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[thespiralstaircasewriter]

I am the voice from the outer world

[thespiralstaircasewriter]

Being stone, just for this once.

People I met casually advise me, no, they plead with me, not to mention Hell, so that “it don’t draw closer”.

Driving, when I’m ready to put my foot down, idiots get unto the road before me, and we’re forced at a snail pace.

Are those “idiots”, then, or agents sent from above?

No answer to that. Which is a condition of life, among others, but sure one that’s especially easy to observe.

So, I should not say, or even, should I ban from my lexicon the truth-in-joke: “I’ve got Hell in my veins?”

Be thankful for traffic jams? Pick up my crumbs of actions, amass the human-like acts I accomplish during the day. Although I should say that they sprout from me like weeds from the side of rubble and dirt?

Speaking of dirt, earth and soil, namely of the fresh, soft type, slightly damp, of feeling it on my face in my mind, and wishing, with relief, for it to cover this, my face… For it to cover me, and for me to be a name on a gravestone, no, just a stone slab, plain and simple, one from which, as expected, no sounds come, no matter the questions or soliloquy talks you have ready when you turn up in front of them…

So, shall I say, what are all these sensations, or movements of the mind, given that the deceased actually don’t feel a thing?

Death is not peace, or rest, or relief. It is but nothing. Nothing in itself. The ceasing of the whimsical exception of existence, and a laughably temporary one, come to think of it.

So, could it be that seeking relief in this life is my underlying desire? To be, when still alive, the silent one, withdrawing answers, no matter how heartfelt the insistence of the ones obstinately questioning the stone?

(per la traduzione Continua a leggere)

Per una volta, essere pietra.

Persone che incontro casualmente mi consigliano, anzi, mi pregano di non nominare l’Inferno, “se no viene più vicino”.

Sulla strada, guidando, quando voglio accelerare, idioti si immettono davanti a me, imponendo una velocità da lumache.

Sono “idioti”, quelli, o agenti superiori?

Non c’è risposta. Condizione del vivere, tra altre, di certo una delle più osservabili.

Quindi, dovrei non pronunciare, anzi cancellare dal mio lessico la finta battuta: “Ho l’inferno nelle vene”?

Ringraziare il traffico? Raccogliere briciole di azioni, raggranellare atti all’apparenza umani che in una giornata riesco a compiere. O meglio, che mi crescono addosso, come erbacce sul fianco di un mucchio di terra e macerie?

Parlando di terra, o di terriccio, meglio, del tipo fresco, morbido e leggermente umido, sentirlo sul viso con la mente, desiderare con sollievo che lo ricopra, quel viso… Ed essere un nome su una lapide, no, una lastra di pietra semplice e liscia, di quelle che, come è giusto aspettarsi, non rimandano alcun suono, non importa con quante domande e discorsi da soliloquio ci si presenti.

Allora, dico…. Che sono tutte queste sensazioni, o manifestazioni mentali, dal momento che i morti non sentono niente?

La morte non è il momento della pace, del riposo o del sollievo. Non è altro che nulla, IL nulla. La cessazione della stravagante parentesi dell’esistere, a guardar bene più che irrisoria.

Quindi, cercare sollievo da vivi sarebbe il desiderio mio sottostante? Essere da viva nella parte di chi nega risposte, e tace, non importa quanto accorate le insistenze di chi si ostina a chiamare in causa la pietra?

[thespiralstaircasewriter]

Well, yes. Enough is enough.

Inktober #19 - Enough is enough [repeatedly passing out]

Prompt from the @whumptober prompt list for 2022. This one took me ages due to all the details in the background.

Head canon:

‘For God’s sake, Mycroft. Shut up and help me get him back to bed.’

A little teaser illustration for an upcoming chapter of ‘The Chemist’

https://archiveofourown.org/works/12789318

I am flattered if you retweet, but don’t post my art on other sites/social media or use without my written permission.

