#BUT there are a few painted bronze statuettes

[8thparadox]

Turns out Wonder Woman's 1930s design is somehow closer to how the ancient Greeks depicted Amazons then most "greek-inspired" WW redesigns from the 21st c. This was inspired my me going "Hold up... why is Diana always depicted as an ancient Greek when the Amazons were specifically... NOT the ancient Greeks.

[nuri148]

My Trip to Japan! ⛩️ Part 4

19.12.

We woke up early, had the funny breakfast, and took the suburban train to Nara. The impression we got from it is that it's a "normal" city. There are no major shopping miles like in Tokyo or Kyoto, just regular streets, even the pedestrian market-street. There are no shopping malls or big stores in the city center, only on the outskirts. We left our luggage at the hotel and went straight to Kasuga Taisha. It’s a beautiful Shinto shrine boasting more than 3000 votive fretworked bronze lamps, each of them different designs, hanging along the galleries of the main temple. These are only lit three times a year, but the shrine has a dark room with a few lamps lit for visitors to enjoy its magical appearance. In a corner of the garden, there’s a cedar tree about 1000 years old, depicted in a 14th-century scroll. A juniper tree grows diagonally from the roots of the cedar, for which part of the roof of the adjacent pavilion was cut to avoid hindering its development. In the same garden, in front of the goshuin office, there’s a gazebo with a 700-year-old wisteria.

The shrine is at the foot of another sacred mountain, Mount Kasuga or Mikasa (Yes! Mikasa!), a place just as moving as Fushimi Inari. Several pavilions and shrines rise around the main hall, always at the foot of the mountain, which simple mortals cannot access because it’s the dwelling place of the gods. One of these subsidiary shrines is the Meoto Daikokusha, dedicated to two deities, husband and wife, so people come to pray for a happy marriage. The complex started to grow in the 8th century, when the emperor certified the sacred nature of the mountain and prohibited hunting and logging, which preserved the native forest in its primeval state to this day. Moreover, deer are considered messengers of the gods enshrined in the main hall, so this contributed to the unique fact that deer roam freely throughout the park.

Nara Park is a bit like Hampstead Heath: it extends over many hectares, crossed by several roads, and houses various temples and buildings. The difference is the deer, which are really everywhere (we even saw a stray one near our hotel!). I feared they would be vicious; I’ve read some alarming accounts, and the warning signs didn't help, but fortunately, they were pretty civil (for a wild animal ofc). Obviously, they’re on the hunt for crackers and always on the lookout for anyone who can give them a snack, but people respect the rule to feed them only the special deer crackers sold in shops and stands all around the park. The deer, meanwhile, aren’t stupid at all: although they flock around you the second they see you holding crackers, they leave the vendors alone, even if they have piles of crackers in plain sight. The deer also give up bothering you quickly once they see you’ve run out of "shikasenbei" (I’ve no proof and no doubts they’re formulated to have a very faint smell that doesn’t cling to hands).

After visiting the shrine, we went up a bit a street that was supposed to have a lot of restaurants, but most of them were closed, we assume, due to being low season. The only place open was a souvenir shop with a diner area at the back. It was a typical roadside dingy diner, with a concrete floor; authentic 1970s furniture complete with Formica and fake leather; a mishmash of wonderfully kitschy decorations including, but not limited to, discoloured posters, deer antlers, various trinkets in their cellophane bags, statuettes of very questionable taste, cabinets that have never seen a duster, a sarong hung like a tapestry, a kerosene heater like my grandma's had, old furniture and stuff piled up in a corner, and a painting of a tiger so ghastly it gave Husband mild PTSD. In this unique place, we enjoyed one of the best meals, if not the best, of the whole trip: homemade katsudon and oyakodon, very tasty, with the ever-present miso soup on the side, and the Ojiisan making random comments ("Spain? Oh yeah, I visited Madrid long ago. Pesetas, they had." "Argentina, football"). And all for the price of a McDonald's menu in Europe. In the back, you could see a huge dining room, so during high season, the crowds must be significant.

After eating, we went to Kofuku-ji, which was a bit of a downer as the main hall wasn’t worth the ¥500 entrance fee (unless you're a huge Buddha fan ig). We could have just seen it from the outside and walk around the minor halls, which are free. We then took a bus to the outskirts, to the ruins of the Nara Imperial Palace. It’s a gigantic site (about 145 hectares) where, for the past 25 years, they have been slowly rebuilding the dependencies of the ancient palace, one pavilion at a time. It's an impressive job of archaeology, engineering, restoration, and craftsmanship, and it’s entirely for free though we wouldn't have minded paying an entrance fee here. Currently, there are three pavilions rebuilt, and they’re building the fourth under a roofed scaffolding with a platform for people to peek into the building site. 21st-century engineering and safety standards meet 8th-century construction techniques to achieve a reproduction as close to the original as possible. We also saw the reconstruction of the service dependencies and the museum space they have around the archaeological excavations. We didn't cover everything; it would have been a titanic undertaking, and the cold and wind were starting to take a toll on us. So we returned to the city and went to see the shops, staying mainly on the covered pedestrian street because of the drizzle. It turns out, everything closes at seven in Nara (except for large drugstores, gachapon, and the like), so we got into a ramen place for dinner. It seemed like the safest bet, but it wasn't. What a let down! The broth was so bland not even soy sauce made a difference. It was the most disappointing meal of the trip. How can you open a soup joint and not have a decent broth?

20.12

We started the day at Todai-ji. The entrance fee was high compared to what we'd been paying elsewhere. I get the feeling that the people of Nara might still be a bit salty about losing their status as capital city of Japan, which they held for only 75 years in the seventh century. Nara is only an hour away by suburban train from Kyoto and Osaka; it’s not on the Shinkansen line. I think this must result in most visitors coming just for the day. There probably aren't many like us, spending two days there while exploring all the heritage sites, and that's why the city lacks the touristic infrastructure of its neighbours.

The main hall of Todai-ji, the Daibutsu-den, houses a 15-meter bronze statue of the Buddha Vairocana. It was destroyed twice. The third and current building, built in the 18th century, is 30% smaller than the previous one, and yet still manages to be the world's largest wooden structure. Behind the Buddha, one of the columns has a 50 cm wide hole at its base—the size of the Buddha's nostril. It is said whoever manages to pass through the hole will attain enlightenment. After visiting the temple and the museum, we spent some time strolling through the park and feeding shikasenbei to the deer. We had a delicious lunch at a yakitori place, Shikamaru, which played the whole Beatles discography on full random.

In the afternoon we went to Horyu-ji, outside Nara. This Buddhist temple is made up of the oldest wooden buildings still standing: from the 8th century to our days. Again, though the entrance ticket price was normal to cheap for European standards, it was expensive compared to other temples. Still, the temple’s very nice, and even being a novice in Japanese architectural heritage you can tell the style’s a bit different from newer ones. We also were treated to a glimpse of Japan way off the beaten track: Horyu-ji is in a semi-rural village, complete with a handful of run-down shops around the train station, many of them closed; supermarkets and warehouse-type businesses along the main road, or shops scattered without a defined shopping mile. Low houses, vegetable patches, kids on bikes, very few people on the streets. I’ve seen a lot of little towns like this. I  like it how some places are the same everywhere you go, no matter how different we make them out to be.  

We spent the rest of the afternoon window-shopping - On the plus side, there was this gacha at the local Animate! ⬆️

[paganimagevault]

The Issyk kurgan of the 'Golden Man' 6th-3rd C. BCE

"The Issyk kurgan, in south-eastern Kazakhstan, less than 20 km east from the Talgar alluvial fan, near Issyk, is a burial mound discovered in 1969. It has a height of six meters and a circumference of sixty meters. It is dated to the 4th or 3rd century BC. A notable item is a silver cup bearing an inscription. The finds are on display in Nur-Sultan. It is associated with the Saka peoples.

The burial complex located on the left bank of the Issyk Mountain River, 50 kilometers to the East to the Almaty city. The unique archaeological complex found by a small group of Soviet scientists led by archaeologist Kemal Akishevich Akishev in 1969. The burial ground consists of 45 large Royal mounds with a diameter of 30 to 90 and a height of 4 to 15 meters. The Issyk barrow is located in the Western half of the burial ground. Its diameter is 60 meters and its height is 6 meters.

Situated in eastern Scythia just north of Sogdiana, the kurgan contained a skeleton, warrior's equipment, and assorted funerary goods, including 4,000 gold ornaments. Although the sex of the skeleton is uncertain, it may have been an 18-year-old Saka (Scythian) prince or princess.

The richness of the burial items led the skeleton to be dubbed the "golden man" or "golden princess", with the "golden man" subsequently being adopted as one of the symbols of modern Kazakhstan. A likeness crowns the Independence Monument on the central square of Almaty. Its depiction may also be found on the Presidential Standard of Nursultan Nazarbayev.

There were two burials in the grave complex: the Central one and the Southern one (to one side). Unfortunately the Central burial site had been robbed but the side grave was undisturbed. The burial chamber in the side grave was constructed from spruce logs. The tomb and its contents remained intact and buried. The skeletal remains were found in the Northern half of the chamber. More than 4,000 gold items were found in the chamber, as well as iron sword and dagger, a bronze mirror, vessels made of clay, metal and wood, shoes, headdresses, gold rings, statuettes, bronze and gold weapons, and an inscribed silver bowl dating from the 6th to 5th century BCE. Many clothing ornaments made of gold, a headdress and shoes were found on and under the remains. Next to the remains were an arrow with a gold tip, a whip (the handle of which was wrapped with a wide ribbon of gold in a spiral pattern) and a bag containing a bronze mirror and red paint. Scientific research, particular that of the anthropologist O. I. Ismagulov, shows that the remains belong to a member of the Saka peoples of Semirecheye, who have a European appearance with an admixture of Mongoloid features. The age of the body at death is estimated at 16–18 years, and its sex is indeterminate. The form of clothing and method of burial suggest that "The Golden Man" was a descendant of a prominent Saks tribe leader, or a member of the Royal family.

A text was found on a silver bowl in Issyk kurgan, dated approximately VI BC. The context of the burial gifts indicates that it may belong to Saka tribes.

The Issyk inscription is not yet certainly deciphered, and is probably in a Scythian dialect, constituting one of very few autochthonous epigraphic traces of that language. János Harmatta, using the Kharoṣṭhī script, identified the language as a Khotanese Saka dialect spoken by the Kushans.

The Wikipedia page has a possible (partial?) deciphering of the Issyk inscription as: "The vessel should hold wine of grapes, added cooked food, so much, to the mortal, then added cooked fresh butter on".

...

Kazakhstan will rebury an iconic ancient warrior in a time capsule this year (2019), in the hope that future generations will be able to establish who he really was, Kazakh TV reports.

Since independence in 1991, he has become a symbol of Kazakhstan's national heritage. His armour takes pride of place in the national museum in Astana, and tours the world as a calling card of Kazakh culture.

The bones were only rediscovered recently at a forensic institute, stored in a cardboard box with a scribbled note reading "The Golden Man, May He Rest in Peace".

"We know his age and social status, while DNA tests could provide us with exhaustive data," researcher Dosym Zikiriya told Kazakh TV.

But Yermek Zhasybayev of the Issyk Museum held out little hope of this. "The bones are in a bad state. They have been kept in a cardboard box for 50 years and been exposed to all sorts of bacteria and viruses, including modern ones. It is now impossible to get a full DNA transcription - if only we had the skull, or just one tooth," he told the TV channel.

Scientists say their only hope is to seal the remains in a special time capsule to prevent any further decomposition, so that technological advances might allow future generations to glean more information about the long-dead warrior.

In recognition of the Golden Man's status, the capsule will be "ceremonially buried in keeping with ancient royal traditions", Kazakh TV said.

Archaeologists are confident that the remains date back to at least the 2nd-3rd century BCE, when south-eastern Kazakhstan was home to the Saka people, who are believed to have been part of the broader Scythian nomadic confederation.

They were gradually displaced by the arrival of the Kipchak Turk ancestors of the Kazakhs, but modern Kazakhstan has taken the Golden Man to its heart."

-taken from wikipedia and bbc

[thecameronchronicles]

Breaking and Entering

Breaking and Entering 

TW: Extreme smut and degrading language. Gunplay. Language. Violence. 

Be prepared to sweat ;) 

SUMMARY: Overhearing the Pogues discuss how there is gold at Tannyhill, you believe this is a godsend to your problems. But when you try to take a piece, you find the house isn't as empty as you thought and its resident is looking for a specific sort of arrangement.... 

WORD COUNT: 3500

Breaking and Entering 

You had spent the last two days in observation of Tannyhill in preparation for tonight. Kissed by the shadows of your chosen cover aided by the shield of well trimmed shrubs, you pulled yourself beyond the antebellum architecture and before the set of French doors before pausing. The words overheard between JJ Maybank and Kiara Carrera having reminded you why you were about to commit a felony. 

"400 million in gold..." Of course you wouldn't try for it all as it would be reckless, greedy, and impossible. But the thought of just a handful of those bronzed bars would erase your financial tribulations.

 No more double shifts at the wreck just to still fall short every month. No more cocked brows from Kooks or whispers of your soiled reputation from parents who had you too young and expected too much. All you had to do was findfinf the gold and leave before anyone came back home. It should have been rather simple as you knew for certain that the entire Cameron clan had been present at a fundraiser for the evening as you had even watched them leave half an hour prior. But as you stood at the door, contemplating if it would be worth it, the sight of such gaudy imagery before you in the form of marble statues and priceless paintings made visible by the lights from generators The Cut still couldn't afford, you pulled the bobby pin from your hair and bent it to commit to your crime. 

Following a few tries, you heard a satisfying click that left a cushion of arrogance to your self inflating ego in pride, having only ever done this to your diary when you'd lost the key. But now, it gave you access to what could be the cessation to all of your problems. Your dead end job. Your shitty home life. Your lack of a childhood ruined by negligence and gaslighting. All of it was at the edge of dissipation, prompting you forward through the plantation. 

Without the need of a flashlight as a few corridor lights were left in illumination for when they'd come home, you crept through the estate room-by-room, unsure exactly what it was you were in search of. You wondered if the gold had been in duffle bags like in the movies had done with cash in cliche hand offs or maybe even in crates in preparation to be shipped. Either way, you were well aware it would be stored in something quite obvious and so you continued to search. 

It would take the better part of an hour to walk the extent of the rooms, finding each one more lavish than the last. Decorations making you scoff as you traced your fingers on the flawless statuettes or the golden frames, disgusted at how 'the other half' spent their money. As you could imagine just one piece of art being enough to supply electricity to the Cut, the sound of a gun cocking behind you brought your feet rooted to the floor. 

"Something I can help you with?" You recognized the tone at your back as having belonged to the eldest Cameron, Rafe. You knew it well as it frequented The Wreck along with fellow kooks for the Carrera's homestyle favorites, but he made it his sole mission to taunt anything below a six figure income. And yet, a portion of him always mystified you for the darkness held behind such stunning eyes-that did nothing to make up for his misogynistic and cruel personality. 

"Both hands..." He demanded as you obliged, well aware Rafe Cameron may just be psychotic enough to pull the trigger for you simply being in the way. The thought made you acquiesce against your usual natural desire for a rebuttal as you obeyed with momentary hesitance. 

"Turn around-slowly!" He corrected, dominance dripping behind his honeyed tone cracked with a vague southern drawl behind specific words of his low cadence. 

But once you did, his brows lifted into amusement. 

"Another dirty Pogue trying to take something that doesn't belong to them? What is it? Huh?" He began moving towards you, gun kept towards you as if it was nothing more than a weightless boost to his ego. 

