1. "Jonathan Strange and Mr Norrell is a clever study on the issues of nationalism, colonialism, race, class and masculinity in the historical context of the peak (and end) of the Age of Sail in Britain. Clarke employs an intelligent device called "English Magic" and the book revolves around "the return of English magic" that will save the nation and protect it from its enemies. English magic is somehow a symbol of status that no one remembers why exactly it is considered as such. It is something deeply connected to the land and to the people, but also to class and gender: the title characters are both iconic affluent gentlemen."

    (Source: fyeahjonathanstrangeandmrnorrell)

     

  2. His Smile Me Draws… by akathecentimetre, aka commonplacecaz (see what I did there?)

    Chapter 7- Breaking His Prison Forth

    Still my favorite thing you’ve ever written, babe.

     
  3. illustrate-her:

    illustrate-her:

    I sort of decided to just finish this already.

    The picture of the four Musketeers on their horses just resurfaced on my dash and I remembered this I did a while ago now, using that as reference, and it is TERRIBLE to reblog your own stuff but meh, I guess I’m terrible.

    And also I’d really like a publisher to give me lots of money to let them put this on the cover of a copy of The Three Musketeers which would kick-start my career as a Musketeers-only illustrator, please thankyou

    Ngh this should be a book cover.

     
  4. Snowpiercer + last words

    (Source: torigami, via fyeahsnowpiercer)

     
  5. Who’s looking forward to the lads in flat caps?  Because I brought out a fucking reference, that’s how ready for this I am.

     
  6. illustrate-her:

    So the lovely mausii was sending me some nice messages to cheer me up recently, and to take my mind off stupid real-life boys, and our back and forth quickly devolved (evolved?) from Musketeers being super handy and building stuff and being all manly, to handymen Musketeers, and then into 1920s gardeners, where it quickly got quite sad but also bloody lovely:

    So it’s the early 1920s and Athos, Porthos, Aramis and d’Artagnan are gardeners in a big house on the clifftop somewhere near the coast, with miles and miles of gardens to look after, and they take extra special care of the little bit that they know is your favourite place, putting in the hard work over winter so that it’s ready for spring because they know you like to sit and read there when the days start to get warmer. And they quietly make sure there’s a vase of your favourite flowers in the drawing room when they’re in season.

    And they’re polite and a bit flustered (apart from Aramis who’s always going to be a charmer, no matter the AU) when you address them and they tip their caps and go out of their way to research orchids for the hothouse because it makes all the young ladies smile so much, and they can be all chivalrous and upstanding when the young gentlemen that come to call get a bit forward with you.

    And there’s the potting shed around the back in the courtyard of the servant’s wing where they sit and have cups of tea in their breaks and tend their cuttings and listen to the wireless and smoke cigarettes, and you always find a reason to get “lost” and wander there, or get caught out in a rainstorm and have to run in to shelter there, in your flimsy fashionable dress, and you get given a big jumper (that one of their mum’s knitted) and a flat cap to wear and a seat by the little brazier and a cup of tea and it’s all so nice but so AWKWARD and they’re a bit blushy and can’t stop standing up to fuss over things that don’t need fussing and you can practically hear them fretting about the place being dirty and not fit for you and oh God that fashionable dress really is a bit short DON’T LOOK AT HER KNEES and has that dress gone a bit see-through in the rain?

    But it really is raining far too heavily to send you back to the house yet so they bring you cut flowers to show you how wonderfully the roses are doing because they know you’ve missed the rose garden while you’ve been in town staying with friends and they’re SO pleased when you remember something about roses that they taught you so you get some of the first strawberries from the hothouse as a reward, and you all sit around stuffing your faces and everyone relaxes a bit.

    You end up playing cards and listening to the crackly wireless and they even manage to hide being vaguely scandalised as you take Athos’ freshly lit cigarette RIGHT OUT OF HIS MOUTH and chain smoke your way through the rest of them, and it makes Aramis’ eyes light up in a particularly non-gentlemanly way. So Porthos immediately drags Aramis off to separate the begonias because he won’t stop smiling at you even though he’s only a servant and Porthos is worried that Athos will covertly stab him with a trowel if he starts aiming too high.

