M is for Μῶμος

Malpertuis is in your Extended Network and it's full of stars

[malpertuis]

[fuzzyghost]

[nekosuke-oxo-deactivated2026060]

第十二夜「烏天狗」

　あれはなんだ。 　椛のお山を飛んでいたら、八重葉の隙間を濡羽ノ色がちょろちょろしていた。なんだ、六の坊、また落ちたのか。からかってやろうと大枝へ降りたら、其れは六番めの小天狗ではなくて、なんだか妙な奴だった。 「おぉい。お前は龍を食べる者かい」 　枝へ座ったまま近寄らずに、取り敢えず声を掛けてみる。椛色の袖がはためく。声を聞いたのでおれを捜して、そいつはその場をくるくると回った。ふっくら積もった落ち葉の上で下駄を履いた足がよろめく。あ、と声を上げたかと思えば、いとも容易く転げてしまった。……違うな、おれも今まで見たことがないが、こんなのかるらの化身ではないな。羽無しは人寺で偶に見るが、どうにも様子が違って見える。 「だれか、いるの」 　上を見上げてそいつが云った。鈴のように高い音だった。 「竜胆を選んでいたら迷ってしまったの。だれかいるのならどうぞ、どうぞ、わたしを案内くださいまし」 　大きな瞳とまなこが合った。小天狗なんぞの比ではなかった。 　頬は白くて唇赤く、はちはちと瞬く睫毛は長く。広がった髪は艶やかで、背の羽と違い光っていた。 「あなたは、もしや、天狗さん？」 　鈴音がまた転がった。 「わたしを、さらいに来たのでしょうか？」 　それはつくづくおれとしては、ぎょっとする程何もかも、柔らかで上等に出来ていた。あいたァ、これは拙いことをしたか。こいつはあれだ、確証はないけど。ゆめゆめ遇うなと掟のあれだ。長の耳へ入ればとんだ仕置きぜ。どうしようか、食ろうてしまうか。旨いだろうか、惑わされるとはまことだろうか。 「お前、女かい」 　一応問うと、白い顎がこくりと下がった。やはりそうだ。おれは項垂れる。女がお山へ入ったとなれば、見つかり次第攫われるだろうな。――なんだかそれは、面白くないな。考えたおれは一先ず言った。 「出くわしたのがおれでよかったな。天狗が恐ろしくはないかい？ないならお前を連れて飛んで、里の門まで送ってやろうか」 　女のこどもが答えるまで、おれは変な気分だった。すこし思案し頭を下げたとき、どうしてか胸を撫で下ろしていた。傍へ降り立つとそいつの背丈は、おれよりだいぶちいさかった。 「ついでに、良い竜胆畑を知りたいかい」 　するとこどもはぱっと笑った。これは特に言うつもりはなかったが、尖った口先からつい出てきたんだ。これが惑わされるというやつだろうか、思いながらもおれはそろりと、柔らかなそいつの手を握った。

初出：同人誌「怪奇と情」 絵・ねこ助 文・結簾トラン

絵や文章の転載はご遠慮ください。　Reproduction Prohibited.

[weirdvintage]

Wear Celluloid Collars and Cuffs trade card advertisements, c. 1870s (via)

[50miligramos]

[trash-fuckyou]

James Coburn and Bruce Lee 

[degenerate-lowlife-3]

[laudanumandabsinthe-deactivated]

Result of a non specific request for some head.

[vintageliving]

[spandexinchains]

The Furies take charge.

[victorsantoscomics]

#Kingtober day 28: Lashina

[malpertuis]

[malpertuis]

(via Simpsons tarot cards | Dangerous Minds)

[obitoftheday]

Obit of the Day: “Growing Up Black in Nazi Germany”

Hans Massaquoi was very disappointed when his teacher told him that he could not join the Hitler Youth. Massaquoi’s friends had all joined and he was enthralled with the uniforms, the parades, the camp-outs. But Hans’ desire to join was trumped by the color of his skin.

Born in 1926, Mr. Massaquoi’s parents were a German nurse and the son of a Liberian diplomat. He would grow up in Hamburg as the Weimar Republic was collapsing and the the Third Reich was building up.

When he was in second grade, Mr. Massaquoi was so taken with the Nazi imagery that, at his request, his nanny sewed a swastika to his sweater. Although his mother removed it when he returned home from school, a picture had already been taken. (See above.)