"My sister's clothes? My father's watches? The keys to The My Druthers?" He teased, listing the things you 'pogues' only dreamed of owning. But in the time his taunting had been uttered, your eyes found a secondary exit that sent you barreling towards the route before feeling him apprehend you. He was expectedly rough, one hand remaining on the butt of his glock as the other took you by your waist until you were pinned just beside the door. 

"So, tell me...what was it you were here for? Maybe we can work something out-" He teased, eyes falling down the dip of your tee shirt cropped by a pair of scissors to amend this summer's specific heat. His gaze continued to the jean skirt wrapped by a roped belt and the curves of your hips left exposed to what you believed would only be the nighttime air. 

But when he took the gun to further reveal you to him, you pulled every ounce of spit you could in such a short collection of time, before sending it in his direction. His second hand now came to your jaw, forcing you to collide harshly to the panel at your back as he lifted the gun to your jaw. 

Once your eyes found him beyond attempts to evade, you noticed a sense of hesitancy or maybe even regret in those damned blue irises. You decided to play this to your strengths as you were certain he wouldn't let you leave anyhow. 

"Are you gonna do it, Rafe?" His jaw clenched as his grip loosened on your chin when addressing him. "You gonna pull that trigger?" 

"You don't think I will?" He spat behind his teeth tensing that much tighter. 

"Go ahead then-" He was taken aback by your request, almost taking a literal step in retraction to your words. 

"We both know you won't let me just leave...not that I have anything to go back TO so do it...You'd be doing me a favor-" You called his bluff as his expression fixated on you as if suddenly became the most interesting specimen ever presented to him. Because of this, his tongue separated his lips in a pensive pause before he slowly nodded. 

"I don't want to hurt you-" You didn't care to hide your bewilderment as he bowed over you, gun falling between your thighs. 

"But I do want to make you scream..." The cold metal of the weapon brought your skin to react in an immediate chill, born out of both fear and exhilaration-the latter rejected by any fragment of your common sense. 

"Go to hell-" You charged at him, being forced back against the wall, knee moving higher to keep you in place. 

"Unless...there was another reason I shouldn't call the police...I'm sure they'd love having a smart assed pogue to entertain them tonight..." You sharpened your glare at him as the thoughts of the consequences of your actions. The bruises you just had fade following the last time you faced your father's disappointment. The tears nearly drowning you to sleep and the immediate envy that came from people like Rafe never knowing these kinds of troubles. At least you assumed so…

"Just let me go-" You grunted, your pleas seemingly ignored, if not endorsing his amusement as his grin widened against you. The snicker setting his otherwise aesthetically pleasing features into a twist only kept your attention for a second as your eyes scanned for an alternative exit. But between the gun, his threats, and his grip, you were at his mercy. 

"Ah ah! Don't even think about it-" He warned once, noticing the shift behind your eyes.

 "I think we can have a bit of fun-" His head came to a cock as he continued to trace your exposed skin with the nuzzle of the weapon, returning you to stiffen at the danger waged against you. 

"Since you don't want to talk..." He led the weapon against your lips, drawing them to part with the gun's edge before widening his grin. 

"Suck." His command forced your eyes to widen. When your lips remained tight, he forced them apart with his thumb, slipping the gun between your reserved part. 

"Suck." He ordered again, forcing it throughout your mouth more than basking in your acceptance of it, before now leading it between your legs. The tip fondling your folds to which you allowed between curiosity and fear, made you repress a shudder as you didn't want to offer him the satisfaction. 

"Shit...You're a dirty little slut aren't you-" 

"I'm not a slut!" 

"Only sluts get wet from guns..." He explained, showcasing your slick on the edge of the weapon. 

"This turns you on? Yeah?" He set it back between your lower lips, finding it to glide easily between your thighs by your hesitant consent as his eyes bloomed in awe. 

"Nobody fucking you right on The Cut?" You turned your face away from him, hoping it would be enough to hide the blush from your cheeks. In truth, it has been far too long since you were appreciated as a woman, finding your only release to be rather anticlimactic at the end of your own tiring fingertips. You convinced yourself this was why you allowed this, but if you were honest, a part of you was always curious to be with Rafe in this way. If not for his muscles you couldn't help but notice flex quite naturally, then maybe in the way he was confident with fearlessness. It was annoying but enough to allow him more than what he deserved. 

"Slutty little pogue thinks she can come in here and steal and there won't be consequences?" He tsked his tongue. 

"Stupid girl." His hand was now harshly in your hair, the gun pushing your panties to the side, teasing your opening. The ridge from the gun made you clench immediately as it was used to tease you, your eyes closing in anticipation as he forced your head further back by his grip. 

"Did you come here for this?" He taunted, fingers finding your panties, pulling them aside, and producing a series of tentative circles to your aching clit. You wanted to push him away, to yell, to hit him-but your body betrayed these attempts. His fingertips were eager in a way you had never felt from another man, but also gentle, an adjective that seemed wrong when describing him, and yet, true. 

"I could make you cum so hard that they'll hear you back at the cut..." His fingers suddenly withdrew, replaced by the weapon once again. 

"But you're being less than accommodating..." You were left irritated and breathless from a touch you didn't want to believe you needed. And yet, you dripped for it-for him...the sociopath holding a gun to you! And yet it was a detail that only seemed to excite you at the thought. 

"Unbuckle me." Your eyes fell to the belt I question as you refused, grip tightening and gun pressed harder into you, making you wince to its threat to penetrate you. 

"I want those dirty little hands around my cock, convincing me you're better suited here than in jail for the night...go on pogue...convince me..." He spoke with a chuckle as you only glared, objectivism sending you into a further rebellion. 

"Or I could make sure your life becomes real hard-" His promised grievance set your fingers directly into his pants, bypassing the pleasantries of a slow burn. Instead, you optioned for the shock factor, but it would backfire as you were almost eager to feel him. Too eager. 

He was impressive in his makeup, making you throb at how he would feel inside of you, the guilt for wanting him for even a second deepening as you began to stroke him. 

The way his eyes rolled into a close set your pulse unsteadily erratic as you continued to pump him into pleasure. Twisting and squeezing, it was just the distraction needed to suddenly gain the upper hand. Much to his dismay, this trained wrist brought him to an edge only you could offer before you stunned him by using it to take hold of the weapon. His eyes blew wide, expressing those lust-lorn irises as if he was deserving of this, whether you were to pull the trigger or not. It was this very look that you realized he hid behind his arrogance as he was truly a fractured soul. A twin flame to your own emotional decay. 

Understanding things would never be the same either way, you found the way he watched you, a mix between awe and anticipation, that you decided to ride the wave of your want. Pointing the edge of the gun at his chest, the rage of his heart in an unusual pattern, both aroused and alarmed, you now made demands of your own. 

"Get on your knees, Rafe Cameron." The devilish smirk widened across his face as your fingers teased your thigh, hinting at what you wanted. 

Prior to now, you held no knowledge of Rafe's sexual past as you rarely saw him with any girl aside from his sister, and that was usually for appearances or tension. But you were too curious, too deprived, and too exhilarated to ignore this need, borderline obsessive, throbbing against your sense of reason. 

"Such a pretty mouth...know how to use it?" You taunted, tone cold, but eyes on fire for what you craved. He obliged, lowering to his knees before escorting one of your own at rest over his shoulder. Silently, he pulled your panties to the side to expose your soaked core, reservation in protest proving futile to your natural instinct. 

"Mmm..." You hummed at the skill of his tongue, greedy yet thorough to you. He was just as much a giver as a receiver, eyes excitable at the thought of either, as his gaze remained to you, your body relaxed at the surge of pleasure gifted by him. Your mind berated you but became silenced by your hips rocking into him. Rather quickly however, he pulled his arm across your waist to keep you flat, carrying his thumbs into a set comfort to divide your folds to him. The flicks produced by his tongue left you manic, lips parted in pant, chest rising in uneven patterns, eyes rolling only to shoot open in the times he teased your clit with a cruel bite or sudden suck. 

But just as you had done to him, he only acquiesced to gain the upper hand. Yet, he didn't regain control of the gun to use it against you. Instead, he threw it out of view and turned you against the wall. In seconds, your skirt was around your ankles and the chime of his buckle informed you of his own undressing. 

"Nobody can hear you...but I want to-" He took hold of his rigidity, a sudden pressure splitting feeling as if it would tear you apart. You grinned at the idea of him existing so arrogant because of this, a 'this' whose extent bottomed out within you and forced a wince. 

"Yeah, you like that, pogue? Huh?" He took hold of your hair, using this grip to force you to look at him. 

"You're gonna take all of me like a good little slut...Every. Fucking. Inch." He delivered harder thrusts with each word, making you cling onto the frame of the door in desperation. 

"If you cum, I'm gonna force you on your knees and finish in that smartass mouth of yours-Got it?" When you whimpered, he pulled you even further against him. "Answer me, bitch-" Your lips parted. 

"Okay!" 

"Good girl-" He nearly purred into your ear, your eyes rolling into a close. 

"Rafe...Rafe please!" Your pleas were only fuel to his arrogance as he chuckled behind you. 

"That's right. Beg me. Fucking slut...MY slut." This possession left you to groan, something about it driving you deeper into your descent into carnality. 

"You wanna cum? You know I could make you...yeah?" 

"Yes Rafe! Please! It feels so fucking good-" 

"Does it?" He teased, sucking in a sharp breath as you moved against him, purposely clenching around him to try and torment him as he did to you. But when he only pushed you harder into the wall in deeper thrusts, your fingers dove to your throbbing clit as his hand moved into his possession in a quick grasp. 

"You are such a greedy little thing aren't you? You know...patience is a virtue, baby....But you just can't wait...can you?" 

"No! Please!" Tears began a crusade down your cheeks, desperation making you nearly limp. 

"You don't deserve to feel me. I'm gonna finish in your mouth. Do a good job, maybe I'll let you cum..." Just the idea of a release sent you to obey as your hair was granted reprieve from his harsh grip before he pushed you down in guidance to your shoulders. 

"You try anything and you'll be sorry, yeah?" You didn't agree or disagree, just simply took him within your mouth. Nearly pornographic moans left behind his breathing, your throat never really growing accustomed to him as he trusted within you. Fingers exchanging between your hair and your neck, you continued to pump him from the reaction of his body. When he quickened, you slowed and vice versa, all to bring him to that precipice in withdrawal. 

"Get up!" He ordered, leading you against him, half bent in his arms as one hand dove between your legs and the other kept you to him with a hand around your throat. 

"I'm gonna make you so sore. For lying to me. For denying me- for being so fucking needy and impatient-" 

His fingers to your clit were merciless, painful in the best way, as you allowed him to abuse your desperate cunt. Removing his touch from this stimulation to penetrate you once again, he returned his fingers to your clit, quick whisps of ovals made against you. 

"Gonna beg for me you little pogue slut? Gonna let me cum inside this tight little pussy to make it up to me?" 

You could only nod, his hand around your throat tightening from your silence. 

"You feel so fucking tight...been needing this, huh?" He teased as you bobbed again, this time, feeling his hand lower from your throat and onto your breast. 

"Fuck..." He clenched a painful grip onto your chest, in what would leave bruising, as he wrestled his lips to your ear. 

"You should thank me for being so nice...You don't deserve this. You're greedy. You're needy. You're not even worth a conversation. But you are gonna take it. All of it-all of me-" 

"Yes!" You belted out your first orgasm tearing through his penetration and allowing him even easier access within you. The reservation of a tense pussy now eased by this orgasm, coursed  the overstimulation of your clit. Your hand quickly wrapped around his wrist. 

"It's It's much!" 

"I don't care." He confessed. "I'm not done-" He continued, never faltering in his fingers or his dirty words as they only continued to fuel you as well. 

"Earn this cum, baby...clench around me-" You obeyed, between needing another release or granting him his so he would stop. 

"That's it...my good little whore with this tight little pussy gonna make me cum...right?" 

"Yes, Rafe!" 

"Yeah, yeah-like that...take it bitch..." He grunted. 

"More!" He was brought to the edge from your words as your fingers wrapped around to his ass. 

"Ugh!" He breathed behind you, his hand extending to the table lining the nearby wall to steady himself. 

"Im gonna you're making me- fuck fuck fuck! Shit!" He expelled his load, bringing your release along with him. His sudden neglect to hold you sent you into the table as you held yourself up with shaking legs, feeling synonymous to jelly. 

"Rafe..." You breathed in confusion as he now held the gun under your chin, second hand in a grip in your hair. 

"Please...I'll go...I won't say anything," He only scoffed at your teary eyed plea. 

"I don't think so..." He grinned. "I think I'll keep you for a bit..." His words exhilarated you, despite the ache still present between your thighs. 

"Come on-" He pulled you into the direction of the steps. 

"Where...where are we going?" He hesitated for a second, handing you your panties. 

"You said it yourself, you have nothing here...So you're gonna keep me entertained in Barbados-" 

"Barbados?!" 

"Going for business, but you're coming for my pleasure..." 

And you were. 

Willingly. 

Excitedly. 

Eagerly.

 His...

Taglist: @hopebaker

[abookishdreamer]

Character Intro: Eusebeia (Kingdom of Ichor)

Nicknames- Mrs. Goody Two-Shoes by Dione

Bea by the others

Age- 33 (immortal)

Location- Ioannina, Olympius

Personality- She's a very conservative pious woman who stands true in her values & beliefs. There's nothing more important to her like the reverance, respect, and prayers to the deities of the pantheon. She's single.

She has the standard abilities of a goddess except shapeshifting. As the goddess of piety, loyalty, duty, & filial respect, her other powers/abilities include being able to manipulate Celestial Bronze, chastity inducement, limited photokinesis, cleanliness inducement, and being able to manipulate the feeling of loyalty in a person & others.

Bea lives in a recently refurbished stone castle in the state of Ioannina. All of the doors are built out of Celestial Bronze. Inside, there's an abundance of silk curtains with the walls painted in cool neutral shades of beige, cream, eggshell, taupe, and powder blue. The interior design is very minimalist & contemporary with many marble, ivory, and stone temple statuettes serve as decorations. Bea has pets like a few cats & dogs as well as a pegasus- a boy named Blanco. He's usually her mode of transportation.

She rarely drinks alcohol though she will indulge herself with a single glass of champagne or white wine every once in a while. Go to drinks for her include coconut water, fruit infused sparkling water, mango juice, & batido de trigo. Her usuals from The Roasted Bean is a large iced green tea and an olympian sized iced vanilla chai tea latte.

Bea's morning routine includes a jog around her neighborhood, a session of tai chi, followed by a steaming hot shower.

She dresses in a conservative fashion style (neutral colors, clothing not too tight, short, or low-cut). She's a fan of minimalist jewelry and soft & subtle make-up. Bea doesn't like high heels for many reasons, the main one being it's impracticality. She won't go higher than kitten heels & she's fond of stylish flats.

Breakfast is her favorite meal of the day. Many of the dishes she makes include scrambled eggs (added with scallions, tomatoes, and onions), ladenia, rizogalo, and a pork-plantain hash (added with spicy sausages).

She goes to church quite often and is a big donator!

Bea dislikes media (art, books, music, television, and movies) that contain an overabundance of explicit material- like coarse language, nudity, & sexual content).

She keeps her nails short, neat, and manicured. Eusebeia is not opposed to wearing polish, but only in soft colors. She is a fan of Olmorfia's nail polish with her favorite shades being "glacier rose" (a light shimmery iridescent pink), "whipped cashmere" (a soft baby pink), "infinite sun-ner" (a caramel brown), and "mined over matter" (an earthy creamy mauve).

Her favorite dessert is the angel's food cake from Hollyhock's Bakery. She also likes the creme brulee from Salon du Sucre and the frozen vanilla custard from The Frozen Spoon.

Bea's also known in the pantheon for her sweet & delicious cucurucho!

