#like a large child with a magnifying glass

[imagining-in-the-margins]

they should have never given me a poll option

[cor-lapis]

I decided to have a go at doing my own redesigns because these three are my favourites and I love them very much. further notes + sources under the readmore (warning: lots of text). I did my best with the research, but if there's anything I overlooked, I'd really appreciate people letting me know :)

Tighnari:

My main source for Tighnari was this excellent thread, from which I looked up each item of clothing individually. Since djellabas tend to be quite long, and Tighnari needs mobility for forest ranger activities, I figured he would cut and re-hem the lower half. He also has a lot of clothing pieces that are traditionally multicoloured, but to keep his design cohesive I decided to use the same colours across different items, but using a larger palette of colours than I would usually. I like the bright colours on him a lot though!

There are also some minor details I just changed because I wanted to. The flower on his chest is now a nilotpala lotus, because I thought it was nice to include his acension material/the material he asks you to help gather. The dirt stains/scuff marks are because rainforests are muddy and I wanted the design to emphasise Tighnari being very practical and hands-on with his work (see also, the specimen belt).

Finally, I shrunk the magnifying glass on his back (because I'm pretty sure it's meant to be his first magnifying glass toy and that thing is very large for a child to handle) and gave him an undercut because it seemed right. Also, I merged his front and back trailing cloths into a scarf type of thing that he could wrap around his nose and mouth to prevent inhaling spores from mushrooms.

Collei:

COLLEI my beloved. I had a mild nightmare trying to figure out a specific source culture for her design, but nobody seemed to know specifics and her outfit wasn't matching with any traditional dress I looked up, so in the end decided to keep the overall look the same. Just in case I assigned her something else, but then it turned out I missed her actual inspiration.

Anyway, I made her shoes simpler (no fur, heels, and open toes in the rainforest seemed reasonable to me), and gave her shorts. I liked the green colour because it's pretty unique under a dark dress, and pairs nicely with Nahida's white dress + green undersides. Amber's tie stays, but I made most of her jewellery smaller since it felt a little clunky for a trainee ranger.

Her earring and necklace(?) are allusions to the Evil Eye and the Khmissa/Hamsa, both symbols of protection. Especially considering the fact they're meant to ward off evil, and very common across multiple MENA cultures, it seemed fitting for Collei to have them. Also, she has Eleazar scars, and I used the design for her stockings as inspiration for the combination knee braces (similar to those used for arthritis, since Eleazar also causes stiff limbs and I HC that people affected would probably still need some recovery support)/knee pads (in the case of a fall). I like the idea that Kaveh would have helped make them for her (tangent but the fic Here is the House explores similar ideas; it's really really good, I heavily recommend it). Finally, she has curly hair because I thought it would be cute.

Cyno:

Here's the thread I found for Cyno. The main critique was to do with the eras from which each aspect of his clothing drew inspiration, but I admittedly wouldn't be able to do much about this without a lot of research. One thing I did try and verify was the small strip of cloth on the left of his chest, and I found a few wall murals where the people seem to be wearing similar strips of cloth? (example here; rightmost figure) Therefore, I didn't remove it, but if someone wants to explain Ancient Egyptian clothing history to me I'd be really interested to hear it 6.6

I might iterate on the design in the future, but for now the changes are mostly HC territory. Cyno wearing his hair in locs (a protective hairstyle) makes sense for someone who does a lot of hiking after rogue scholars, and I also gave him quite old and faded top surgery scars because healthcare is canonically free in Sumeru (thanks for that information, al-Haitham)(though tbf Cyno makes bank anyway). I also adjusted the colours a bit, since Genshin tends to use desaturated shades for metallic elements.

I also considered giving Cyno more scars, but figured that it could indicate Hermanubis' presence that someone you'd expect to get injured a lot is relatively scar-free (i.e. some sort of godly healing factor/resistance to damage). However, we know next to nothing about Hermanubis, so Cyno having a lot of scars also makes sense. This paragraph is mostly just a cry for help cyno story quest 2 literally any more elaboration about the nature of Hermanubis' pact and the Temple of Silence.

Conclusion

I wasn't intending to write one when I started the explanations but this got REALLY long so if you made it this far, thank you so so much ToT please check out the links; the threads especially were a great resource, and I'm grateful that people take the time to make them <3 genshin's character design department are cowards but I'm glad I learned some new things through the redesign process

[letsgetrowdy43]

Meet the Littlest Hughes—

I don’t know why I made this… but I got the urge to make a little intro for the babies

Au Masterlist!!

Warren Hayes Hughes ೃ⁀➷

Born August 31st, 2022 in Michigan

The oldest of the three

The mature and always composed child, very much like Quinn with his competitive nature and drive, but is empathetic and kind like his mother

Follows in his father’s footsteps and plays professional hockey after playing for two years at Umich

Is like the Crosby/Bedard of his generation, his talent plus his family’s legacy put a large magnifying glass on him

He is drafted first overall in the year 2040 to the Vancouver Canucks

Becomes their Captain after three seasons with the club

Hayden James Hughes ೃ⁀➷

Born April 14th, 2024 in Vancouver

Middle child, who much like Jack did not suffer with middle child syndrome

She is their wild child, think Jack but with an obsession for princess crowns

Resident daddy’s girl, she adores Quinn

She played hockey for a whole month before begging her parents to let her become a figure skater because the dresses were sparkly.

She also attends Umich, in hopes of graduating with a degree in Women and Genders studies, and then furthering her education and getting a doctorate and Masters degree so she can become a professor

Her focal of study is Women in sports, and later on in her career she becomes a spokesperson for the PWHL

Maeve Wren Hughes ೃ⁀➷

Born May 20th, 2030 in Vancouver

She and her siblings have a bigger age gap, but they adore their baby sister.

Maeve is Quinn and Honey's most unusual baby, she is their theatre baby.

They tried dance, but she because obsessed with acting and singing so they put her in some classes and watched her sing her little heart out on stage

She ends up taking a different path from her siblings and going to art school.

She ends up in New York at Columbia University School of the Arts studying for a theatre degree.

Maeve pursues her dream and ends up working on Broadway as a costume designer, and ends up marrying a New York Ranger (Jack feels very betrayed by this, but also loves her niece's husband, so he looks past it)

[tl-os]

I was in the living room reading “Bellefleur” (again), and when I looked up the light had changed. The room was now dark and spot-lit in curious places where lamps had never stood.

Something, someone, somewhere. Was it me?

I got up and walked into the hallway, and instead of my bedroom, I entered the large office where the landlord (he measured everything) kept all of his paperwork strewn around the room in messy piles. And then I walked into the hallway that communicates with the apartment next door. (I like them well enough, but living without a locked door—or any door at all— between us is unnerving. So far, there has never been an issue. Nobody has wandered into our apartment. I would never dare intrude on their privacy.) Any other night I might wind up in what I like to call The Yard Sale Room - full of tables displaying costume jewelry, trinkets, textiles, china and flatware, long rambling letters full of apologies for heinous acts committed lifetimes ago, funereal urns, musical instruments long silent, coffee cans full of buttons, two verdigris deer, champagne flutes, three perfect gold spheres, empty journals, tarnished swords, One Enamel Eye, tin ice cube trays, heaps of dried flowers, lots of small jars filled with a viscous dark liquid, a collection of ceramic redwoods and sycamores, wooden spoons, a diploma, empty decorative boxes, one large stone horse, a disintegrating shopping bag full of sponges, dishwashing liquid, a can of powder cleanser, laundry detergent, fabric softener, dryer sheets, window cleaner, steel wool pads, and scrub brushes (c. 1978?), two pallets of 5 & ½ inch white candles, an entire collection of hagiographies in fine-tooled leather binding, magnifying glasses and mirrors (all broken), one pair child’s (size 3) ballet shoes, never worn, four distinctly different samovars, a pair of arms, envelopes full of receipts, hotel keys, lazy susans holding little jars of bleached herbs and spices long inert, brown paper grocery bags overflowing with prescription pill bottles (not empty), maps, a tiny little spinning wheel constructed from unpainted wood, and shards of glass crusted with some dark, rusty substance.

