#asc but women au

[nightly-ruse]

Okay that last post has me thinking about ASC au but it follows Fringewhisker, Frostpaw, and Finchlight. Like image how much better that would be already.

(A few asc spoilers ofc if you don’t want them then don’t read!!!)

Fringewhisker is so for the code change and in a scary situation as a ton of cats just hate her, she’s also beefing with her mother in law. This change also makes the first book being called Sky work more, maybe draw out her leaving to go to Shadow more. She’s in between leaving her family and going to her mate Spireclaw but then sickness strikes Sky and she feels bad. She doesn’t want to leave them in such a bad place. Finally at last she cracks and goes to Shadow, and then a few Shadow cats get sick. She feels like it’s her fault and sets up good reason the next book would be called Shadow. From what we’ve seen she tries really hard even to her own detriment to be worthy of others, is sweet, and sort of quiet. Over the arc she’d grow to be more loud about her place with her mate, maybe beat up Berryheart, and squash the rumors about her.

Frostpaw is just a baby and going through it. She became a healer apprentice maybe a moon before Willowshine died so by ASC start she’s a little into training. She’s grieving Willow already and growing a bond with Mothwing (aunt like bond I think it’s cute). Close with her siblings, her mom a bit overbearing but definitely caring for her. Then she has a vision of Reedclaw walking out of camp, he’s found dead. The second death she’s predicted after her dad. Mistystar dies, Curlfeather takes the lead then dies. She’s hella traumatized and a ball of overwhelming anxiety all the time. I’d want Mothwing to help her through it but she’s also not doing well with literally everyone dying. Instead of Splashclaw being there it’ll be her brother Graypaw (setting up a sort of Hawkfrost and Mothwing relationship but for them two instead).

Finchlight. She becomes a warrior like halfway thru the first book and is a lot more traditional in beliefs. She has the legacy of Firestar hanging over her head, her mother’s depression she’s trying to help, and her brother’s problems as well. She’s pretty much pulled every way and forgetting about herself. Flamepaw still has his name changed but chooses Raven instead, becoming Ravenflame. Trained under Thornclaw she carries a lot of his beliefs and can’t take in the code changes. She pushes them away and becomes a bit of a prick to outsiders but thru the arc she’d learn that that’s not right and that other cats aren’t her enemies. Somewhere in the second or third book Raven says he want to leave abandoning her entirely and completely blindsiding her, this pushes her more angry traditional beliefs even more. I think she’d join the cats against it but meets Fringewhisker and finds she’s actually so different from what Berryheart said. The sweet cat isn’t a sneaky manipulative clan crosser but a loyal determined cat who wanted to be with her mate. She starts changing and has a bit of a crisis of faith until steadily forwarding change alongside the other protagonists. Kinda like her having a girlfriend as well idk it’s cute maybe a Shadow cat (Finch and Gull???)

Side note with Ravenflame, while he does change his name and is still the annoying cat he is I think he’d actually be more flawed. Cats aren’t bullying him but he says they are, he blames other cats and is overly horrible to his mother. He also snaps at Finchlight when she tried to ask him why he didn’t tell her about his name change before he did it in front of everyone. I actually think he would leave but instead of going to Shadowclan he goes to Windclan, it takes awhile and absolutely tears the family apart. Finch resents her brother for leaving her to deal with everything by herself and grows even more angry when she hears him tell her that she was such a horrible sister and never cared for him. Eventually they would come back together and Ravenflame realizes that it wasn’t his clan that was the problem it was his own attitude, coming back to Thunderclan later.

(Also I chose Ravenflame bc Raven connects him to Larksong and Finchlight while flame still ties him to his lineage, mother, and previous name. A straight rug pull from Bramblestar lol, he allows him to change his name but also completely makes it null by putting flame as his suffix.

Alternatively I think Ravenshade could also work as a name or Ravensong to tie him back to his dad)

#asc but women au #Graypaw could be Grayfeather or maybe Grayrain idk I think it suits him #Frostpaw would be named Frostshine or Frostheart #while she has less focus Mistpaw should be Mistclaw after her dad and vc I see her as having a temper #asc au #asc #a starless clan #finchlight #nightheart #flamepaw #fringewhisker #spireclaw #Frostpaw #mothwing #ruse au’s #wc au #warrior cats au

[stuffforthestash]

Modern Academic AU I Guess?

Got the idea of professor Raphael stuck in my damned brain all morning, so here's hoping writing thoughts down will banish him back to the hells yeah? Edit: There is now a Part 2 and Part 3 __________________________ Raphael - School of Law, obvs. Teaches courses on contract law and legal ethics. He has a reputation for being the kind of asshole professor that can make or break your academic career, and the fact he's tenured is likely the only reason he hasn't been fired over the countless reports of student blackmail and harassment. Gale - Dep't of Literature. His classes are all niche topics like "Magic, Myth, & The Power Of Metaphor", "From Merlin To Dumbledore: A Historical Look At The Wizard's Role In Storytelling", and "The Ancient Art of Flyting", and they're extremely popular. He loves his job, the students love him, but he's rubbed a lot of his colleagues the wrong way. Astarion - School of Theater & Music. Teaches the 101 level acting course and has a rep for being absolutely brutal, but his methods are undeniably effective. Also teaches stage combat workshops, and is constantly on thin ice with the admin for the way he encourages the gaggle of students that started a fan club for him. Wyll - Health Sciences. He's a practicing physical therapist who was invited to also teach part time, due to having gained a reputation as a leading specialist in working with underserved minorities and victims of trauma. His classes are niche and can be hard to get into due to limited availability. Knows Astarion because they're both in HEMA, and sometimes helps with the combat workshops Karlach - Women's rugby coach and former pro-athlete who had to retire after a chest injury. Is also in HEMA, and was inspired by her buddy Wyll to also pursue Phys. Therapy as a career shift. Shadowheart - Grad student doing her thesis on some obscure theological topic, teaches a generic 101 level religious studies class and is obviously only there because the school requires her to put in the hours. Lae'zel - Also a grad student, transferred from overseas. Studying Sports Management and was assigned as an assistant coach to Karlach, except she's in ASC and is constantly making digs about how their practices are vastly superior to HEMA's foolishness. Halsin - Environmental Science. He's the department chair, and teaches courses on conservationism and land management. All his courses are out in the field though, which means he's never on campus and is nearly impossible to get hold of. He hates being the dep't chair, and he only reason he even accepted the position is because nobody else would. Jaheira - Facilities director, not a teacher. Always somehow knows everything that's happening on campus, has contacts everywhere for anything you could want done, and is the person you least want to piss off. Minsc is her shadow, nobody's even entirely sure if he actually works here but is too afraid of Jaheira to ask. And if you actually made it this far, well.. thanks for reading? I'm so sorry? But also share your thoughts! And lemme know if there's any other characters worth doing a 2nd post for.