Her main job/responsibility is overseeing the construction of all the temples built in the honor of the deities in the pantheon. She also oversees the construction of the country's churches. A notable achievement for Bea was coming up with the layout for Hera's temple that was to be built in Samos. The design included slimmer white columns garlanded with pomegranates & flowers with the walls being carved with images of one of her divine symbols- the peacock.

For other work, she writes for O Dianooumenos and Vital Essence magazine. Bea also models for/endorses Glory's Crown (loves the argan oil/biotin repair & restore smoothing shampoo and conditioner), Euryphaessa, White Lily Gallery, Sunshine Radiance (loves the vitamin c brightening peel), Cleanstream, & LipCalm. She also works closely with The Litae.

Bea's personal business is her charity organization called The Pietas Foundation. Other works currently in development is a dating app specifically catered towards celibate & conservative folks with marriage being the goal and a possible tv network focused on faith based, conservative, & family oriented content.

She likes the medianoche sandwich (lightly toasted) from The Bread Box.

A favorite snack of hers are lightly salted plantain chips!

She holds fast in her views and opinions (believing that sex should be between a married couple, heteronormativity, daily prayers & offerings to the gods, etc...). Bea believes in the conservative pious lifestyle with traditional family values. She doesn't disrespect others with "differing lifestyles" & she's always open to having discussions with people who don't share her views.

Her best friend in the entire pantheon is Pistis (goddess of trust, reliability, & good faith). They call each other "sister" and she supported Pistis during the whole drama involving her sister's wedding.

Bea's also friends with Eikono (goddess of iconography & literature), Hestia (goddess of the hearth), Aeschyne (goddess of modesty & honor), Themis (Titaness of justice), Eváeros (goddess of air & the zodiacs), Apheleia (goddess of simplicity) Praxidike (goddess of judicial punishment), Soteria (goddess of safety), Eunostos (goddess of the flour mill), Promylaia, Eudaimonia (goddess of happiness), Elpis (goddess of hope), & Peitharchia (goddess of obedience & discipline). She's also suprisingly friends with the twins Penia (goddess of poverty) and Ptocheia (goddess of beggary).

She dislikes, but won't openly disrespect Kakia (goddess of vice & moral wrongdoing), Hybris (goddess of insolence, hubris, & reckless pride), Dione, Philotes (goddess of intimacy, friendship, & affection), and especially Dyssebeia (goddess of ungodliness & impiety)- among others.

A birthday gift from Pistis was a gorgeous jeweled hair clip from Diamond Ave. It cost 2,000 drachmas!

She's celibate (also a virgin) and plans to stay that way until she falls in love and gets married. Bea has her whole wedding planned in her journal! In her journal she also wrote about a time she was tempted to break her promise when she was propositioned by Priapus (god of fertility, vegetable gardens, livestock, sexuality, & masculinity).

In her free time Bea enjoys jogging, swimming, reading (is a fan of literary fiction), knitting, sewing, cooking, yoga, sailing (owns a sailboat), tennis, and pottery.

Some of her favorite dishes include platillo moros y cristiano with bistec de palomolla, ropa vieja, moussaka, dakos, and pastitsio.

"Each step following a vice ultimately leads to damnation."

[tabletoptrinketsbyjj]

Trinkets, 50: Interesting baubles, semi magical objects and items touched by mystery.

A glass box containing a sliver of matter from the Far Realm. Dweomers imbued in the glass hold it in check, preventing it from corrupting our reality.

An oilskin messenger’s satchel containing nearly three dozen letters all addressed to different people who live in the nearest large city. ---Note: If opened, the letters contain a mixture of love letters, letter to family detailing the last season, town gossip, some trade deals between merchants etc. There is one letter of blackmail addressed to a minor noble. If the letters are not opened (Or opened carefully and resealed by someone talented in forgery) they can be delivered by hand to the various recipients for a small delivery fee.

A fine, mesh netting mounted on a wooden hoop set with a long handle, this net is designed to capture tiny creatures such as butterflies, rats and other pests.

Still Life: A detailed 4 foot by 3 foot watercolor painting depicts a poker game, held in a musty, low-ceilinged attic. The scene is lit by two lanterns, one in the center of the table and the other hanging from the wall behind one of the players and the light of dusk from the single window through which a cutter can be seen on the distant ocean. The four players (A tabaxi, half-orc, elf and gnome, all dressed in tatty seafaring gear) are sitting on barrels and crates and several dozen gold and silver pieces are in the center of the table as they play. The scene in the painting moves with incredible slowness (Slow enough that the casual watcher may not notice until a few minutes have passed) and actually depicts the progress of an hour of this poker game, played out over the course of 120 hours in real time. During this, it is clear that the tabaxi is cheating and the gnome violently calls them out, throwing a tankard at them. A fight erupts between all four, resulting in the lanterns being knocked to the ground. As they impact, flames explode slowly, filling the painting over the course of ten minutes with red, then white, then it fades back to the beginning of the scene.

A blue jade bracelet carved to resemble rushing water.

A wicker handled, bronze jug in the shape of an elephant with the spout shaped like the trunk.

A tankard with a pewter handle, pewter rings at the top and bottom and a pewter badge depicting a parrot adorn the apparently seamless bronzewood body of the beautifully crafted drinking vessel.

A straw padded bamboo case, containing a collection of nine small jade statuettes of monsters, including a dragon, an owlbear and a remorhaz.

A crocodile-shaped painted wooden mask inlaid with turtle shell.

A crumpled bill of sale for two dozen enchanted morningstars, sold by Alvin Cogsbottom and purchased by Farbgarble, a bugbear warlord of some repute.

—Click Here to be directed to the Hotlinks To All Tables post, which provides (As you might have guessed) convenient links to all of the loot and resource tables this blog has.

—Keep reading for 90 more trinkets.

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

A glass box containing a sliver of matter from the Far Realm. Dweomers imbued in the glass hold it in check, preventing it from corrupting our reality.

An oilskin messenger’s satchel containing nearly three dozen letters all addressed to different people who live in the nearest large city. ---Note: If opened, the letters contain a mixture of love letters, letter to family detailing the last season, town gossip, some trade deals between merchants etc. There is one letter of blackmail addressed to a minor noble. If the letters are not opened (Or opened carefully and resealed by someone talented in forgery) they can be delivered by hand to the various recipients for a small delivery fee.

A fine, mesh netting mounted on a wooden hoop set with a long handle, this net is designed to capture tiny creatures such as butterflies, rats and other pests.

Still Life: A detailed 4 foot by 3 foot watercolor painting depicts a poker game, held in a musty, low-ceilinged attic. The scene is lit by two lanterns, one in the center of the table and the other hanging from the wall behind one of the players and the light of dusk from the single window through which a cutter can be seen on the distant ocean. The four players (A tabaxi, half-orc, elf and gnome, all dressed in tatty seafaring gear) are sitting on barrels and crates and several dozen gold and silver pieces are in the center of the table as they play. The scene in the painting moves with incredible slowness (Slow enough that the casual watcher may not notice until a few minutes have passed) and actually depicts the progress of an hour of this poker game, played out over the course of 120 hours in real time. During this, it is clear that the tabaxi is cheating and the gnome violently calls them out, throwing a tankard at them. A fight erupts between all four, resulting in the lanterns being knocked to the ground. As they impact, flames explode slowly, filling the painting over the course of ten minutes with red, then white, then it fades back to the beginning of the scene.

A blue jade bracelet carved to resemble rushing water.

A wicker handled, bronze jug in the shape of an elephant with the spout shaped like the trunk.

A tankard with a pewter handle, pewter rings at the top and bottom and a pewter badge depicting a parrot adorn the apparently seamless bronzewood body of the beautifully crafted drinking vessel.

A straw padded bamboo case, containing a collection of nine small jade statuettes of monsters, including a dragon, an owlbear and a remorhaz.

A crocodile-shaped painted wooden mask inlaid with turtle shell.

A crumpled bill of sale for two dozen enchanted morningstars, sold by Alvin Cogsbottom and purchased by Farbgarble, a bugbear warlord of some repute.

A crystal vase etched with scenes of dueling mages.

A cylindrical, iron device used to crush rock into fine gravel and dust, which can be more easily tested for the presence of precious metals or gemstones. The pulverizer is roughly one foot in diameter and height, with a flip-top lid and a crank handle. After stones are placed into the device and the lid clamped into place, the handle is turned. This rotates a number of grinding wheels inside the pulverizer, using gears to maximize the available force, crushing the rocks thoroughly. The gears are made of heavy cast iron allowing them to pulverize stone with ease. A pound of rocks can be ground to a gritty powder in an hour.

A dark iron bowl that is freezing cold to the touch. It has a strange sigil at the bottom of the bowl, and there is a small blade attached to one of the bowl's handles by a small length of hempen cord. A PC knowledgeable in the occult will recognize the item as a phlebotomy bowl.

A death mask of white porcelain picked out with deep red glaze, depicting a fanged human male.

A disembodied hook and lever clasp, with a few trailing links of fine chain probably from a delicate necklace. It shares a silvery hue that reflects subtle flashes of yellow as one turns it in one’s hand

A disk-shaped mirror of perfectly polished obsidian, etched along its edges with beaked serpents. Knowledgeable PC’s will recognize it as a focal component used for divination magic.

A divan made from blue velvet and ornately carved gilded wood.

A fine mahogany jeweler box inlaid with a floral design in light wood.

A fine silk robe emblazoned with holy symbols of a forbidden cult. The symbols indicate the robe belongs to the cult’s highest ranking member.

A finely wrought pewter model of a mighty dwarven warrior in plate mail. She is roaring to the sky and holding her arms above her head, ripping apart the thick iron chains binding them together. Broken manacles dangle from her shoulders and feet.

A flute carved from a dragon's wingbone, nestled in a bloodwood case lined with purple wool.

A green satin headband with a single feather embroidered in gold over the eyes. The bearer gains a false sense of increased intellect.

A grotesque-looking jade mask with large ears, polished obsidian eyes and pointed mother-of-pearl teeth.

A halfling skull with a significant parietal slashing wound that also corroded the bone.

A halfling tri-flute consisting of three short wooden flutes, each of varying lengths, connected with leather bands. There are four fingerholes on the longest pipe, three on the shortest and none on the middle pipe. A single mouthpiece connects all three pipes.

A hand sized tiger cowrie shell, with black and white mottled pattern. Knowledgeable PC’s are aware that shells like these are used as currency among the Coral Islands and this shell is worth the equivalent of a five pound copper ingot.

A hempen rope ladder meant for traveling. Though they take some getting used to, rope ladders are easy-to-carry devices that readily fold up into any backpack. The ladder weighs five pounds, will support weights of up to 850 pounds and be able to extend to 30 feet in length.

A highly polished red sandalwood serving tray.

A large preserved yellowjacket wasp hovering in the center of an oval cage of force. Its translucent wings flap with an unnerving slowness.

A large square copper coin, stamped with a bull’s head on one side and a labyrinthine pattern on the other.

A large tin canister whose lid is stamped with the image of a bountiful orchard whose trees are overflowing with fruit, the ripest of which has fallen and filled a cornucopia. The container is brimming with dozens of well-preserved dried raspberries.

A large tin canister whose lid is stamped with the image of a well-stocked confectionary shop bustling with children. The container is filled with dozens of red, cherry-flavored hard candies.

A leather belt pouch containing a double-shaft brass and steel rim padlock of superior quality and a matching key.

A leather wallet stamped with a crest formed by a pair of skinning knives crossing underneath a leather stretching and drying frame. It contains a full set of certified identification papers denoting that the bearer is a member of the leatherworkers, skinners, and tanners guild. The section containing the member's physical description (Height, weight, sex, race, eye, skin and hair color) is completely blank and could be filled in by anyone with half decent handwriting.

A leather wallet stamped with a complex design displaying the inner workings of a simple locking mechanism. It contains a full set of certified identification papers denoting that the bearer is a member of the locksmiths and tinker's guild. The section containing the member's physical description (Height, weight, sex, race, eye, skin and hair color) is completely blank and could be filled in by anyone with half decent handwriting.

A lightweight brass birdcage with a large hook on top so that it can be hung from a chain or outcropping. It is suitable for holding small birds such as canaries for use in mines.

A linen handkerchief tied into a knot containing a matching set of four delicate gold eyebrow rings.

A long black iron chain on which is strung a horse’s hoof that is warm to the touch and is embedded with glowing embers and constantly produces whisps of harsh black smoke. Knowledge’s PC’s will be able to identify it as the back left hoof of Nightmare, a fiendish species of demonic horse.

A mithral locket etched with the initials “M.T.” and an abstract floral pattern.

A mummified left hand, black and claw-like.

A nearly opaque, smooth, oval stone of a fleshy red color that appears warmed by the touch of bright light. Knowledgeable PC’s can identify the gem as carnelian.

A one gallon cask of Witchwood Absinthe, a potent spirit the color of a moss-covered tombstone. It has mild hallucinogenic properties, and local folklore holds you can hear the voices of those you’ve lost if you drink enough. Not too much, though... You might join them.

A one-gallon cask filled with an alcoholic beverage known as Whaler’s Whisky. The thick brown liquid was a very intense spiced scent. Drinking it will keep a person warm even when ankle deep in the freezing water of a storm while harpooning a leviathan on the open seas.

A pair of hardened leather greaves with fierce silver jaguars engraved on the sides. The nonsensical words "eirr tofrlusi sct rota culdyn alah erl ayfwaweg" are engraved on the inside of each greave in gold filigree.

A pencil-on-paper schematic of a crossbow-like contraption of tubes, triggers and optics.

A pink coral bracelet carved with wave patterns and sized for a gnome.

A plain-looking, wide-brimmed straw hat that fits snugly on one’s head and does and admirable job keeping the sun off.

A portable writing desk containing colored inks, quills and paper.

A red spotted blue-green stone the size of a thumbnail. Knowledgeable PC’s will be able to identify it as bloodstone.

A rug fashioned from the pelt of a dire tiger. The rug still has the tiger’s head and is remarkably well preserved.

A sealed waxed envelope containing a sheet of yellowed paper, proving the ownership to a country estate. The deed describes a seventeen acre parcel of land with a large house at the property's southern border but not the estate’s actual position.

A hollow, wooden shoe stand containing a set of cobbler's tools that includes a hammer, an awl, a knife, a cutter, spare leather and thread.

A set of good quality traveling clothes sized for a tall Random Humanoid woman.

A set of waterproof seal-skin leggings that will keep the bearer warm even in freezing water.

A set of wooden nesting dolls; the smaller each one gets, the older it is, until the innermost doll is a tiny mummified corpse.

A severed doll’s head whose expression mirrors the mood of whoever is looking at it.

A sheet of papyrus showing the safest route through Queen Meritamon’s pyramid to her treasure-filled burial chamber.

A short, crystalline rod with a handle wrapped in red leather and black silk cord.

A silk bag filled with 6d6 colored glass marbles.

A silken night-robe of midnight blue and black, decorated in mystic imagery of clouds and stars in lavender and silver.

A silver bracelet set with twin teardrop moonstones.

A silver cloak pin fashioned in the shape of a unicorn’s head in profile, with a blue tourmaline as the eye.

A simple, circular membrane stretched across a coin-sized metal ring. Known by actors, spies and singers as a Bird’s Tongue, when placed at the back of the throat it raises one’s voice by an octave. The naturally higher tone of voice can make increase a musician’s range or make it easier for an actor or infiltrator to pass themselves off as someone else.

A slender wand of white wood topped with long, floppy bristles.

A small bird perch customized to be fit on standard horse saddles. The metal semi-circle is fitted with a wooden grip allowing a falconer to falconer to transport his raptor by horse without the need to wear a glove at all times.

