#tors cabinet of curiosities

[mellonhead58]

Ok so I was randomly recommended this video on youtube

And I kind of assumed it was some generic low-effort video essay that I wouldn't enjoy but I had to put something on in the background while I pretended I was about to do work so I put it on and like, holy shit it's actually pretty good. It's not a high production value and he's clearly inexperienced in the realm of making videos but it is anything but "low-effort." It feels like one of those videos you should be watching under the blanket on a cracked ipod touch at 2am on a school night in 2012, except it's 2024.

So then I put another video on about the fucking New York City Mole People thinking it has to be (decent) schlock that I could keep on in the background.

And like, holy shit it's good. Not just a fun little jaunt about the concept of whether or not there are people living in NYC's sewers and subways, but he spends most of the latter half of the video going through a pretty earnest discussion of homelessness in America which I'm not gonna pretend is totally out of left field for a youtube video essayist in principle, but in the neighborhood of conspiracytubers inspired by Wendigoon and Nexpo, I'd argue it's pretty atypical and a welcome change in my opinion.

Anyway maybe he drops like 27 N-bombs in his other videos or some other youtuber type shit, and if he has then I'll put it on this post, but for now the point of this post is please check out Tor's Cabinet of Curiosities (ft Jolibee the Durian)

[twopercentboy]

just found the most interesting YouTube guy ever, the sheer amount of autistic rizz that this guy has,,,, I think I'm in love with this channel and I'm like 5 minutes in

[scpwiki-official]

anyway everyone start watching kylie boggly her stuff is really fun to listen too

[vividwritinglove]

his boat - Carlos Sainz

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pairing: Carlos Sainz Jr x fem!reader

words: 1.8K

warning: smut (minors dni)

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Now you are lying here. In the blazing sun, in a skinny bikini, on the most beautiful boat you've ever seen, in a bay of a Balearic island. You could not have imagined a more beautiful summer. In general, five weeks ago, you didn't expect to experience such a summer at all. And that with him, Carlos Sainz Jr.

You met him in a nightclub in Budapest at the after parties of the Grand Prix. He was the one who saw you first and immediately took the initiative to approach you. A casual conversation turned into a playful flirtation, which ended in a hot make-out session. After just a few hours, he desired you so much that he had to see you again! He wanted you. He needed you.

For you, it was a harmless fling that might end in a one-night stand. No kiss in the morning, no hard feelings. You enjoyed the moment and let yourself go. And before you knew it, you were smitten by him! Never before did you get this kind of attention. He made you feel like the most beautiful woman on earth. The sweet nothings he whispered in your ear with his strong Spanish accent would haunt you for months. You were sure of it!

He took you back to his hotel room and quickly it was clear where it was going. But he didn't just take what he wanted. He gave so much back. He was very attentive, immediately noticed what your body reacted to pleasurably and applied it conscientiously in the following rounds. Rounds, several. This man had the highest sex drive you have ever experienced. It is still a mystery to you how you kept up with him. Probably the curiosity and the secrecy he brought with him.

There was no thought of sleep and as soon as the first rays of sunlight fell into the room, you squirmed out of his arms and packed up your belongings. Your cell phone lay on a nightstand cabinet right next to him. As you were about to reach for it, his hand held you back by your wrist. Earlier, he had been sound asleep, so you look at him, a little startled.

"Stay." he murmurs in a raspy morning voice, with tousled hair and a sleepy dreamy look on his face, "At least for breakfast."

And breakfast turned into dinner, another night once again filled with lustful and mind-blowing sex, leading to another breakfast including a day on the golf course. He invited you to the Grand Prix in Belgium. You declined, your plane was going back home the next day and your work was already waiting for you. You exchanged numbers and wrote animated messages since you parted ways at the airport. You weren’t looking for anything. Men like him only break your heart. So stick to: Only sex, no hard feelings. You kept telling it to yourself.

The messages became more intense. More intimate. Until he wrote how much he missed you and couldn’t wait to see you again. You would be lying if you said you didn't like it. He wanted to get to know you and remained persistent. After Spa was the summer break and he wants to spend it with you. Only with you. All alone. He persuaded you with the tongues of angels. He's damn good at it. And in the end, he succeeded. You requested a workation and before you knew it, you were already spending the third week with him on Mallorca.

He pampers you from head to toe. Takes you out to the best restaurants, goes shopping with you, shows you his favorite places on the island and night after night you have uninhibited and passionate sex. It feels like a dream. Almost too good to be true. You enjoy every second of it. Like now, when you're tanning in the Spanish sun on his boat as your peace is suddenly disturbed by cold drops of salt water. You wince and pull your new sunglasses off your nose, "Hey!" you exclaim indignantly. You blink up at him, and he stands triumphantly above you, blocking out the sun. His facial expressions were barely visible because of the shadows. More drops of water roll off his well-toned, tanned torso and continue to land on you. He runs a hand through his hair and tucks it back.

"I don't want you to get burned..." he warns you, presumably referring to the sun.

"I won't." you reply confidently, but you don't really know what you mean by that.

Carlos runs his fingers over his mouth. He can't deny it. He is crazy about you. You've flashed him and he needs you in his life. Slowly, he gets down on his knees and settles between your legs. Gladly, you open them invitingly and grant him the space he needs. He leans forward and props himself up on his forearms next to your head. Immediately, you sink into his warm brown eyes, which seem so dominant and caring at the same time. His nose lightly touches yours and as soon as you feel the contact, you close your eyes and lift your chin. With a grin on his lips, he kisses you. Gently, almost tentatively. Rarely has anyone kissed you so well. His kisses taste salty from the seawater. Your hands wander into his wet curls as your kiss intensifies. He moans into your mouth and breathes your name excitedly. You want more. You want him. Now. In the middle of the day, on this boat. You don't care if or who sees you. Fortunately, today Carlos has headed for a bay that no one but you have visited so far.

He will follow your request. Immediately. His lips wander and now they caress the sensitive skin of the crook of your neck. In response, you wrap your legs around his middle and draw in a sharp breath as his wet and cool swim trunks touch your inner thighs. You feel more than just that. Greedily, you bite your lower lip as you feel his already stiff cock against your clothed core and you know what to expect. Carlos, on the other hand, continues to kiss your neck undisturbed and now goes down on your body. Starting between your breasts. With his hands, he parted your bikini top and caressed your two nipples. Meanwhile, you could no longer suppress a moan and lift your chest lustfully towards him. A sign for Carlos not to stop. On the contrary, he must take it to the extreme. His mouth wanders further down from your breasts to your belly and now lingers at the cuff of your bikini thong. He looks up at you and sees how you continue to bite your lower lip and squirm with pleasure under his touch and kisses. Grinning, he lets one hand wander up to your breasts again and grabs one of them hard. You moan louder now and press your thighs together.

He takes advantage of the moment and inserts his other hand into your thong. First he only lightly strokes your Venus mound with his fingers, then he goes with two fingers through your already wet folds. Again, you moan loudly and your grip in his hair becomes more hearty. "Carlos, please..." you beg for a release. Quickly, he strips the piece of fabric from the thong that is annoying for him from your hips and replaces his fingers with his tongue. Greedily, he sucks your clit into his mouth. Again and again he looks up at you and this time your eyes meet. He is so eager to give you the pleasure of your life that you are unbridled by his passion, which drives like electricity through your body. He adds his fingers and continues to watch you. You were about to explode. He knows exactly which buttons to push on you to get you where he wants you to be. Whimpering and begging for more. He loves to see you like this.