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 raphael #gale of waterdeep #astarion #wyll ravengard #karlach #shadowheart #halsin #jaheira #minsc

[mareastrorum]

WIP Wednesday: TF&TS (Luck)

Here is a scene from an early chapter of a longfic I am working on.

Fanfic Summary: Mollymauk Tealeaf survived the encounter with the Iron Shepherds, but a short time later, a spirit had begun hunting him, claiming that he stole his body. This Campaign 2 AU begins with Episode 26 and continues on from there.

This fanfic will be posted on AO3 starting hopefully by Friday 7/28.

Zadash was fucking boring.

Otis had only been in town for a month, but they were running out of things to do. Half the city was off limits because it would piss off Cree’s boss. There weren’t really any rivals against the Myriad because they had gotten that good at killing (or selling) off the competition. Breaking and entering lost the novelty after a while. No one to spy on who was interesting. The city didn’t use the Victory Pit for most of the year, and with the war, it had been abandoned completely. Zoran’s nose for underground fighting rings wasn’t any good because those losers all insisted on fair fights, and what was the fun in that?

Boring.

Shadycreek Run was fun. There was always some insane bullshit going on. An Uttolot beast got loose and wreaked havoc maybe. Brawls breaking loose for any reason anywhere. Raids between the Mardoons and the Jagentoths. Gangs imploding when it turns out one of the leaders was an Empire plant. And if it didn’t happen organically, Otis could help out a bit by loosening some locks, fucking with people’s thoughts, spreading rumors, planting some forgeries or stolen seals or whatever. But the halfling didn’t know enough about the power players in Zadash for that kind of shenanigans, and the low-risk stuff lost their appeal.

Fortunately, Tyffial had finally arrived, which meant that they could get on the road to Nicodranas. Unfortunately, Cree had to handle some bullshit because her boss might get mad at her for leaving, and Tyffial immediately found an excuse to dress up and threaten people. The women had both prohibited Otis and Zoran from tagging along, so they had to wait for however long that was going to take.

There hadn’t been much to do except tail Zoran through the Pentamarket while he picked up supplies for his new two-handed maul, hanging from his belt. The weapon was larger than Otis, grooves into the sides shaped like a grate—perfect for triggering a rite with a shallow wound on skin rather than carving in deep with spikes, plus the intimidation factor. It looked ridiculous otherwise, but most people had no reason to know why that design would be useful, so it mostly just attracted confused looks if anyone paid any mind. Maybe it could be used to shave mammoths or something. Zoran would probably refuse to test that.

But anyway, those errands were handled quickly and the two agreed to get drinks at the Song and Supper and wait at the bar after dumping their things upstairs. It was loud enough that they didn’t need to talk, so Zoran could zone out and drink, and Otis could people watch and look for ways to cause trouble. The only real concern was that someone from the Claret Orders would recognize either of them, but it wasn’t that likely after so much time had gone by. Sure, there was a chance because the Orders frequented the inn, but things always seemed to go Otis’s way when they stayed there. The halfling sure as hells never told the Tombtakers that; they were each their own flavor of superstitious, and they each judged the rest for that shit, so they all just silently tolerated it.

Hopefully, the Tombtakers could get going before dark. If not, Otis had plans for messing with the temples for the Night of Asc—

A high, raspy voice cut in, “You’re Zoran Spiritseer, aren’t you?”

“Wot’s it to you?” Zoran countered before looking. Otis looked over out of the corner of their eye: on Zoran’s other side stood a tall, muscular white dragonborn with blue eyes, wearing boring clothes and leather armor. Despite the generic appearance, there were several scars along her hands. No weird veins. Clean, sturdy armor. No Raven Queen markers like feathers or masks. No weapons, but that didn’t mean much. Either a profaned soul or a ghostslayer, then, but if she recognized Zoran and knew his clan nickname, probably the latter.

Fuck. Maybe it hadn’t been so lucky to visit this time since Zoran had made a reputation for himself at the Orders. Otis kept their mouth shut and pretended not to care. The two might have looked like they had just happened to sit next to each other.

The dragonborn sat on the stool next to Zoran. Otis could barely hear her. “Not here on business, friend, but I remembered you from a job a few years back. A friendly warning, from one hunter to another: bounties have been posted for our trade.”

“Tch, s’old news, ‘friend,’” Zoran replied with some bite. Otis stifled a snicker. The goliath hated the Orders more than the rest of them combined, so it was impressive that he was being so polite. There were maybe a handful of people he tolerated from there, and the Tombtakers were a majority of that category. Then again, Cree and Tyffial would be pissed if he started a brawl here.

“It’s been around a while, sure, but they’re still collecting,” the dragonborn replied. “Whoever it is, they’re not only after those in the… organization. Whether they’re after someone specific or just want bodies, they’re taking any victims they can find.” She leaned in, whispering, “And they know about this meeting spot.”

Oh, this was interesting. Otis rolled a copper piece in their hand, muttered an incantation, and tapped Zoran with their free hand. Another layer of voices suddenly filled Otis’s mind, mostly violent, gnashing whispers from the shadows and in-between places, but one sounding just the dragonborn.

He’s not even listening, is he? Stubborn as always.

“Ain’t worried,” Zoran scoffed, taking a drink. “But ‘ow d’ya know they’re onto this place?”

Paranoid, too. Small favors.

“A few friends went missing after their hunts, and all of them had stayed here on the way to the keep,” she answered before a pause. “We’ve stopped using this place already, but I’ve been trying to bait them, and now I saw you. Figured you could use a heads up.”