But no clocks. Not a single clock to tick. Just silence. Alone in the room with the weight of it all.

[raointean]

RoP Celebration - Week 2: Places

I did a short little one-shot about Ost-in-Edhil! (I couldn't help myself from including some worldbuilding about the peredhil from my broken souls series, but you don't need to know anything about that to read this story)

-light, hard, impervious to the elements... it was perfect. Celebrimbor wondered at the sample of metal before him, newly separated from the raw ore. For years, he'd spent his free time attempting to find a way to make unenchanted weapons as long-lasting as enchanted ones, largely as part of his ongoing attempt to befriend the dwarves of Khazad-Dûm, but also to sate his own curiosity to see if it could be done.

Just as he turned to examine the final product under his magnifier, he heard something clatter to the ground. On the other side of the room was a small boy, hastily righting the small wooden figurine that had fallen over. The boy froze, a terrified look on his face, as he met Celebrimbor's gaze.

Where had he come from? Where were his parents? The boy couldn't have been more than 25 years old!

Silence stretched between them only for a moment before the child started to cry and apologize in heavily accented Sindarin. "I am so- sorry, sir! I didn't mean to! I just got lost and-"

"Peace, peace, winë." Celebrimbor interrupted. "I am not angry."

The child's tears seemed to slow with his reassurance, so Celebrimbor continued. "You have done no harm. Now, come. Where are your parents?"

The boy teared up again and wailed, "I don't know! I was separated from them in the streets and I saw this big tower and came to see if I could find them from the top of it! I was trying to find a window but I accidentally knocked over your doll instead..."

Celebrimbor bit back a laugh; that would help nobody. The child was clearly foreign and, given that he had become lost in such a clearly laid out city, had likely not been in Ost-in-Edhil for long. The child's atire held little in the way of clues, being simple traveling clothes- but there! His hair shifted just so to reveal one crooked ear.

The boy was peredhel!

Just that morning, a caravan of mostly peredhel nomads had entered the city and were set up in the marketplace. If the boy's parents were in the city, that would be the place to find them.

Gently, he reached out to the boy and picked him up. He was sturdier than an elfling at relatively the same age, but certainly not too heavy for Celebrimbor to carry. "I think I know where we can find your parents, winë. What is your name?"

The boy clung to Celebrimbor's tunic. "I am Raunroval, sir."

"Raunroval," Celebrimbor repeated. All was quiet as they made their way down the winding tower stairs, smooth-worn stone hardly making a sound under his feet. Raunroval's eyes took in the stones of the wall as they decended, each one carefully chosen and cut specifically for its place and role.

At last, they reached the ground level and Celebrimbor stepped out into the sunlight. Raunroval blinked as his eyes adjusted to the brightness and noise around them. Everywhere Celebrimbor looked were people. Elves and men flooded the streets, dwarves pushed their way through alleyways and open-air forges as they went about their business, children (both foreign and local) watched the craftsmen in fascination as windchimes, flowerpots, glass baubles, baskets, and so much more took shape before their very eyes.

As they walked towards the marketplace, Raunroval asked questions about just about everything he could set his eyes on, and Celebrimbor did his best to answer them all, but walking about his city at this time of day made him look about his city with fresh eyes.

Ost-in-Edhil meant "Fortress of the Eldar" because that is what it had been made to be (that, and dear cousin Galadriel had never been very good at coming up with creative names). Over time, however, the city had become more and more open to outsiders, first allowing them to set up shop outside the gates, then allowing them in, and finally, eventually, allowing them to attain citizenship in Eregion.

Lindon may have been the highest political power in Middle Earth, but Ost-in-Edhil had become its beating heart, the center of all trade West of the Misty Mountains.

Finally, they came to the marketplace. It had always been Celebrimbor's favorite place in the city: no matter the time of year, there was always something going on. During the cold months, when the roads were clogged with snow, making it inconvenient even for elves to stray far, local craftsmen held classes for prospective apprentices. During the warmer months however, the marketplace would be flooded with merchants from Khazad-Dûm and Lindon, as well as people who had sailed up the river Glanduin from Gondor, the Southlands, and even as far away as Harad!

In addition to all of these were the nomads who came every spring and fall like clockwork. In the spring, they brought bioluminescent yarn from their flocks of sheep, and in the fall, they traded wares from all across Middle Earth in exchange for food and provisions for the winter.

The most peculiar thing about them, though, was the fact that nearly all of these nomads were half elven (or some other mixture of the three kindreds, though half elven/half mannish hybrids seemed to be most common among them). Their kind had sprung up during the War of Wrath when Men and Elves were working closely together and, instead of joining with one kindred or another, they had struck out on their own.

Some, content to linger in the world and live their lives, had been familiar faces in Ost-in-Edhil from the day they had first been let into the city. Others, called by the mystery that lay beyond the bounds of the world, only came from a century or so before blowing away like mist on the wind.

Celebrimbor looked around the marketplace, searching for a panicked mother or a frantic father until, soon enough, he spotted a man hunting through the crowd, occasionally calling out, "Raunroval!"

Celebrimbor pointed him out to Raunroval. "Is that your father, winë?

Raunroval shaded his eyes and looked where Celebrimbor directed him. "Yes!" His face split into a blinding grin and he began squirming to get to the ground.

Celebrimbor tightened his grip, lest Raunroval became lost against amidst the sea of legs. "Careful now. I will bring you to your father quickly enough."

Shouldering his way through the crowd was not difficult. Most residents of Ost-in-Edhil recognized him as their lord and the others followed their lead and moved out of his way. The man spotted them while they were still a long way off, running to close the distance.

He skidded to a stop several feet away and gave a hasty bow, realizing who was holding his son. "Forgive me, my lord. I apologize for any trouble my son has caused you; he is very young."

For all his stiff manner and cold words, Celebrimbor could see the way his fingers twitched, wanting to grab his son right out of Celebrimbor's arms.

Celebrimbor didn't hold him in suspense for long. He set Raunroval down and offered his hand in friendship. "There is no need for forgiveness, good sir. Your son has done no harm, and Ost-in-Edhil is an open city to all, including the young.

@the-southlands

[folkdances]

wow tried to send an ask and accidentally unfollowed whoops. anyways where did your love of hole-theory and house-theory come from? im always enraptured by ur reblogs w those tags

💔💔💔💔💔 sorry i can’t answer your ask right now because portal unfollowed me…

good question actually! i’m writing a video essay about some aspects of “house theory” right now and i try to briefly interrogate that interest … i think that my interest developing to the level it’s at right now was a natural conclusion to my media diet developing as i grew older. i used to be really scared of scary movies as a child, but as i grew i started shedding those apprehensions and started pursuing more horror books and movies and podcasts like the magnus archives and the conjuring and other genre staples at first, before developing a taste for the genre. running parallel to that, i also just plain got smarter and developed an interest in literary analysis et voilà!

so i guess that answers the how question and as for why, well, i just think it is so interesting to interrogate the nature of the buildings we spend so much time in and have so many emotions tangled up with - for many of us, housing is something we take for granted and they pose as such intimate reflections of our inner selves. theoretically they should be nothing but virtuous, but as is natural they morph and contort according to the nature or absence of the inhabitants.

the modern haunted house as we know it actually arises from a very interesting place that mirrors this literary understanding - when americans first began building homes, they were desperate to emulate european society and constructed large and elaborate houses of the style you might see in the richer streets of england, but after the first world war, many rich families turned towards more modern architecture, and, therefore, modern lifestyles; and those older houses were left abandoned. their former inhabitants viewed them as testaments to a time bygone, monuments to the dated and crushed dreams of their forefathers, and to everyone else, they simply became dilapidated, rotting, scary eyesores. after all, there is something distinctly anxiety-inducing about seeing a place that ought be full of life left empty and dead. and as that relation grew stronger, our understanding of houses as being haunted grew - and now we are able to use the haunted house as a vehicle for struggles as broad as class, or gender, or family structures. isn’t that so interesting? that’s a very bare-bones history and very basic examples of what the haunted house serves to represent in fiction, but i love seeing where we can take this idea of representative houses!

hole theory is less of a passion of mine because it’s, to me at least, less specific, but i love to employ it as a sort of magnifying glass. absence and lack, too, serve as very unique indicators of different things in fiction - some of my favourite examples include the chalk outlines of the fallen duelists in revolutionary girl utena’s black rose arc and the ‘abyss’ theory applied to the bong joon-ho’s filmography - for example, the tunnel in memories of murder and what it uniquely represents in that narrative.

this kind of got away from me but i love when common things are explore to such an extent in fiction, i love picking at it! and i am glad you are having fun picking at it with me!

