dreamcatcher-ranger
caffeine-addicted, puzzle-loving human disaster
Hi, I'm Chir Stygean, and, as always, I have no clue of what I'm doing. I'll try my best. That mysterious figure you see disappear in the woods at night. May or may not be a changeling. Natural and environmental sciences and technology student. If it has to do with books, science, rock climbing or mountain in general I'll make sure to take care of it.
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I love animals that are, like, the opposite of cryptids: we know for a fact they exist and have a clear idea of what they look like because we have photographs and individual specimens, but we haven’t the faintest idea where they’re coming from - they just keep showing up out of nowhere, and the locations of their actual population centres are a complete mystery.
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WONDER BAR (1934) | dir. Lloyd Bacon
“The other [scene that stands out above the rest] involved a handsome man, asking a dancing couple if he could cut in. The female partner, expecting his attention, agrees, only to see him dance with her male partner. Jolson then flaps his wrist and says, “Boys will be boys. Woo!”. This scene almost caused the Production Code to reject the film, and was featured in the opening scenes of the documentary film The Celluloid Closet (1996).”
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Okay, buckle up buckaroos, because today I met an honest-to-goodness cryptid.
I was out running errands and I made a stop at Intimate Books (…for a friend), and on my way out I realized that the bookshop next door was open.
This bookshop has existed for more than a hundred years, and in all my life it has NEVER BEEN OPEN. I mean, I assume it has to be open sometimes, but never at any normal, reasonable hour. Everyone says it’s a front for the mob or something.
So what do you do when the weird mafia bookshop is open? You go the fuck inside.
The first thing I noticed was the smell. You know that smell when you accidentally leave your towel on the bathroom floor all day and you come back to that mildew funk? The shop smelled like that times a thousand. I expected to see stuff growing on the walls, but the books were pristine. We’re talking first editions, rare editions, weird Bibles and books inscribed to really famous dead people. Librarians would weep for the chance to accession this place. In the first two minutes I found a signed copy of The Crucible and what I think was a first edition of Blake’s Book of Thel.
Then a clerk showed up out of nowhere—honestly nowhere. He looked EXACTLY like a bookseller should look, kind of fluffy and bewildered and really, really gay.
“Are you lost?” was the first thing he said to me.
“Nope. Just browsing, thanks.”
“Browsing, I see. Erm. How do you feel about snakes?” he asked. And without waiting for me to answer, he just walked away and vanished around a shelf.
I figured it was a metaphor, or a code phrase for the mafia. Until I turned a corner like ten minutes later and found a little reading nook. It was really pretty, although I feel like that particular window should have been on an interior wall? Anyway, curled up in an armchair in a patch of sunlight was the biggest fuck-off black snake I have ever seen.
Like, I don’t mind snakes in general. But in their normal context, right? Outside. On the ground. Not six feet long and sitting on a threadbare velvet armchair like it owns the place.
I was about to turn around and leave, but I saw a gorgeous first-edition copy of Leaves of Grass on a shelf, a little too close to the snake for comfort. But I had never needed anything so badly in my life.
So I went back to the counter to buy it, but the clerk was nowhere to be found.
While I was waiting, I noticed a collection of pictures hanging on the wall behind the counter, dating back to the very dawn of photography. A couple were of this rock-star looking guy from the 70s that I should probably have recognized, but there were authors and landscapes and stuff, too. There was even an old tintype portrait of Oscar freaking Wilde, sitting in this very shop with a guy that I would ACTUALLY SWEAR was the clerk from before. Like, I know my family all has the same nose, but this guy had the same everything.
After approximately one year of waiting, the clerk came back out to the desk. By now I’ve realized that he’s too bad at his job to be anything but the owner of the shop.
“I saw your snake,” I told him.
“Did you? Was he behaving himself?”
“He was sleeping.”
“Yes, he enjoys that.”
“Does he just stay out in the open like that? What if he gets out?”
He shrugged and smiled. “He always comes home again, the dear boy.”
Right, a homing snake. That’s totally normal.
Then he cleared his throat and asked, in a weirdly reluctant voice, if I was going to buy the Whitman.
“Yes, please,” I told him. “I saw it on a shelf by the snake, and it was just too tempting.”
He sighed. “Oh, yes, I expect it was.”
When I started to hand him my card, he went all fluttery and said that they didn’t take cards.
All right, fine. I had some cash on me, but I told him that he’d sell a lot more books if he got a Square or something.
He got this scandalized look on his face and went, “Why would I want to do that?”
Oookay. I handed over the cash and he popped open the ancient till and started making change.
In shillings. Shillings! I swear to god I saw Queen Anne’s face on one of them. The silver value of the coins was probably as much as I paid for the book.
But I had to have proof that this happened—at that point, all I had was a book in a plain brown wrapper, not appreciably different from what I bought next door. So I asked him for a receipt.
He looked delighted and wrote one up for me.
By hand.
With a fountain pen.
And that’s the story of how I met a bookseller cryptid and his pet snake.
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Definitely the most ambitious thing I've drawn, I started this before November, paused for nanowrimo, and finished right after that. The characters belong to @scribbly-blue-hearts and are the Sirocco sisters meeting up at a national park!
Progress shots after the break!
I wasn't sure what the hair and appearance designs were like for the others so I made them up. The order I coloured their wings in, from roughly the simplest to hardest, both in design and in angle, ended up being Sept, Ashta, Jiu, Fyra, Satu, Zwei, IO, San, Zes and Cinco, roughly. A big thank you to @akaiitori for the help on Cinco!
