To be with you is to wish never to be parted." Arthur sighed, then, self-conscious, shrugged. "I'm not much with words, Eithne...I just mean there is no one like you. You're the sort of woman a man would beg, borrow, or steal just to please but, despite it all, I know that...My father may own half the world, but that won't make you mine. I could shower you with gems and you'd frown just," he laughed. "Just as you do now at the idea. Riches aren't what matter to you so...we're all beggars. You see? I've got nothing you want. And that's...that's something I've never encountered before."

"You're wrong!" blurted Eithne.

Arthur frowned. "I--"

"You do have something I want."

"What is it? It's yours, I--"

"Oh, hush," whispered Eithne and, leaning close, she pressed a kiss to his cheek. "There," she said, smiling, a blush blooming upon her cheeks as she leaned back again.

"Oh no you don't," chuckled Arthur, one hand slipping into the veil of her hair to cradle her neck as he leaned close. Her lips were soft as roses petals. Her breath was a warm zephyr. And her eyes, when he opened his own to see them, were brighter than the whole sky.

[tadpolesonalgae]

Kinda impromptu, but I haven’t written anything this week and I’m probably going to dip off social media until early August? (Maybe? Maybe I’ll be about?)

Everything’s fine, I’m just going to enjoy the summer for a bit while I can so I’ll be staying away from my phone for a while! (Maybe) Unfortunately I don’t have anything queued but I’ll be back to writing in a week and a half/two weeks!

I might try to answer somethings in my inbox though—I just won’t be updating or writing anything for a bit! 🧡💛

[robespapier]

Finally looked at the pictures I have on my camera (not my phone), found these, and thought y'all might enjoy the sun hitting the very good nose of David d'Angers' Saint-Just

[someoctober]

just impulsively decided to listen to the other side of failure. like a normal person who does not feel insane emotions

[artbookisland]

Scan from Komorebi: Under the dappled sun, by Tsukasa Hōjō.

[wrinwrinsignal]

Dappled Sunlight

[daisyachain]

Saw a post that argues that there are some words that just shouldn’t be translated. Think suffixes in Japanese-language texts. They convey plenty of information and English doesn’t have anything close to peer-honourifics. I understand this impulse. In fact it’s a good middle option to convey information quickly: if it’s a frequently used, story-critical untranslatable word, sure, stick in a glossary.

My personal belief is that you can translate everything effectively. There’s always going to be some combination of words that creates the desired effect. Even if the word is linked into a cultural norm that doesn’t transfer, there’s going to be some kind of equivalency you can draw based on the fundamentals of human emotion. Ultimately I think it’s better to translate based on flow and naturalism while including footnotes—if it’s something like a translated novel or a dubbed show. Subbed shows are trickier since the subtitles ought to line up with the spoken words, but you still have a lot of flexibility. There’s always going to be something you can do. Take the suffixes. There are no words in English to quickly convey a relationship, but you can get around that by deploying tone and register. It doesn’t have the guaranteed result of a -chan* *denotes affection of the user or cuteness of the bearer, sometimes used ironically between friends, default for close female friends. It can still accomplish a lot.

[swallowedabug]