Otis saw flickers of images as if through a taller person’s eyes. People, mostly human or elven, wearing draping cloaks to cover their clothes; sitting in dark corners, watching tavern folk; walking the streets after lone mercenaries in armor; brawling in alleys, sewers, back paths, all ending quickly and in bloodshed. Then one of those groups sitting together in the Song and Supper, then on the streets, then one looking in Otis’s direction from a gate. Lastly, a party of three humans—strange black lines tattooed on their arms—talking with others and then collecting a body onto a covered cart.

The halfling pulled back out of the visions, then glanced up at the bottles on the bar. No groups of three in the reflections. No one with those tattoos. Otis resisted the temptation to touch their daggers. So, those bounties really were serious if blood hunters were getting nabbed in Empire cities. Were they evading the Crownsguard, or were the authorities in on it? Regardless, the Tombtakers needed to get a move on, then. They could handle trouble, but that sort of distraction was going to be a waste of time when they already had a chase to start.

“Sure,” Zoran eventually replied, still dismissive. “Send my thanks along to ‘em jackasses that posted you ‘ere.”

Zoran Lughead, more like. Gods.

The dragonborn growled a sigh, “Listen, I don’t care why you left or what you’re up to, but this has been happening more and more as word of the payday spreads. Whoever’s doing this, fuck them. I don’t want them getting any more of us. So, if you’re staying in town, I recommend staying elsewhere, and if you’re leaving, leave under cover of night.”

Please, just save yourself. Fuck’s sake.

“Aye, I’ll keep it in mind,” Zoran replied casually as he slapped a gold on the bar and stood up. “‘Ave a drink on me.” He shoulder-checked her as he passed and walked up the stairs without another word. She snorted, but just watched him go.

Damnit. Well, I tried.

Otis stayed behind, slowly savoring their liquor. Their hands itched to move. The dragonborn shook her head, pocketed the coin, and walked off. The halfling tracked her in the reflections of the bottles, watching her take a seat at a table with a gnome, but by then, the whispers had receded. She looked frustrated, but nothing notable otherwise. After waiting a few minutes, Otis headed upstairs and into their room.

“Wot’d you get?” Zoran asked as soon as the door was closed. The goliath sat at the table, his maul already at his side.

“Nothin’ shady from her,” Otis answered rapidly as they fetched their crossbow and started checking it over in case they’d get into a skirmish. “She was serious about it. Picked her brain, saw groups tracking blood hunters in Zadash, but they got their targets before she could stop it. One might’ve spotted her. The people collectin’ the bodies got weird tattoos with black patterns on their arms.”

Zoran growled, “Seen that markin’ a few times in the capital. Them types work for the Assembly, but fuck if I know wot they do. Never seen it in the Run?” Oh, it was exciting to think about a fight with the Assembly, but it’d be more fun once Lucien was back.

Otis shook their head, but didn’t look up. “Not like those. Gang tattoos, sure, tribes’ stuff and all that, but these ones were… fancy? Too clean. Kinda like arcane symbols.”

“Aye, that sounds like wot I saw,” Zoran grumbled. “Don’t like this business, but we’re fuckin’ off to the coast soon anyway. Maybe it’ll blow over by the time we get back.”

“Maybe hide that thing,” Otis suggested as they looked over. “If they know what blood hunters can do, they’ve got an idea of what kinda weapons to look out for.” They pointed at the hook on their crossbow.

Zoran side-eyed his maul, then grunted and fished out some cloth from his pack. By the time he wrapped it up, there was a brief rap at the door—the two of them shifting their weapons to ready positions—before it opened, Tyffial and Cree striding in.

“Well, hello to you, too,” Tyffial sassed as she walked over, placed a bundle of papers on the table, and took a seat. For whatever reason, she was still dressed like a lady, even when she moved like a fighter.

“Is something wrong?” Cree asked as she closed the door.

“Someone from the Orders warned us that bounty hunters have this place staked,” Otis answered with a grin. As annoying as it was, it was still exciting to get everyone riled up, and seeing the new frowns on those two felt good.

Oh, a mood was coming on. Good timing, yes, yes.

“Wonderful,” Tyffial sighed as she reached into her pack nearby and pulled out a few glasses and two bottles of who-knows-what.

“We should leave soon, then,” Cree added. “I must attend one last meeting for the Gentleman this evening, then pick up some supplies. After that, I am free to go.”

“Said we should leave af’er dark,” Zoran noted, looking at the bottles with suspicion. He’d made the mistake of raiding Tyffial’s stash exactly once. “Not that I trust the Orders any, but s’good advice if we’ve been spotted.”

“Tonight, then,” Cree agreed. “The sun sets early as it is.”

“I’ll make my check-in brief, in that case,” Tyffial commented as she poured three glasses from one bottle, then a fourth from the other. “It won’t take me long, less time than Cree, I suspect. I already arranged for horses on my way back, so Zoran and Otis can meet us outside the gates.” She kept the fourth for herself and nudged the others away, glancing at Zoran. “It’s whiskey for you lightweights, don’t worry.”

Zoran sneered at her, but took the glass. Otis cackled and grabbed the other two, handing one off to Cree before they knocked the whole glass back. It burned good, it did.

“Thank you,” Cree replied. “It will be good to get away from this city for a while with all this mess.” She took a sip.

Tyffial took a shot of whatever her drink was, exhaled in satisfaction, then loudly set the glass on the table. “Now that that’s all settled, let’s discuss: why the fuck do the Somnovem want us to bring Lucien back as an undead?”

Otis snickered instinctively at Tyffial’s bluntness (by the Voice, they had missed it), Cree nearly choked on her whiskey, and Zoran just barked a laugh. Leave it to the soulless bitch to stab right to the heart of the matter. Cree coughed once to catch her breath and force the drink down.

“Well?” Tyffial prodded sharply. “Why are we summoning Lucien as a ghost? We can just kill the thief ourselves. I’ve got poisons. Zoran can call in favors with his Myriad assassin buddies. Otis has…” Otis cackled, and Tyffial shook her head as she continued, “creepy bullshit. Hells, Cree, your employer has connections, too. Why are we going through the trouble?”

“Aye, don’t like this ghost bollocks,” Zoran muttered. The goliath had been in town for all of a week and his mood turned sour every time undeath came up. Cree had been getting tired of his arguments, but Tyffial had missed all that drama.