A small box made from highly polished wood filled with exquisite tools used for the jewelsmith’s trade.

A small finger humanoid bone that has been hollowed out, and decorated with strange, primal runes.

A small portrait of a king past his prime, with eyes full of regret and a melancholy smile that is almost lost among his many wrinkles.

A small, gnome-craft music box can play a calming jingle for one minute when wound.

A small, somewhat clear, white gem that has a brilliant luster. Although it has numerous flaws, knowledgeable PC’s can appraise it as a somewhat valuable diamond.  

A smooth river stone with a laughing face painted on it.

A solid and grotesque face mask of hammered bronze that’s reminiscent of the Gods of Comedy of Tragedy combined, seeming to flit between abject horror and profound delight depending on the light in which it is seen.

A specially designed carrying case made entirely of blessed woods, form-fitted to hold items of religious significance. An entire set of candlesticks, implements, statuary and other vital religious paraphernalia can be held in this estuary case safely. Reinforced and consecrated, this case holds up to the rigors of travel and combat exceedingly well.

A staff of jagged purple crystal covered with carvings of eyes. All who can see it feel as if they are being watched. It can be used as a spellcasting focus for arcane magic.

A strange wand that is visually translucent and fairly insubstantial to hold. When held closely, one can hear the sound of a light spring rain.

A tan, oval-shaped, opaque, palm-sized stone that vibrates faintly.

A thick golden anklet decorated with smooth but low-quality jet stones.

A thick leather gauntlet designed to serve as both a resting place and launching platform for falcons. It protects the hand from a raptor's razor-sharp talons.

A tinker's harp of gnomish design.

A tiny flask fashioned from a huge hollowed pearl that can only contain about one shot’s worth of liquor. It is stoppered with gold and hung from a delicate golden chain. On the surface of the pearl is lightly etched the glyph for “life”.

A tiny pyramid with faceted convex sides has been cut from a transparent, reddish-brown gemstone. Knowledgeable PC’s can identify the mineral as jacinth.

A two-inch-long badge that can easily be worn around the bearer’s neck with the badge against his throat, on a band around his wrist with the badge against the vein or pinned over his heart. The shield-shaped badge is made of polished cherry-red wood and displays the holy symbol of the concept of Random Lawful Domain.

A waxed leather tube containing a wool tapestry, that when unrolled, depicts a hunting party surrounding a unicorn, its flanks peppered with arrows and streaming with blood. The colors are particularly vibrant, and the workmanship sufficiently masterful that even a glint of fear may be detected in the unicorn's eye.

A wheeled pull-toy of delicate clockwork manufactured in bloodwood and brass. A dog with agate eyes; when pulled on its string, the dog wags its tail, opens its mouth and lolls its tongue, and its legs work as if running.

A wide leather wrist strap bearing a strip of metal with three shield emblems stamped into it.

A wooden crate containing ten yards of loosely rolled, pure white linen.

A wooden walking staff with a built-in podium on its upper end, these items are invaluable to scholars who find themselves reading while they travel. The podium bears several adjustable leather straps to hold a book in place. The bottom of the staff bears a metal cap from which a pair of small metal leg can be extended so the staff can function as a tripod.

A wrought iron brooch that’s been crafted in the shape of a miniature tower shield.

A zinc jug decorated in gold with intricate patterns and running deer.

An abstract and colorful painting, consisting of jagged splatters of paint of various sizes, colors, and directions. Knowledgeable PC’s will be able to identify the artwork as one created by a well-known mage who froze gobs of paint and shattered them onto a flat canvas before allowing the pieces to melt. The mage has been dead for some time and authentic pieces of her work are becoming well valued by collectors.

An egg-sized orb of compressed powder that PC’s knowledgeable in alchemy or the performance arts will recognize as a Flash Dragon. Originally developed by alchemists as a showpiece for entertainers when it is thrown into a fire it flashes into the shape of a 10-foot-tall dragon with a 20-foot wingspan. The flash of white light lasts only an instant but leaves a bright dragon-shaped spot in the vision of all who view it. Creatures within 20 feet of the flash’s center suffer disadvantage on visual perception checks and ranged attacks for 1d4 rounds. The orb can be fired from a sling as easily as one might launch a bullet or can be thrown accurately into a five foot area within 30 feet.

An elegant hand-fan of luxurious green silk, printed with a tranquil scene of a flight of swallows descending on a great oak tree.

An exquisitely detailed model castle, encased in a clear glass hemisphere.

A fascinatingly detailed model sailboat, encased in a block of clear glass.

An inflatable kayak made of thick but pliant, waterproof leather forming several air bladders, this vessel looks and acts like a normal kayak once inflated. One creature can inflate the kayak in 20 minutes. There are two inflating tubes, so two creatures can inflate it in half that time. The inflatable kayak holds one human sized creature plus 100 pounds of gear. By pulling the plugs on the air bladders, the kayak deflates in 5 minutes and can then be folded and carried in a standard backpack. The inflatable kayak comes with a short paddle that breaks down for easy storage. While deflated the vessel weighs 25 pounds.

An iron crowbar whose edges are only barely touched by the reddish tint of encroaching rust.

A miniature oak tree modelled in thin translucent alabaster, pierced and hollowed to serve as a lamp.

An old looking iron key with a bluish patinaed tint of a sturdy but utilitarian make. When held up to a mirror, the key’s teeth look drastically different and gain a unique patterning.

Purple threads of bismuth bronze trace intricate runes around this headband of spider silk. The headband smells faintly of oil and minute lettering along the headband read, "Watch your step, you dolt" along with other silly insults in an archaic human language.

Sentry’s Monocle: A small, focusing lens of clear crystal that is wider and more curved that typical monocles. This shape draws in more of the wearer’s surroundings, enhancing peripheral vision and extending the normal range of sight. A creature wearing the sentry’s monocle can see ten feet farther than normal and adds +1d4 to the result of visual perception checks. The slight distortion caused by the lens imposes disadvantage on initiative checks while worn. Donning or removing the monocle is an action equivalent to drawing a weapon and cannot be done as part of rolling initiative.

[slightly-radical-universe]

Indaba, My Children- Review

Indaba, My Children, is a book that compels you to reimagine Africa ,it’s history and the origins of the black man. No- he is not the missing link between ape and humanity ,as previously suggested by “respectable” men of science. Throughout the book, the author emphasizes that little is known about the Black man’s culture ,customs, traditions and religion. This can be attributed to all the strict laws which govern the  accessibility , dissemination and acquisition of knowledge in Africa. Very few wise men and women are chosen as “Custodians of tribal history”. These individuals are then tasked with the grave responsibility of being guardians and repositories of all of Africa’s secrets and wonderful mysteries. 

Custodians of Tribal History are sown to secrecy through intense rituals and blood oaths. They are never to reveal some of the sacred wisdom which has now been passed down to them- to the average Tom, Dick and Sipho. “Vey little knowledge is passed on to common people and nothing is ever disclosed to strangers” (p.654). The author believes that  this impeccable shroud of secrecy surrounding Indigenous African Knowledge  is a major contributing factor to inequality and to the racism that has caused much havoc and heartache in the past. He believes that if there were a better understanding between black and white, much bloodshed could’ve been avoided. (He uses Dingana and the death of Piet Retief to illustrate this point). Credo Mutwa, therefore implores the white man to exterminate his ignorance and arrogance and for once learn and understand the black man for what he truly is- How he thinks , the beliefs and philosophies that guide his thinking, his actions and much more. “The African can only be understood in terms of the strange workings of his own mind and those who do not appreciate this may as well refrain from studying the African” (p.655).

Indaba, My Children is thus an attempt to paint a portrait of Africa that the world has never seen before. To demystify the notion that the black man of Africa is a Kaffir- (“ A man without a soul , an unbeliever and a person who can never see the paradise of Allah” - Arab definition as detailed in p.656  ) who has contributed nothing to the advancement and development of humanity at large. This is achieved by taking the reader on a captivating and thrilling adventure through the annals of time. From the very beginning of time when a great nothingness engulfed the earth. To the very first goddess , Ninavanhu-Ma who created the very stars, mountains and oceans and then went on to give birth the human race. We get a glimpse of tribal life in precolonial Africa - the good the great and the not so good. 

Women play a very significant role in this great piece of literature. Throughout the story we have many great heroines and rounded female characters. Women can be seen in positions of leadership ,as chieftains and emperors. They are presented as wise , strong and authoritative. There is a synergy and cooperative spirit that governs the men and women. Force and violence against the female body are extremely frowned upon and even punishable by death. Women can therefore practice autonomy over their own bodies and even choose to turn down suitors and marriage proposals. 

Tribal law  governs the people and absolutely no one is above it. For the preservation of all the laws, customs and traditions of the tribes- everyone must obey all the laws that have been clearly  set out. The laws are very strict and they pertain to matters such as- Behavior,  rituals , adultery, sex before marriage, theft , murder , abortion ,rape and overall conduct. There are about one hundred such laws and they often contradict those which have been superimposed on Africans by foreigners. When a law is broken a suitable punishment is carried out by the “Tribal avengers”. The punishments are very crude and unforgiving, they are the grimmest part of life pre-colonial life. According to Tribal Law, anyone under 25 years of age is still considered a child and is strictly forbidden to marry or to partake in any form of sexual activities. Failure to adhere to this law is punishable by death. 

Polygamy is shown as a normal part of life. Most men take more than two wife's and chiefs really have no limit. The author states that : “ A fallacy dear to many people is that polygamy is practiced as a sign of wealth and prestige” (p. xviii). He cautions that that is very far from the truth. According to the coveted high Tribal Law “ A  man must have no relations with his wife during her periods of menstruation or during the entire period while she breastfeeds a baby... Opposition to polygamy encourages extensive immorality and  destruction of Bantu family life and traditions. p.633” . It is believed that the males semen poisons the baby's  milk. Thus polygamy is crucial in these situations, it ensures that these sacred laws will not be broken. It is also worthy to note that polygamy is not only practiced by males. Yes, a female who goes up the ranks and becomes chieftainess , gets a whopping three husbands all to herself! To top it off , she has to ask for their hand in marriage! 

Hair plays a very important symbolism. The “sicolo” hairstyle is worn by married women, usually of royal blood. Different tribes can be identified by their unique hairstyles. “The Strange Ones” are said to have “hair that looks as yellow as corn” and they are identified by their strangely silky , long and shiny hair. The Arabs or  “The Feared Ones” are identified as having “fuzzy hair and long beards”.

Slavery , something that was almost alien to Africans , becomes very rampant shortly after the arrival of the first ship. Life as we know it takes a horrid and bitter turn. Suddenly , human beings are sold and traded off like cattle. Fear and terror reign supreme and it seems that the very gods have turned their backs on the black man and woman of Africa. Men and women are made to fight and slaughter each other as a very eccentric and sadistic means of entertainment for the Strange Ones. Human beings are farmed and breed like pigs, to ensure an overflow of good quality slaves. At times, just for fun or experimentation. This dark period in the history of Africa, make the harsh punishments under Tribal Law seem very merciful and humane. The Strange Ones had traditions that were very macabre and blood-chilling. For instance, when their emperors died, he was buried along with his living wife and half of his slaves!  There is also mention of traitor tribes, who betrayed the black race by banding together with the Strange Ones as well as the slave-raiding Arabi and sold off millions of African men and women to save their own backs. And also for gaining wealth and favors from the straight-haired foreigners. 

Christianity is first introduced by the arrival of the  “Potugeesa” in page 521. It is a completely foreign and alien concept and only symbolized by the statuette carried by the foreigners. “ ...ten more of the aliens emerged from the forest led by the one wearing a dark-brown  robe reaching to his ankles. He was carrying a staff on the top of which was a bronze statuette of a man of some race, nailed to a cross of wood by his hands and feet ”. Africans lived a life in harmony with nature and were guided by their gods , and various traditions and customs. They could discern right from wrong and governed themselves accordingly.

Vusamazulu Mutwa breaks his sacral oath of silence as a high witchdoctor and chosen custodian as a last and desperate attempt to save the dying knowledge and customs of his people. “Why are we expected to abandon our way of life- our culture and traditions- and suddenly adopt others which are extremely strange to us? p.691 ” . In fear of Africa being turned into “a soul-less carbon copy” of her colonizers, Mutwa bears it all. “Oh! my indolent and gullible Africa- the superior aliens glibly talk of bringing “the light of civilization” to your shores. And yet the only civilization they can bring is one infected with physical,  moral and spiritual decay p.691”. Mutwa, believes that by bringing forth Africa's not-yet- forgotten past , we can weave a better understanding and corporation between Black and White, and dispel blatant mistruths and strongly held beliefs such as the one published in the Sunday Times “...The White man is superior to the Black, because apart from a few crude drawings in crude caves, nothing cultural, scientific and social has ever been achieved by a black...” (E. Morris,  Johannesburg, on August, 1962 ).

Indaba My Children is truly a work of genius. Its written in a compelling and enchanting style that is on a league of it’s own. The reader is thoroughly entertained and goes through a whirlwind of emotions ranging from amazement , pity , fear and anger to name a few. “A person  who is not familiar to Africa and its people might find it difficult to understand this story, let alone read between the lines p.529” It does not follow the “classic”, western three-act structure of story-telling and the perspective of the story-teller jumps back and forth between the main characters, the author and even animals! Parts of the story are told from the point of view of the animals. This draws the reader in the mind of these beasts and it is a powerful way of showing that animals have a mind and consciousness of their own. It also signifies the sacred relationship between the pre-colonial African and the animals in his environment. This story is said to be “...a strange mixture of historical fact and legendary fantasy, a strange mixture of truth and nonsense”. This story is not intended only as a means of entertainment, but is also educational in that it is said to embody tribal history and law. It is written in a way that it can be enjoyed by both old and young. 

[excuseme-youpretty]

Ecstasy

Pairing: Kim Taehyung / Reader

Side Pairings: None

Rating: Teen

Genre: Fluff

Word Count: 2935

-

Notes: Yet again, this was requested as a prompt by my sister. The theme for this prompt was “Curiosity Shop” but I thought the title “Ecstasy” fit the overall story better. I hope you guys all enjoy!

I also haven’t proofread anything so I apologise for any mistakes!

-

Days as effortlessly romantic as today will always be your favourite way to express your relationship. 

Certainly, there is plenty of merit to be found within those lazy afternoons, your body sprawling across a canvas of clean cotton and your lover’s thighs embroidering your own. Where his hands perfectly frame your pelvis and his soft sleepy breaths puff across your cheekbones like dandelion seeds as dawn dissolves around you. 

But the moments where you can showcase how breathtakingly beautiful your fiance is, and how perpetually charming, by showing him off to the unwitting universe will always be your ultimate favourite.

Because you are absolutely certain that Kim Taehyung is the epitome of ecstasy; the word defined in the bladed architecture of his cheekbones and a smile which is a little too goofy for his godlike exterior. He can read your soul as though it were poetry - where to touch you, how to kiss you, what words to pull from his gilded tongue to make your toes curl upwards.

Yet, his particular brand of affectionate indulgence does not necessarily reside in over the top means of appreciation. There is no triumphant fanfare or elephant-lead parade (although, you are certain that Taehyung would arrange such a feat at a moment's notice if that was what you craved). 

No, Taehyung's adoration can be found in the smallest of expressions; petite gestures which remind you that you are eternally loved.

On this particular morning, Taehyung had pried you from your sleep with a smattering of baby-breath kisses across your face and shoulders, his wide-set smile expanding considerably as soon as your lashes had fluttered open.

He had harmonized his love into your tilted collarbones and presented you with a warm, fresh from the oven croissant and foam-tipped latte from your favourite bakery down the street. His impossibly long fingertips had chorded through your hair as you both ate in comfortable silence, perfectly attuned to an orchestra of birdsong resonating just outside your window.