"Need you inside me. Now." You sigh demanding and it sounds like music to his ears. You don't have to tell him twice. He straightens his upper body and quickly strips his swim shorts off. He moans in release as his cock is finally freed from the now too tight shorts. You prop yourself up on your forearms and can't take your eyes off his beautiful body. Everything about him is perfect, as if he were made for you. He positions himself in front of your core, slowly and gently enters you and places his hands on your hips. Your hands run over his upper arms. His skin feels warm and soft under your fingers. He starts to move and quickly finds his rhythm, which gives you this special feeling. His thrusts become faster and stronger. Just the way you like it. You grip his upper arms harder as the knot in your abdomen tightens. By now, you are moaning together. Some strands of his hair have fallen into Carlos' face. Over and over, your eyes meet. His eyes are almost black and have something animalistic about them that makes you go crazy. You want to feel him more intensely, so now you put your legs on his shoulders. Carlos understands immediately. He loves this position. He wraps his arms around your thighs to keep you close to him. His rhythm increases again and lets you see stars. 

His gaze continues to be directed at you. Your pleasure satisfies him more than anything. As you let your eyes roll into the back of your head, he loses all restraint. He squeezes his arms so hard now that you swear he will leave bruises on your thighs. But you don't care. You would wear them with pride. His thrusts become messier. It won't take him much longer and neither will you. The knot is about to burst.

"Carlos, I... I..." you gasp out, but you're lost for words. "Cum with me, Bebé." he hisses through his teeth, dropping his head back into his neck now and a loud howl escapes his throat. He looked so damn sexy right now. That sight makes you climax immediately. Your legs tremble and exhausted, you let them slide off his shoulders. Carlos is also out of breath. With a satisfied smile, he leans forward again, laying on top of you and burying his face in the crook of your neck again. His weight on you just feels divine.

Your nails roam in gentle circular motions over his broad shoulder blades. You hear a satisfied sigh and enjoy this intimate moment with him. "I wish I could stay here forever..." you whisper in his ear. He turns his head to look at you. He smiles at you, the sun's rays falling into his eyes, making them look amber, almost golden. "Join me. Next week. To Zandvoort." His previously demanding look now changes to a begging one that you can't resist. You have to grin and say, "I'll think about it..." already knowing your answer is yes.

[iron-strangers]

of breakfast and sweet lullabies

Summary: Din Djarin is not an early bird. But there's one way to convince him to be one.

Pairing: The Mandalorian (Din Djarin) x Female Jedi!Reader

Tags: Established Relationship, Mand’alor Din Djarin, Morning Sex, Kitchen Sex, Unprotected p-in-v, Creampie. I mean they are married and she's pregnant already

CW: Pregnancy, No use of Y/N, NSFW MINORS DNI

Length: 1.5k

A/N: This fic is a part of an ongoing series, posted on AO3.

Read this on AO3 : of breakfast and sweet lullabies

Prequel to Aliit

Link to the series on ao3, tumblr

-

As the soft light of dawn filters through the curtains, Din stirs awake from his slumber, the warmth of his bed reluctant to release him. Stretching languidly, he blinks away the remnants of sleep with dismay, frowning when his stretched arm doesn't find the warm body of his riduur. His senses gradually awakened to the familiar sounds of home. A gentle melody wafts through the air, drawing Din from the comfort of his bed. Curiosity wins, he rises from the bed and follows the melodic trail, where his feet lead him toward the heart of his home.

There, standing by the stove, is his beloved riduur.

Your silhouette is illuminated by the soft glow of the morning light. With a gentle sway, you hum a lullaby, your voice a soothing serenade that wraps around Din like an embrace. One hand effortlessly flips eggs with practiced ease while your left hand is raised, manipulating the force, levitating plates and glasses from the cabinets. The tantalizing aroma of freshly brewed caf and breakfast fills the air, mingling with the sweet notes of your song, Din is still watching in awe as you move with grace and tenderness around the kitchen.

“Kandosii sa kyr'am ast, troan teroch jetiise a'den,” you sing softly, caressing your growing bump, singing an old Mandalorian war chant to your baby instead of core-world lullabies. Unable to resist, Din quietly approaches you from behind, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting hiazs chin on your shoulder. You lean back to his bare chest, clearly expecting the embrace, soaking in his warmth. Can't sneak up on a jetii , Din thinks, scratching your shoulder with his stubbles.

“Duraan vi at ara'nov, vode an, kar’ta tor,” Din joins in, both of you singing the last two lines of the chant. You look back at him, your face breaking into a radiant smile before burying your nose into his curls, pressing a sweet kiss to his temple. 

“Morning, mesh’la,” Din smiles, kissing your shoulder, tightening his hug and pulling your body closer to his. “Hey there, ad’ika," Din coos, his voice filled with adoration as he greets his baby. "Are you having a dance party in there? Keeping your momma awake, huh?"

You chuckle, absently tracing circles on Din’s hand. "You know," you tease, "every time you talk to the baby, they kick like crazy. I swear, it's like they’re trying to tell you to pipe down."

Din grins, his gaze softening as he looks at his wife. "But how can I resist talking to our ad'ika?" he replies, his voice laced with affection. 

You roll your eyes playfully, but your heart swells with love at Din’s words. "I know, I know," you huff, unable to hide the smile tugging at the corners of your lips. Din can’t resist the urge to put his hands over your belly once more, whispering sweet nothings to his verd’ika. And true to form, the baby responds with a flurry of kicks and movements, eliciting a groan of mock annoyance from you.

"Oh, see what you have done?" you complain but your tone is teasing as you nudge Din with your elbow. "Now they're all riled up."

Din grins unabashedly, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "I can't help it," he laughs, "I just love them so much already."

Grinning, you lean your head on his shoulder, pressing open-mouthed kisses to Din's jaws. Your bodies sway together from side to side as you finish up making breakfast, setting everything on the dining table with the force. Din smiles against your temple when he feels another kick on his hand. His hands sneak underneath your robes, smirking against your neck when he feels skin and nothing else underneath. He roams your body, massaging your aching breast and trailing his hand down, stopping on your belly, caressing the stretched skin as he nips his marks on your neck. 

You feel him grinding against your thighs and you gasp, feeling the heat of arousal pooling in your center. Whimpering, you grind against his thickening length. You reach back, running your hand over the outline of his cock through the fabric, slipping your hand down the waistband of his pants, teasing and squeezing him with your fingers, smearing his precum all over the tip. Din groans, catching your hand and slips it out, ignoring your disappointed whine to pull his pants down. His cock slaps against his belly, hard and already wet from his precum. He takes your robes off your back, throwing the thin silk down the floor and he bends you towards the counter, still ever so careful with your growing bump.

“Mesh’la,” Din praises, parting your folds with two big fingers. He scoops some of your slick around and spreads his fingers all over your clit. You let out a low protest as his fingers leave you, stroking himself slowly with your arousal before nestling the red, flared tip of his cock between your folds, gathering up the creamy mess.