[aflamethatneverdies]

Wrote the nichest of crossovers for the dearest of friends! Happy Birthday dear Autumn @midautumnnightdream

Am really pleased about all the Romantic references I managed to squeeze in this so putting it here too, because why not.

There was a knock at the door to the captain’s cabin. The flourishing strokes of the pen on the paper cease. The ship, which was a rather large Frigate, was equipped as such, except, it would perhaps surprise the readers a little that it was floating in space. The stars stretched out across, as guiding lights, where lighthouses would have served that purpose on the rough seas. 

“Enter.” The captain’s tone was brusque. 

“Captain,” the boatswain began hurriedly, before the cook moved forward. 

“Look what we found, stowing away. A little bilge rat.” The cook held up a small struggling child by the scruff of his collar. “Want me to throw him out into space?” he grinned looking at the child’s face which turned pale. 

“I may be a rat, but you’re a pig, the way you give the entire crew so little grub and keep the rest of the ingredients to sell at the nearest ports for ready money.” the child retorted. 

“Captain, we can’t have a child onboard the ship,” the boatswain said, ignoring this remark and the cook’s look of outrage. “What should we do about this?” The captain paused and chuckled a little, “Young man, I don’t know how many ships you’ve been on but the number one rule is to never antagonise the ship’s cook.”

“I like you.” the child said, still struggling in the air and trying to free his collar. 

“What’s your name?” 

The child paused to consider, “Why should I tell you that? What’s yours?”

The captain for his part laughed loudly, “Oh, put him down, Berric.”

The child stood tall and brushed his dark blue cape with his hands, in the background the dark expanse of space was visible from the porthole while the wooden interior was brightly lit. 

The captain smirked, “Leave us Berric and Laron. I want to have a discussion with this young man.”

The child grinned as he looked at the disgruntled faces of the boatswain and the cook, who nodded and then closed the door. 

“Jehan, I want to know your opinion on this matter too.” the captain turned round and addressed the air languidly. With a shock the child saw an apparition emerge in a sailor’s coat and he was left stunned for a moment. 

“What?” the child whispered to himself looking around in confusion. 

The apparition or the strange figure, who had an intensely sorrowful look in his eyes was dressed in a long frock coat which was perhaps more maroon than red and a doublet or a vest of a bright purple colour and long sailor's boots; this would have made him stand out everywhere and he attracted attention here too, and a feeling like he had walked out of a play or a medieval pirating expedition.  

“He reminds me of Gavroche,” the captain sighed, stroking his beard and gazing far away into the depths of an unknown past, it seemed to the child, “I’m inclined to keep him around. But the crew–”

He is certainly very interesting as a study,” Prouvaire whipped out his magnifying glass to observe the small child who was gazing at him defiantly, hands folded across his chest. 

“Ah! This locket is very charming. And perhaps very old. A family heirloom?” Prouvaire asked. 

“Don’t touch this!” the child retorted loudly glaring at Prouvaire, his face scrunched up in irritation, and then tried to gauge the captain’s face and see if this would make him throw him out. Prouvaire seemed delighted by this response. 

“I think we should keep him, Bahorel.” Prouvaire said. “We can be the guardians of this unfortunate child.”

“We don’t know anything about him. Besides, he looks far too young to even be a cabin boy.” 

“I’m not. I’m–” the child searched around for an age he could give and settled on seventeen because that seemed to him a large enough number in human years (he assumed they were humans from a backwater planet Earth he had heard about, they did not seem to belong to any of the regions of space he was familiar with). Twenty was also the limit to which he could count currently, his space faring people relying on a mixture of mathematics and music to gauge distances, “I’m seventeen.” 

“No you’re not, I’m sure of that.” Bahorel grinned, “Though I appreciate the lie. And won’t ask how old you are.”

“I can do the work on ships, I'm used to it.” The child looks at them defiantly, “And the name’s Marvelous by the way.”

“Well, you have put me in the second serious situation. With your age and us being pirates against the Zangyack now.”

“What was the first?” The child was sneaking glances at this captain. 

“Oh, dying I suppose. More than twice at least in the span of two hundred or so years. Wouldn’t recommend it especially, but old wounds now, eh Jehan?” Bahorel placed his hand on his friend’s shoulder. 

The ghost-like figure had tears in his eyes, which he finally let flow, making the child, Marvelous, shift a little, feeling sorry for the ghost he had met. He moved forward to pet the translucent figure’s hand and the bird-like ghost acknowledged it from his seat near the window, holding Marvelous’ hand in his. 

“It makes one weary– this living and dying on this mortal coil. This loss of the most beloved of friends.” The ghost gave a sniffle as his mind drifted to a hot June morning, the 5th to be precise, of the year 1832 and to a particular gathering of friends in Corinthe (we will learn later why), and then went back to being cheerful, “I am Prouvaire by the way, Jean Prouvaire, sometimes known as Jehan among those of a poetic disposition.”

Bahorel laughed and translated, “Jehan is a poet so he adds an affectation to his name.”

“It’s not just poets who do that. Marvelous is quite a name. Tell me where did you find it?” Prouvaire turned his gaze to the child. Marvelous grinned, “It fell from space.” He wasn't sure if he should as yet share that he had chosen it as his space pirate identity deliberately.

Prouvaire nodded approvingly at this response, it seemed if not completely poetic then at least mysterious and he appreciated that quality in a pirate recruit, “Tell me young space pirate, have you ever visited the moon? I have some affection for it, such that I am writing an epithet in its honour. Two more verses and then my agonies will have ended, until a new beauty captures my heart.”

Bahorel laughed, “Jehan, Marvelous will not care for your poetry about the newly discovered moons of Planet Eistla.”

"Why not? To think they are always discovering new moons and different phenomena, even almost 200 years after the first time we died. It makes you excited and almost makes the Immortality worth it."

Bahorel turned towards the boy, “Why were you stowing away so dangerously on this ship? You could have died. Do you really not have any place to go?” He walked over to the porthole and looked beyond the deck, “I suppose not, for you wouldn’t be here in this way, hiding in between our-- the crew's possessions.”

Marvelous tried to make his voice seem casual, but he couldn’t help the quiver that was visible, “The Zangyack burned our ship. I snuck into a freight ship and they burned that too.” He looked ahead, a hollowness present in his eyes that made Bahorel’s heartache fiercely and his voice want to howl against the miseries. 

“So I’m here.” Marvelous shrugged his shoulders. 

“Palsambleu! Those bastards do seem to get around a lot across the Universe, taking over everything that doesn't belong to them. Colonising every planet.” Bahorel nodded sympathetically.

“Which is why we seem to have acquired a pirate ship and are apparently wanted pirates, eh, Jehan.” He placed his hands on his hips. "There are posters of course with our names and faces plastered all over several planets. I must say it makes for quite an adventure requisitioning a ship and being known as pirates. Much better than the skeleton prank we once pulled in Paris."

“I’m also a pirate to make a fashion statement, Fashion being political of course and nothing more political than being a rebel pirate against the Zangyack Empire, right now.” Prouvaire said, turning around and showcasing his long dagger which he unsheathed from its case, his eyeliner and several earrings, rings and bracelets. The young Marvelous’ eyes shone with excitement at Prouvaire’s look. 

“I’ve never seen someone look so much like a pirate. Like how I would like to be one.” He said, admiring Prouvaire’s look and moving around him. “I want to be a pirate in search of treasure and to fight the Empire.”

