Graham

(formerly creekschaoscorner) I have many thoughts and sometimes I share them [he/him]

[herearedragons]

look at my french tailor.

[codexnuminous]

if chiral ever *did* get its hands on some Hesperidean Cider, it would be using that stuff to make just the WORST cocktails ever. practically undrinkable. would probably kill you if it wasn't for the. well

[codexnuminous]

you visit them and they offer you a cocktail glass full of some sort of golden liquid and say 'genuine hesperidean cider!' and you think well sure. why not and you take a sip and think wait this is- and they say 'with some added flavourings! cream, lemon juice, dried pineapples, grated fish - and some aconite, for that extra *kick*' and then you spit it out as fast as you can but it's too late, too late, the taste will live with you forever

[codexnuminous]

just so everyone's picturing it correctly, this^ is the kind of glass they are serving it in

[thedeafprophet]

'You have moved to a new area: The Neathy Frost Fair'

figured i'd post some of the art I made for @the-neathy-frost-fair on its own so! Here's the frost fair header itself. I took some inspiration from the setups of the real world frost fair with the tents and fire pits, and took some winter fashion plates as inspo for the outfits :3c

[autumnbrambleagain]

There is no Estival 2026.

No calamity befell London.

... except for some reason, ALL of London has taken to the streets, marching up and down, from Moloch Street to Wolfstack, from Prickfinger Wastes to the edges of the Forgotten Quarter

and all, in unison, chanting

FIGHT A WAR

HUNT A LAW

GET CRUSHED BENEATH A TIGER'S PAW

I see urchins doing it. Tomb colonists. There are bohemians and society names alike. Correspondents, silverers, monster hunters, crooked crosses and more, abandoning their jobs, barking advertisements--to who? for who?

All of London is advertising one thing. Who is buying? No one is going into the mirrors. Who are we advertising to?

Who is paying us this much to advertise a service no one is taking? A service that's free?

There is no Estival 2026. No calamity fallls on London this year?

YOU B____Y FOOLS.

THIS IS THE FIRST YEAR LONDON HAS LOST

some madness has overtaken ALL of us

and we are ALL happily subject to it

FIGHT A WAR

HUNT A LAW

GET CRUSHED BENEATH A TIGER'S PAW

to the roof we call it out. Storm can hear it. Salt can hear it.

you bet Mr Eaten can hear it

When London began to collapse, we pulled together and saved it.

When the men from the roof invaded, we pulled together and survived.

When the Sixth Coil opened, we prevented the catastrophe that waited in its gut.

When Hell went missing, we found it, and fixed it.

This year?

THIS year?

FIGHT A WAR

HUNT A LAW

GET CRUSHED BENEATH A TIGER'S PAW

We lost.

London fell.

Not even the Masters have a response to this.

A single thought and a single voice has overtaken London and we have not entertained a thought of resistance. There is no dissent.

There is only the bark.

FIGHT A WAR

HUNT A LAW

GET CRUSHED BENEATH A TIGER'S PAW

[autumnbrambleagain]

There is no Estival 2026.

No calamity befell London.

... except for some reason, ALL of London has taken to the streets, marching up and down, from Moloch Street to Wolfstack, from Prickfinger Wastes to the edges of the Forgotten Quarter

and all, in unison, chanting

FIGHT A WAR

HUNT A LAW

GET CRUSHED BENEATH A TIGER'S PAW

I see urchins doing it. Tomb colonists. There are bohemians and society names alike. Correspondents, silverers, monster hunters, crooked crosses and more, abandoning their jobs, barking advertisements--to who? for who?

All of London is advertising one thing. Who is buying? No one is going into the mirrors. Who are we advertising to?

Who is paying us this much to advertise a service no one is taking? A service that's free?

There is no Estival 2026. No calamity fallls on London this year?

YOU B____Y FOOLS.

THIS IS THE FIRST YEAR LONDON HAS LOST

some madness has overtaken ALL of us

and we are ALL happily subject to it

FIGHT A WAR

HUNT A LAW

GET CRUSHED BENEATH A TIGER'S PAW

to the roof we call it out. Storm can hear it. Salt can hear it.

you bet Mr Eaten can hear it

When London began to collapse, we pulled together and saved it.

When the men from the roof invaded, we pulled together and survived.

When the Sixth Coil opened, we prevented the catastrophe that waited in its gut.

When Hell went missing, we found it, and fixed it.

This year?

THIS year?

FIGHT A WAR

HUNT A LAW

GET CRUSHED BENEATH A TIGER'S PAW

We lost.