Only once every single crumb had been polished off did Taehyung, regretfully, tug himself from your side. He had somersaulted toward your bathroom, his strides wide and perfectly chaotic, as he fumbled around with the convoluted dials on your shower to ensure the downpour would reach the perfect temperature for your bodies to intertwine underneath.

After an onslaught of strawberry-scented suds, and the 'accidental' wade of Taehyung's fingertips taking an exploratory turn across your chest, he had carefully pulled you from your shower to drape you in a large towel, wicking all  moisture from your skin in a few eager strokes. 

You had perched on the precipice of your mattress as Taehyung threw your closet doors open, scanning the entirety of your wardrobe with his lips pursed in concentration. It didn't happen often, but whenever your man would take it upon himself to correspond his wardrobe with yours it would always leave a fuzzy feeling in your lower abdomen; like television static, only sweeter.

On this occasion he had settled on a white blouse to match his own pristine dress shirt, similar light-washed jeans, and an adorable indigo purse which coordinated perfectly with the heavily-patterned scarf knotted against his throat. 

You had just barely finished dabbing perfume against your clavicle when Taehyung had enthusiastically tugged you out toward his car, his lips curling wetly against your own to silence any reservations you may have had about this seemingly impromptu rendezvous.

He simply asked you to trust him, his ringed fingers clicking pretty against the radio dial as he thumbed Sam Smith's satin-spun vocals to an all-time high. 

Just like that you were driving through Korea's technicolor streets without a care in the world. Pure ecstasy. 

And that is how you found yourself in your current position hours later.

Taehyung's fingertips are unfathomably long where they loop throughout your own, pouring like honey across your knuckles, and somehow gathering enough momentum to swing pendulously between your bodies.

Across his other wrist Taehyung balances an abundance of overstuffed shopping bags from the various outlets dotted throughout the mall. You lean virtually all of your weight against him, your stomach full of the most exquisite lunch and a plastic straw caught between your teeth to savour your second mango-passionfruit smoothie of the afternoon.

Sometimes being in love with Taehyung is utterly exhausting; a permanent fixture of motion and charisma and effortless conversations which always leave you a little tongue-tied and high on his natural dopamine. 

And yet, you wouldn't have him any other way. 

"Hey, Tae? Can we maybe take a rest for a minute?" You sigh sweetly, nestling your cheek comfortably against Taehyung's domed bicep. "My feet are killing me."

"Of course, Jagi!"

Taehyung guides you toward the large terracotta fountain poised proudly within the mall's centre. You perch against the cool stone, with Taehyung placing your shopping bag collection aside to join you, and sigh softly as he lifts your aching feet from your pointed heels to caress his long fingers around your tender instep.

He massages your skin softly, dissolving all discomfort through persistent compression and a voice as smooth as buttercream. His lips seek out the plush of your temple, tucking away the loose strands of hair he finds with the tip of his nose. 

Taehyung's heartbeat carries a natural percussion with tones akin to tinkling wind chimes and every bit as delicate. You find yourself overwhelmed by the collaborative sensations of sound, rhythm and his earthy cologne.

You lean into your fiance's torso. Another blissful sigh flutters past your lips and across the sticky straw compressed between your teeth. With your head tipped back, you allow your lidded gaze to slowly scan your nearby surroundings. 

Amidst a monotonous canvas of granite stone and whitewashed brick sits a peculiar storefront. A flash of jade woodwork, with wide stain-glass windows and what appeared to be a hand-carved door decorated by spray painted poison ivy decals. 

The facade, although surreal and whimsically furnished, is definitely new. You can't help but find yourself drawn toward it like an energetic moth flouncing toward an open flame; the clash of pigment as stark as a gilded leaf amidst a blanket of snow.

"Tae?" You muse, listening for his small hum of acknowledgment before you continue. "This is new, right? I don't think I've seen it here before."

Taehyung lifts his head to follow your gaze, a sunkissed curtain falling in front of his vision as he does so. He puckers his lips in thought.

"You're right. 'Quirks and Curiosities'. I wonder what they sell there?"

"Hm. My money is on obscure trinkets. Like the type of stuff Jungkook collects in that shoebox underneath his bed."

"Well, in that case!" Taehyung grins, the corners of his mouth stretched skyward. "We absolutely have to go in."

He springs forward onto the balls of his feet with a small, barely noticeable squeal of pure delight, carefully grasping at the marginally empty cup in your hands to toss the dregs into a nearby garbage can. 

He helps you back onto your feet, guiding your soothed soles into your leatherette heels once again. The visual makes you giggle fondly.

In spite of his buoyant bleach-blonde curls and tanzanite contacts, he really does resemble an animated prince falling into a whirlwind romance orchestrated by fate itself.

"Come on, Jagiya! Lets see what we can find." 

Taehyung tugs impishly upon your linked fingers as he gathers your shopping bags within his spare wrist. You roll your eyes and chastise him for his infantile excitement, but you cannot deny that his palpable enthusiasm is utterly contagious. 

The pretty tinkle of polished wind-chimes twirling against one and other is the first stimulant you are met with as soon as you toe across the threshold of Quirks and Curiosities. The second is an overwhelming scent of sandalwood and crisp clean cotton. 

It takes a moment for your eyes to adjust to the sudden light change, all springtime luminescence transforming into something dim and tinted violet from the many mismatched lamps strung overhead. 

A plethora of beaded curtains brush by your cheekbones as Taehyung draws you further into the annex of the shop. There are several shelves, each one littered by an array of unique antiques and special oddities which pique your interest. 

Your fiance appears similarly hypnotized. His eyes are wide, sparkling as vibrantly as blossoming constellations, as he runs his impossibly long fingertips over the top of a large bronze cattle statuette. 

Briefly, your mind is seized by the notion of how much Namjoon would enjoy such a place. All of the unique figurines he could acquire to bolster his ever-expanding collection. But your thoughts are quick to sober; Kim Namjoon in close proximity with anything fracturable is never a good idea.

As Taehyung becomes enraptured by what appears to be a pair of large peacock-feather earrings, you break away from his side to go exploring on your own, making sure to press a small but affectionate kiss against his neck in passing.

You nod courteously at the petite woman poised patiently behind the counter, her kind eyes creased in genuine warmth at the small interaction witnessed between yourself and your fiance. Your stomach flip-flops as a blush seeps across your cheekbones. It always stokes a fire deep within your stomach when your relationship with Taehyung is not only acknowledged, but also treated with respect. 

There was once a time when you had deemed yourself unworthy of his advances, of the sweet words which would drip like caramel from his tongue and explorative hands which would hold your body oh so tight. But he had smothered those insecurities underneath a pair of the prettiest puppy-dog eyes you had ever seen and now, with this friendly stranger recognizing your partnership as beautiful causes your insides to glow. 

Absentmindedly running your thumb and forefinger over the cool band of your engagement ring, you divert your attention toward one of the more colourful displays. 

A kaleidoscope of pretty scarves dangle from mismatched hangers, their metallic threads shimmering underneath the dim lamplight and silken tassels catching every little breeze which passes by like party streamers caught in the air. 

Underneath them, a small collection of beautiful coin purses are dotted in a row. Some of them have been hand-stitched into complex creases whilst others carry reflective sequins and enhanced beading. 

But what really captures your attention is a trio of beautifully displayed fans, each perched upon a small wooden plinthe and spread open to showcase their intimate details and exquisite craftsmanship. 

One of them in particular, the largest in the collection, leaves you momentarily transfixed. It is broad and colourful; a distinct lavender hue ombreing out toward filigree lace corrugations. Embroidered butterflies spread their wings across the textured surface of the fan, some soaring sky high whilst others dip their proboscis into a bouquet of flowers so elaborately detailed that you can practically smell their tantalizing sweetness.

Sparing a brief glance over your shoulder toward the adorable shopkeep who had regarded you so kindly, receiving a nod of encouragement in response, you reach out and carefully pluck the large fan from its plinthe as soon as she grants you permission to do so. 

It feels light within your palm, decorative lace tickling your cheek as you bring it close. You focus on the sunkissed crown of Taehyung's hair, on his deliciously deep voice waxing poetic about the pair of earrings now dangling from between his knuckles.

"Tae?" You hum, wafting the fan against your cheeks.

"Yes, Jagiya?"

He turns on the spot, his oval eyes softening as soon as he witnesses the weave of your hips wandering toward him and the clash of purple against your honeyed complexion. 

"Ah, what do we have here?" He hums, holding a hand out toward you.

You teeter into his presence, slowly directing your fan around your body in a deliberate semi-circle, and pitch your voice a fraction higher.

"I'm so fine wherever I go~" You mewl, imitating your beloved friend with a lot less skill and precision than Jimin himself would offer.

Still, it causes Taehyung's smile to expand; pulls an abundance of impish giggles from his throat like popcorn kernels puffing up.

"Much better than Jimin-ssi!" Taehyung cackles, clapping his hand against his inner wrist to prevent damaging the pretty earrings he holds. "But if you tell him I said that, I'll only deny it."

"I understand. Soulmate priorities."

"Exactly!"

Taehyung pulls your body close to his own, his palm pressing snug against your tailbone. His lips make quick work of your flushed cheeks, kissing across elevated bone and pausing to rest on the tippity tip of your crinkled nose.

"Ah, I love you." He sighs.

Foregoing any chance for the sentiment to be echoed, Taehyung opts instead to guide you toward the cash register to pay for your newly coveted trinkets.

"Good afternoon!" Taehyung sing-songs, bowing politely. "I would like to purchase these earrings." He slides the jewellery in question across the counter, fingertips twitching as though he dreaded letting the unusual accessory go. "And my beautiful fiancee seems to have fallen in love with this stunning fan." 

Before you have a chance to offer up your purchase for her eyes to evaluate the attendant's fingers are dancing expertly across the raised keys of her cash register, its numbers as faded and timeless as the adorable knicknacks which surround you. There is a small ping! as the drawer pops open, but Taehyung is quick to press a handful of crisp bills into the woman's hand before she can signify any total.

Part of you knows that you should object to Taehyung's unique brand of generosity. That he has already done far too much for you over the course of your relationship; especially today with his impromptu shopping spree and fancy luncheon.

But you also know that Taehyung would object. That he would unravel his bottom lip in an emboldened pout that will leave you breathless whilst he insists that he needs to more. And it always culminates in him going above and beyond to spoil you far more than is necessary.

So instead you tuck your smile into the mapwork of Taehyung's shoulder and attempt to hex away the heat which swirls like lava beneath your skin. 

After all, it is quite exhilarating to be worshiped by the man who maintains ownership of your entire heart and soul. Why not indulge, at least a little, if it makes you both happy?

"Please, keep the change." Taehyung insists, and when the shopkeep inhales a sharp breath of surprise you feel your heart swell with pride. 

After tucking his wallet back within the confined of his far-too-tight jeans, your fiance gathers the small bag containing his newly purchased earrings and loops it in place over his wrist where it joins countless others. He braids an arm around your midsection and you both thank the friendly employee one final time before returning to the sterile ceramics of the bustling shopping mall. 

The sound of water slapping loudly against cool tile and an abundance of discarded wish-laced pennies almost feels too chaotic in comparison to the impenetrable silence that Quirks and Curiosities had seemingly perfected.

Your eyes take a minute to adjust to the sudden influx of concentrated light as your pupils shrink from necessary dilation back to their regular size. Still, your vision burns, and you find yourself raising your fan toward your eyes out of instinct alone, hoping to disperse some of the rays which trickle like honey between your eyelashes. 

Taehyung watches the display with an overt fondness. 

"You know, I'm thinking we might have made a huge mistake in buying that fan for you, Jagi."

You squint at him in confusion. "Why?"

"Just think of all the terrible jokes Jin-hyung will make as soon as we get home."

You give pause. Attempt to mentally condition yourself for a persistent circus of 'perfect fan' and 'fan-tastic' puns before they arrive. And if you concentrate hard enough you can just barely make out Seokjin's telltale laugh like perfectly-manicured nails on a chalkboard. 

You ignore the urge to cringe. Because, as irritating as his poorly conceived jokes can be at times, you simply wouldn't want your Jin any other way.

"Worth it." You muse, whipping your fan enthusiastically in front of your face. 

Taehyung grins, pulling your body against his own so that he may press a kiss to your mouth. He lingers, his neatly-sculpted cupid's bow clinging to your lower lip as he autographs his name on your flesh with a brief - albeit deliberate -  catch of his teeth on tongue-warmed skin.

You sigh as soon as you part from each other, your fingernails finding purchase on his silken neck scarf to keep him from straying too far. 

"I love you, Tae." You purr, tilting your head back just far enough so that he can glide the tip of his nose against your own.

"I love you more, Jagi." 

Taehyung presses a fingertip to your mouth before you can attempt to protest his ludicrous, and frankly defamatory, statement.

"Now, come on. It's time to buy my future wife some pretty new shoes! Ones that don't hurt her poor feet quite as much."

Once again you are completely susceptible to his bewildering enthusiasm. 

And as Taehyung draws you past the large fountain you had once taken solace in, pausing to capture the very moment that his lips had burned an entire midsummer sunset across the underside of your jawline, residual thoughts from your morning return to you with picturesque clarity.

Kim Taehyung really is the epitome of ecstasy.

[yasbxxgie]

Rare Lion Cub Mummies Revealed in The Latest Treasure Haul at Egypt’s Saqqara The Egyptian Ministry of Antiquities today announced two mummified lions, dating from approximately 2,600 years, in a tomb full of cat statues and cat mummies at Saqqara, at a press conference

Mostafa Waziri, General Secretary of the Supreme Council of Egypt, said that “this is the first time that a lion or lion cube’s complete mummy is being found” in Egypt. who led the team that made the discovery.

The analysis is ongoing, but it appears the Lions are fairly small — about 3 feet (just under 1 meter) in length, — Waziri said, suggesting that they were not fully grown when they died.

Three other mummies that belong to large cats (the exact species is unclear) were found near the two lions. These three other mummies could belong to leopards, cheetahs or other forms of the big cat. About 20 mummies of smaller cats were also found near the lion cubs.

About 100 statues and statuettes were found near the burials, many of which depict cats. The cat statues are made of stone, wood or metal (such as bronze), and “most of them well painted, well decorated and some were inlaid with gold,” Waziri said.

A small ebony statue of the goddess Neith was also found within the tomb, a discovery that helped archaeologists determine the tomb’s date, said Khaled al-Anani, Egypt’s Minister of Antiquities.

Neith was a goddess of the city of Sais, which was the capital of Egypt during the 26th dynasty (around 2,600 years ago), Anani said.

A massive scarab-shaped artifact that appears to be more than a foot (30 centimeters) in diameter was also found in the tomb.

Scarab-shaped artifacts are frequently found in Egypt and were used as seals, amulets and jewelry. This particular scarab artifact might be the largest example ever found in Egypt, the archaeologists said.

Catty location

The area of Saqqara where the tomb was discovered seems to be a cat hot spot, so to speak. Previous archaeological digs in the area have uncovered the remains of cat mummies and cat statues, and in 2004 a French team found the partial remains of a lion skeleton.

It seems that around 2,600 years ago, the area was a place of commemoration for the Egyptian cat goddess Bastet and her son the lion god Miysis, Anani said.

While cats dominate this part of Saqqara, they do not rule exclusively, as previous archaeological excavations in the area have found mummies of other animals such as birds, Waziri said.

In other parts of Saqqara, many other types of archaeological remains can be found, including Egypt’s first pyramid, a step pyramid built by Djoser, a pharaoh who ruled more than 4,600 years ago. It is the oldest pyramid constructed in Egypt.