“You shouldn’t really be a pirate.” Bahorel placed his hand on the child’s head and shook it a little playfully. 

“Well, I am,” the kid puffed up his chest. “They are calling all the rebels as such from now on to stop anyone from supporting us. You should know if you are one.” For a moment, Bahorel and Prouvaire appear distracted thinking of the reports they have heard from spies and smugglers and groups of anarchist rebels working against the Empire.

“Oh no you don’t,” Prouvaire said running after the child, “Give me back my gun.”

“I saw you,” Marvelous said looking Bahorel straight in the eye, “In the market town of the trading post GJ-148 down below, tearing up posters and picking a fight with the Goumin and Sugoumin on the planet to save people from being killed by the Zangyack, so I followed your ship. I want to fight with you all.”

Bahorel grinned, the child knew how to flatter him. Also he was holding Prouvaire’s large (for Marvelous) gun. 

“Tell me young Marvelous, do you know how to fight?” Bahorel asked, his feet casually on the table, the dagger in his hand, waving in the air lightly away from him.

Marvelous held up the gun, adopting a posture he had seen and taken several times before and shot the dagger cleanly out of Bahorel’s hand. 

“Not bad. Could do with some improvements but not bad.” Bahorel said, patting him on the back. “Where did you learn to shoot?”

‘With another group of rebels. They were arrested and executed by the Zangyack.”

This time there were tears in Marvelous’ eyes. Bahorel walked to comfort him and Marvelous grabbed his long pirate coat and hugged it tightly to him, his lanky body shaking a little. 

“Well, I guess, he will just have to stay.” Bahorel said, hugging the small child back. Considering how many younger brothers and sisters and nieces and nephews he had helped raise or rather spoil, he was hoping that one pirate rebel would be easy enough to show the ropes. Relatively. 

“We did say we were working on gathering a new crew.” Prouvaire pointed out holding his flower pot in his hand and contemplating the small petals it had sprouted even in space.

“And there are a lot of unsavoury privateers along many spaceports.”

They watched the child the next couple of weeks, Marvelous as he called himself dart and run across the ship’s length, never more at home that when on the deck of their Corinthe, taking flight everywhere; he had even made up with the cook and now they seemed to be on good terms. He had managed to make purser bend to his will. He was boisterous, helping the boatswain with the checking of the knots, or the navigator to spy on the open darkness that lasted as far as the eye could observe. The Navigator had warned him from looking at the stars with the telescope when they were close to them.   

His sense of justice Bahorel had noted, was pretty strongly tilted against the Zangack due to circumstances, he had seen so much earlier in his life and in favour of the wretched and the planets that had been destroyed or colonised across the galaxy.

He had seen Marvelous fight because he didn’t like how a poor family was being treated and knocked around by space authorities, when they made port to pick up a few supplies and had quickly intervened on his behalf along with Prouvaire who loved the thrill of the fight and who even now in his ghost like state was smashing street lamps wherever he found them- more out of old habit. 

Slowly Marvelous was opening up, he had never been to school, he told Bahorel. He had never seen the necessity of it. School had been spending time with his family and their crew and the crew's children who were all treated equally as him.

School had been learning how to navigate using the spacefarer’s songs and melodies. Bahorel felt a sense of pride at how much he knew about navigating ships and he ruffled the kid’s hair. Marvelous for his part loved spending time with Bahorel.

Bahorel took him and his concerns seriously and did not dismiss them for coming from a child. Bahorel had given Marvelous lessons too. His sabre handling wasn’t nearly as sharp and clean as his pistol shots and Bahorel showed him the right way to hold his sword, the footwork he should use, the thrusts and parries that should be part of his arsenal when he was planning to attack a Zangyack. 

Prouvaire amused Marvelous with his many eccentricities and his recitations on board the ship. “I am memorable at least.” He murmured one day, sitting on the bow of the ship casually. The boy climbed up to follow him. 

“What are you doing, Marvelous, you scamp?” the quartermaster yelled, but the kid focused his attention on the narrow edge of the bow and kept walking, his balance precise and calculated. He made it to the edge to observe the comet that Prouvaire wanted to show him, its icy green tail causing him to become mesmerised for a while. 

After some moments he jumped down. 

“I have jumped onto the masts before too, to raise and lower sails,” he grinned as he reassured the quartermaster who shook his head and went inside his cabin, where half the crew were playing cards and drinking rum.

An off-tune melody was struck and Marvelous too joined, his boyish voice mixing in well with the rest of the crew’s baritone, bass and tenor voices. Marvelous was wearing the vest and several more necklaces and rings that Prouvaire had lent him. He smiled at the Captain and Bahorel ruffled his hair a little again, while Marvelous with his cat like grin leaned against Bahorel's large coat, watching the card game till he fell asleep with the rocking movements of their spaceship.

[comparativetarot]

Nine of Swords. Art by Nara Lesser, from Neurotic Owl’s Faerytale Tarot.

Someone is going to have to beg me to stop doing Snow Queen cards – it won’t work, though.

I was a little stumped on this till a friend suggested the Snow Queen and it was just PERFECT. I know I’ve been a little dismissive of Kay previously, and in general he is pretty awful. BUT if you read the the demon glass getting caught in his eye and heart as a metaphor for depression, suddenly Kay is infinitely more understandable and everything makes a sad sense. And then if you go one step further and wonder why a nearly pubescent child might be suddenly depressed and also acting out this very exaggerated stereotypical masculinity it becomes very easy to read Kay as a trans child in a time and place when that would barely have been imaginable for them.

“I think it is gone,” he said. But it was not gone; it was one of those bits of the looking-glass—that magic mirror, of which we have spoken—the ugly glass which made everything great and good appear small and ugly, while all that was wicked and bad became more visible, and every little fault could be plainly seen. Poor little Kay had also received a small grain in his heart, which very quickly turned to a lump of ice. He felt no more pain, but the glass was there still. “Why do you cry?” said he at last; “it makes you look ugly. There is nothing the matter with me now. Oh, see!” he cried suddenly, “that rose is worm-eaten, and this one is quite crooked. After all they are ugly roses, just like the box in which they stand,” and then he kicked the boxes with his foot, and pulled off the two roses.

“Kay, what are you doing?” cried the little girl; and then, when he saw how frightened she was, he tore off another rose, and jumped through his own window away from little Gerda.

When she afterwards brought out the picture book, he said, “It was only fit for babies in long clothes,” and when grandmother told any stories, he would interrupt her with “but;” or, when he could manage it, he would get behind her chair, put on a pair of spectacles, and imitate her very cleverly, to make people laugh. By-and-by he began to mimic the speech and gait of persons in the street. All that was peculiar or disagreeable in a person he would imitate directly, and people said, “That boy will be very clever; he has a remarkable genius.” But it was the piece of glass in his eye, and the coldness in his heart, that made him act like this. He would even tease little Gerda, who loved him with all her heart. His games, too, were quite different; they were not so childish. One winter’s day, when it snowed, he brought out a burning-glass, then he held out the tail of his blue coat, and let the snow-flakes fall upon it. “Look in this glass, Gerda,” said he; and she saw how every flake of snow was magnified, and looked like a beautiful flower or a glittering star. “Is it not clever?” said Kay, “and much more interesting than looking at real flowers. There is not a single fault in it, and the snow-flakes are quite perfect till they begin to melt.”

Soon after Kay made his appearance in large thick gloves, and with his sledge at his back. He called up stairs to Gerda, “I’ve got to leave to go into the great square, where the other boys play and ride.” And away he went.”

Sorry, that’s a long excerpt, but it just builds Kay’s sudden coldness and disdain for girlish things really nicely. And it just happens that I had already drawn the Snow Queen as non-binary way back in the major arcana – in this reading you could see them as taking Kay because they see a reflection of themselves and intend to take away Kay’s pain in the only way they can.

Anyhow, nine of swords! Depression and maybe dysphoria! Fun times!