Cree sighed heavily before she answered, “The Somnovem instructed me to summon Lucien so that he could kill the thief. There was— there was little time for them to explain with the spell that I used to communicate with them. So they used that time to pass that instruction and teach me how to summon him.”

Tyffial scoffed, “He has to do it personally? When the thief has been using Lucien’s blood magic that is particularly effective against undead?”

“It is not ideal.” Cree nodded in exasperation.

“Why not ask them again, then?” Tyffial pressed. “Maybe they needed to be clearer.”

“Oh, shit, well, we’d have more potions this time, Cree,” Otis blurted out with a half-mad laugh.

Tyffial narrowed her eyes at Cree in inquiry, and even Zoran raised a brow. Oops. Apparently, Cree hadn’t told them what happened.

Cree glared at Otis (what? It was her own fault for not telling them earlier) before adding, “Without the Nonagon filtering such contact, it is… a challenge to speak to the Somnovem. Damaging. It is not something to risk lightly, especially because none of you are healers or capable of reviving me.”

“Revival?” Tyffial noted flatly. “It nearly killed you?”

“You shoulda seen it!” Otis barked. “Blood everywhere, buncha screaming, and the—” Cree clamped a hand over Otis’s face and forced their jaw shut, using the tips of her claws as emphasis. Tyffial’s face contorted to agitation. Zoran shook his head and looked down at his drink, already deciding not to bother with a fight.

“Attempting to connect to the minds of the Somnovem without the Nonagon’s blessings was foolish,” Cree said definitively. “I knew the risks, but I had to do it to understand how to bring Lucien back. I learned what I needed, and I am still here. The Somnovem are not at fault for my decisions, and I will not risk it again just because the answer was not what we wanted to hear. So the details are moot.” She gave one more glare at Otis as a warning.

The vein on Tyffial’s left temple pulsed as she set her jaw, but she nodded. Zoran nodded without looking at them because he knew damn well both women would do as they pleased. Otis was tempted to lick Cree’s hand since she hadn’t released them yet, but she was the boss for now, so that kind of sass would have to wait until Lucien was back.

“Anyway, Tyffial, you found records at the Archive?” Cree asked tiredly. She let Otis go, and the halfling bit at the air and laughed quietly. Cree rolled her eyes. Oh, this trip was going to be so fun, so fun. Tyffial nodded and quickly sorted through the pages on the table, handing off stacks to each. Zoran scowled at his pile, small as it was.

Otis flipped through their stack. It was notes about a member of the Cobalt Soul, mostly a disciplinary record. It didn’t take long to go through once Otis caught the pattern: brawls, sneaking out of the monastery, sneaking in drugs, mouthing off to superiors. It kind of reminded Otis of the trouble they and Lucien used to get into at the Orders. Good times, good times!

But there were only a few important bits. Beauregard Lionett was also a member of the Nein, permitted to travel with the group by an expositor with an indecipherable signature. Didn’t even have to check in, which would make her tough to track. She was originally from Kamordah, had decent marks for research skills, but everything else was boring. Maybe she’d visit home at some point, but there was no direct route there from Nicodranas, so it didn’t matter for now, nope. One of their sneaky sneaks, basically, supposed to be sniffing out corruption or whatever. That was a laugh, especially from the Soul. The Orders had been paying off some of their leaders to keep stuff quiet for decades, and Otis had no doubt others were doing the same.

It’s only corruption when other people do it, of course, of course!

“So, which one of ‘em’s the thief?” Zoran asked before finishing off his glass, not having looked at a single page.

“Mollymauk Tealeaf,” Cree answered, slightly bewildered as she looked over a page. Otis peeked; a list of names with notes in the margin reading “Victory Pit,” something about a carnival, and “Knights of” some gibberish. “How did he come up with a name like that? Even Lucien wouldn’t try something that inane.”

Zoran snorted and shook his head, then froze after a moment, then looked at Cree, asking, “Wot?” The goliath was not very bright, but Otis had not expected a name stump him like that.

“The thief’s name is ‘Mol-ly-mauk Tea-leaf,’” Cree repeated slowly to enunciate. “As I said, it’s ridiculous.”

Zoran turned to Tyffial, who returned a sharp smirk. They stared at each other for several seconds, then both burst into a laughing fit.

“What? Is it that amusing?” Cree asked in surprise as she looked up from her papers. Otis shared her confusion. Sure, sure, it was a silly name, but it was weird that both Zoran and Tyffial equally thought something was funny. And it didn’t seem like their type of humor either; no blood or guts or torture or poison or nothing.

“That is absolutely a name Lucien would make up, if he were the thief,” Tyffial concluded as she calmed her laugh.

“I’unno, that one’s pretty bad,” Otis chimed in. Lucien came up with all sorts of obvious cover names just to show off that he would get away with it. As far as Otis could recall, none were quite as bizarre as this one, no.

“A mollymawk is a bird,” Tyffial explained with a wry grin. “There’s a mess of a sailing story about them, but the point is that it’s bad luck to kill them. It’s good luck if you see them and let them be.”

“Aye,” Zoran agreed, still chuckling. “And ‘tealeaf’ is an insult. It means ‘thief.’”

Tyffial nodded. “So his name means, ‘It’s bad luck to kill this thief. Leave me alone.’” The two erupted into laughter again while Otis and Cree looked at each other incredulously. Cree shook her head and rubbed her eyes. She was going to get sick of this so quick if she was already tired. Maybe living in Zadash had softened her up.

“Bad luck’s not that big a deal, right, right?” Otis prodded. “Still balances in our favor between me and Lucien.”

Tyffial guffawed and shook her head. “How do you figure that?”

Otis snickered and gave a wide smile. “We’re lucky.”

#wip wednesday #critical role fanfiction #the Tombtakers #otis brunkel #zoran kluthidol #Tyffial wase #cree deeproots #Otis has that halfling luck

[disegnily]

Desert wildlife with birds, plants and animals Socks 

- Super soft and stretchy knit crew socks

- Socks fit: men's US shoe size 6-10, women's US shoe size 5-11, UK shoe size 3-9.5, EU shoe size 34-42.5, men's AU shoe size 5.5-9.5, women's AU shoe size 5-11

- Knit with reinforced toe and heel, with extra cushioning in the sole

- 58% recycled polyester (made from recycled materials), 22% nylon, 15% cotton, 4% spandex, 1% rubber

- Printed to allow ink to penetrate the yarn, so socks look great even when stretched; finer print details may vary from the product photo

- Machine washable   for more products with the same design just click here : https://www.redbubble.com/shop/ap/133966673?asc=u

#findyourthing #redbubble #socks #socksofinstagram #sockstyle #sockselfie #sockstagram #sockgame #socklove #sockcollection #sockdrawer #sockdesign

[velvethopewrites]

I love that you incorporated Zee into Possession. You must be a big fan of Breanie's work. What do you like so much about that character?