Recently, several other interesting archaeological discoveries have been made at Saqqara, including a 2,000-year-old catacomb containing the burial of a “worthy” woman named “Demetria.” Recent discoveries also include a 2,500-year-old silver face mask gilded with gold and a 4,400-year-old tomb built for a “divine inspector” named “Wahtye.”

Photographs:

Several small cat mummies were found in the tomb

Three large cat mummies and some small mummies can be seen at the archaeological site at Saqqara. It’s not clear if the lion mummies are shown in this photo

This cat statue, along with many others, was discovered in a tomb discovered at Saqqara in Egypt

About 100 statues, many of cats, were found in the tomb. They are made of wood, metal or stone. A few are gilded with gold.

[cooperhewitt]

Virginia Modeling

Jerome Myers always had a sketchbook close at hand. When weather prevented him from sketching city life in New York, he would turn instead to self-portraits or drawings of his family. In this sketch, the artist’s daughter—Virginia—sits at a table, making a small figurine out of clay.

Born in Petersburg, Virginia, Myers moved with his family to New York City in 1886 when he was 19 years old. Though he had been drawing for years, he had no formal art training. He enrolled in evening classes at the Cooper Union after work, and soon began to study at the Art Students League.

Myers became known for his scenes of immigrant communities on the Lower East Side. Carrying his sketchpad, he would go on long walks through Italian and Jewish neighborhoods, recording life as he saw it. In the summer of 1906, a reporter for The New York Times accompanied Myers for a profile on the artist.  He observed:

One may know the great east side fairly well, and yet it is a revelation to walk through it with so close a student of its life and its people as Mr. Myers has become…To walk slowly through this street, turning off here and there to glance at some particular house or group of people, is to receive an impression of a joyous life lived in the open air for much the same reason as people live in that fashion in Europe—because their homes are not as comfortable as the streets. [1]

Other drawings at Cooper Hewitt, like Tambourine Woman and The Peddler, show vignettes of daily life in the neighborhood.

The same year that Myers was featured in The New York Times, he welcomed the birth of his daughter, Virginia. At age 5, around the time that this drawing was made, Virginia was becoming a celebrity herself. She starred in the Edison Film Company’s 1000th film release—Dream Dances of Virginia Myers (1912). Known for her wild hair and improvisational dance style, she would continue to perform in New York theaters through the 1920s.[2]

In 1915, Jerome Myers began to experiment more with etching. He would often change the plate after printing a few copies, creating several states of each print. For colored etchings, he would hand color the plate and run off about three copies. The color tended to get lighter with each printing. Sometimes, he would choose to re-color the plate differently, leading to wide variations between different prints from the same plate.[3]

The print on the right is from the collection of the Smithsonian American Art Museum. The more brightly colored version on the left is in the collection at Cooper Hewitt. In the latter, the initials EM appear next to the artist’s signature in the lower right. The artist’s wife—Ethel Myers—likely helped with the printing. She was a student of Robert Henri, leader of the Ashcan School, and had painted her own scenes of life on the Lower East Side before meeting Jerome.[4]  After their marriage, she became better known for her bronze statuettes and figurines. Perhaps the original drawing for this composition was a family affair: Ethel may have been sitting at the table, though not pictured, teaching Virginia about her work.

Laura Fravel is the Curatorial Research Assistant (American Art) in the Drawings, Prints & Graphic Design Department at Cooper Hewitt, Smithsonian Design Museum.

[1] “Life on the East Side His Art Inspiration,” New York Times (July 1, 1906), p. X1.

[2] See Virginia Myers papers, (S) *MGZMD 442. Jerome Robbins Dance Division, The New York Public Library. Transcriptions of the letters are available online and read like a Who’s Who of the New York art world at the time. Virginia’s fans included director of the Metropolitan Museum of Art Edward Robinson, artist Edwin Howland Blashfield, poet Ridgely Torrence, arts patron Mabel Dodge, and photographer Jessie Tarbox Beals, who went so far as to compose a poem about the “wondrous little child / So full of life – so quiet yet so wild” (No. 31).

[3] See essay by Bruce St. John, Director of the Delaware Art Center, in the exhibition catalogue for Jerome Myers: Artist in Manhattan, 1867-1967 (Wilmington, DE: The Wilmington Society of the Fine Arts, 1967), p. 9.

[4] Jerome and Ethel Myers also had ties to Ashcan School artist John Sloan, and had a studio across the street from him when Virginia was born.

from Cooper Hewitt, Smithsonian Design Museum https://ift.tt/2TBnw9c via IFTTT

[sabraeal]

Flapping Lips

Massively late for the Obiyuki Soundtrack Challenge, but this is for track 2. Part of Go For Broke

Kai’s a good kid; Obi’s never quite been sure exactly what his job title is -- bouncer? butler? bodyguard? Both him and the older guy seem to share whatever job gets thrown at them, all in unironic ascots and tails -- but he leads Obi straight out to the poolside when he arrives, murmuring, “Miss Arluleon has been waiting for you.”

Good thing he wore black today; at least none of these turkeys would see him sweat.

“That so?” he manages, adjusting his hat. “Can’t wait.”

The first time he’d seen the soon-to-be Mrs Izana Wisteria, she’d been splayed on a bunk in the barracks, all legs and sun-kissed skin, blonde hair bobbing over bare shoulders.

The new Betty Grable, Hiro had said proudly, showing off his collection of pin-ups. Obi hadn’t known there was anything wrong with the old one, but there was something about her, barely eighteen and all tits and ass and sunny smile. She’d been the wallpaper of every place he’d bunked down, sharing space with Vargas girls and Rita Hayworth as men talked about their girls back home.

Now’s not the time to think about how most of them never made it.

Obi’s never held a hundred dollars in his life, never even seen Franklin except in school books, but here he is now, standing at the end of million-dollar legs, all 35-22-35 above them wrapped up in a white bikini that would have been an instant favorite in the bunks.

There hadn’t been many good times in the war, but what ones there were, Haki Arluleon was there. She just...doesn’t know that.

Her chin tilts up, and beneath her wide sunglasses and brimmed hat, her lips spread into her signature smile.

“What do we have here?” she drawls, angling herself so the oil on her skin glistens, so that she looks like one of those bronze statuettes her set are so keen to hoard. “Mr Private Investigator, I presume? Izana did tell me you’d drop by.”

She arches a brow, somehow coy and innocent at the same time, and -- ha, maybe she does know about those good times.

“Obi,” he says, taking the hand she offers. Despite the lean curve of her body, her grip is strong; a businessman’s daughter through and though. “No ‘mister’ needed.”

“Obi.” The way her lips wrap around his name is like something out of a Bogart movie. “No last name? How mysterious.”

He grins at that. “A little bit of mystery in this town can go a long way.”

“My my,” she says, too pleased. “I wouldn’t expect that sort of sentiment from a man in your line of work.”

It’s dangerous, this Bogart-and-Bacall banter they have going; it makes him want to like her, want to think that she couldn’t have anything to do with the bad business stinking up this house.

He can’t help himself. “Without it I wouldn’t have much of a job, now would I, Miss Arluleon?”

“A fair point,” she allows with an enigmatic smile. “Though I can’t see why you’d look for one here. There’s nothing mysterious about Wistal.”

He wants to laugh -- even without Wisteria gasping his last with his pretty little nurse-turned-heiress holding his hand, there was probably more than enough dirty laundry in these walls to spend two lifetimes unraveling, let alone for the greenbacks Zen Wisteria waved under his nose.

Hell, everything in Wistal stinks to high-heaven, and here he is, the sucker who wants to believe Haki Arluleon smells like roses.

“Well, someone didn’t feel that way,” he hedges, though by her face, he can tell he might as well have named names for all the secret it was. “And I thought I might as well poke around. You know, since the lady of the house gave me permission.”

Obi’s watching her close, waiting for that smile to waver at the mention of the other woman, but instead that mega-watt smile only grows brighter. The skin around her eyes crinkles, and for one moment, he can tell she’s forgotten to mind her face, to remember that every real smile now is a dime she won’t make later.

“Shirayuki is always so accommodating, isn’t she?” The words are pleasant, but he doesn’t miss the sharp glint in her eyes as she watches him. “Such a doll. I don’t know what I’d do without her.”

He catches himself reaching for his shoulder, flexes his hand instead. Obi’s not sure he’d go so far as to say Red’s been accommodating; he’d been surprised by her letter -- or her lawyer’s, really, even if the man swore the permission came from the young miss’s mouth herself -- but he wasn’t about to start calling it altruism.

People got antsy, trying to prove their innocence. Especially the guilty ones.

“She’s sure a lot of something,” he allows, leaning on the lounger. “But I’m not here for her, Miss Arluleon.”

“Is that so?” A curved brow arches over the rim of her sunglasses. “A pity.”

There’s a strange amount of sincerity in that.

She rolls toward him on her lounger, looking attentive. “But I’ll be as helpful as I can.”

“I appreciate it,” he says, wry. “Can you tell me where you were when Kain Wisteria died?”

She tilts her head, like she has to wrack her brain to remember, like she hasn’t already given this statement half a dozen times since the old man rattled out his last and shook all the tinsel in this town with it.

“In bed,” she says finally, slowly. “We’d had quite the late night, Izana and I. A party down at the marina. On Shenezard’s boat, I think. One of them, you know he has something like a dozen. His son was having a little soiree on one of the more...reserved yachts in his father’s fleet.”

Now that’s an interesting tidbit. Not to do with the investigation, of course -- alibis were such fickle things when their owners had the clams to make bodies disappear -- but the tabloids would love to hear something like that: Wisteria Heir Makes Time On Shenezard Pleasure Cruise.

“I didn’t think Izana kept up much with Raj Shenezard.” His father worked for another one of the Big Five, and by all accounts the Prince of Paramount ran with a faster crowd than Izana Wisteria would be caught dead with. “Must have been some party.”

“He puts in his appearances at a few of them, for old time’s sake.” She waves a hand. “And sometimes it’s the only place to catch who you need to see. Even some of the wallflowers come out for a party on a Shenezard boat.”

Obi wouldn’t know, but he nods. “This is the night before.”

“And the wee hours of the morning,” she laughs. “I don’t think we left before one, and by then it was much too late for me to be going all the way back home, so Izana insisted I stay here.”

He quirks an eyebrow. Another thing the supermarket rags would love to hear. “And I suppose this is your fiancé’s alibi as well?”

Without the help of colorists, it doesn’t seem like Haki Arluleon can blush, but she claps a hand to her cheek as if she had. “Why, of course not! I may have spent the night in Wistal, but we stayed in separate beds.”

“Of course,” he allows, wry. “And I’m sure you’re planning to keep that arrangement when you’re married too.”

She presses a hand to her heart, mouth curved to one side. “I live my life by the Hays Code, sir.”

Only because being in her unmentionables doesn’t break it. “Sure you do.”

“Why, I’ve already picked out the nightstand to go between our two singles.” Teeth flash behind red lips. “Mahogany and marble tops all around.”

“Sounds dynamite,” he assures her. “But what about the morning?”

“Asleep,” she tells him, easy. “I don’t think I roused myself before noon. That was when Izana came in and told me --” she gasps, hand pressing to her chest -- “told me that Kain had -- had --” she makes a real show of struggling with the words -- “passed.”

It’s a good show; clear to see why she’s got so many of those metal statuettes at home, even though she’s barely scraping twenty-five, but he didn’t come here for a bunch of lines.

“Can anyone vouch for you, Miss Arluleon?” he asks, watching her dab at the corners of her eyes. He wonders how many of the chuckleheads down at the precinct have been taken in by her, if they all bought her Perils of Pauline act.

“I’m not sure.” Her lips purse into a thoughtful moue. “The staff must have seen me at some point, but there was no one...well, watching me sleep.”

It’s tempting to buy into her ingenue act even now, even knowing that she’s not a Grable but a full Bacall. Even more tempting to think that she is just how the nastier tabloids paint her: a gold-digger who made a name for herself with her legs and her measurements, a girl looking for a leg up in the movie world and found a man able to lift her tits and ass and all into the Olympus of Hollywood Royalty.

It’s tempting, but Obi is a man who does his research. Not some clown with a badge.

“How long had you known your father-in-law?” he asks, voice light, inquiring.

“Oh,” she sniffs. “Ages. Daddy hardly worked with anyone else, even in the studio. Only the best for Kain, you know.”

And there it is -- what sets the gumshoes above the flatfoots. So tempting to think a girl needs a leg up, when she looks like a dream wrapped in a fantasy --

But Haki Arluleon never has. Tabloids don’t care about colorists -- technicolor might as well be magic, for all they know -- but Hollywood does.

Kain Wisteria did. The rest of the world might see a pin-up reaching for the stars, but Haki’s practically Hollywood Royalty herself; after all, you don’t get a Swedish model mother by having a nobody as a father. Not in this town.

“Of course,” he says with a smirk. “How else would we have that Wisteria blue?”

Her smile freezes like a rictus on her face. “Arluleon blue.”

Sitting so close to her, he can tell why. Sure, it comes close to the shade of Izana’s eyes, to Zen’s, but --

It’s not their peepers that would be true to color on film.

He leans in, conspiratorial. “Can you think of anyone that would want to rub out Kain Wisteria?”

The piercing look evaporates, as if it never existed at all. “Oh, never.”

“Never?” She’s got to know that’s a bridge too far, even if he was a cop. If there were a thousand reasons to kill in this city, all but a hundred of them would have to do with the Big Five.

“Well,” she tilts her hair, coy. “He had been in the business for years. I’m sure he’s stepped on a few toes.”

An understatement of the century. Like saying Randolph Hearst was moderately wealthy.

“But someone who would want to -- to kill him?” She shakes her head sadly. “I can’t imagine it.”

“You know, people say Kain and Izana had been arguing in the days leading up to his death,” he presses.

She waves a hand, as if the idea itself was absurd. “It’s hard to thrive under a shadow as large as Kain Wisteria’s. Izana has been wanting to try his hand at directing for ages, but Kain was determined to keep him on screen as long as possible.”

“And you don’t think he’d try to get out from daddy’s thumb another way?”

She sighs, unimpressed. “It’s the same story all around this country. Boy doesn’t want to take over the family business, him and his father fight about it until we’re all sick of hearing it. Zen was trying to take some opportunities at another studio, and they’d all been having a fit about that too.” She shrugs. “Nothing anyone would kill over.”

He sits back, doesn’t tell her that happens all the time. People get tired of being bossed around, they fight back, and suddenly Pa’s on the floor with a crack in his skull. Or in this case, poison in his lungs.

“It’s all so unfortunate,” she sighs dramatically, settling back against the lounge. “Kain was an institution in this town, but he’s been ill for years. Gassed in the first war, you know. That’s the reason he had to drop out of acting. Ruined his voice, and all they wanted after the war was talkies.”

He hesitates. Now that he hadn’t know.

“That’s why he had Shirayuki,” she confides, keeping her voice soft. “Chronic infections. Every sniffle could be the end. It was only a matter of time until it was.”

Obi grits his teeth around the truth. Something tell him Miss Arluleon wouldn’t be so forthcoming if she knew what the papers in his pocket said.

“He died as natural a death as a man could in his condition,” she concludes. “It’s sad that some have got to see shadows in sunlight. Though,” she adds, a bit lower, “I suppose that apple never fell too far from its tree.”

“Is that what Kain was like?” Obi asks, a little too sharp. “Seeing shadows in sunlight? A few sandwiches short of a picnic?”

Her body goes rigid, just for a moment, and then she eases back into her sultry lean, her bright smile. “Of course not! Kain had his eccentricities, but so do all geniuses, don’t they?”

He nods. “So you can your soon-to-be father-in-law got along well, I take it?”

She gives him a reproachful look, as if she’s surprised he doesn’t know better. “Of course. I was his muse after all.”