“Gonna let me fuck you like this, sweet girl?” He grunts low in your ear, giving your clit a well-deserved attention with his swollen, leaking head gliding through you.

“Yes, please- Oh, Din!”

He watches you desperately moan for him, whining needily as he buries all of himself into you in one deep thrust, pushing himself in easily with the slick that’s been pooling from all his teasing. Your cheek squished against the cold tile of your kitchen counter, looking back to meet Din’s eyes as he holds your hips in place and fucks into you. 

“You do, yeah, mesh’la? Always so desperate to take my dick." Din murmurs his praises, hissing when he feels your pussy fluttering around him, struggling to take his girth. He swears when he hears the sloppy squelching sounds of him pounding into your tight heat. He keeps on hitting the spot inside of you that makes you see stars, over and over again. “That’s a good girl, my perfect little riduur. Let me hear you, cyar’ika.”

“Fuck- Din, fuck my pussy so good, daddy-”

Manda. Din knows you know what that word did to him-

Din drapes himself across your back, pressing you down to the counter. He sneaks one hand down, rubbing tight circles on your swollen clit, completely fucking the ability to form any thoughts out from your brain. He’s basking himself with your filthy moans and screams that come from the sharp, long snap of his hips, going as deep as your pussy will allow him. Din feels the sweet clench of your pussy around the base of his cock, familiar with all the signs that his riduur is going to cum hard.

“Want me to fill you up, rid'ika? Want to feel it dripping out of you?” Din asks in a low, rough grunt and you respond with a flurry of desperate nods.

“Yes, fill me up, please, cyare, want your cum inside me!”

“I know, momma, just let it all out. Take what you need, sweet girl. I’ve got you, cum on my cock.”

You seize in his hold as he continues to roll his hips against yours, feeling boneless from the pleasure that hums through every nerve. You cum with an arch of your back followed by a cry of Din’s name and he groans at the flutter of your walls around him, gripping him so tight in your warmth. He can barely get out a handful of thrusts before he's spilling deep inside of you.

“Fuck, that’s my girl,” Din groans in your ear, murmuring sweet praises and sucking his bite marks all over your neck and your shoulder, holding your shivering body up by your hips. “Too rough?”

You shake your head from the counter, too comfortable to even lift it from the cool tile. “So fucking good,” you hum pleasantly, holding your hand up and a towel flies across the room to your waiting palm. Din slowly eases himself out of you and you moan, feeling his load drip out of you. Din groans, scooping his leaking spend from your thighs with his finger and plugging it all back into your fucked out cunt. He plants a deep lingering kiss on your lips and he takes the towel from your hand, wetting it and wiping the shared mess between you two, careful when you start to hiss from over-stimulation.

“Hey, love? Can you help your gooey puddle of a wife up to the chair?” You ask, flashing him your best attempt at puppy eyes. Din smirks, pulling his pants back up before helping you back into your discarded robe, lifting you to the breakfast stool.

“Take a breather, cyar’ika, I’ll go get Grogu,” Din kisses the top of your head and flicks your nose before he goes to wake the child up, smiling to himself when he watches your nose wrinkle. You playfully shoo him as you tie your robes up, huffing about having to disinfect the kitchen after breakfast. 

If every morning started out like this, Din will never complains again for the rest of his life.

-

Song used in this fic: Ka’rta tor by Jesse Harlin

Ka'rta Tor (Heart of Justice)

Mando'a

Kandosii sa kyr'am ast,

Troan teroch jetiise a'den,

Duraan vi at ara'nov.

Vode an, ka'rta tor.

Translation

As ruthless as Death itself,

The pitiless face of The Jedi's wrath,

Let us look down on all who are before us.

Brothers all, one heart of justice.

[orianagportfolio]

Dopo la pandemia è tornato il Cirque du Soleil. Il «Cercatore» esplora il cielo e il mare in un’atmosfera steampunk. / Il Bullone - OrianaG

Pubblicato su Il Bullone n° 74, maggio 2023.

Faccio richiesta di accredito da giornalista, accennando anche alla disabilità, ma senza presentarla come punto principale.

«Buongiorno Oriana, grazie per la mail. Perdonami se sono indiscreta, potresti darci qualche informazione in più rispetto alla tua disabilità così da poter tornare da te con le giuste risposte?». «Buongiorno Giulia, nessuna indiscrezione, anzi grazie. Spesso cammino con la stampella e, quando riesco, cerco di non affrontare posti affollati da sola. La situazione ideale sarebbe almeno una riduzione (mi rendo conto che la gratuità non sia sempre attuabile) e la possibilità di un accompagnatore (anche se non è previsto dal mio verbale INPS). Non ho necessità dei posti riservati a spettatori non deambulanti (c’è chi ne ha più bisogno di me). Riesco tranquillamente a fare le scale».

I posti assegnati sono perfetti. Una prima fila in 2° settore, sul corridoio. Le mie gambe possono stendersi, e la stampella non intralcia il passaggio a nessuno. Anche la visibilità è perfetta, ma lo è da ogni postazione, il tendone è costruito apposta. Non mi sembra vero di non dover mostrare verbali, giusti carmi, sbattere contro un «nulla di fatto». È talmente semplice da sembrare stupido: in mancanza di una regola uguale per tutti, e non potendo conoscere i bisogni di ogni spettatore disabile, bisogna chiedere e smettere di pensare di essere indiscreti. Grazie Giulia e Valeria, spero tanto che altri colleghi prendano esempio!

Il Cirque du Soleil manca dall’Italia dal 2019. Doveva tornare nel 2021 e nel 2022, ma il Covid l’ha bloccato. Finalmente abbiamo in mano due accrediti per Roma, Tor di Quinto. L’enorme tendone giallo e blu starà qui per un mese, poi a Milano. Kurios - Cabinet of curiosities è un viaggio nel tempo agli albori dell’elettricità, dei primi aeroplani, della tecnologia. In un’atmosfera steampunk esplora il cielo e il mare attraverso lo sguardo del Cercatore, scienziato sognatore che ci guida tra invenzioni e scoperte, accompagnato dal signor Microcosmos, creatura a vapore, Nico, l’uomo fisarmonica e Klara, la donna telegrafo.

La bocca rimane spalancata dallo stupore per due ore. Non solo la visibilità è perfetta dappertutto, ma in ogni posto si assiste a uno spettacolo diverso. In ogni momento, ogni artista e movimento di contorno sono accurati quanto il numero principale. In ogni punto dove posi lo sguardo, c’è un micro spettacolo in corso. Nessun dettaglio a caso, anche i macchinisti a vista, l’americana che sorregge le luci, o il trasmettitore del microfono dei musicisti sono «vestiti» in stile Kurios.

Dalla pancia del signor Microcosmos si srotola una locomotiva, ne escono ballerini, giocolieri, percussionisti che riempiono la pista. Un’enorme mano meccanica sorregge il contorsionismo di strane creature marine. Due gemelli siamesi si separano, la libertà di un corpo solo nel volteggio delle cinghie aeree. Un mondo parallelo capovolto incornicia il numero d’equilibrio sulle sedie. Una ciclista vola sulle nostre teste, anche lei sottosopra. Pesci volanti. Grammofoni. Robot costruiti con scarti. Bambole di porcellana. Arcobaleni pescatori. Aerei e aviatori. Un circo invisibile. Gatti. Orologi da taschino che diventano yo-yo.