London fell.

Not even the Masters have a response to this.

A single thought and a single voice has overtaken London and we have not entertained a thought of resistance. There is no dissent.

There is only the bark.

FIGHT A WAR

HUNT A LAW

GET CRUSHED BENEATH A TIGER'S PAW

[autumnbrambleagain]

There is no Estival 2026.

No calamity befell London.

... except for some reason, ALL of London has taken to the streets, marching up and down, from Moloch Street to Wolfstack, from Prickfinger Wastes to the edges of the Forgotten Quarter

and all, in unison, chanting

FIGHT A WAR

HUNT A LAW

GET CRUSHED BENEATH A TIGER'S PAW

I see urchins doing it. Tomb colonists. There are bohemians and society names alike. Correspondents, silverers, monster hunters, crooked crosses and more, abandoning their jobs, barking advertisements--to who? for who?

All of London is advertising one thing. Who is buying? No one is going into the mirrors. Who are we advertising to?

Who is paying us this much to advertise a service no one is taking? A service that's free?

There is no Estival 2026. No calamity fallls on London this year?

YOU B____Y FOOLS.

THIS IS THE FIRST YEAR LONDON HAS LOST

some madness has overtaken ALL of us

and we are ALL happily subject to it

FIGHT A WAR

HUNT A LAW

GET CRUSHED BENEATH A TIGER'S PAW

to the roof we call it out. Storm can hear it. Salt can hear it.

you bet Mr Eaten can hear it

When London began to collapse, we pulled together and saved it.

When the men from the roof invaded, we pulled together and survived.

When the Sixth Coil opened, we prevented the catastrophe that waited in its gut.

When Hell went missing, we found it, and fixed it.

This year?

THIS year?

FIGHT A WAR

HUNT A LAW

GET CRUSHED BENEATH A TIGER'S PAW

We lost.

London fell.

Not even the Masters have a response to this.

A single thought and a single voice has overtaken London and we have not entertained a thought of resistance. There is no dissent.

There is only the bark.

FIGHT A WAR

HUNT A LAW

GET CRUSHED BENEATH A TIGER'S PAW

[autumnbrambleagain]

Nothing will happen this summer, they say, as all of London shouts the same phrase, endlessly, being paid obscene fees to advertise an ostensibly free service.

You b____y fools, this is the summer London finally lost, and all of you are complicit in it.

[autumnbrambleagain]

Nothing will happen this summer, they say, as all of London shouts the same phrase, endlessly, being paid obscene fees to advertise an ostensibly free service.

You b____y fools, this is the summer London finally lost, and all of you are complicit in it.

[autumnbrambleagain]

Nothing will happen this summer, they say, as all of London shouts the same phrase, endlessly, being paid obscene fees to advertise an ostensibly free service.

You b____y fools, this is the summer London finally lost, and all of you are complicit in it.

[autumnbrambleagain]

Nothing will happen this summer, they say, as all of London shouts the same phrase, endlessly, being paid obscene fees to advertise an ostensibly free service.

You b____y fools, this is the summer London finally lost, and all of you are complicit in it.

[the-whole-neathy-lot]

It took a long time for Silas to consider touch a safe thing. Generally, they're physically affectionate. The kind to enjoy holding hands or combing through someone's hair. You know the cat stereotype where cats will lay on you, but don't like to be touched? He's kinda like that (with exceptions)

Like I def drew her leaning against Winnie. And when she and Zouhair used to be friends, she did similar

However, as much as Silas likes Odunayo and as much as they think of her as a friend, they don't do that. While Odunayo never says it aloud, they saw that she Really gets uncomfy when people touch her in any context

(For Odunayo, it's overwhelming. Suffocating. As a kid, she usually wasn't allowed to say no to hugs and such because it was "rude" to refuse to hug her relative. So she still has a hard time saying no now as an adult because she doesn't want to be rude. And isn't she odd enough already?)