Obi raises a brow. “Didn’t they say that about Haruto, back in her day?”

“And his first wife,” she adds, her playful tone taking an edge.

He blinks. “First wife?”

He’d known about Haruto -- a scandal that the rags still like to bring up whenever there was a good photo of Kain standing next to young starlets; she’d hardly been eighteen when he’d cast her in her first role, and before it’d even wrapped they were married, Kain nearly twenty years her senior.

But a first wife? That’s...something different.

“That’s the only way to be a Mrs Wisteria,” she says, voice tight. “Catch Kain’s eye.”

There’s something about the way she’s looking at him, like she’s willing him to hear the words she’s saying, but --

“Shirayuki!”

He blinks, head swiveling over his shoulder, back towards the house, only to find his nose practically brushing the cotton of a sensible skirt. Thoroughly ignoring his presence, she skirts around him, holding out a dripping glass.

Haki seizes it with gusto. “You’re a darling, Shirayuki. What would I ever do without you?”

The lady of the house offers a tight smile, pointedly not looking in his direction. “I’m sure you would manage.”

“I’d suffer,” Haki tells her, raising the glass to her lips. “After all, who else would bring me --” she sputters as she takes a sip, eyes wide -- “Why, darling, this isn’t gin at all.”

“It’s water,” Red tells her, brows raised. “It’s practically desert weather out here. You need to keep hydrated.”

Haki gestures out to the pool. “I have plenty of water.”

A long suffering look passes under those freckles. “Sitting by it doesn’t count.”

“It should.” Under Red’s unwavering look, Haki sighs, taking a sip. “If you’re up anyway, darling, do you mind heading back inside? I need a little gin to help the water go down.”

If Red were any less of a lady, she’d roll her eyes. As it is, she just muffles a sigh. “Of course.”

Nowakoski pivots on the stacked heel of her Oxfords, military-sharp, and strides past him without a glance, like he’s no more than a stain on the pristine white of the lounge.

He clucks his tongue, gathering up his fedora. A dame like that should know that ignoring a man was more intoxicating than come-on. At least men like him, who make their business digging up the skeletons everyone else would rather stay buried.

“If you’ll excuse me, Miss Arluleon,” he murmurs, getting to his feet, “I think I’m getting a little parched.”

Her mouth rucks to one side in a smirk. “And here I thought you’d come for me.”

Obi reaches out, gives her hand another shake. “Who’s to say you can mix business with pleasure?”

Her lips give a wry quirk, amused. “And here’s me, wondering which one I’m supposed to be.”

In the closed confines of the house, Obi can admit – he’s in a real pickle trying to suss out which one Red is himself.

There’s a right answer: between pin-up and zipped-up, it should be clear to any red-blooded man which one is the pleasure part of the equation. There wasn’t a boy in Camp Shelby that wouldn’t have given his best nut to have ten minutes with Haki Arluleon, sure, but –

But there’s a real economy of movement in Red as she nips behind the bar, a sort of focus he hasn’t seen since he crossed back over the Atlantic. She looks almost at home back there, even with the high collar of her blouse, and the school marm cut of her skirt. There’s enough booze on the shelves it’s daunting; he doubts there’s a single person in this house that’s tried a nip from every bottle, but she cuts through with hardly more than a glance, gripping a bottle’s neck with a sort of confidence that leaves him more than a little dry-mouthed.

“So.”

She startles, hand slipping on the lemon she’s juicing. Her eyes dart up, owlish and wary, watching him lean on the bar.

“What’s the most expensive thing here?” He makes a show of squinting at the bottles, like he knows a damned thing about anything that isn’t a couple of cents a bottle. “Whiskey?”

She stares. Arluleon would have made a fortune if he could capture a color like that on film.

“How about two fingers of that.” He knocks on the bar, like he’s at any old dive. “On the rocks.”

Her mouth tightens, lips pressing white.

“If you’re thirsty,” Red says with her politest voice, “I’m sure there’s a half dozen bars between here and the bus stop that would be happy to oblige.”

“Aw, kicking me out, Red?” he drawls, leaning on a fist. “After you gave me an invitation and everything?”

“I don’t believe that it included the bar,” she tells him primly, opening a jar of what looks like powdered sugar – even now, he salivates just thinking about that much of it in one place – and mixing it in with the juice.

“Part of the investigation,” he fires back. “Perfect place to hide poison, isn’t it? An after-dinner drink?”

Her eyes narrow, just the slightest bit. “Then you’re picking the wrong spirits. Mr Wisteria wasn’t a whiskey man.”

Those flushed cheeks, those ruffled feathers – just what he likes to see. People are so much easier to grill if they’re about to blow a gasket. He grins. Only thing left is to apply the right pressure.

He eyes the top button of her blouse, closed prudishly at her throat, the trailing bow that ties over it, contrasting neatly with crisp white. Good thing he knows just what laces to tug on girls like this.

“Now that’s what I’m looking for,” he drawls with a wag of his eyebrows. “Some moxie. Been missing out there with our Able Grable.”

This should be the point where she preens a little, where Cinderella takes a little joy at poking at one of her stepsisters, but –

Instead her expression shutters, shoulders tense as she tosses him an incredulous look. “If that’s what you think after talking to Haki, then Zen should have saved his money.”

It’s his turn to stare, for his jaw to practically come unhinged. That’s not – that’s not how the script is supposed to go. The hard-working Girl Friday and the Femme Fatale are not – not –

Friends.

“I may not…agree with Zen’s feelings,” she says haltingly after a moment. “But I respect that he needs to…to know. Beyond a shadow of a doubt.” She fixes him with a look. “So let me tell you that Haki is far cleverer than men like to think. And that’s the way she likes it.”

He recovers enough to ask, “Clever enough to murder a man?”

She lets out a long-suffering sigh. “Kain Wisteria died of pneumonia.”

Not according to the paper burning a hole in his pocket. “That wasn’t the question.”

She stares at him them, hard. “In my expert medical opinion, it doesn’t require much cunning at all to kill someone. It was harder to keep Mr Wisteria out of his bed than in it, at the end. But do I think Haki would kill a man? No.”

Obi taps his glass, watching her pour the gin, mix in the syrup, crush some ice. His chest burns where the paper sits, Suzu’s scrawling script practically tattooing itself into his skin. It’d be stupid to bring it up, to tip his hand early, but --

But there’s something about this girl that makes him want to ruffle her a little. Shake some of that blind confidence in the goodness of man.

So of course, he does. “You know, I had a friend look over your notes, and the ones from the coroner.”

Her eyebrows lift, unimpressed. “Is that so?”

“He works over at the university,” he says. “A real egg-head, you know? His boss is some big shot in medicine. Wise? Wives?”

“Weise?” she prompts, gaze swiveling toward him. “Your friend works for Shidan Weise?”

He’s not sure what the big deal about that is, besides that he made some…antidote for something during the war. Suzu’s explained it, but it all flies over his head. Still, it’s got Red’s attention, which is what he needs.

“Apparently,” he leans in, conspiratorial, “it all looked like pneumonia. Both you and the coroner’s notes agreed. But.”

She leans in, just slightly. “But?”

“The coroner’s report mentions something interesting.” He pitches over the bar, just a little more, until he can smell the soap on her skin. “An edema in the nose.”

She rears back, face ashen. “Edema?”

He nods. “Yeah, you know, some swelling --?”

“I know what an edema is,” she tells him, flatly. Her fingers drum on the countertop. “Do you happen to have that report?”

“Made a copy,” he says, showing it to her. “But I --”

It’s gone from his hands in seconds, Shirayuki poring over the words as her face goes stark white.

“I-interesting,” she murmurs, before adding, slightly louder, “But I’m not sure if – that’s not entirely – conclusive.”

“Well,” he drawls. “I think I can draw a conclusion from it.”

Her hands shake as she sets the paper back down. “If you’ll excuse me, Haki asked for that drink some time ago.”

She steps out from around the bar, hurrying toward the poolside.

The glass sits on the bar, sweating, forgotten.

[aftaabmagazine]

A passage from the archaeologist spade

A passage from the archaeologist spade

By Berenice Geoffroy-Schneiter From her book Gandahar

"It s above all at Begram-Kapisa that we should begin extensive excavations as soon as possible, given that we are sure the harvest will be a most interesting one," Foucher wrote in 1923, in one of his very first dispatches from Kabul. Nonetheless, excavations continued throughout the region. Summoned from France by Foucher, Joseph Hackin succumbed in turn to the lofty beauty of the "Kingdom of the Blue," and savored the "infinite peace of the twilight of Islam."

His first steps took him to the ruins of the ancient fort at Balkh, then to Paitava, only seven miles from the Begram site. There, he unearthed a statuette which was original to say the least, a "Buddha executing the double Miracle of Water and Fire." Carved in a magnificent grayish-colored schist, today it resides in the Musée Guimet in Paris. 

"On Saturday, December 20th, it appeared, face first, new and all gold, sparkling in the rising sun. This is the beautiful golden glow in which legend has bathed the image of the Blessed One..."

But politics and archaeology, fraught with intermittent crises and misunderstandings, often made capricious bedfellows. It was until 1936 that the Begram area, long considered too dangerous, became available to archaeologists again.

The "Bazaar excavations," directed by Jean Carl and Jacques Meunier, quickly proved fertile. "Site I" revealed structures of a town from the Kushan period (first through the third centuries), its narrow streets lined with craftsmen's booths. But "Site 2," entrusted to Ria, Joseph Hackin's wife, surpassed their wildest hopes.

In a few days, out of the bowels of the Begram earth came a treasure whose wealth and eclecticism testified to the extraordinary role this opulent central Asian city and crossroads once played.

Carefully set on benches placed next to the walls, translucent glassware, delicately painted in the purest Alexandrian style, mingled with magnificent fish-shaped balsamaries and charming Hellenic bronzes and plaster emblemata (the medallions which served as models for apprentice artists or samples for prospective clients) of those staple subjects maenads, Silenuses, satyrs and other benevolent Dionysian figures-so popular in the ancient world.

Cosmopolitan and hedonist Begram was by no means the only city to harbor the remnant of the past. Discoveries were made daily, with each new excavation dictated by the vagaries of the turbulent political climate. 

It was, as Joseph Hackin summed up in his journal in 1924, "archaeology practiced as a sport."

—Berenice Geoffroy-Schneiter - - - 

The La Délégation archéologique française en Afghanistan (DAFA) was established in 1922 to conduct archaeological studies. Archaeologist and art historian Bérénice Geoffroy-Schneiter, who spent her childhood in the region, provides excerpts from the first DAFA archeologists: Alfred Charles Auguste Foucher (1865–1952), the founder of DAFA, Joseph Hackin (1886-41) and Marie "Ria" Hackin (1905-41). This passage was published in the book "Gandahar" (2001). 

Marie "Ria" Hackin (1905-41) was a French archeologist with DAFA who excavated several Buddist-era sites in Begram and Bamiyan. She was the first woman archaeologist in the region.  

Joseph Hackin (1886-41) was a French archeologist with DAFA. He excavated many Buddist-era sites in Begram, Kabul, Bamiyan, and Hadda. He and his wife,  Marie "Ria" Hackin, died on a ship in the Atlantic that was hit by a German torpedo.  

[trustasset]

Saturnalia and christmas

#Saturnalia and christmas free

Martial’s ring epigram (speaking from the perspective of the ring itself) reflects fondly on the generous gifts of the good old days: “In time past friends often gave us as presents, but nowadays it rarely happens.

#Saturnalia and christmas free

For a gold hairpin, Martial writes, “That your oiled tresses may not injure your splendid silk dress, let this pin fix your twisted hair, and keep it up.”Įnjoy stories about art, and news about Getty exhibitions and events, with our free e-newsletter Martial wrote epigrams (short satirical poems) for the many possible gifts of Saturnalia-fattened pigs, incense, turtledoves, glass cups, ivory knucklebones, lamps, and clay statuettes, to name a few. Let everyone give his guest an appropriate gift.” The Roman poet Martial described something like a White Elephant gift exchange: “At this time of the year, when the equestrians and senators show off their party clothes, and even the emperor wears a freedman’s cap…accept the gift you have drawn, whether from a poor or a rich man. In another topsy-turvy tradition, households would appoint a mock king or “Lord of Misrule” to reign over everyone and give silly orders like telling someone to shout embarrassing insults, dance naked, or chase others around the house.Īlong with drinking, feasting, and gambling, exchanging gifts was a popular Saturnalia tradition. And everyone would wear the freedman’s cap, a conical felt hat awarded to freed slaves, to celebrate the liberty and free spirit of the holiday. Instead of the formal and unwieldy toga, Romans of all ranks would put on a synthesis, a comfortable and colorful dinner dress that was normally reserved for private dinner parties. Strict Roman dress codes were also overturned. During the holiday week, enslaved people could attend banquets and were waited on by their owners, and were celebrated with gifts and wine. “Everywhere there is clapping and singing and playing games, and everyone, slave and free man, is held as good as his neighbor,” he says. In one ancient account, the god Saturn was featured describing the festival. These “deluxe” knucklebones, pictured below, do not go together, but numerous examples have been found across the Roman Empire and are frequently depicted in painting and sculpture, suggesting the widespread popularity of the game. They were later fashioned from all sorts of materials like wood, stone, terracotta, but also fancier mediums like translucent glass, bronze, gold, ivory, and precious gems. As their name implies, they were originally made from the foot bones of a goat or sheep-easily accessible and cheap. Knucklebones ( tali or astragaloi in Greek) were used for games of chance-they could be rolled like dice or played like jacks. According to some accounts, you were only supposed to gamble for nuts, not money, to recreate the golden age of Saturn. Gambling, normally outlawed, was allowed in public. When the Roman poet Statius attended Emperor Domitian’s Saturnalia feast in the late first century AD, he left this five-star review: “Who can sing of the spectacle, the unrestrained mirth, the banqueting, the unbought feast, the lavish streams of wine? Ah! now I faint, and drunken with thy liquor drag myself at last to sleep.”ĭuring Saturnalia, a time of jovial merrymaking, many social norms were relaxed and inverted. Businesses and law courts were closed so everyone could take part.⁠ In Rome, the holiday was kicked off with a religious ceremony in the Temple of Saturn, followed by a free public banquet open to all. Originally just one day, over the centuries the festivities grew to last a whole week, starting on December 17 and coinciding with the winter solstice.⁠

[thecatgoddessbast]

"I'm not sure what I'm doing." Arthur muttered, setting out a few cat statuettes. All three statues were sitting perched on little pedestals, two of painted pewter, and the third made from bronze. The bronze was the largest, and its back was hollowed for incense, filled with jasmine-scented oil. Silks laid out like shimmery rainbow rivers at the cats' feet, and vanilla candles burned in a ring around them and a bowl of cream with catnip garnish. "But I hope this offering can show my gratitude."

“This is pretty nice. Your researching game is on point.”

[ogradyfilm]

Emails from Japan: Day 6 (July 16, 2015)

[And now for something completely different—more personal, intimate, and spontaneous than my usual film reviews and analyses. Three years ago, my brother and I visited Japan, and (almost) every day, I sent our mother and father emails to keep them informed about our adventures. Now, I would like to share those messages and experiences. Please keep in mind that most of my knowledge about Japanese history and culture comes from the country's cinematic output; I am by no means an expert, and I’m sure these correspondences contain numerous errors—they represent a tourist’s point-of-view, nothing more. They have been edited only for spelling and grammar, and to remove our real names. I hope any blunders or faux pas won’t overshadow how much I treasured the trip.]

Hello again!