Mr. Massaquoi’s family lived in Germany for the duration of the war. According to Mr. Massaquoi’s memoir, Destined to Witness, he theorized that there were so few blacks living in Germany that they were a low priority for extermination. Eventually he would move: first to his father’s home country of Liberia and later to Chicago.

In the United States, although trained in aviation mechanics, Mr. Massaquoi would become a writer for Jet magazine and eventual move to its sister publication, Ebony, where he became managing editor.

Mr. Massaquoi, who passed away on January 19, 2013 on his 87th birthday, was encouraged to write down the story of his unusual childhood by his friend and author of Roots, Alex Haley.

Sources: L.A. Times and Chicago Sun-Times

(Image is from Mr. Massaqoui’s collection and copyright of William Morrow Paperbacks via spiritosanto.wordpress.com)

[shortformblog]

Fascinating story. Fascinating life. And a photo that sticks with you.

[npr]

Wow. — tanya b.

[mellyart]

can I get your feedback?

So a couple of my friends (no literally, they’re a couple ww) put out some surveys on their blogs asking what people liked about their art, and I wanted to try it too!!

Additionally though I want to ask what you think I can improve or what you would like to see from me >< feel free to inbox/fanmail if your response is over the character limit…though I hope you understand if I don’t publish since I’ll be keeping them for myself LOOOL

But yeah…I’m always reading replies and tags on my stuff and I really love your feedback, so if you have a moment to tell me 1) what you like about my art and 2) how I can be better, I would really appreciate it!!

(also sorry for being sort of MIA lately/not drawing or posting much, I’m applying/interviewing for jobs right now on top of being a bit sick–sorry!! TT)

[malpertuis]

I love your personal style. Plus there’s this dynamism in even your sitting around characters. They’re sassy! **snort** not quite the right word. But yeah, the way you layout your arts - always makes me smile. Ugh I don't know the proper art history critiquing wordses. 

As for better - More goru! haha 

xoxo

UGH I ALREADY DID THIS BUT YET BUTTS

[malpertuis]

(via article-2339094-1A3EC519000005DC-212_634x776.jpg 634×776 pixels)

[alexdecampi]

Brooklyn Boys Bleed Blue

I wrote a fanfic. It’s extremely long (4,000 words), thus most of it is behind the cut. There’s probably some unwritten rule against pro comicbook writers doing fics, but I don’t care. I’ve been with people, lots of people, most of whom I like, for the past seven days, 24 hours a day. I am a loner by nature and my way of coping with that is that after a day or two the people get about 10% of me and the other 90% retreats and writes a story – any old story – in my head to stay sane. This is what I am doing if you ever see me staring into space or acting distracted at a convention.

Brooklyn Boys is a (mostly) film-continuity story about Steve and Bucky as kids in Brooklyn. It’s PG (some swearing; violence; dubious parenting). It is probably the most New York-y Captain America story in existence, and almost certainly the one with the most baseball references. Also, if any of my artist friends are looking for warmup sketch ideas, it would be amazing to get some illustrations for this story.

BROOKLYN BOYS BLEED BLUE

I have a weak heart.

Mom says it was because I was born right before the big hurricane in ‘26 when half the neighborhood flooded and even though she went upstairs to the Barneses’ for a whole week until the water receded, something bad stayed in the walls, and it got in my lungs too and made my heart weak. So growing up in Red Hook for me was mostly a case of staying the same size while Bucky and Maurice and Angela got bigger. But even though I was small I was still part of their gang because we all grew up in the same building, hearing everyone else’s business through the same thin walls even when Bucky’s dad got mad and yelled at his kids in Russian or Yid or whatever it was they spoke where they came from.

Maurice and Angela lived on the top floor. Their dad, Mr Coleman, was a bus driver and he’d been all the way to White Plains. He’d tell us about driving through Harlem where God’s people walked in glory and hot blues came out of every club while the streets glittered like cold silver and the women strutted down the avenues in furs and diamonds just to buy their groceries, and Bucky would say that’s a zadgeration, and Mr Coleman would swat him over the head with a copy of the Black newspaper folded to the social pages with all the beautiful ladies in their fine clothes and the jazz musicians with their Rolls-Royces.

Then Mr Coleman would get wistful and talk about how they were going to move uptown one day, and Bucky’d narrow his eyes and ask if that meant he was planning on becoming a Yankees fan, 'cause everyone knew uptown folk bled pinstripes, and Brooklyn boys bled blue. And Mr Coleman said hell no, did he look like some kinda traitor?

Keep reading

[malpertuis]