Una folle meraviglia. Bentornato Cirque!

[simoneandherbooks]

Book mail is the best mail! Thanks to the publishers tagged for the gifted books. What’s a book you preordered recently? I preordered my copy of The Fires of Vengeance on paperback in November. It was right after I finished the first book, The Rage of Dragons, wanted to read the second book, couldn’t get it at the library, and they only had the hardcover editions. I’m not usually one to wait for a specific edition to come out, but I definitely needed both of these to match on my bookshelf. Have you ever done that before? I’m also excited for The Princess Will Save you by Sarah Henning as well as it’s sequel. They had me hooked when they compared it to The Princess Bride! And omggg, Tor is always delivering with some incredible novellas, so I’m very excited for In the Watchful City by S. Qiouyi Lu! Here’s more about it: Anima is an extrasensory human tasked with surveilling and protecting Ora’s citizens via a complex living network called the Gleaming. Although ær world is restricted to what æ can see and experience through the Gleaming, Anima takes pride and comfort in keeping Ora safe from harm. When a mysterious outsider enters the city carrying a cabinet of curiosities from around with the world with a story attached to each item, Anima’s world expands beyond the borders of Ora to places—and possibilities—æ never before imagined to exist. But such knowledge leaves Anima with a question that throws into doubt ær entire purpose: What good is a city if it can’t protect its people? https://www.instagram.com/p/CQjS2IwllQa/?utm_medium=tumblr

[mercurial-muses]

Meeting of the Minds

Valdyss has nearly completed her first phase of research into ley lines and places of magical power in Drustvar. I realized last night that, since a lot of that has been happening in one-on-one RP or 'off screen' completely, there's no way my Autumnhearth guildies and those who RP with us would know that. I'm posting this scene with my writing partner's permission to catch everyone up a little. As a bonus, y'all get to meet Faye's younger sister, Asta.

- - - - -

Valdyss may have met one of the Ladies of Frostfall, but the second remained apparently rather elusive.

Where Faye spent a good deal of time in her workshop, Asta was across the hall in the keep’s study. The other Lady Callahan slowly opened the door and took a step outside. Not out of caution, but because she was distracted. Another book sat open in her hand as she gradually walked out from the study. ‘Rumination on the Elements and Nature,’ read the title. Yet another way to feed her curiosity about the ways of nature based magic.

Asta frowned slightly as she went over one particular passage, moving down the hall with the sort of practiced, subconscious ease one might expect from a regular resident. She was headed towards the kitchen apparently, with the unconscious desire for food.

At least she was going to try and eat unlike someone else in the keep.

The portal behind Valdyss blinked from existence with a quiet whoosh, plunging the spacious guest room into darkness. A snap of the mage’s fingers conjured a tiny flame that hovered between them for a few seconds before it grew into a fiery ball the size of a marble and moved to levitate over her palm. The illumination it provided did little more than push back the shadows immediately in front of her, but it was enough light to allow her to get to the door without taking a header over anything that might be in her path.

Val opened the door with her free hand and, standing in a rectangle of light cast into the room from the hallway, she shook her other hand to extinguish the fire it held. She waved away a wisp of smoke as she stepped into the hallway… and very nearly right into a woman passing by the room. “Oh!” she yelped, unconsciously bringing a hand up to cover her galloping heart. “Light, I’m sorry. I didn’t see you coming.”

Asta subconsciously moved away from the sudden figure, but the yelp drew her eyes away from her text towards the mage. They were a much darker blue than Faye’s and currently filled with both alarm and confusion.

She shut the book in her hand sharply, giving Valdyss a once over. “That’s…fine. Who are you?” With the small number of servants they had, it wasn’t hard to recognize this was not one of their friends. And she couldn’t recognize her from the village either.

Nerd that she was, Val’s attention was almost immediately drawn to the book in the woman’s hand. That, combined with a beauty that was so familiar by now, made all the pieces click. “Asta?” she said, brow raised.

“Valdyss Duskbane, but Val’s fine.” The mage made a critical study of the other woman and, noting the alarm in her eyes, remained alert for sudden movements or any other signs of a fight. “I come in peace, I swear just don’t…” The fingers of her left hand wiggled in the general direction of the floor as she held her right one out in a defensive position. “Don’t root me, or whatever.”

Valdyss would have to look up to meet the woman's gaze, as Asta stood easily over 6' tall. The recognition was confusing up until Val introduced herself.

The alarm dropped from faintly familiar features. Asta's entire posture relaxed with a small huff. "You're Valdyss?" The younger Callahan asked, looking the mage over in a new light. She pursed her lips for a moment before humming with a shrug. "Mmm, I think I get it."

Nonetheless she offered a hand out towards Val. "I am Asta, yes. My apologies for the suspicion. I didn't recognize you, nor did I know you'd be visiting us today. Usually Faye warns me so I don't barge in and make a fool of her. Well, more than she already is anyhow."

Val grinned up at Asta as she took the younger Callahan’s hand in a firm grip. “I am indeed Valdyss.” She withdrew her hand and instead gripped the strap of her pack and pulled it a little higher on her shoulder. “And I am also at fault for you not being warned of my arrival. Faye’s not expecting me yet.”

A faint blush began to rise in the mage’s cheeks as she continued on. “I finished up earlier than expected in Dalaran and, um...” She paused, cleared her throat.

“Well, I was wandering around to kill time and came across a vendor selling a spiced liquor that I thought would add a nice kick to the Crackle n’ Apple.” Val’s hands moved as she spoke and her expression grew animated in her explanation. “And then I found this roasted pork tenderloin and thought that along with some brie would pair really well with the apple and-” Her words tapered off into a chuckle. Val shrugged. “And I didn’t want to wait any longer to see her, okay?”

An amused expression very similar to the one her sister often got grew across Asta's face. She just waved the fluster off with an easy gesture before turning.

"Then by all means: I was headed towards the kitchen anyways. I can help you make the drink and you'll get to kick in Faye's workshop door to make her eat this time. Stag knows you'll probably be a lot more appealing than me getting to lecture her again." Asta snorts, starting to walk off.

"Do you honestly think Faye takes issue with you interrupting her?" Val called to Asta's back as sped to catch up to the retreating woman. She fell into pace at her side and looked up at her. "Asta, your sister adores you."

Asta lets out a soft scoff. "Oh no, I don't really. Well. Most of the time." She corrects with a pause. "The one time she spilled Shroom Bloom on herself was a... very interesting incident." Despite that, there's a hint of fiendish delight that crosses Asta's expressions for a moment. But then it's gone, and she's looking to Valdyss.

"But I adore my sister as well. And if you do too, you'll know I essentially have to intrude or she'd be in there for hours without a drop of water."

“I do,” Val replied without missing a beat. She hefted the pack hanging off her shoulders to emphasize her point. “It’s exactly why I ran around half of Dalaran putting together a meal before finally caving to my haste to get here. "Brought plenty for three, by the way,” she added with a smile.

Asta shot Valdyss a look when that little addition was made. “Trying to curry favor with food?” she quipped with a faint smirk. “My my, you may be as smart as Faye claims.”