[thespiralstaircasewriter]

At the Altar of Beasts

Paul Atreides/Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen, Paul Atreides/Duncan Idaho, Paul Atreides/Glossu Rabban Harkonnen

Arranged Marriage, Developing Relationship, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Physical Abuse, Sexual Abuse, Virginity Kink, Implied/Referenced Underage Relationship(s), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD

Some wars ended in seas of blood, in kingdoms burnt to barrenness, in the rape and annihilation of ancient houses. In the grand tapestry of tragedies surrounding the deadly games for dominion over the spice trade, House Atreides could have been considered fortunate.

Duncan Idaho, swordmaster to the family who had briefly reigned in the desert-bound city of Arrakeen – the very heart of the trade wars that had claimed countless lives – would strongly beg to differ. In the space of hours, a beloved duke had been killed and the concubine with whom he had borne a child imprisoned, abandoned by the sisterhood she had defied when she chose to have a boy with Duke Leto Atreides, the man she loved. The boy, too, was very nearly lost; were it not for Duncan, he would be lying beside his father beneath twin headstones bearing the house crest of an eagle with outstretched wings.

Instead the young Paul Atreides now stood pale and still beside him in the home of their arch-rivals, effectively orphaned while he was barely of age. He should have been enjoying the fruits of youth in between his studies and honing the skills expected of a future duke. All of that had been snatched from him in a night. He was no longer a duke, but a pawn, a seal on a treaty of peace. He was to be married off to the victor at the behest of the Padhishah Emperor. And Duncan, taking the place of his father, had to give him away.

Read More

[thespiralstaircasewriter]

Demons, if you ask me.

New illustration by Okazaki Oka who directed and worked on the storyboard of public school arc ending

[thespiralstaircasewriter]

When I see them, I want to go to Hell.

I’ve always liked how the animators for Black butler love playing around with Sebastian’s tailcoat and using it for the darkness that slowly eats Ciel up, really cool

Book of Circus op Public school arc op

[thespiralstaircasewriter]

[thespiralstaircasewriter]

Beginner Spells !!!

My Saturday started lazy, scrolling posts: ha ha, nice... ah yeah, right...

Gradually, though, I began to find multiple evidence of undesirable Tumblr facts! Missed posts from blogs I follow! Jumbled or completely eaten messages! Yes I had heard people complain of such phenomena, but nothing like it happening to you to... go serious about it, and determined to do your part, no matter how small.

So, yes, I've recently taken up my own Spell practice. I have to say this is only my third, and my very first Threatening Spell or... maybe, as it seems to have changed nothing here so far, I'm pretty confident you might call it my first

Complaint Spell

(please feel free to use it if you like. Here it comes...)

Tumblr unfair, No more eating posts!

Spit out, mend, and unravel.

It’s either this, mind,

or your in-charge shitting gravel!

I am a beginner in the field, and I completely understand, should you feel doubtful, as oh I'm aware of the many ways something can misfire! So... I'm giving you also two more, which were encouragingly created and used, yes, on a very active friend (you might guess who), who hasn't so far developed any extra limb, on the opposite, is getting back use of his existing ones.

In fact these are...

Healing Spells

(here's my first one, for split finger)

"Demonic finger, fin or claw,

HEAL SOON!

Because I say so!"

(and finally, my second healing, ankle trouble!)

Ankle-fix Spell

heed my will

Oh yessir, here: WITCH!

Fix it nice, “stat” not required.

But fix it WELL:

ankle’s a bitch.

There, as I said, just a beginner! But happy to share... :-)

[thespiralstaircasewriter]

Dammit, bro

(Major storm hit Anaheim just in time for Wondercon this weekend)

[thespiralstaircasewriter]

Labyrinth (1986) dir. Jim Henson

[thespiralstaircasewriter]

Our fandom forbearers did NOT suffer through Anne Rice, strikethrough, and other bullshit for fucking ACOTAR and Harry Potter fans to fucking ruin it for all of us by selling fanfiction. I am not losing novel length yaoi epics because some of you don't know how to act in fannish spaces and yes I do blame the booktokification of fanfic but I also blame those of you that treat fandom like content to consume and not a community to engage with.