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You made a deal to be immortal. After countless eons and the end of a universe, you finally taste breathable air again. You lived through another big bang and landed on a new world. Ready to start anew.
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unironically my favorite thing about tiktok is how the algorithm will sometimes assign you a random niche interest like for a while. it's just like hey you're gonna be into beef tallow now. last year it gave me pointe shoes. yes as in for ballerinas. my current tiktok-assigned niche interest is the north sea.
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We Are The Ocean
Ursala Hudson (Tlingit/Filipino/German)
collar: merino wool, silk, steel cones, leather. ravenstail patterns, crochet, basketry twining technique. Woman as a Wave shawl: merino wool, silk, cedar bark. chilkat and ravenstail patterns, crochet, basketry twining technique. Tidal apron: merino wool, silk, leather, steel cones. chilkat and ravenstail patterns.
“We Are the Ocean is an ensemble comprised of a collar, apron (entitled Tidal), and shawl (entitled Woman as a Wave). The collar and bottom edge of the shawl are twined using a basketry technique to bring delicacy to the regalia, made specifically to emphasize the wearer’s feminine essence. In place of the sea otter fur that traditionally lines the top of Chilkat and Ravenstail weavings, the merino weft yarns were used to crochet the collar and shawl’s neck lines, bringing forward and incorporating a European craft practiced by both my maternal (Tlingit/Filipino) and paternal (German) grandmothers. The high neck of the collar gives tribute to the Western aesthetics that have forever influenced the Indigenous cultures of our lands; with grace, we embrace that which cannot be undone, and use our new form to be better. The apron’s pattern was studied and graphed from an old Tlingit cedar bark basket, and represents the tides of our lives, as our lessons continue to arise in a revolving cycle, yet made of new debris. The repetitive pattern of the shawl represents the infinite connectedness of our sisters, mothers, aunties, and daughters. Blue lines break up inverted rows, representing the “past,” “present,” and “future,” acknowledging these concepts as irrelevant constructs that fall away when we commune with the Divine. The entire ensemble is worn to evoke the innate spirit of the Woman as an ethereal deity, that resides within us all.”
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the scars of an angel
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i love dungeon meshi and the way it views people in a way i grew to think no one else ever would. the way it frames bodies and nudity without it needing to be inherently sexual, and any fanservice or sexualization there is only feels very honest rather than perverse. the neutral way things like the harpies or humanoid monsters have exposed boobs and nipples. or the farcille bath scene being fanservice in a way but feeling intimate in an entirely different way than that to me. it feels so removed from the weight of the way others view people with beauty standards and other imposed characteristics—yet it paints people as beautiful around its own definition based on the way people actually are. the way it frames human beings as a whole, as living like any animal does with universal and inescapable needs. no matter how we see ourselves we still get hungry, we still get hurt, we still get sleepy, we still get thirsty. the characters have magic and anime fighting strength but remain as fragile as any living thing, being able to be killed in one shot. and every shape the different characters take with their diverse bodies is drawn with equal appreciation for their form. there are many things dungeon meshi feels passionate about, such as how clearly invested ryoko kui had to be in zoology and stuff for a lot of worldbuilding, but that wouldnt be complete without this touch too. i just love how much this series was clearly created by someone deeply in love with and invested in human beings.
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“I loved you, always.”
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From this -
This post is mostly for those who don't want to have to click on the link in order to read the entirety of The Owl House's series bible.
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youtube
Edit: apparently the video was blocked so here is another one
youtube
THE OG TOH PILOT LEAKED
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i learned about Tim Wong who successfully and singlehandedly repopulated the rare California Pipevine Swallowtail butterfly in San Francisco. In the past few years, he’s cultivated more than 200 pipevine plants (their only food source) and gives thousands of caterpillars to his local Botanical Garden (x)
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sorry about the blood loss. do you uh. want it back *holds out my red dripping hands awkwardly*
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How dare you to ask me to pick something you know I can’t pick
Uh. Stygian blue, which is that shade of blue that doesn’t exist because you see it as an after effect of staring at bright orange, horned owl, and you know it was hard to choose one, and ricotta with orange olive oil
Tagging @spaceconfusion @earendilsass and @outer-space-face
A person's favorite color, favorite animal, and favorite flavor of ice cream can say a lot about them when considering the answers as a whole. Some prime examples I've heard are:
~ Silver, Artic Wolf, and Mint Chocolate Chip.
~ Pink/Yellow, Putu Bird, and Cotton Candy.
~ Light Brown, Tree Kangaroo, and Rum Raisin.
~ Green, Pig, and Cookie Dough.
Mine are:
~ Burgundy, Fox, and Moose Tracks.
Tag some friends and get a sense of who they are! :)
@notable-bumblr @persistentchaos @enterfandomreference @valerietompson @paper-crowns-and-tiaras @ironxprince @acecuddle @angst-dealer @hey-you-i-just
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bc despite all the pain and suffering, there will always be life left to carry on. and we can make new friends and write songs about the beauty of our natural world and play together. bc the suffering, despite everything, does eventually end. it's never eternal, and a new day, in a world, will always begin.
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I can’t believe it’s over man, even if we don’t get season 2 I’m just happy that Phos got a happy ending, they deserve that more than anyone 🥹
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