“Not looking to curry favor as much as to take advantage of an opportunity to get to know you better.” Val had to jog for a few steps to catch up to Asta’s side again. These tall Callahan women and their long strides. “If it isn’t already, I believe it will become important to your sister that we meet and spend some time together. Light, at least I hope my read on things is correct in that regard.”

Asta finally made it to the kitchen with Val: a large space with a stone oven, some door inlaid with runes, a healthy fireplace, and many more stonework "appliances." Magic hung thick in the room as Asta went to open another door and begin pulling out what must have been supplies to make the Crack N' Apple.

"If she's as fond of you as I suspect, and this continues as it does, I suspect the same." Asta commented. "But that extends both ways, you know. I'd like to understand just who my sister is seeing."

Blue eyes shifted aside to look at Valdyss pointedly, framed by the shorter blonde hair on her head. There was no maliciousness to the statement: no threat. But she was observing the woman.

Valdyss had no control over the grin that transformed her previously tense features, and wouldn’t have tried to compose herself even if it was possible. Of all the emotions she could wear outwardly like a badge of honor, those she felt growing for Faye were among the most important.

“Well, to use a cliche I suspect you’ll appreciate, I am an open book.” As she spoke, Val unpacked the food and then bustled around the kitchen, gathering what she’d need to warm the tenderloin and then plate it up along with the cheese. "I don’t have a thing to hide, so ask away.”

"Well first- Oh here." Asta moved aside and got a large metal pan. She walked over to the fireplace and slid the pan into a niche made partway up the stony alcove. Reaching below, with a murmur, Asta ignited the rune carved there and a hearty fire sprung to life.

"There you are: and the plates are right over there." Asta pointed to a cabinet in question before returning to making her drink. "First: why were you in Dalaran? I was told you are doing some studies there? Something about ley lines I believe."

Valdyss muttered a quiet thanks as she crossed to the cabinet Asta had gestured to. She grabbed three plates and brought them back to the counter closest to where Asta was working. “I’ve been trying to locate areas of concentrated arcane energy here in Drustvar. My hope is to use those as pinpoints that can then be connected together to accurately map the network of main ley lines in this region.”

The mage peeked into the stone recess to check on the roast, smiling as she inhaled the pleasant scent of rosemary. “This trip wasn’t to research as much as it was to log my findings so far.” She shook her head. “The Kirin Tor doesn’t have nearly as much data about Drustvar as I imagined they would, and I intend to remedy that.” Val sighed. “The dark history of your homeland and the potential for that history to repeat itself is just too important to go unnoted.”

Asta, meanwhile, was busying herself with mixing their drinks. She was listening of course, judging from the eventual hum that left her as Valdyss finished speaking.

"Interesting. And what have you found so far? I have a sneaking suspicion a lot of the arcane points of power would likely also be tied towards important places for natural magic."

Val nodded. “What I'm seeing here in Drustvar is consistent with the relationship between ley lines and places of power all over the world. Sites that hold a concentration of arcane magic are either over a main ley line- a trunk, if you will -or where two or more smaller branches intersect.” Talking with her hands as always, the mage crossed her index fingers to illustrate that last point.

“As for natural energy being tied to sites of power in the same way arcane is, that makes complete sense to me.” She leaned one hip against the counter and watched Asta work for a moment before adding, “I can give you copies of the final map and my findings once I have it all pulled together, if you’d like.”

Asta glanced over to the mage as she spoke, and there was clear interest in her expression. Even more so when the offer of a map came into the picture.

"I would absolutely love a copy, if that were possible." She agreed, putting the whipped creme into each of the three glasses. "My knowledge of ley lines is not quite as advanced, but they are rather intriguing. It feels as though the notion of arcane magic isn't quite as talked about around here, despite the Lord Admiral's daughter being a particularly potent mage herself. Or perhaps even more so because of that, actually."

“Ah. We mainlanders with our strange Light and magic, eh?” Val replied, adding a wink for Asta.

The mage looked in on the roast again and, seeing it would likely be perfectly browned in a few minutes, she turned to the counter and unwrapped the round of brie she'd brought. “I’d be interested in visiting a few of the mapped sites with you.” Val centered the cheese on a plate and held her open hand a couple of inches over it, palm down.

“My theory is that you may feel a stronger pull of nature magic there, just as I will with the arcane.” As she spoke, a flickering red glow illuminated the space between her palm and the plate. The brie began to bubble and melt.

“Not to say they’re the same magic. I mean, they’re channeled in different ways, as far as I know,” Val continued. “But I believe that- in the most elemental sense -nature and arcane magic come from the same energy, so I think we’d prove that there are more similarities in the way that our people actually conjure and wield magic than there are differences.”

Asta was in the middle of sprinkling the cinnamon across the drinks when Val made her second offer.

Her hands paused in their work, hovering there for a moment in thought. She continued shortly after, but seemed ever so slightly distracted. It might be subtle enough for Valdyss to miss initially.

"It would be something, certainly, depending on the days you'd choose. I have not gotten the chance to read much into the interplay between the Arcane and Natural magics: most of mine have to do with the latter. Aren't you the Steward of Autumnhearth as well, yes?"

Val nodded. “I am...well, I will be.” She lifted her hand away from the now perfectly gooey round of brie. “I'm currently the Court Secretary and, as honored as I am to have the role, I’m not sure I would have accepted it if I had the impression that all of my time would have to be dedicated to that alone.”

As she spoke, the mage moved to the oven to remove the tenderloin. Once she’d set that down to cool, Valdyss swiped a hand across the rune carved low on the fireplace, cutting off the flame. “As it is, I’ll have the flexibility to choose days that are convenient for you.” She leveled a gaze at Asta, softened by a warm and genuine smile. “We both know your sister won’t need any convincing to cut you loose from here for a little while.”

And here, Asta stopped. She stared down at the three prepared drinks with an intensity they didn't deserve. It was a few seconds before she turned her attention towards Valdyss and smiled politely.

"Well," She finally said, picking up the drinks, "I suppose I'll just have to speak with her on the matter." And that was that. "Now, what can you tell me about your work in Autumnhearth? It seems to be quite the up and coming barony in Drustvar, which is good given everything that's happened."

Valdyss was tempted to push because she knew how much Faye adored Asta and desired more for her and- unexpectedly -because she already liked the younger Callahan enough herself to want to help. It wasn’t the mage’s place though, and Asta’s curt response and quick change of subject only drove that fact further home. ‘What do you know about family matters anyway?’ the mage silently mused to herself.

Taking the hint, Val found a cutting board and set to work slicing the meat as she spoke. “It’s my duty to represent and speak for Autumnhearth, in person or by correspondence, when the Hallewells aren’t available or have had to recuse themselves.” She shrugged. “I haven’t had to do much of anything yet, but I’m ready and honored to… and a bit nervous to, if I’m being honest.”

Valdyss grew quiet then, clearly lost in her own thoughts. The silence between her and Asta didn’t feel uncomfortable, not to her anyway, and she briefly wondered if it was the same for the other woman. She slid the precisely sliced tenderloin onto a plate and tilted it so there was a little space between each slice, allowing one to see beyond the golden seared surface to the pale meat in the center. Grabbing up the pan, she poured the juices- dotted with rosemary, pepper, and garlic -over the roast.