[vamp-orwave]

Her Favourite Worst Nightmare

III - Fugato

In Anne’s experience, Reverend Ward never made a secret of his displeasure. Perhaps it was the key to controlling his Beast; to let his Wrath trickle out slowly rather than damming it until it swells into a drowning flood. I’ll never learn to be so bold, she lamented. The Reverend took another long look at the newcomer over his thick-rimmed glasses before she disappeared down the stairs.

“Astounding, the kind of trash that washes up on our shores,” he muttered, to nods of general agreement from his fellow Sanctified.

Anne found his assessment somewhat harsh – after all, he hadn’t seen what she had – but it made sense to her that a Ventrue of his years would have to be a good judge of character. Besides, deciding who among the Damned to trust was about survival, and survival was more important than tolerance. No doubt she feels the same way about us.

“So then,” murmured Abigail – the paper-thin blonde in arsenic green to Anne’s left. “What did Beaufort have to say?”

Without so much as excusing himself, Reverend Ward took Abigail’s arm, leading his childe away to have that conversation privately. The rest of their small group splintered off to mingle.

Anne watched them go, reminding herself of her place to alleviate the sting of being ditched. You should be used to this by now, silly girl. It was Kindred nature to keep everything close to one’s chest. She felt the urge to don the Cloak of Night and eavesdrop unseen, but there were Mekhet in the room; she couldn’t risk her misbehaviour being witnessed by someone who might hold it over her head.

Alice Redman, in particular, seemed to see too much lately. Anne peered over at the lingering cluster of Carthians in the corner to note that indeed, she was already being watched. She felt like an insect under a magnifying glass. How unfair that both our clans are gifted with Obfuscate, but only hers with Auspex. There were times that Anne had prayed to know what was going through someone’s mind. But then, there were many more times when her own imagination was more than enough.

Abandoning her place by the grandfather clock, Anne found a seat on a lonely couch that conveniently put a large floral vase between her and her observer, and scooped Johann out from the pocket of her argyle cardigan. The plump, white rat chirped lovingly in her hand. She rubbed his tiny chin with her thumb as she searched for his brother. At her insistent call, Sebastian poked his black, furry nose out of her patchwork leather handbag and sniffed. With a warm smile, she stuck out her palm, and he began to climb her sleeve.

At least with these two, she was never without company. Perhaps Animalism was a better gift than Auspex after all.

Sebastian, clinging to her shoulder with tiny claws, began to lick greedily at a spot of dried blood on her bandages. Anne swiftly redirected him, plopping him down onto the lap of her long grey skirt to play with Johann. More soon, I promise, she chittered, adjusting the gauze of her bandages against her cheek. They itched terribly, but without them, her best white blouse would be stained red and yellow by the purulent Vitae leaking from the many huge, open sores that warped her face. It was a cruel twist of the Nosferatu curse that magnified tenfold the insecurities she still carried from chronic acne in life. Laundry aside (which was already a losing battle for anyone who spent as much time underground), Anne wasn’t ready to face the disgust that her naked visage could elicit in the other Clans. Most of the time, it was better not to be noticed at all.

Isn’t that right, babies? She tickled Johann and Sebastian’s monochrome bellies to a chorus of approving squeaks. True, true! They told her. Hidden is safe!

It appeared, however, as though the wisdom of rodents was wasted on some. Desmond Kale, for example, burst through the door of Elysium and begun tracking wet footprints along the fine rugs and hardwood floor. Shedding blades of grass, he hastened over to Kostya and Carsten, who were quietly chatting by the cedar chiffonier.

Anne was wary of the Circle at the best of times. To the Lancea Sanctum, they were heathens; unrepentant sinners who corrupt and tempt mortal souls away from their salvation, subverting their God-given role instead of just denying it. There had been centuries of war between the two Covenants, and yet Desmond had never been anything but nice to her. Kostya Maksivinivich bore his monstrous cruelty as plainly as the skull that adorned his face, but as her Sire and Priscus, he’d always treated her fairly. For that, he had her respect.

Desmond began to speak excitedly to his fellow Acolyte. Carsten Sobels watched and listened, silent as always. The Ordo Dracul were heretics of a different sort, she'd been told – turning their blasphemy inward in an attempt to improve upon God's design – but Anne felt godliness in Carsten. Clanmate and confidant both, it was his unwavering kindness and generosity that gave her the strength to rise every sunset.

Perhaps this was one conversation where she wouldn't be unwelcome – but the time to find out had already passed.

Duke Penthièvre reappeared from the underground sitting room with Mr. Donovan's guest in tow. Once again, he clapped to draw the room's attention.

"Kindred of the Court," he called out with a glib smile. "As His Excellency’s Harpy, it is my great pleasure to announce that Prince Matthew Beaufort, Viscount of the White Shore, has declared Miss Judith Doulton Acknowledged within the City of Adelaide."

She's staying?

A throng of disquieted murmurs went up. What could someone like her possibly want in the City of Churches, Anne wondered. Over her shoulder, she saw Reverend Ward slip away through the door to the conservatory, fuming, with little mystery as to why. The Lancea Sanctum had done its utmost to maintain order in Adelaide since its founding, and Judith had troublemaker written all over her.

The duke returned to his business as Judith's Firebrand co-conspirators surrounded her to offer their congratulations. She seemed weary, but visibly relieved, punctuating her indistinct speech here and there with a flash of nervous smile. Anne recalled the sight of those stark white fangs – those plush red lips – assaulting the neck of the poor woman in The Rack who endured Judith's 'affections.' She must be a Daeva, she thought bitterly. Temptation is in their blood, and they only Embrace the beautiful.

As though he could smell her deviance, Desmond was drawn to Judith like a bee to honey, and Anne's Clanmates followed. Idly stroking her rats, she watched from afar as the group exchanged introductions and made small talk, occasionally interrupted by short rounds of laughter at the presumably witty repartee. She dreamed of how it would feel to have such a natural charisma; to make a room full of people laugh with her rather than at her.

Suddenly, Kostya gestured across the room at Anne. All seven Kindred turned to stare directly at her. She froze like a deer in headlights. Hidden is safe. She willed her vampiric blood to shroud her in the Cloak of Night, scrunching her eyes shut. When she opened them, they were still looking. Damn it, she cursed herself – how do I keep forgetting to break line of sight? – but her frustration was quickly overcome when, having spent her Vitae in vain, she felt the Hunger rise.

It started as a sickening wave in her chest that crawled up to the back of her throat, demanding more blood. Now. As she wrestled with her Beast, each pair of eyes dropped away, save one. Judith was still staring at her. Not the way one would stare at a cockroach, or a curiosity, but the way that boys at school used to stare when they thought their friends weren't paying attention. It had been a long time since she’d seen that look, but she couldn’t forget it if she tried.

Anne shied away from the Serpent's gaze. She tugged her cardigan closer to cover her ample bust, grateful that she couldn't blush. Her thirst gnawed urgently, demanding action, and distracting her from further unwanted thoughts.

With a resigned sigh, Anne herded Johann and Sebastian into her bag, brushed off her skirt, and rose from the couch to slip from the room. She had to leave Elysium to feed, and to ignore one’s Hunger was to invite disaster. On the off chance she was needed on urgent business, Carsten had her number.

It wasn’t bad timing, all told. She'd had more than her fill of Court for now.

[start] [prev] [next]

[the-influx-of-film]

Documentary Analysis and Review:

Side by Side, 2012

Directed by Christopher Kenneally

Is celluloid film dead? What does the influx of digital cinema look like now and what will it become in the future? Actor and producer Keanu Reeves delves deep into the debate, interviewing an array of experts to gain their perspectives on changes to the art of storytelling.

I have recently revisited Side by Side because I had a conversation with my dad about celluloid film. He showed me how he would make his own little projector as a child using a torch and a magnifying glass. He then demonstrated by finding old negatives and attempted to project them onto the wall using those same materials. It was a cool moment, leading me back to the documentary.

Firstly, Side by Side is a well-made piece, showcasing an array of artists, including cinematographers, directors, producers, actors, colorists and editors. Each artist convey different perspectives on celluloid film and, digital cinema. Hence the name, Side by Side.