I haven’t finished ASC, yet, and I just got to the part where Zee enters Sirius’s life, (I am woefully behind, unfortunately), but even before I started reading Breanie’s amazing story, I would catch bits here and there from the updates she’d post on tumblr and I really liked her Sirius and Zee. And since I kept Sirius alive for my Muggle Au, I thought, hey, how cool would it be for Sirius to finally meet his match since Harry has finally found his Ginny? This made me think of Zee and I had to go with it (well, after B gave her permission of course). She’s a fantastic character! I like that she’s clever and her own person and that she can go head to head with Sirius and not lose anything of herself. I sort of made my AU Sirius a bit of a ... well, not a player, not that, but...he was always hesitant to bring women home while raising Harry and so therefore he was afraid to really commit to a woman for longer than a few weeks at a time. I also sort of headcanon that being around Lily and James sort of made him realize that deep connections like theirs don’t happen all the time and he sort of checked himself out from becoming too close to another person. He took their deaths very hard and even though he had Remus to help him and Harry to raise I sort of see him thinking that James and Lily were the rarity for relationships and not the norm. 

[belindaillustrates]

Just finished this painting of the Apache warrior Lozen riding her horse across the Rio Grande for The Powerful Women Oracle. In order to make it easier to paint I painted the landscape separate from the figure, both original paintings are up for sale in my Etsy store: Landscape https://www.etsy.com/au/BelindaIllustrates/listing/781433703/watercolor-painting-of-the-rio-grande Lozen https://www.etsy.com/au/BelindaIllustrates/listing/767550240/watercolor-painting-of-lozen-powerful Prints are also available through Redbubble http://www.redbubble.com/people/artybel/works/45236573-lozen?p=art-print&asc=u #lozen #apache #nativeamerican #riograndevalley #western #watercolourpainting #watercolour #watercolor #illustration #powerfulwomen #oraclecardart #artforsale #oracle #australianartist #melbourneillustrator #belindaillustrates @blueangelpublishing @etsy @redbubble https://www.instagram.com/p/B89De2UDTQJ/?igshid=g9u6grg8bdfk

#lozen #apache #nativeamerican #riograndevalley #western #watercolourpainting #watercolour #watercolor #illustration #powerfulwomen #oraclecardart #artforsale #oracle #australianartist #melbourneillustrator #belindaillustrates

[mysweetetc]

guess which FC author just watched Good Will Hunting for the FIRST TIME last night

I had only the vaguest idea what it was about, but knew I ought to see it

I did not expect THAT level of FC!Sam feels, omg (not to mention the resemblance, especially in hairstyle, between young!Matt Damon and young!Jared Padalecki)

so of course, it has all the issues you’d expect of a movie from the late ‘90s (some cringeworthy jokes, women only exist to inspire men, POC do not exist at all)

AND YET: Robin Williams <3 <3 <3

and that “It’s not your fault” scene pulled my heart right out of my chest, man. What a performance from both of them

ALSO, it gave me a lot of validation for the College AU of FC I am writing next

I am not sure when our Sam and Dean would see this movie in our ‘verse (not right, but within a few years of getting Sam out), and honestly I think it affects Dean way more than Sam, who would never think that "It’s not your fault” might apply to him too...not when he must have done something for the ASC to pick him up.

#good will hunting #freak camp #a monster by any other name #the last chapter is going to beta this week #movies

[fanwright]

Second time’s the charm, right?

Prompt: Lightning Strikes // Partners in Crime

Pairing: Azula / Sokka

Tagged: Sokkla, SFW, AU

Summary: A stranger in strange land, Sokka never expected to hold court with the warrior princess of the Fire Nation herself. He is instantly struck by her beauty.

Notes: Again, sorry for the awkward spacing.

Her eyes were amber. In all his life Sokka had never seen something like that. He understood, of course, that such eyes existed. Scrolls penned by hardscrabble merchants and journals written by literate soldiers spoke of women and men with fire in their hearts, the souls of dragons made manifest in human form, passionate as they were brutal. He had seen paintings too, of murals scrawled onto old walls with a thousand gold-painted eyes glaring into a black abyss, wildfires bending to the will of their masters.

 And yet it was such a shock to Sokka. He had never expected to gaze upon her oval face to see the sun shining in her eyes. They were so bright, so amazingly invigorating.

 Her skin was pale, covered in crimson and inlaid with gold. His mind instantly thought of snow and bone and ivory, but they were cold and hard and dead to him, a harsh reminder of his barren homeland. All he thought about was feeling finger to finger, palm to palm, to feel the warmth of her beautiful skin and to know unfathomable pleasure.

 Her hair was black, crowned by a gold hairpiece. Darker than a warm and moonless summer night, soft as silk and combed with care. It fell in a long curtain behind her back, brushing against the black steel of her armor.

 Sokka didn’t believe in love at first sight, of two people meeting for the first time and dedicating their entire lives to each other. That was a thing for fairy tales and bedtimes stories. The ways of this island nation had hardened him to expect nothing more than the fleeting moments of lust, craving it like a drug.

 And yet she struck him hard; this lightning bolt from a clear sky. He would search for the secrets of passion just to hear her voice in his ear, to stab a man in the back if it meant standing closer to her. If he could have her, then he’d want her forever.

 There were others that wanted her too, sons of men with noble names stretching back into the heroic past of the Fire Nation, when the islands were unified under one flag by the victorious few. Sons with money and clout and fair skin like hers. Sokka had only the backing of a respected gentleman to lend him any status. That, and a sword made by his own hand, tempered with the blood of bandits and rebels. He was nothing more than a castaway plucked from the sea and given a home, a boy without a family and without a shred of nobility.