“Promise I’ll help clean up later,” Val said, eyes on the plates of meat and cheese as she picked them up. “But, for now, I think we’re ready to eat.”

tagging @merelliahallewell and @alexandriawilliams for brief mention of the Hallewells

[metoothemoonalice-blog]

SMALL-TOWN WOOD

 The dangerous curiosity

behind small-town politeness.

 The tidy bachelor’s

maple cabinet of

tragic secrets.

 People relaxed with

bottled Cokes,

as simple and elegant

as the wood.

  Remix from:  Pike, Christopher.

The Shaktra. NY: Tor Press, 2005.

Pg. 170.

[tawneybel]

Male Characters Who Get Possessed

Note: Or infested. Be free to suggest more characters. Female list. 

Vector from Alita: Battle Angel 

prison guard from American Horror Story: 1984 (“Episode 100″)

Jed Potter from American Horror Story: Asylum (“Tricks and Treats”)

Otho from Beetlejuice 

Brian from Brain Damage 

Angel from Buffy the Vampire Slayer (“I Only Have Eyes for You”)

fighting boy from Buffy the Vampire Slayer (“I Only Have Eyes for You”) 

George from Buffy the Vampire Slayer (“I Only Have Eyes for You”) 

Rupert Giles from Buffy the Vampire Slayer (“Bad Eggs”) 

Kyle DuFours from Buffy the Vampire Slayer (“The Pack”) 

Xander Harris from Buffy the Vampire Slayer (“The Pack”) 

Tor Hauer from Buffy the Vampire Slayer (“The Pack”) 

Dr. Harvey from Casper 

Isaac Chroner from Children of the Corn 

Gabriel from Children of the 666: Isaac’s Return 

Micah from Children of the Corn II: The Final Sacrifice

Arnie Cunningham from Christine 

Demon Nick from No Touching (Crypt TV)

Lincoln from Demonic Toys 

Baby Pig from Demons (Added 1/8/2025.)

Bob from Demons (Added 1/8/2025.)

Frank from Demons (Added 1/8/2025.)

Hotdog from Demons (Added 1/8/2025.)

Jerry from Demons (Added 1/8/2025.)

Ken from Demons (Added 1/8/2025.)

Liz’s lover from Demons (Added 1/8/2025.)

Ripper from Demons (Added 1/8/2025.)

Tommy from Demons (Added 1/8/2025.)

Tony from Demons (Added 1/8/2025.)

Werner from Demons (Added 1/8/2025.)

Jeremy Baines from Doctor Who (“Human Nature”/“The Family of Blood”)

Tenth Doctor from Doctor Who (“New Earth”)

Toby Zed from Doctor Who (“The Impossible Planet”)

various from Dominant Species 

Fisher Kent from Drive Thru 

Evan Jennings from EverymanHYBRID

Eric from Evil Dead 

Danny from Evil Dead Rise

Mr. Fonda from Evil Dead Rise 

Gabriel from Evil Dead Rise 

Father Damien Karras from The Exorcist

Edward Furlong from The Faculty 

Stan Rosado from The Faculty 

Joe Willis from The Faculty 

Charles’s killer from Fallen

executioner from Fallen 

Jonesy Jones from Fallen 

Lou from Fallen 

Mike from Fallen 

Charles Olom from Fallen 

Edgar Reese from Fallen 

Jay Reynolds from Fallen 

school teacher from Fallen 

society man from Fallen 

various from Fallen 

Isaac Milton from Fear Street: Part One - 1994

Harry Rooker from Fear Street: Part One - 1994 

Ryan Torres from Fear Street: Part One - 1994 

Cyrus Miller from Fear Street: Part Three - 1666 

Thomas Slater from Fear Street: Part Two - 1978

Louis Tully from Ghostbusters

Kevin Beckman from Ghostbusters: Answer the Call 

Lee Cunningham from Ghost in the Shell  

Joe Allen from Guillermo del Toro’s Cabinet of Curiosities (“The Autopsy”) 

Walter Gilman from Guillermo del Toro’s Cabinet of Curiosities (“The Dreams in the Witch House”) 

Carl Winters from Guillermo del Toro’s Cabinet of Curiosities (“The Autopsy”) 

Quirinus Quirrell from Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone

Philip Channard from Hellbound: Hellraiser II 

Peter Graham from Hereditary 

Henry from Incarnate 

Brackish Okun from Independence Day 

Josh Lambert from Insidious 

Dalton Lambert from Insidious: The Red Door 

Stone from Jack Frost

Robert Campbell from Jason Goes to Hell: The Final Friday

Josh from Jason Goes to Hell: The Final Friday

Phil from Jason Goes to Hell: The Final Friday

various in Venom (Kamikaze)

Jack Peruci from Medusa 

Tom Hanniger from My Bloody Valentine 3D 

Alex Dunkelman from My Soul to Take

Abel Plenkov from My Soul to Take

Owen Parchin from The Night House 

Brad from Night of the Creeps 

janitor from Night of the Creeps

Johnny from Night of the Creeps 

various from Night of the Creeps 

Jay from Night of the Demons 

Max from Night of the Demons

Sal from Night of the Demons 

Stooge from Night of the Demons

Colin Levy from Night of the Demons 2009 

Louis from Night of the Demons 2009 

Jason Rogers from Night of the Demons 2009 

Dex Thrilby from Night of the Demons 2009 

Jesse Walsh from A Nightmare on Elm Street 2: Freddy’s Revenge 

Clark from The Outer Limits (“From within”) 

Evan from The Outer Limits (“From within”) 

Jake Hart from The Outer Limits (“From within”) 

Sheriff Lewis from The Outer Limits (“From within”) 

Clyde Brenek from The Possession

Michael King from The Possession of Michael King

Jarrod from Power Rangers Jungle Fury 

beach guy from Scooby-Doo 

Brad from Scooby-Doo 

Coast Guard #2 from Scooby-Doo

Dead Mike’s bartender from Scooby-Doo 

Fitzgibbon from Scooby-Doo 

Melvin Doo from Scooby-Doo 

Stan Frazier from Scooby-Doo

guy who hung onto bike from Scooby-Doo 

DJ Homicide from Scooby-Doo

Fred Jones from Scooby-Doo

Murphy Karges from Scooby-Doo

Mark McGrath from Scooby-Doo

Rodney Sheppard from Scooby-Doo

soul guy from Scooby-Doo (As spookiestoflads said, “he has a body[,] right?”)