These people are more than experts, they are living, breathing storytellers who know how to evoke emotion in an audience. How to use lights, shadows and angles to convey these messages. These artists know how to use special effects to represent something unreal, but make it feel like it exists. They manipulate shape, texture, colour, sound and analyse movements humans and other creatures make to create an authentically believable image. They are the brave ones who go above and beyond to convey the stories sewn into our culture. So, to those who want to learn more about the evolution of film, hearing what these artists have to say is invaluable.

Titanic, 1997 dir. James Cameron

The Matrix, 1999 dir. Lilly Wachowski and Lana Wachowski

Lana Wachowski predicts at the beginning of the documentary, that storytellers and their audiences need to be prepared to “mourn the loss of film.” This means there will be a grieving process to remember what was the beginning of storytelling and how we influenced culture. Moreover Wachowski’s comment speaks to a difficult transition for film makers who are accustomed to celluloid. This means using large celluloid cameras, filling and replacing the magazine and waiting to watch the final product of what was filmed the previous day. All these processes disappear with mourning the loss. And this means moving in a new direction, that being digital. This means a director may use a smaller camera, not needing to change the magazine because the capture is through pixels, and being able to watch the take immediately after shooting. What does this all imply? It implies a resistance, like with all other types of changes.

Celluloid camera

Digital camera

Some storytellers are resistant to changing the way they tell stories. The materials and processes involved have become just as important as the final product to these artists. Wally Pfister summarises this in an interview, saying, “It’s really sad right now to see cameras cording imagery in an inferior way starting to take over film.” Pfister speaks to new methods failing to live up to the standard of the twentieth century. However, it also speaks to his passion and appreciation for celluloid. This is because some film makers prefer seeing granularity, colour and texture of celluloid. Providing something that cannot be captured by the ones and zeros on a digital camera. Hence why Pfister will not “trade my oil paints for a set of crayons.”

We can see the granularity talked about in the documentary in the image below:

So, we have the process of mourning the loss, and a resistance? What else is there to consider? The artists each talk about what they think is better and why…celluloid or digital? But who can really be the judge of what constitutes better? One approach to this question is summarised by filmmaker, David Lynch who says, “people like great stories… how they get there, it doesn’t really matter.” Lynch suggests that the story is the important component in the film-making process rather than how the information is captured. This leads us back to the belief that beauty is in the eye of the beholder. A cliche really, but it does hold true to this debate. Applying this logic here, we can then say, beauty is collected in the lens of the camera, no matter if there is an electronic sensor or film behind the lens. One step further, if we were talking about 3D capture, beauty is collected in the lens of the cameras. The story is then presented to the audience, who are able to draw upon the information and make connections and form new perspectives.

With all of this considered, there is also another element… nostalgia. In the era we live in today, people are seeking nostalgia. This is the longing for the recreation of the past. This is because things do not feel the same as they once were, such as the way we shop, the way we parent and the way we communicate with each other.

Social media has had a big influence on change in our culture. It has altered the way we communicate with each other, creating new dynamics between human beings. It has also produced an influx of data for us to consume, from the present and the past… nostalgia.

This reminds us of nostalgia and the role social media has in communicating it. One example is the Tik Tok algorithm. It seems to distribute videos featuring songs from the 80s and 90s. Most of the consumers on Tik Tok were not even born when these songs were released… myself included.

Perhaps a relevant example to the current topic is the reels feature on Instagram. A reel on this platform only lasts for a maximum of 90 seconds. A short burst of material. If we think about celluloid film cameras, they can only capture approximately 10 minutes of material, also a short burst of material. The name itself, ‘reel,’ speaks to maintaining a connection to the original way of filming within the new era, suggesting digital platforms haven’t lost touch with traditional methods of storytelling. It’s a friendly nod to what came before. An acknowledgement. It’s as if we hold celluloid film to be the pinnacle of storytelling. Having that connection makes users feel professional and creates another space for serious content creators. This reminds me of what Reed Morano said in the documentary, “when you run a film camera on set everybody seems to take things a little bit more seriously,” suggesting artists put their best foot forward when they know the money is rolling on the reel.

In a way, there is a greater appreciation for celluloid film because it’s inevitable rarity, considering major companies have ceased producing and distributing celluloid film cameras. This rarity increases the nostalgic effect all the way down the production line, from making a film all the way to the consumer. So even though celluloid is fading away, it is the people that will keep it alive, through consumption and reminiscing within culture.

However, it is mentioned in the documentary that transferring to digital is important because it’s in its infancy and needs to be developed. George Lucas is a firm believer of this. James Cameron elaborates by saying “I’m not sure I ever want to feel that we’ve arrived technologically. I always want to feel there is something we can do better.” Lucas and Cameron speak to the continuation of movie making and, understanding it is important to not only embrace this new mechanism, but develop it, refine it and redefine it. These artists see the potential and are curious about the unknown possibilities, which motivates their work. One doesn’t have to go far to see the lengths Cameron went to to create the first Avatar movie, using special effects and 3D cameras.

In conclusion, changes to storytelling in our culture brings forth an influx of relevant and necessary processes, including mourning, resistance, nostalgia, and excitement for the future. But celluloid is not dead and some artists will continue to make a conscious choice to use it…to keep the essence of it alive, but to also pay respect to what was the only way to capture images, emotion, sound and overall a story in the first place.

[barnshenntoys]

Unlocking the World of Learning: Educational Toys for 2-Year-Olds

Every parent desires to give their child the best start in life. In the whirlwind of toddlerhood, where curiosity knows no bounds and exploration is the order of the day, educational toys stand as invaluable tools for fostering growth and development. At the age of two, children are undergoing rapid cognitive, physical, and emotional development. Thus, selecting the right toys can play a crucial role in shaping their budding intellect and preparing them for the journey ahead.

In this comprehensive guide, we delve into the world of educational toys tailored specifically for two-year-olds. From sensory experiences to fine motor skill development, language acquisition to social interaction, we explore a myriad of options designed to captivate young minds and ignite the flame of curiosity.

The Importance of Educational Toys

Before we embark on our exploration of educational toys, it's essential to understand why they are so vital for the development of toddlers.

Stimulating Curiosity: Two-year-olds are naturally curious beings, eager to explore the world around them. Educational toys engage their senses and spark curiosity, encouraging them to actively discover and learn.

Promoting Development: At this tender age, children are rapidly developing essential skills such as language, fine and gross motor skills, and social interaction. Educational toys provide a platform for honing these skills in a fun and interactive manner.

Building Confidence: Mastering new tasks and skills boosts a child's self-esteem and confidence. Educational toys offer opportunities for achievement and success, fostering a positive self-image in young learners.

Encouraging Creativity: Creativity is the cornerstone of innovation and problem-solving. Educational toys that encourage imaginative play and experimentation lay the foundation for creative thinking in later years.

Top Educational Toys for 2-Year-Olds

Now, let's dive into the exciting realm of educational toys specifically curated to cater to the developmental needs of two-year-olds:

1. Shape Sorters and Stackers:

These classic toys help develop hand-eye coordination, fine motor skills, and shape recognition.

Colorful shapes and engaging designs capture the child's attention while they learn to sort and stack.

2. Puzzle Playsets:

Chunky wooden or foam puzzles with large pieces are perfect for little hands.

Puzzles promote problem-solving skills, spatial awareness, and shape recognition.

3. Building Blocks:

Soft, oversized blocks are ideal for budding architects.

Building and stacking blocks encourage creativity, spatial reasoning, and hand-eye coordination.

4. Musical Instruments:

From drums and xylophones to shakers and tambourines, musical instruments provide a multisensory experience.

Music enhances auditory perception, rhythm recognition, and fine motor skills.

5. Interactive Books:

Books with flaps, textures, and sound effects offer an immersive reading experience.

Interactive books promote language development, vocabulary expansion, and cognitive skills.

6. Role-Play Sets:

Pretend play sets such as kitchen sets, doctor kits, and tool benches encourage imaginative play.

Role-playing fosters social skills, empathy, and creativity.

7. Sensory Play Toys:

Playdough, kinetic sand, water tables, and sensory bins provide tactile experiences.

Sensory play enhances sensory processing skills, language development, and creativity.