As planned, we returned to Ueno to make up for a few days ago. Weather was kind of nasty, so we didn't get to the zoo, but we got a full day out of the Tokyo National Museum. My personal favorite section was the one for "Modern Art" (meaning post-Meiji period works), which illustrated the tension between Japan's desire to hold on to its traditions (silk and ink paintings, and especially "decorative art" for ceramics and folding screens, which wasn't held in high regard outside the East) while also adopting more Western styles (oil paintings, naturalistic sculptures in bronze rather than wood). Two of my favorite pieces were a vivid ink painting depicting Japan's version of Heaven and Hell, complete with the minor deities Enma (who judges the dead) and Jizo (who rescues the souls of the damned) and a striking wood sculpture of an old monkey recovering from a battle with an eagle, attributed to an artist credited with merging Eastern and Western styles.

There were other interesting exhibits, too, including: a small collection of Christian paraphernalia (rosary beads, medallions and statuettes of the Madonna) from the period when the religion was outlawed in Japan (several of the medallions were meant to be trampled by suspects to demonstrate that they were not believers); a display of Noh theater masks for various female roles (I've always been fond of the Hannya, the woman transformed into a demon by jealousy); a large display of swords by various famed smiths, including an alleged son of the famous Masamune (I was more interested in the decorative grips and guards, which could depict anything from lions to butterflies to full on battle scenes); and many suits of armor (one of the more interesting ones, meant to resemble a temple guardian, was noted for being oddly anatomically realistic).

We explored until closing time, grabbed a quick bite, and headed back in.

We'll probably take it easy tomorrow, since we might be making an excursion into Kyoto over the weekend (it's an expensive trip, so we're not sure yet).

[Note: The next few days were eaten up by bad weather and travel. The next entry will cover July 19. See you then!]

[tabletoptrinketsbyjj]

Trinkets, 40: Interesting baubles, semi magical objects and items touched by mystery.

A brown wooden mask sports green stripes that appear to be the color of the wood instead of being painted on. A single studded iron plate runs down the nose of the mask, stamped with a decorative "L" on the forehead.

A glass flask messily labelled “Alchemist’s Fire”. It actually contains a highly-potent cinnamon whisky.

A small bag containing a large brass coin stamped with the insignia of the archdemon of Random Evil Domain, along with a red cultist mask. There is also a map of the nearby area that indicates a meeting location somewhere in the distant woods. A perceptive PC will notice that the map reveals a passphrase “Bloodmoon” hidden within the drawing.

A scrap of parchment that reads; "Leave the jewel in a sewer grate by the church, or the next time you look into her eyes they won't be in her head."

A tool designed to crack nuts. It disintegrates shells, leaving the nuts untouched. Bloody marks between the teeth and weird stains on the handle leave disturbing thoughts as to what it has been used for recently.

A military banner bearing a black on yellow pattern with a crimson border, the center dominated by a grinning human skull spit upon a lance. Knowledgeable PC’s will recognize the sigil as that of the Mad Lancer’s an infamous cavalry unit that was a force of nature as much as a military company.

A tattered remnant of a sermon written on vellum. A certain passage reads “With the certainty of stone, we shall persevere. Each crack, each mark is not a blemish, but a testament—a history of defiance writ upon our flesh?”

A tiny porcelain doll with unnervingly human eyes.

A slender hand harp, graceful of design, small and light enough to be played in one's lap. It is carved of teak wood engraved with designs of waves and fog, with silver wire for strings.

A set of four horseshoes that seem to be magnetically attracted to hooves, requiring no additional fastening.

—Keep reading for 90 more trinkets.

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

A brown wooden mask sports green stripes that appear to be the color of the wood instead of being painted on. A single studded iron plate runs down the nose of the mask, stamped with a decorative "L" on the forehead.

A glass flask messily labelled “Alchemist’s Fire”. It actually contains a highly-potent cinnamon whisky.

A small bag containing a large brass coin stamped with the insignia of the archdemon of Random Evil Domain, along with a red cultist mask. There is also a map of the nearby area that indicates a meeting location somewhere in the distant woods. A perceptive PC will notice that the map reveals a passphrase “Bloodmoon” hidden within the drawing.

A scrap of parchment that reads; "Leave the jewel in a sewer grate by the church, or the next time you look into her eyes they won't be in her head."

A tool designed to crack nuts. It disintegrates shells, leaving the nuts untouched. Bloody marks between the teeth and weird stains on the handle leave disturbing thoughts as to what it has been used for recently.

A military banner bearing a black on yellow pattern with a crimson border, the center dominated by a grinning human skull spit upon a lance. Knowledgeable PC’s will recognize the sigil as that of the Mad Lancer’s an infamous cavalry unit that was a force of nature as much as a military company.

A tattered remnant of a sermon written on vellum. A certain passage reads “With the certainty of stone, we shall persevere. Each crack, each mark is not a blemish, but a testament—a history of defiance writ upon our flesh?”

A tiny porcelain doll with unnervingly human eyes.

A slender hand harp, graceful of design, small and light enough to be played in one's lap. It is carved of teak wood engraved with designs of waves and fog, with silver wire for strings.

A set of four horseshoes that seem to be magnetically attracted to hooves, requiring no additional fastening.

A linen handkerchief embroidered with a pentagram design, surrounded by arcane symbols.

A banner in black with the image of a crow sewn into it with white silk, surrounded by arcane runes stitched in black thread. Three white silk ribbons flutter from it.

A horrific black mask carved in the likeness of a demon’s face. Massive curved horns sweep up and back out of the forehead and behind the ears, while the fangs seem to glisten as if ready to bite at any moment. When worn, the mask’s eye sockets become covered with a glassy shield that glows red. When the bearer speaks, his voice is broadcast as a guttural growl.

A small dirty wooden figurine, that of a crudely-shaped blackbird. Its eyes are glass gems, pupiless; gazing into them feels like falling into an ocean’s black depths. In its tail is a hole, through which one may string a lanyard or band. When you hold it to your ear, you can hear the faint beating of a heart that is not your own.

A four foot long rod capped at each end by a six-inch-wide band of gold and steel. The rod has a three-foot long section of clear crystal in the middle, filled with a swirling white fog.

A silver monstrance, set with gold detail, intricate in its design and covered with tiny curlicues that resemble angelic beings.

An ornately carved pipe, its bowl fashioned into the head of a satyr; whose expression is one of malicious pleasure. If the pipe is used for smoking tobacco without cleaning it out first, the bearer will be plunged into a vivid, momentary dream wherein he is being pursued across a moonlit landscape by baying hounds.

A large, sumptuous shawl or scarf of deep red and heavy silk. It is finished along all of its edges with red and golden silk tassels, and is embroidered with outlines of stylized flames in golden thread.

A woolen scarf that is knitted with the words of an ancient elven supplication to the God of Random Domain.

An ink black statuette of a beautiful woman, clothed in gossamer-like veils, holds a large bronze bowl.

A rectangular wooden box labelled “Rawshins” containing dozens of red wax spheres. The balls have some give to them and the wax can be peeled away to reveal the pickled eye of a horse. The eyeballs while horrendously unpalatable is remarkable nutritious due to the herbal mixture used to preserve them and the box contains 2d4+1 days’ worth of trail rations.

A wooden talisman carved into a screaming human face that when stared at it for more than a few seconds the observer can almost hear the sound of screaming from far off.

A silk bag with drawstring that open easily, revealing a glint of white. Inside is an elegant bone reliquary, smooth and pleasing to the touch. Polished, silvered fingerbones interlace to form a simple gate, operated by twisting a knob at the top formed from a single smooth vertebra surrounding a porcelain mechanism. Inside the small cavity is a cage formed out of rib that could have held an ancient curiosity of some sort, but now lies empty. The faintest touch of necromancy suffuses the curio, but surely any power it once held has long faded...  

An incredibly detailed drawing of an alien creature.

A barnacle-encrusted piece of ancient stonework. Its touch fills the bearer’s ears with a great pressure that pulses like a dreadful giant’s heart.

A small wooden box with some silver markings on its surface. Something can be heard shifting inside, however it has neither a lock nor hinges. Cutting it open by force reveals it to be solid wood.

A Randomly Colored handkerchief with a knot in it, the owner probably had something important they didn’t want to forget.

A black shiny disk with dozens of embossed rings.

A tubular instrument that gradually broadens towards the lower end. It is made out of wood, with a double reed at one end and a metal or wooden flared bell at the other end. Known as a shehnai, its sound is thought to create and maintain a sense of auspiciousness and sanctity and, as a result, is sometimes used during marriages, processions and in temples although it is also played in concerts.

A pair of clay tankards decorated with waves of blue coral.

A well-worn brass locket with a small drawing of a dwarven woman inside, she has a fantastic beard.

A well-worn ivory drinking horn etched with indigo leaf patterns and silver cap attached by slim yet robust chain.

A small obsidian horse headed idol with peridot eyes.

A large poster that reads; “Diplomat wanted. Must fluently speak the oceanic dialect of High Draconic. Come dressed in waterproof clothes to the beach by moonrise on the seventh full moon of the year.”

A piece of paper that refuses to become uncrumpled until a spell similar to Dispel Magic or Remove Curse is cast on it. Inside is the true name of a weak outsider such as an angel or demon.

A waxed scroll on which is written a complex alchemical formula. The recipe is not titled and seems to be for some sort of explosive but an knowledgeable PC can determine that it’s actually instructions for making soap.

A small silver tuning fork. When used, the ringing sound it creates can only be heard by those who have split blood in the last 24 hours.

A beautiful piece of quartz carved in a strange but unclear style. It is perfectly still until a certain tone is played near it whereupon it then begins to vibrate and move, gyrating sinuously. The carving causes the moving rock to resemble a lithe dancer.

A petrified basilisk’s egg carved into an elaborate diorama of a strange but beautiful landscape.

A disk of clay with extremely fine etchings of semi-concentric lines that seem to spiral outwards from the center in tight, semi random wiggly spirals. It has been broken into three equal shards.

A handful of jasper puzzle pieces speckled with flecks of semiprecious stones (Citrine, amethyst, garnet, etc.) that can be assembled into the likeness of a bird of prey.

An astrological chart with alien characters drawn in silver ink.

A blood red fiddle that seems to have strings made of human veins. The music produced by it always sounds horrible and terrifying.

A six-sided die that sometimes rolls a seven

A war banner that's  shredded, torn, and stained with blood, this standard has seen more than a single battle. The image of a red maw devouring sacred flames stands atop a field of black.

A wicked wand made of two withered and twisted branches, with one single leaf to the side and a small skull tied by a string at the base. The wand has a uncomfortable chill to the touch and sometimes sends shivers through the body.

A gruesome hand fan made of plucked faerie wings

A painting of a red-eyed wolf-man eating a corpse while making eye contact with the viewer. The corpse always vaguely resembles the viewer.

A stylish jet black long coat with a furred neck.

A knotted garment that fades in and out of nothingness. Knowledgeable PC's know that an order of religious monks one covered their eyes with such bindings. It is a perilous act to stare directly into the mouth of infinity. But once unburdened by vision, salvation shall be revealed.

A frozen, crystalline gland from some unknown ancient being. Hard as stone, it thaws slowly but eternally. The alien object is nearly translucent, revealing a void filled with nothing but bright, cold light. The glowing core holds a strange allure, turning the mind toward rapturous reminiscence.

A speckled owlbear hide, tooled with raised marks.

A baleful gem that glows a sickly green and tingles unpleasantly warm when touched. The sparkling object is less like a precious stone and more like the withering glare of corruption, made corporeal and pellucid in crystal.

A child's doll made from dyed, woven coconut fiber and dressed in linen.

A selection of maps, all rolled tightly together, and crammed into one tube. The maps all show the expansion of the same location over a period of 60 years, one new map every 10 years.

A dried caul wrapped in gauze, brittle but intact.

An old, fraying coat of the type a ship's captain would wear in bad weather. There is a small singed hole through the outer layers that stops at an inside pocket.

An eight inch wide roll of silk, which when unfurled is revealed to be an elaborately decorated sock kite in the shape of a koi.

A ball of high quality waxed twine with a platinum netting needle stuck through it.

A child's wooden toy animal with a note tied to it with twine that reads in childish writing "so u arnt lonly".

A crystal vial containing a pebble, ash, water and a measure of air.

A burlap bag large enough to hold a coconut. It is smooth to the touch and found in the color purple with a golden strap.

An arcane wand that is rough to hold and twists like a wild vine.

A bill from a sorcerer listing an exorbitant amount of gold for a spell to cure a terminally ill child.

A horn hair brush inlaid with small peridot stones.

A copper door handle of a manticore head holding a ring in its mouth.

A one gallon cask of Shump's Shield, a white beer with with the colour of horchata and stout beer consistency. The flavor profile is that of a milk stout with a very light hint of peppermint and nutmeg. It is typically brewed at temples to the God of war and distributed locally.

A demonic iron idol with bloodstone eyes.

A crude and somewhat obscene silver statue depicting a goblin chieftain.

A owlbear skin run.

A burlap bag containing 3d6 days’ worth of trail rations, each individually packed in waxed parchment and sackcloth and tied with string. Each packet contains an assortment of jerky, dried fruits, hardtack and nuts.

A decorative bronze key with a rose quartz in the bow.

A black-lacquered pyx decorated with pornographic images. On the sides and the lid of the small box, colorful hand-painted scenes of lurid degradation depicts men and women copulating not with one another but with jackals, hyenas, goats, and serpents. The box is brimming with coal-black crackers flecked with red. The unleaved bread has a faint but repellent odor or herbs, sulfur and vomit

A foot stool with silver-plated eagle claw feet and silken pillow.

A violet satin facemask with purple silk ties.

A quartz and horn prayer beads on a silk cord.

A crystal, bell-shaped terrarium with an easily identifiable, miniature apple tree with fruit laden branches growing from its mossy soil. The terrarium and tree within are three inches tall.

A dark leather pouch with silver clasps set with a tiger eye.

A lock of faded reddish brown hair bound and wrapped with a red ribbon strung with cowrie shells. The ribbon is embroidered in tightly stitched green thread "Return to me, my love".

An obsidian statuette of a leering gargoyle.

A porcelain pitcher with arboreal imagery.

A petrified toad with a variety of crystals growing from its back, diverse in material, color, size, and shape.

A prosthetic bronze hand with ivory fingernails.

A deed to a plot of land signed over to the church.

A bronze-plated trophy etched with two jousting figures.

A darkwood lute with silvered strings, decorated with a painting of a djinn flying island.

A silver snuff box etched with a portrait of the night sky.

A brass censer dangling from lead chains that emits smoke resembling writhing vines.

A crystal canine skull that continually burns with yellow flames that are painfully cold to the touch.

A wooden abacus with fortune telling symbols painted across its beads. It occasionally self animates and acts of its own accord, locking up for a brief moment before the beads spin wildly then stop with several symbols facing upwards before moving as normal again.

A mahogany cane tipped with corkwood and thin red leather covers its gracefully curved handle.

A cloudy white orb with a scarlet sheen to it. When the bearer stare into its depths he see shadows flickering throughout it.

A glass globe that has no visible opening on its dark clouded surface, and it is warm to the touch. Its contents appear to be a faintly glowing roiling cloud of flame.

A glass jar filled with clippings of dwarven hair and toenails.

A silver thimble containing a shimmering ballgown of spun moonlight. The ballgown is ... very see through, but can be worn over another nice dress of plain material to good effect.

A diagram of a hollow earth showing major access point below nearby city.

A porous stone flecked with emerald and sapphire dust that always feels damp to the touch.

A beautiful deck of cards resting in a strong leather pouch with an etching of a joker on the outside. The same etching is on the back of the cards.

An automaton crab. If wound up with the key in its brass carapace, it will menace any nearby animals with its snappy little mechanical claws.

A snowball warded such that it cannot melt. At its center is a small glyph-etched stone.