Spooky Hotel’s bartender from Scooby-Doo 

Training Video Guy #1 from Scooby-Doo 

Training Video Guy #2 from Scooby-Doo 

travelers from Scooby-Doo 

various dancers from Scooby-Doo 

Velma’s friend from Scooby-Doo 

Grant Grant from Slither

Mr. Strutemyer from Slither 

Wally from Slither

Charles Barkley from Space Jam 

Moggey Bogues from Space Jam 

Shawn Bradley from Space Jam 

Larry Johnson from Space Jam 

Billy Hargrove from Stranger Things 3

Tom Holloway from Stranger Things 3

Bruce Lowe from Stranger Things 3

Charlie Hobbs from The Stuff 

Jason’s father from The Stuff 

businessman from Suicide Squad 

Esteban Ramírez from The Suite Life of Zack & Cody (“The Ghost of Suite 613″)

Sam Winchester from Supernatural (“Born under a Bad Sign”) 

Duane Tanner from Supernatural (“Croatan”) 

hospital employee from Supernatural (“In My Time of Dying”)

co-pilot from Supernatural (“Phantom Traveler”)

Chuck Lambert from Supernatural (“Phantom Traveler”)

George Phelps from Supernatural (“Phantom Traveler”)

John Winchester from Supernatural (“Salvation”)

kumicho from Teen Wolf 

Jordan Parrish from Teen Wolf

Stiles Stilinski from Teen Wolf (season 3, part 2)

Jonah Hill from This Is the End

Hang Chang from Truth or Dare 

Tyson Curran from Truth or Dare 

Lucas Moreno from Truth or Dare

Ronnie Wakowski from Truth or Dare

Dale Cooper from Twin Peaks

Phillip Gerard from Twin Peaks

Leland Palmer from Twin Peaks

Eddie Brock from Venom

Carlton Drake from Venom

J.J. Jameson from Venom

Cletus Kasady from Venom: Let There Be Carnage 

To watch list: 

The Astronaut’s Wife

The Brain from Planet Arous

The Mummy 2017

Shadows of the Dead

Stephen King’s Desperation

[raystart]

From Berlin with Love

Feel free to take your time, but make sure you stamp your ticket or beware the ticket collector’s unsympathetic wrath, representing just one side of the many sided Berlin. Berlin has a special, peculiar, and particular history, and although it’s described by countless guides as the design city of today, it’s always been a design conscious city. In the early 20th Century, it was the first place in Europe to slice ornaments from building facades in a committed embrace of streamlined modernism.

Much has changed across the city’s façade since, but underground on the U-bahn you can clearly observe the blended traces of Berlin’s design history: some stations are Art Nouveau and German Jugenstil in style, others Bauhaus, 70s futurism, or contemporary, pastel-colored minimalism. It’s been nearly 30 years since the fall of the wall and above ground any signs are mostly gone, but the Cold War era’s clash of opposites remains on the U-Bahn: austere Soviet designs adorn former Eastern stations, and elaborate floral motifs carved in stone are preserved in the former Western ones. The only period not present along the platforms is the Nazi era, when stations were used for bomb shelters. Then again, as you pass through the morose platform of Mohrenstraße, you might feel a little chill learning that the red marble encasing the platform is recycled from Hitler’s former Reich Chancellor Building.

Finding your way—way finding—in this design conscious city, with its design conscious subway, is no simple task, but the U-bahn’s network system, organized by the renowned German typographer Erik Spiekermann and his agency MetaDesgin since 1992, attempts to ease your way and get you to where you want to go. It’s a riot of colors, and a brew of squares, circles and pictograms: This noisy system inherits the chaos of 19 different S-Bahn and U-bahn lines. Berlin is not so much a city formed around a central core but a constellation of separate planets each with its own peculiar forms of life, abstractly linked together by the network of subway tracks.

Because it’s Spiekermann that first guides us through Berlin’s underground, our first stop will be Bhf Bülowstrasse, to take a stroll up Potsdamer Strasse to Spiekermann’s p98a gallery and letterpress workshop. The street was once the locus for the edgy ambiguities of 1920s Weimar cabaret culture and Marlene Dietrich androgyny; today, it houses galleries, non-descript office blocks, and one euro bargain stores, as well as a conspicuously slick Acne shop, and the workplaces of local design studios like the modern, sophisticated HelloMe and the riotous, ramshackle illustration duo 44Flavours. World’s apart in style, but neighbors here in Berlin, which loves to mix things up.

Spiekermann’s p98a is the area’s most popular destination for visiting designers, and plenty of agencies book master-classes in letterpress with this master designer. Glimpse through the window, and you might spy Spiekermann himself high fiving and punching the air with his fist: his old school “no-bullshit” attitude makes him the champion of many, and an irritation—the dad rock of design—to others.

A short walk away from this letterpress haven—or at U-Bahn station Nollendorfplatz—is the great Bauhaus Archive, perched above the canal like an impassive white wave rising from the water. Erected in the 70s, the museum’s architecture draws is loosely inspired by an archive conceived by Bauhaus founder and architect Walter Gropius in the 1960s. Inside, a study in patience and precision, hushed art historians and design researchers sit bent over books, and the permanent collection displays iconic relics from Germany’s early modern years: great weaves by textile artist Anni Albers, paintings by Paul Klee, steel armchairs by Marcel Breuer, and other objects of design from the 20s and 30s produced by the famed and influential Bauhaus school.

The Bauhaus Archive. Image by BBB3viz.

Close by, on the other side of the sprawling Tiergarten Park with its dense cluster of pine trees, sits Berlin’s Hansaviertel. If German’s cool modernism emerged from the Bauhaus in the 20s, then this neighborhood was one of modernism’s climaxes: the housing development was built after World War II in a derelict area, constructed as part of the International Building Exhibition of 1957. Along the leafy, quiet streets are batteries of tower blocks, ribbon buildings, two modernist churches, and a glass library, designed by the period’s most significant architects.

After a morning at Spiekermann’s p98a, it makes sense to visit the Hansalviertel not only to see this plastic clad “city of tomorrow” but to seek out the Buchstabenmusum (called the “Alphabet Museum” in English) situated quietly under the tracks of the over-ground station Bellevue. The first museum in the world to preserve and display letters from public spaces and provide information about their origin and construction, the Alphabet Museum was founded 11 years ago by graphic designer Barbara Dechant, who began collecting after she first rescued from a dumpster a car radio sign reading “A U T O R A D I O”. Hundreds of letters destined for scrap heaps have been salvaged and preserved in a dusty storage unit; there’s neon, metal, and wooden characters in a variety of styles and colors— amidst the letters and dirt, you can construct a story of Berlin and sense a few ghosts.

Back on the U-Bahn, following the many symbols devised by Spiekermann, head to the station Kottbusser Tor, in the Kreuzberg district, for lunch. This bucolic, graffitied neighborhood teems with bars, co-working hubs, dentists, falafel shops, gambling houses, fruit markets, ice cream shacks, as well as concept stores like the stylish fashion destination VooStore, and the chaotic zine shop Motto books, but walking along the area’s wide pavements, you can easily ignore how packed together everything is. There is a kind of discreet harmony to it all, as though it was always meant to be this way; Berlin as energy, and disguise.

The Kottbusser Tor transit stop and the market hall. Photos by Ina Niehoff.

From here, head towards Markethalle Neun, a market place or “culinary epicentre” situated under a large, broken roof and crammed with international food vendors advertising their fair on home-made posters and handsomely scribed blackboards. Today’s signs framing another Berlin: Cheese platters & Olives. Veggie Wurst. Craft beer. Kimchi Burgers. Ginger Lemonade. Freshly Baked Ciabatta.