8. Fine Motor Skill Toys:

Toys such as bead mazes, pegboards, and threading toys refine fine motor skills.

These toys strengthen hand muscles and hand-eye coordination, essential for activities like writing and drawing.

9. Outdoor Exploration Kits:

Gardening sets, bug catchers, and magnifying glasses inspire outdoor exploration.

Outdoor play promotes physical development, sensory experiences, and an appreciation for nature.

10. Shape and Color Recognition Toys:

Sorting cups, nesting toys, and color matching games reinforce early math and literacy concepts.

These toys facilitate cognitive development, pattern recognition, and critical thinking skills.

Conclusion

Educational toys are not merely playthings; they are powerful tools for shaping young minds and fostering holistic development. For two-year-olds embarking on their journey of discovery, the right toys can make all the difference. From enhancing cognitive skills to promoting social interaction and creativity, the educational toys mentioned above offer a rich tapestry of learning experiences.

As parents, caregivers, and educators, it is our privilege and responsibility to nurture the innate curiosity and potential of every child. By providing them with the right toys and opportunities for exploration, we lay the foundation for a lifetime of learning and growth. So, let's embark on this journey together, unlocking the world of learning one toy at a time.

[babycloudapp]

Embracing Nature: Gardening and Outdoor Learning for Toddlers

Embracing nature through gardening and outdoor learning is a wonderful way to engage toddlers with the natural world while fostering their curiosity, sensory exploration, and cognitive development. Here are some ideas for gardening and outdoor activities for toddlers:

Planting Seeds: Involve your toddler in the process of planting seeds. Choose fast-growing plants like sunflowers, beans, or radishes. Show them how to dig a small hole, place the seed, cover it with soil, and water it gently. This activity teaches them about plant life cycles and patience as they observe their plants grow.

Sensory Garden: Create a sensory garden area where your toddler can explore different textures, scents, and colors. Plant a variety of plants with different textures like fuzzy leaves, soft petals, or rough bark. Include aromatic herbs like lavender or mint for them to smell and touch.

Nature Scavenger Hunt: Go on a nature scavenger hunt with your toddler. Create a list of items to find such as leaves of different shapes, rocks, flowers, or pinecones. Encourage them to use their observation skills to locate and collect the items. This activity promotes exploration, observation, and vocabulary development.

Garden Art: Set up an outdoor art station with washable paints, brushes, and large sheets of paper. Let your toddler use natural objects like leaves, flowers, or rocks as paintbrushes or stamps. They can create beautiful artwork inspired by nature while exploring different textures and colors.

Water Play: Set up a water play area outdoors with buckets, watering cans, and small containers. Allow your toddler to pour, scoop, and transfer water. Incorporate objects like plastic animals or boats for pretend play. Water play improves hand-eye coordination, fine motor skills, and sensory exploration.

Bug Hunt: Encourage your toddler to observe and learn about bugs and insects in your garden or local park. Provide them with a magnifying glass and a bug container for safe observation. Teach them about the importance of insects in the ecosystem and discuss different characteristics of the bugs they encounter.

Garden Journal: Create a garden journal or scrapbook with your toddler. Take photos or draw pictures of the plants, insects, and flowers you discover together. Encourage them to describe their observations or dictate their thoughts while you write them down. This activity promotes language development, observation skills, and creativity.

Outdoor Storytime: Set up a cozy outdoor reading corner with a blanket or cushions. Choose nature-themed books and read aloud to your toddler. Take breaks to explore and discuss the elements mentioned in the story, such as trees, birds, or flowers.

Plant Identification: Teach your toddler to recognize different plants and flowers. Help them identify and name plants in your garden or during nature walks. Point out unique characteristics, colors, or smells. This activity enhances their vocabulary, observation skills, and appreciation for the natural world.

Garden Harvest: Involve your toddler in the process of harvesting fruits, vegetables, or herbs from your garden. Let them pick and collect the produce, wash them together, and prepare a simple snack or meal using the fresh ingredients. This activity promotes healthy eating habits, fine motor skills, and a sense of accomplishment.

Remember to prioritize safety during outdoor activities, such as using child-safe gardening tools, monitoring for potential hazards, and applying sunscreen or insect repellent when necessary. Enjoy the experience together and embrace the wonders of nature while fostering your toddler's connection to the environment.

[joytraveler]

30: Mr. Balloon

Bea hasn't bothered to change out of her costume from her last sketch, the cokebottle glasses magnifying her eyes. "This is actually neat, everything's big! This will be great for the next scary one!"

30: Mr. Balloon

Your character is a red helium balloon wearing Groucho glasses. As if that's not peculiar enough, this game seems to be about lassoing things with your long string and carrying them to different places all over the large, airy level, and avoiding spikes, needles, thorns, and anything sharp!

She glares for a while at the spectacled balloon. "So that's how it is, huh. Well mine's funnier!" This gets tough quick, as she has to carry increasingly delicate objects to boot. First just a crate or two, then an antique teapot, then back to a picnic basket, for some reason.

TaichouSenseiKun: I'd play as Creepy Moe Bea in the bea fighting game ButterflyDefect: Can you bring back RoBea for an ep, she was fun

The game controls just like Balloon Fight: rapid tapping makes you ascend, but letting Mr. Balloon touch the ground makes him start to deflate, which makes your ascension slower. The heavier the item to pick up, though, the closer you have to get to the ground, which makes it a real balancing act

"And so I said to the guy, helium? I hardly even know 'em!" She's having to jam on the controller pretty hard at some points! "The controller seems really durable but my thumbs are not so much"

Baconnaise: Bea can kill a man with her thumbs. i've seen it Syrupentine: Toys go in the toybox... cookies go in the cookie jar... animals go in the zoo... ...wait, is that kid a target? Where are you supposed to take the kid?

"To the top of the Seattle space needle, which is where he will stay to think about next time he wants to leave his zoo all askew"

TaichouSenseiKun: No you drop him in the grinder to make delicious worms

Bea is prompted to drop the boy-- over a garbage can, which is bobbing eagerly

aroseahorseboy: THE TRASH MUST BE FED HNV: why did they make it drool?? Baconnaise: This seems kind of mean. is that kid someone we know

Bea is ready to drop him but has to fly up as high as she can first! The trash can is scrolled off the screen, but when the flailing child is dropped, there's a lot of commotion and what looks like a flailing tongue!

"Just tuck in your legs and you'll land fine! OH no!" she quickly floats back downscreen, but there's not much left by then. "It's not as funny when it happens!!"

Baconnaise: I dunno I thought it was pretty funny aroseahorseboy: Bea what did you do.. WHAT DID YOU DO

"You told me to!"

Klickitat_Street: I hope that was someone's childhood bully and not their little brother or something pigbarrel: an important life lesson has been learned today, bad children belong in the trash and nowhere else ButterflyDefect: Maybe it's an origin story. He becomes The Trash Man Llord_Kuruku: Mr. Balloon is some rubber-based culture's equivalent to the Krampus

Bea isn't cracking wise as much herself, something about this one didn't feel right. "Well, I think we get the idea here, Maybe we can move on unless theres more trash to take out"

aroseahorseboy: Well I'm still here, so.. HNV: You are the most valuable kind of trash! Syrupentine: I'm the worst kind of trash, the kind that CLEANS

[andydelire]

on Childhood and Art

I used to make encyclopedias of imaginary bugs. Psychedelic ants with plungers for feet that could walk up walls, spiders with L’s for legs that surfed sunbeams pointed at squirrely blue crayon oceans. Spy beetles could shoot laser rainbows out their ears and hear my parents coming home from miles away, dousing them in a glittering gelatinous cube so they would stay out longer, leaving me all the time in the world to play. That was before the divorce though, when life ripped the cocoon paper walls out of the game show. I used to believe that the bugs from my encyclopedias became real once I drew them. I could play with them forever once they existed. While I seem to have lost most of these creatures to time, to the books thrown away, to moves across the country, to memory, I still feel my inner child feverishly creating, I forget how he too was an artist, how he is what makes the artist in me. I learn from him every day.