 And yet he was given a chance, if anything to humor the princess and lend variety to the plethora of suitors coveting her. If she knew about his service to her country she wasn’t letting on. The ways in which drunken bandits and petty rebels could die would hardly impress her. They were not the contemptible opponents requiring skill and valor that excited the imagination. Compared to her deeds, he was woefully unremarkable.

 They walked among the trimmed bushes and red pagodas of the royal gardens, shadowed by faceless guardsmen and leering courtiers whispering behind little fans. Sokka could feel their hateful eyes raking over his back. He tried not to care about it too much, walking with as much dignity as he could.

 He looked upon her with as little bashfulness as he was able to muster, trying to catch her eye with a smile, to show her she was worth it, but there was a gnawing feeling in his heart that choked his confidence. She was beyond him. He had never felt so out of place, not since he washed up on the black sand shores of the Fire Nation, with the scent of the sea heavy in his bloodied nose. The pleasant aroma of her perfume teased his senses in place of that foul scent and he yearned to be closer to her.

 Again he glanced her way, hoping to see her beautiful eyes, but she spared him no such luxury. She merely strutted at a deliberate pace, arms crossed behind her, the slightest pinch of her soft red lips betraying some apparent disgust.

 He couldn’t blame her. While she quietly contemplated the strange turn of events that brought a foreigner to her, Sokka attempted to talk. He had no idea what to say to her though, or even if it was acceptable for him to speak first. He felt as if he was balancing on a fragile tightrope of courtly manners and protocol, of which he had little practice in. One word out of place would mean social suicide.

 He swallowed his fear and cleared his throat, attempting to talk with as much false grace as an actor would. “I… understand if my presence here is unusual, your highness.”

 She stirred at his voice, her eyes flickering to life as her cheeks turn a light red. Sokka didn’t know what to make of that. Perhaps she was embarrassed that someone like him would address her so brashly.

 Stifling the unease in his heart, he crossed his arms behind him. “I’m an oddity I imagine, a savage from a strange land playing dress-up and pretending to be civilized. I understand if you find me intolerable to be around. Rest assured, your highness, your patience with me is much appreciated and I am most grateful for it.”

 Her eyes narrowed, sparing him an inscrutable glance. “Hm. Indeed.”

 Sokka blinked, nodding to himself. “Indeed.”

 They walked in silence for a time. Sokka tried to keep his fingers from drumming nervously in his hands, attempting to smile as he took in his surroundings. He tried to speak again, but every time he opened his mouth he felt more like an idiot. As they walked he had the dreadful impression that the faintest hint of her smiles were only meant to humor him. He could only imagine how strenuous it was to be around him, a commoner flirting with the idea of becoming ennobled.

 Sokka just hoped he didn’t sound as stupid as he thought, that her cryptic glances and little smiles were somehow signs of genuine interest in him. It was a pleasant lie of course, something to give him hope, no matter how false it was.

 He knew better of course. He would never stand a chance of courting her.

 But then she stopped. It caught him off guard and he had to halt mid-step just to turn and face her.

 “What is it?” he asked.

 And that’s when he saw it. At first she seemed reluctant, but her quick glances soon turned into a piercing amber gaze. He could have sworn the blush on her cheeks were as red as her robes.

 “Your eyes,” she stated, with as much courage as she could muster, “They’re blue.”

#Sokkla #Sokka #Azula #avatar: the last airbender #AzulaShipChallenge

[afrikanza]

African Masks Examined: History, Type, Role, Meaning & Examples

One of the most enduring and fascinating aspects of African culture is masks. In Western museums and private collections, they are treated as artistic objects appreciated for their aesthetic qualities. However, their role in African society is more functional than artistic.

Read on and you will learn everything you need to know about the African mask tradition.

Ancient African Masks

Africans have been making masks since prehistory. The earliest evidence we have for masking in Africa comes from rock paintings in Algeria at Tassili n’Ajjer.

These show masks that look a lot like contemporary West African masks and date to about 11,000 years ago. We don’t know how these masks were used though.

The function of ancient Egyptian masks, however, is better known.

The most famous of these is the boy king Tutankhamun’s gold funerary mask, which was placed on his mummy and weighed a whopping 22.5 pounds (10 kilos).

Funerary mask of Tutankhamun. https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:CairoEgMuseumTaaMaskMostlyPhotographed.jpg

Made from two sheets of gold: the face and neck are made from 18.4-carat gold and the rest is made from 22.5-carat gold. It is decorated with a number of precious stones.

Throughout ancient Egyptian history, funerary masks of lesser artistic quality were placed on mummies of common people.

There are three known types of masks depicting animal-headed gods from ancient Egypt. A priest wore a mask of the jackal-god Anubis mask during funerary rituals, which are depicted in Egyptian art.

Two such masks also survive. One is a light wooden mask that would have sat on top of the head but the other is a clay helmet that weighs a whopping 17 pounds!

Masks of the lion-headed god Bes also were used in rituals, including perhaps puberty rituals, as depicted in one tomb where a masked individual accompanied dancing boys. (1)

Priests wore masks of the falcon-headed god Horus during various religious rituals as well.

Types of African Masks

African masks take on different forms. They may only cover the face, or go over the entire head, cover part of the torso, or be a headdress that rests on top of the head.

Some are very small, some are life-size, and others are gigantic.

Some masks represent animals, either in their form or by incorporating actual parts of animals into their production.

Others represent male or female figures. Those that represent women generally take on an idealized view of female beauty.

10 Examples of African Masks

The number of types of African masks probably reaches into the hundreds, primarily among the cultures of West and Central Africa.

Below is a sampling of ten types of masks, their uses and the cultures with which they are associated.