This is a lunch spot for co-workers busying themselves behind the glass windows of storefronts, or trickling out from former factory buildings that have been converted into spacious offices. Spot a group of women who whimsically but provocatively call themselves “Parallel Universe” sat together in the market hall drinking ginger lemonade on a wooden picnic bench: this group of six female illustrators have gathered to swap advice on art directors—who pays on time, who is best to work with—and to collaborate on illustrations for an upcoming Antifa march. Since 2012, Cynthia Kittler, Kiikka Laakso, Kati Szilágyi, Laura Breiling, Ji Hyun Yu, and Barbara Ott have banded together to form this important all-female collective, using their social media platforms to promote and highlight one another’s output. Better together, stronger side by side. Another Berlin in motion, up-to-date, but part of its historic momentum.

Nearby, after sipping organic lemonade and planning with Parallel Universe, the Museum of Things. A small curiosity tucked above an art bookstore on Orienenstrasse, this collection of glass cabinets features simple, everyday but also marvelous things from the past and near present: every blue Nivea jar since the company first began, biscuit tins, plastic at the back of the museum as if it were no big deal at all—an original Frankfurter Kitchen, a milestone in domestic architecture that’s considered the forerunner of the modern fitted kitchen. All of this finds its home in Berlin, where the elsewhere, the other, the uncanny and the new, whether practical or impractical, always belongs.

The Museum of Things will inspire you make your own things, and luckily, there’s a place close by to help you. Towering above a roundabout near the U-Bahn station Moritzplatz sits the great Modular—the ultimate art supply store, artistically stacked with pens, markers, pexiglass, plywood, stationary, pompoms, and anything else that you’ll ever need to make any thing you’ve ever wanted to make, even objects from your dreams. The German designer and illustrator Sarah Illenberger is in Modular today, intently collecting bright colored supplies that she’ll use for her next still-life cover commission for ZEITmagazin. She and her intern pick up yellow paint and blue and pink cardboard, before heading outside to the community garden on the other side of the road, where they cut great leafs from bushes. Illenberger will paint these with geometric patterns and then photograph them against the bright card later today. Yes, signs of another Berlin.

Wherever you’re staying in Berlin—the boutique design hotel 25hours Bikini Berlin near Tierpark, a colorful and energetic hostel near Schlesische Tor U-bahn, or a relatively cheap Airbnb in the Neukölln district with tall windows, wooden floors and a sunny balcony—on your walks to and from the U-Bahn, you’ll notice the posters. Berlin is a city where posters really mean something to a neighbourhood: where people stop in the street to carefully write down the information on prints as if they were hung on a community billboard. Posters communicate what’s happening around the corner, maybe a new club night, an exhibition, or a vegan burger pop-up event. Posters wrap around street lamps layered over all old ones, becoming dense, ghostly rolls that echo event’s and fashion’s long lost—in winter, these rolls get heavy and wet, sliding down towards the pavement like pulp, only to get propped up again by kids on bicycles in the summer, who use glue trays slung over their shoulders and large brooms to slap up each month’s new run of prints. In 1855, the city began erecting rounded advertising columns on the street corners to house the continuous flux of new poster designs. If the U-bahn is Berlin’s design history, then these advertising columns—although built long ago—are home to the design of today. New Berlin constantly appears through its posters.

The Berlin poster is naturally an especially beloved medium for the city’s designers— it’s not simply a mundane advert that people indifferently stroll past but a vital activating communication tool necessary for navigating nightlife, the gallery scene, and local events. It’s why Berlin clubs, generating the city’s dancing heartbeat, invest so much in their creation: the fabled Berghain, which legend claims is the world’s best techno club with its weekly congregation of black clad regulars wearing BDSM studded collars and Adidas caps, plays careful attention to the design of its monthly fliers and listings. Each month’s new posters feature a dark and atmospheric slice of original artwork, articulating and amplifying the club’s mythical night-life pull. A call to action for the great Berlin night, where the city begins and ends.

Visiting Mitte, the central borough in Berlin. Photo by Ina Niehoff.

The walk back to the U-bahn, to start again after one of those nights, you’ll pass an advertising column featuring a particularly neat, eye-catching placard—the poised influence of Swiss design is unmistakable, and its gorgeous serif typography is paired with an elusive background image, hinting at yet another Berlin yet to come. It’s the work of graphic design studio NODE, based in Berlin and Oslo, Norway, an intellectual and meticulous studio whose considered and theoretical output is a hallmark of Berlin’s contemporary art world. On this modern poster, large letters read “HKW,” standing for the Haus der Kulturen der Welt, a conference hall and exhibition space that hosts art, culture, and design events. Depending on what month it is, perhaps the yearly Typo Berlin conference is taking place, or Transmediale, a cerebral technology and art festival. Berlin, where conferences never end.

HKW was constructed as part of the International Building Exhibition of 1957 project and resembles a bright orange oyster rising form the ground. An event titled Miss Read is typical of events held there; a busy art book and self-publishing fair that draws in book lovers from around the country. German publishers and independent magazine makers sit behind their make-shift stalls, showcasing intricately bound tomes, sleek poetry chapbooks, colorful manifestos, risograph comics, monographs with knitted covers, experimental type specimens, and endless other papery surprises. Berlin is made of paper as much as memory, metal, and concrete.

The magazines available at this crowded, popular event are similar to those you can purchase in a store in the Mitte district of the city, close to the Weinmeister U-bahn station, called Do You Read Me?! It’s niche assortment of magazines sit on minimal black shelving. There are magazines here for every mood and every taste: one for redheads, another for dog lovers, another for female soccer players, another that tells the history of a different street each issue, and also more enigmatic, challenging, consistently well-designed choices. Mitte is a tidy district, a place of cafes that serve impressive slabs of classic avocado toast and that’s home to ambitious start ups which dot the streets under the shadow of the TV tower’s vigilant orb. If there is a center to proudly centerless Berlin, then perhaps it’s Mitte, which literally means “center” and is, at least in the prosaic geographical sense, in the middle of the city. The tall office of Freunde von Freunden perches snuggly in one of the area’s clean streets; the ultimate go-to blog for motivated lifestyle dreamers, Freunde von Freunden records the energetic lives of Berlin’s creative scene with breezy, sophisticated photography. Berlin: always aware of itself, without giving too much away.

A swan chillaxing in Berlin. Photo by Ina Niehoff.

It’s while traversing the neat, methodical streets of Mitte (passing by the KW Institute of Contemporary Art, a four-story gallery with beautifully designed exhibition catalogues, and Viktor Leske, an avant-garde hair dressing salon where few leave without an undercut) that you stumble across the neat, methodical studio of international star illustrator Christoph Niemann. He works with his spectacles perched on his nose in his white and silver office behind a storefront’s glass window—a literal spectacle for passers-by; children press their faces up to the glass to watch him sketch. It’s so immaculately clean in his studio, a kind of comment on Berlin’s dirt, and he’s penning away on Post-It notes bought at Modular, devising a plan for his next New Yorker cover. From Berlin with love; design for the rest of the world.

After standing and watching, enthralled by process, by the materializing of yet more Berlin, you might then spot another poster, another message, and be directed somewhere else, somewhere new, the Berlin still being made, still being invented. Or you might dive back down into the U-bhan, taking refuge in the depths of history. Moving on, without rushing, because Berlin time takes its time, to another brunch, to a beer on the canal, to something crazy underground or enterprising on the streets—moving slowly, not quickly, surrounded by designs and designers, form and content, interpreting the language and style of Berlin, a city always becoming itself, where something new always seems to be starting.

[twopercentboy]

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