And while Silas' assumption for the Whys is mistaken (he did Not correctly guess sensory load. Not that any of them would know the term), he doesn't question it

He still tries to show his fondness for her in other ways

[evalcea]

Slippers

Artist Unknown, Rosenbloom's department store

leather, c. 1892

Metropolitan Museum of Art

[gram-cracker]

Josie Lyness - Natural

I suppose this could be considered a tribute to what are maybe the most Josie coded lyrics of all time

Bedeviled by @gram-cracker | Natural - Imagine Dragons | a tumblr post by @/cogneartive | into the abyss by @gram-cracker | a tumblr post by @gram-cracker

[gram-cracker]

@codexnuminous YIPPEE! Okay, so, going in order in which they were obtained (under the cut bc this will be long):

Benny is the oldest of the pack- both in age and in how long he's been with Josie. He's also the only one who wasn't named by her (hence why he's the only one with an actual name LMAO). He was given to her by a criminal acquaintance back when she was an enforcer and she had hoped to train him to be a guard dog- whiiiich very much didn't work out. There's not a scary bone in his body. She threatened repeatedly to get rid of him unless he quit being useless- you will note that he is very much still here. And still useless

Benny's got a very mellow temperament and sleeps for most of the day. He's perhaps not particularly clever or observant, but he can be surprisingly wise and has seemingly endless amounts of patience. He's just a gentle old guy. Like the rest of the pack, he only talks when Josie isn't around

Dog followed Josie home after she, in an uncharacteristic moment of charity, scared off a gang of cats that were harassing him. He never left. He had lived on the streets for his whole life and had never been given a name- Josie just kept calling him "dog" when she needed to refer to him, and eventually it became his name. Her conditions for him staying were that he keep quiet and stay out of her way. He keeps to both doggedly (lol) and is immensely grateful to her even though she's like a mediocre dog owner at best. His standards are in the gutter

Dog is jumpy and fretful- less so these days, Benny has helped him calm down, but he still startles easily. His self-esteem is not very good. He's very sopping wet in spirit, but has a big heart

Honorary mention of Josie's Perspicacious Lurcher, who never received a name but was for a time Josie's closest companion. She took it upon herself to look after Benny and Dog, and they were a close-knit trio. She ran away when she first saw Josie's peligin eyes, and none of them have seen her since. Josie took it normally. (She stopped interacting with Benny and Dog for months, left them alone in her cabin in the marshes. She brought them food but never stayed for longer than a moment, and got angry when Dog made the mistake of asking when the Lurcher was coming back- neither him nor Benny ever asked again)

This past Feast of the Rose, Josie received a lovingly-beribboned kitten. She had no desire for a kitten, and so brought it to her cabin and left it with Benny and Dog to look after. By the time Josie started visiting the cabin and spending time with the pack again, said kitten was now several months old and believed herself to be a dog. Josie initially called her "Cat"- the kitten objected, but happily embraced the derisive alternative she was given in response. She has been Thing ever since

Thing is quite blunt and boisterous, and fiercely loyal to her adopted family. Benny was her primary caretaker when she was small, and so she sees herself as a wolf cub- and her Parabolan form reflects this. Ignore the game text canon is what I want it to be. She does Know, intellectually, that she is a cat, but doesn't Want to be one (especially because Dog still flinches sometimes when he sees her, before he registers who she is). Technically the two spindlewolves are younger than her, but she is very much still the baby of the family. She has a birth sister that she has yet to meet.. ( @herearedragons 's Bedbug)

Josie hatched both Legs and Eyes this past Whitsun. Legs is the older- by a few days- but you wouldn't know it looking at them. Neither speak, even when only in the company of the other dogs, but both are quite intelligent. Legs is quite jovial and energetic, whereas Eyes takes itself very seriously and has a strong sense of responsibility. They both have an allegiance to the Bazaar, and duties for it that they must fulfill- but they care deeply about their little pack, and though neither would admit it they would choose their adopted family over their birth parent in a heartbeat (and might have to, given Josie's revolutionary connections...)

[gram-cracker]

Okay one more webweave before I go to bed. For Aphelion again. Just a little itty bitty one

a tumblr post by a now deactivated user | Elektra, translated by Anne Carson | Waiting by Marya Hornbacher

[the-neathy-frost-fair]

(> Put your face in the Portrait of the Masters): Look at you, a genuine Master!

Do you feel as though you wish to rule over an entire city? Or perhaps you want to spend your days collecting an entire niche? You think of the ethical and logistical issues of both, and quickly withdraw your face.

The Urchin then makes you put your face back in so they can actually snap the photo.

Once you have re-taken your position, the Enterprising Urchin rushes to their apple crate. Beside them they have a rudimentary trigger flash precariously rigged.

They pull up their little Kodak Brownie. "Smile!"

(> Click!):

[capn-twitchery]

photo of secret new master of the bazaar just dropped: mr explosions 💥💥💥 (NOT the same as fires!!!!! explosions are very different)

[crinolinecuriosity]

Evening Slippers | c. 1885-1890 | French

The unusual color and material suggest that the shoes were custom made to match a garment.