Kanaga

Mask (Kanaga), Mali, Dogon peoples, 20th century, wood, fiber, hide, pigment, 53.6 x 97.2 x 15.9 cm (The Metropolitan Museum of Art)

The Kanaga mask is a funerary mask worn by the Dogon people of Mali intended to ensure the safe passage of the deceased to the otherworld where his ancestors are. (2)

Kòmòkunw

Alternate view, Kòmò Helmet Mask (Kòmòkun), 19th–mid-20th century, Guinea or Mali or Burkina Faso or Côte d’Ivoire, West Africa, Komo or Koma Power Association, Wood, bird skull, porcupine quills, horns, cotton, sacrificial materials, 35.2 x 22.1 x 85.6 cm (The Metropolitan Museum of Art)

The threatening-looking Kòmò Helmet Mask is worn by the Bamana people of Guinea, Mali, Burkina Faso, and Côte d’Ivoire. Secret societies wear the mask during private meetings where they learn about the society’s history, rituals and beliefs. (3)

Nwatantay

Mask (Nwantantay), Burkina Faso, Black Volta River region, Bwa peoples. 19th–20th century, wood, pigment, and fiber, 182.9 x 28.2 x 26 cm (The Metropolitan Museum of Art)

The Nwatantay mask of the Bwa people of Burkina Faso represents natural spirits that cannot be seen by humans. The designs of the masks teach important moral and social lessons during dances performed for funerals, agricultural rituals, and initiations. (4)

Helmet Mask

Helmet Mask, 19th-20th century, Sierra Leone, Moyamba region, Mende or Sherbro peoples, wood, metal, 47.9 x 22.2 x 23.5cm (The Metropolitan Museum of Art)

The helmet mask of the Mende people of Sierra Leone is unusual in that it is worn by female initiates of a young women’s association. While the face represents ideal female beauty, the beard indicates that women are equal to men in their knowledge. (5)

Okuyi

Private collection of author (Okuyi mask from Gabon) – Sydney, Australia (wikipedia.org/wiki/okuyi/)

The okuyi mask is worn among the Bantu people of Cameroon, Gabon, and Equatorial Guinea during rites of passage such as infants reaching 4 months of age, adolescence, and funerals. These rituals can last for hours and are accompanied by dancing and singing. (6)

Yaka

https://africa.si.edu/collections/view/objects/asitem/Objects@3491/4?t:state:flow=c57d372d-c31f-4221-8dac-e020dede7b0c

The nkanda of the Democratic Republic of Congo wear these masks during puberty and circumcision rites. They represent ancestors or important figures within their culture. (7)

Koro

https://africa.si.edu/collections/view/objects/asitem/6522/14/title-asc?t:state:flow=f786c1db-d461-465c-bf61-46990e416106

Muslim communities such as the Koro of Nigeria also use masks as part of rituals. The koro mask lacks any human or animal representations, in keeping with Islamic scripture. (8)

Lipike

https://www.plu.edu/africanartcollection/masks/makonde-mask-3/learn-more-makonde-mask-3/

Made by the Makonde people of Tanzania and Mozambique, these helmet masks featured prominently in rituals used during different life stages of children. (9)

Kponyungo

https://www.plu.edu/africanartcollection/masks/firespitter/learn-more-firespitter/

During three day long funerals of the Senufo tribe in Côte d’Ivoire, members of the secret male Poro society wear these masks while beating on drums next to the funerary bed. (10)

Bobo Tere

https://www.plu.edu/africanartcollection/masks/tere-mask/learn-more-tere-mask/

The Bobo people of Burkina Faso believe the son, Dwo, of the creator god, was left on earth to mediate between man and God. This mask represents him but does not depict him, because he cannot be seen, and is used in performances intended to maintain the balance of nature in the agricultural society. (11)

The Role of African Masks

Meaning and Function

African masks are not simply beautiful artistic objects to be admired. Rather, they are part of a ceremonial costume. They are not meant to represent actual people or even animals.

These masks served as a way for people to communicate with the spirit world. The spirits that take up residence in the masks can be ancestors or natural entities.

When the mask wearer puts on the mask, his identity is taken over by the spirit represented by the mask.

People are not even allowed to speak the name of the mask wearer because he is subsumed in the mask spirit’s identity.

African masks also serve as educational tools, as part of rituals to teach social roles and physical control or to settle disputes. All community members were required to attend Igbo masquerades in Nigeria, where the masked individuals would approach people and tell them the bad behavior they engaged in.

Uses

Masks play a central role in masquerades, during which the mask wearers danced accompanied by music.

Masks representing dead ancestors play an important role in African funerals. Masks are also worn during rites of passage, such as mass circumcision of boys or during initiation into secret societies.

Examples of African Masks Being Used in Rituals

Nigerian Igbo Masquerades

All community members were required to attend Igbo masquerades in Nigeria, where the masked individuals would approach people and tell them the bad behavior they engaged in.

Igbo initiates wearing tall masks made from calabash.

Dogon funeral in Mali

https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Danse_de_masques_dogon_au_Mali.jpg

Tiriki circumcision ceremony in Kenya, where boys are secluded for four weeks.

https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Dancing_alongside_family.JPG

Masked figure with lion head and boys during a possible ancient puberty ritual.

https://research.britishmuseum.org/research/collection_online/collection_object_details/collection_image_gallery.aspx?partid=1&assetid=229649001&objectid=111363

The Making of an African Mask

Who Made African Masks?

African mask makers were often farmers or blacksmiths by trade or people who learned as apprentices from other artists, who they paid to teach them for two or three years.

Families often passed the tradition down from generation to generation. In most cultures, the mask maker was a respected member of society.

Carving a mask with an adze. https://www.kunst-aus-westafrika.com/scondjwin-dagnogo-images

The Design Process of African Masks

Inspiration

Highly stylized in design, African masks are not intended as portraits of real people. Mask designers usually follow traditional designs, especially ones that pleased spirits in the past.

By copying these carefully, the artists believe that they will attract other spirits to dwell in them.

Sometimes a person will have a dream that inspires the design of a mask.

They would then go to the local elders and describe the dream, and these elders would take a decision as to whether the mask should be made or not.

Patterns

Geometric and symmetrical patterns often play a prominent role in the design of African masks.

These include parallel lines, curves, spirals, and cruciform shapes all are found.

Certain patterns distinguish the two genders, with prominent bouffant hairstyles indicating women. Sometimes the patterns represent scarification of the face that is common in some African cultures.

Some are influenced by other faiths, such as crosses representing Christianity and patterns inspired by Islamic art.

Materials

The most important material used in mask making is wood.

Wood is plentiful in Africa’s forests. Trees are thought to possess a soul and therefore it is a good material to house the spirit of the mask.

Sometimes an offering or sacrifice is even made to the tree’s soul before it is chopped down.

African mask makers work with many materials including brass, copper, bronze, brass, terracotta and glazed pottery, raffia and fabrics.