    And sometimes you forget that they only came back from the Great War two years ago, where Aramis signed up with all the boys he’d grown up with in a Pals Battalion but they all died, all but one who shed his uniform and walked out into no-man’s-land and was never seen again. And Porthos sort of adopted him then, and Athos was their captain, but now they just want to spend the rest of their lives in peace and quiet and growing things because they still wake up sweating and terrified sometimes, and every now and then one of them will be clearing the brush to plant some spring seedlings and will have to put down his rake and lean against a tree and close his eyes and breathe deep, while the others come and talk to him in low voices with careful hands on his shoulders until the shaking stops.

    And they plant wildflowers in a little hidden piece of garden for all the friends they lost and one day you find it and spend ages wondering why something so pretty feels so sad and they find you there and you realise you’ve intruded on something private and you don’t know why.

    And they don’t like to talk about it, and Porthos and Aramis will NEVER discuss their facial scars and Athos sometimes shoulders his shovel like he’s on parade and looks a little frightened when he catches himself. Sometimes when it’s raining heavily you send them hot-toddies from the main house because you know the thunder puts them on edge and they hate being cold and wet, and there’s always something lovely in a vase in the parlour for you the next day. Even in winter. Especially in winter when the mud is heavy and everything is grey.

    This has given me too much joy to sit unseen in mausii and my inboxes, so here it is in its glory, including images from a pinterest board that I made when I couldn’t get back to sleep at 4am, because I will moodboard the SHIT out of anything I can.

     
  7. Warm up sketches for today.

     
  8. petermorwood:

    Todd Lockwood's amazing animations of dragons in flight. The red dragon is conventional  - if any dragon can be considered conventional - but the gold dragon with that extraordinary wing and helix-ripple, not at all…

    Okay these are amazing and Todd Lockwood is amazing but it illustrates a point that I’ve been thinking about in regards to a Temeraire thing-

    See how the shoulders go up and down to a huge degree?  This is my issue with the concept of riding dragons.  How would you stay on?  And if you say harness or saddle, consider this- how would you not be sick?  Horses don’t do that motion.  Their middles are very still.  Humans don’t ride things that do that.  The only place it would make sense to sit on a dragon is directly behind its head.

    (via amaluelmwood)

     
  9. Bella (Gina Torres) from Hannibal on the iPad.

     
  10. Sleepy People + Roger the Horse sketch

     
  11. random sketch idea

     
  12. rufftoon:

    beckycloonan:

    Little comic about how to make zucchini bread in these trying times. Dedicated to CB Cebulski, Mike Hardin, Ming Doyle, and anyone else who sunk my zucchini bread deep within their bodies.

    Your OC cooking for you makes for great cooking comics.

    (via speakington)

     
  13. commonplacecaz:

    KINK MEME FILL SERIES

    15: Til I In Hand His Yet Half-Trembling Took
    Featuring “East River in February” by agarthanguide.
    Wordcount: 1,283
    Rating: T
    Summary: 3+1, Athos and Aramis, forehead kisses.

    This is for grumpycathos! Hope you enjoy it :-)

    Yeah, grumpycathos- enjoy it!
     
  14. "So Long Marianne" by Leonard Cohen, covered by James

     
     

  15. lilith-the-ancient replied to your photo “So this sucked to work on. Drawn on the iPad (which I’m starting to…”

    Wow! Looks totally amazing! I’m not sure how to feel about Snowpiercer tbh. The premice is very clever and original. The cinematography is superb. But the ending left me confused as to the message it wants to send. It felt unnecessary grim dark to me.

    Yeah, I get that.  I see the ending as weirdly… hopeful? Because everybody on the train had been praising the Sacred Engine. The Eternal Engine. WILFORD.

    But the engine wasn’t eternal, was it? It was as breakable as the humans on the train, and it literally consumed the children who were used to help power it. So the engine wasn’t eternal. The creations of man never are.  But outside the train- The World is eternal. Life is eternal. Life goes on, even if humanity doesn’t, and that’s the hope that you can see at the end of it all.

    I read an article about how the movie is a Gnostic fable (so was The Matrix), and I totally agree. You can’t know what’s outside you, what’s outside your life, but you can struggle forward and seek to understand more. Even if you never make it, the journey is worth it.

    I think that it could also be a Buddhist tale. The train keeps going around in circles, in an endless loop. Some people are higher in the system, some people are lower. The younger generations are better people, I would argue. And in the end, they all break out of the cycle of existence, and get to see the world for what it truly is.  So- maybe a bit of a downer, but also beautiful, in it’s way?  Maybe?