Creating worlds full of bugs in Crayola landscapes was not a way to prove myself to anyone. The goal wasn’t to get people to admire my work it was simply my way of walking. Moving my body via my mind. Surprisingly drawing wasn’t a lonely endeavor. I remember drawing on little colorful tables and then playing with friends who had parallel worlds of different sets of creatures, who would sometimes inspire me to change or add to my worlds too. This play/collaboration brought me closer to friends who were doing the same in their own ways. I drew a lot because I was afraid that I might miss out on a new friend (both outside and inside drawings), a new adventure, a new space that I haven’t explored. From these encyclopedias came several individual tales that branched off into mini-verses, each with slightly different aesthetics, logic, and characters. Some worlds intersected and some shot off far into space with traffic-cone-aliens, and some were living in the popcorn ceiling above my bed, microscopic. I carried with me a magnifying glass a lot more then. I wanted to see plant cells. Amoeba-like blobs. Dust.

The drawings I make now are essentially like those encyclopedias but of imaginary rooms that exist in my mind and iterated through my hand that both recall and elaborate some form of childhood. They are built using spatial relationships between thought and reaction. Each room holds mediated memories and images that have been experienced at some point in my life, sometimes decades ago, sometimes at the exact moment of mark making. The rooms and land/city scapes depicted are like orchestral figurations of emotions, musically abstract, yet structured like a map. They represent architecturally large and vast areas and yet contain an intimacy that one can only receive with a magnifying glass or a small piece of paper. Opera glasses.

[scribbling-dragon]

Notes on the wither rose siblings in your au?

i have quite a few! though not as many as i do for other characters

pearl:

She’s a part of the netball team at school, and plays as goal attack. She’s the tallest girl on her team.

She used to do karate when she was younger, but quit because “the other kids are pussies and they won't fight me” - eleven-year-old Pearl.

She gives really good hugs, and all of her siblings come to her for advice and hugs when needed. She’s almost constantly warm, and she’s strong enough to give them a nice hug

She has a very large collection of plants, and walking into her room is like walking into a jungle. They're on the floor, on the walls, on the ceiling. They're everywhere.

She’s the oldest of the four Rose siblings.

Most of the kids at school are absolutely terrified of her, and as a result none of her siblings have ever been bullied. The one child that attempted it ended up in A&E, and Pearl had to write an apology letter.

gem:

She's very smart, and all of her teachers love her because of how ‘hard-working’ she is. In reality she puts in minimum effort, but her teachers love her anyway because she’s mostly good.

She corrects teachers when they're wrong. Which irritates the rest of her class to no end, but they don't say anything because Pearl’s her sister.

She has larger antlers than fWhip does, and enjoys decorating them with different items she finds, or others that fWhip makes for her. Once, she went around for a whole week with a piece of metal hanging off her head.

The Purple Mage has a massive hat, and it’s mainly there to cover up her antlers/hide them from view, because they're a target due to how large they are and also how easily they would break.

She doesn't wear shoes - there's no point when you've got hooves.

She does, however, wear mufflers on the underside of her hooves, as she despises the loud sound they make when she’s walking. It announces her presence to everyone else when she’d rather just remain in the background.

She wears glasses.

sausage (some of them were already posted so i didnt include them here):

The Blood King is widely hated by the public because his power is considered ‘evil’. He knows it isn't, but it still hurts a little when they praise his siblings and not him, especially when he was helping them.

He met Joey when they were both hanging out, and he ran into Joey following the Fire Prince. They both decided to mess with the Ice Prince a little bit in that moment, and made a nuisance of themselves by distracting him.

fwhip (some of these were also already posted):

His favourite gadget is a long pole he’s made. It’s his main weapon, and is simply a long staff of dark silver. It’s largely underestimated whenever it’s first seen (mainly because people do not realise the capabilities of it), and it can extend to over three times its original length. He also has several different ends for it that he occasionally swaps out.

He has a toolbelt that he almost constantly wears, which, other students find it a little weird but don't comment on it, and he’s normally fidgeting with something he’s building, or simply trying to sort through his constantly messy pockets.

He used to share a room with Gem, but she got sick and tired of his mess, so she converted their spare room into a bedroom for herself. He got to keep the bigger room and her desk, as it was too large to fit in the spare room comfortably.

He has a pair of goggles that he is incredibly fond of, and they have several different lenses he can use to magnify whatever he’s looking at. They've had several improvements over the years as his powers improved/strengthened.

[binnotjin]

A, C, G and X For Diluc and Childe please ?? Btw, do you still take request other than for the SFW alphabet 👀

MY MANS! I love them so much ㅠㅠ But also, yes! I do! Just keep in mind that I don’t take NSFW requests :) Send away! I also write for Mr. Love Queen's Choice and the Marvel guys as well ♡

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Diluc: Affection? In public? Never heard of her. The most he’s gonna do is a hand on your back to guide you in a crowd or grabbing ahold of your hand. MAYBE a short kiss or brief hug. But in private, at home, or when the tavern is empty? He does a complete 180. This man is so soft for you, and no one would believe it. He would love to give you back hugs when you’re helping him close up after a long shift. Neck kisses, too. Not in a sexual way, though, He just loves the intimacy of being so close to you. 

Childe: With consent, the “H” in Childe stands for “Handsy”. He loves to make you flustered, though, so prepare for him to pull some stunts in public. He’s also very protective of you. Being part of the Fatui, he’s got a dangerous job and no shortage of enemies. As a result, he doesn’t relax much in public. In private, though, he can also be a huge baby. Loves to be the little spoon. Fight me on that. He loves the feeling of being able to let his guard down and be protected for once instead of having to be the one doing the protecting. 

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

Diluc: He’s not so much of a cuddler, but if you like it, he supposed it couldn’t be that bad. It would eventually grow on him, though. Especially after a tough day. Loves it when you lay on his chest and he can run his hands over your back or hold onto your waist. 

Childe: The “C” in Childe stands for “Cuddles”. I’m so sorry pls end me. Even though I spoke on this before, I’ll elaborate. Even if he knows he has to get up for work, he decides he’ll take the scolding if it meant he could stay in bed with you for longer in the morning. As the semi-designated little spoon on occasion, though, he would love to rest his head on your chest as you run your fingers through his hair. He has fallen asleep to that on multiple occasions. He probably mumbles in his sleep, too. Definitely the type of guy to bury his head in your chest under the guise of being asleep. He’s not always lying, though. 

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

Diluc: He’s not really used to being gentle. He’s got a good head on his shoulders, but being vulnerable, especially emotionally, is just not something he’s particularly good at. There would definitely be a learning curve, that’s for sure. As established before, however, he is so soft when it comes to you so he would put all of his efforts into being careful with you. 

Childe: Coming from a fairly large family with younger siblings, he’s not too unfamiliar with being gentle. However, being part of the Fatui, it’s not exactly encouraged. That being said, when it comes to you, he couldn’t care less. He is so absolutely whipped for you. When he sees you interacting with his little brother, especially, that feeling is magnified by 100. 

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

Diluc: After a long day, he loves to let his hair down, literally. But only as long as you’ll be there to run your hands through it and massage his head. His favorite thing to do after such a long day is to sit on the floor between your legs with a glass of wine and just relax as you run your fingers through his hair, massage his scalp, and tell him about your day. If the days’ events weren’t too stressful, maybe he’ll tell you about his day, too. 

Childe: You were practically begging him to meet his family. He wasn’t necessarily against it, but he was a bit nervous. For starters, the trek to Schneznaya wasn’t a short one. It was cold, not that it bothered him. Hey, you may even be more willing to let him hold you if you got cold enough. But more so, he was just worried. Worried that it wouldn’t last. Not that he was having any second thoughts, but what about you? The long nights, dangerous trips, and coming home battered and bruised more often than not which only added to your worry, he wasn’t sure how long you’d be able to take it. Eventually, he relented, though, and immediately regretted having waited so long. His family loved you, and the way you interacted with Teucer? He loved seeing the love you had for them. From that day on, he hoped to the Archons that he wouldn’t do anything stupid to lose you.