Decorative elements they apply to masks include cowrie shells, beads, bone, animal skins, feathers, and vegetable fibers.

The pigments and dyes used to color the wood are natural materials such as clay, seeds, tree bark and leaves.

The Mask Making Process

The mask maker carves the mask using a traditional tool called an adze. This and his other tools each had a spirit that dwelled in it and a sacrifice had to be made to the tools before commencement of the work.

For the mask to be endowed with its intended powers, it needed to be consecrated by a priest, medicine man or magician.

Only through these rituals, which often involved adding magical substances to the mask, would the spirits who were intended to dwell in the mask take up their abode there.

Collections of African Masks

The history of African mask collecting has gone through several stages since Europeans began to collect masks in the 19th century during their colonial forays into Africa.

At first, Europeans treated masks as ethnographic objects, and displayed them in natural history museums alongside taxidermied animals, exotic plant remains and fossils.

By the early 20th century, the same masks came to be regarded as art objects and were collected by and displayed in art museums. (12)

Masks In Museums outside Africa

https://blackhawkmuseum.org/art-of-africa/

Many museums struggle with the ethics of collecting and displaying African masks, due to the way in which some of the masks were collected and the spiritual implications of the masks.

When considering a mask in the Brooklyn Museum collection for an exhibition, the curator discovered that the mask, donated to the museum in 1998, had actually been stolen from a shrine in Nigeria in 1948.

She consulted the descendants of the family that had fashioned the mask on what to do.

The curator and the family conducted a divination ceremony with the gods as part of the decision making process. The gods told them that the mask was no longer spiritually empowered so the museum put the mask on display with the family’s blessing. (13)

President Emmanuel Macron of France commissioned a report on the restitution of sub-Saharan African art to Africa and the authors recommended that art in French museums either be temporarily or permanently returned to the continent from whence it came. (14)

Some of the best museums outside Africa to view African masks include the National Museum of African Art in Washington, DC, and the Brooklyn Museum, Metropolitan Museum of Art, and the Museum of Primitive Art in New York.

In Europe, the Royal Museum for Central Africa, Tervuren, Belgium, Musée d’Ethnographie du Trocadéro in Paris and the British Museum all have excellent collections.

Masks In African Museums

Unfortunately, some of the greatest collections of African masks are outside the continent. However, some African museums also display collections of masks.

Among the museums where you can see masks in Africa is the National Museum of Burkina Faso or the newly inaugurated National Museum in the Democratic Republic of Congo.

The Dundo Museum in Angola displays masks that were previously looted but returned.

Famous Private Art Collections

Collecting African art and masks, in particular, became en vogue among famous 20th century European and American artists. (15)

The masks began being featured prominently in their artworks or inspiring them.

Among these are Man Ray’s surrealist photo Noire et Blanche, one of many photographs he produced that featured West African artworks that he collected.

Noire et Blanche by Man Ray.

After a visit to the ethnographic museum in Paris, Pablo Picasso also started collecting masks and went through a period when he painted paintings that were inspired by them.

However, critics have complained that these works are examples of cultural appropriation and that the original craftsmen who produced the masks were never compensated for their contribution to these works. (16)

Should You Buy an African Mask?

If you want to buy a historical & authentic African mask, be prepared to shell out a good sum of money. The record paid for an African mask was $7.5 million at an auction in 2006.

Picasso was said to have been inspired by the Ngil mask from the Feng culture, hence the high price.

You have to be careful when buying an African mask as forgeries are common. (17)

The same ethical considerations that museums face also make buying African masks as an individual collector tricky.

Some of these masks are stolen and Africans are increasingly engaging in campaigns to get them back.

For example, Congolese businessman Sindika Dokolo has been tracking stolen masks since 2014.

When he identifies one, he approaches the owner and asks for proof of how much they paid for the mask. He then makes them an offer to buy it at the same price. If they refuse, he sends his lawyers after them.

He has successfully returned a number of masks this way. (18)

However, there is an alternative for those who don’t have a lot of money to spend and don’t want to worry about legalities but want to get started collecting African masks.

Contemporary artists like Sefah Mohamed from Accra, and Abdul Aziz Mohamadu, sell their handmade masks at affordable prices online. (19, 20)

The demand for masks by tourists visiting Africa is so great that even in East Africa where they are less common, masks based on West African designs are sold in markets.

The Chinese have even gotten in on the business and some masks come with a “Made in China” sticker!

Frequently Asked Questions About African Masks

Where can I see an African mask dance (masquerade)?

Attending an African masquerade is a special experience that generally requires being part of African societies. However, mask dances are sometimes a focus of special tours to Africa, and Dogon mask dances are often performed specially for tourists.

What do African masks represent?

African masks represent spirits of the dead, and spirits representing natural phenomena.

Who wore African masks?

African masks were mostly worn by men because the spirits in the masks were seen as threatening to women.

What do the colors in African masks mean?

As they are worn across many different cultures, the colors of African masks have multiple meanings. However, several common meanings can be found for three colors: red, white and black.

Red is often used to represent blood spilled during wars or childbirth.

White signifies a mother’s milk or sperm, or the spirits of the ancestors.

Black represents the unknown. (21)

How long have African masks been around?

African masks are one of the oldest known forms of art. The earliest evidence of them is in the form of rock art from 11,000 years ago but they may be even older than that. It’s just that they aren’t preserved in the archaeological record.

What is the oldest African mask?

The oldest surviving African masks come from the Egyptian archaeological site of Hierakonpolis. These ceramic funerary masks had holes behind the ears to fit them over the face of the deceased person.

How can I make my own African mask?

Making an African mask is a great art project for kids that also helps them learn about cultures.

You might want to print out some of these line drawings of masks and then paste them on a piece of cardboard and cut out holes for the eyes, mouth, and nose. (22)

You can decorate it with paint, feathers, cotton, yarn, buttons, and tinfoil.

Here is a video example of just one way to make your own African mask!

Conclusion

African masks are one of the richest and most diverse artistic traditions in the world. While they are found in many of the world’s museums and art collections, these displays do not do justice to the important cultural role they play in performative rituals across much of the continent.

The post African Masks Examined: History, Type, Role, Meaning & Examples appeared first on Afrikanza.