[thespiralstaircasewriter]

They cut this scene.

Oh, but something tells me that Paul Atreides has seen it.

Loki, now rightful heir to the throne of Asgard, receives Gungnir

[thespiralstaircasewriter]

There was no sunlight at all.

[thespiralstaircasewriter]

My dream self, come back to me...

You'll now learn the truth about our family. And it will hurt you to the core. Don't worry. I'm with you.

ANYA TAYLOR-JOY as ALIA ATREIDES in DUNE: PART TWO (2024) dir. Denis Villeneuve

[thespiralstaircasewriter]

Edward Gorey - Tarot

[thespiralstaircasewriter]

Happy Tolkien reading day!! Tolkien is one of my longest fandom loves and I am so grateful that we have both the beauty of the films and the beauty of Rings of Power. I adore both Galadriels and I shall never choose between them! (though Morfydd Clark does have more costumes which I love)

Costumes made by me!

Photos by Sennedjem Cosplay and Alexandra Lee Studios

[thespiralstaircasewriter]

wellirving, In light of this STUNNING revelation (not kidding or over-exaggerating), I would just like to remind the world exactly what we’re talking about here:

It’s THIS guy’s pants we’re talking.  Not Thor-Loki, not TTDW-Loki, AVENGERS-Loki. Who has the best costume out of the three because of…

…those GOD DAMNED STRAPPY STRAPS.  You know what they do to me.  Also, look how those straps rest upon that beautifully leathered-up thigh.  If I look at this one too long today I won’t be able to leave the house today.  I have to leave the house today.

Look, here’s Action Tom walking around in his Loki pants in natural lighting.  You can see the detailing on the inside of the left thigh as well as the boots in all their glorious purpose.  Plus, check out the texture on the exterior of the lower half of his jacket.  And how that tunic drapes over the left thigh…..  WAIT, this is supposed to be about the pants.  That he STOLE.  THAT ARE LIKELY IN HIS CLOSET AS WE SPEAK.  *ahem* Moving on….

Guess what we never get to see?  The Loki costume from a ¾ turn rear view.  The metal grommet work on the outside of the thigh ALONE makes me want to do bad things.  A rear shot of those boots!  The detailing on all edges of the jacket…..  FUCK – pants, focus on the pants!

Peek-a-boo!  It’s the OTHER leg from a side shot.  Good to know they’re identical (they didn’t have to be).  I included this shot for the conformation.  ALSO FOR REASONS. And to call attention to the gold leather insert on the jacket.   And how the fabric on the biceps match the overlap pattern of the leather on his tunic/chest plate.  The detail work of the forearm armor…..I bet those are cold if they’re pressed to one’s bare flesh….. FOCUS, DAMNIT!

Now we come full circle and see those pants, from mostly the front, in a real-life scenario (you know how this kills me).  Now we know that the grommet work on the lower right side of his tunic matches the outside of both pant legs.  Look how soft and pliant that leather looks.  AND WAIT, are we seeing a little peep-show that involves both inner thighs and a bit of the crotch…? And that smile  AND THOSE HANDS. You know I can go on and on and on about that jacket, tunic, and breastplate (ohhhhhh that breastplate) but I’ll leave it all here for your perusal.

Just know, that when this shot was initially shared, these pants deserved, no NEEDED to be deconstructed more than they were.  This photo does bring to the table that the leather pattern below the knee matches both the fabric work on the jacket bicep as well as the pattern on the torso/low chest of the tunic.  

THIS COSTUME DESIGNER WAS A FUCKING POET, LEATHER IS HIS/HER MEDIUM, AND TOM HIDDLESTON WAS THEIR MUSE.

I just included this one because he’s touching his own leather and calling attention to the slightness of his waist.  Just gratuitous hotness.  Sorry, not sorry.

P-to-the-S, I think this post is far more deserving than Meh-g’s Doctorate.  I know it’s sure as fuck more useful….