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@magnaesquire I’m not done with the random thoughts lol!
I read last night there’s a theory that the Could’ve-Been King and his army of Meanwhiles and Never-Weres are Weeping Angels, weaponized somehow, but my personal theory is that they’re all potential energy, they’re all beings of all the things that could’ve happened but never did. Basically, they’re perfect Weeping Angel food.
I was visiting Ponyville a lot in October, catching up on Lauren Faust's amazingly witty and creatively evolved work. My bro(ny) wasn't so happy about his cameo, but I guess so won't the stepson of Odin.
Album Art
I have some wonderfully talented musician friends who a while ago had asked me to create their album artwork. Both bands gave me all the artistic freedom an illustrator could ask for - which in my opinion is the highest compliment. Thanks Meanwhiles! Thanks Also!
From a cat person to great author and cat person.
Once, a starry night ago Lord Azuma took it upon himself to honor the passing of Miss Kitty Calgary. The original sketch just featured a blue kitty ghost that I intended to draw as a little condolence gift, but as I was drawing UNISON at that time, the little blue ghost waited patiently. A few days ago Pat Cadigan wrote about receiving a new kitten and that Calgary showed up (in a dream) to give her blessing. And Azuma nodded kindly, saying: Now, Eve, it's time to do that picture.
I can't decide whether day or night... You decide.
Happy Birthday to Pat Cadigan who recently resides on the little red bro!
Man, going from RTD-era to Cartmel-era's Remembrance really highlights just how much RTD ripped off.
seriously. Watch the 2005 series, then watch Remembrance of the Daleks. Remember those age remarks? Remember the "I am grand lord poobah" speech? Remember the xanatos gambits and injokes and refs?
Its like that's the ONLY DAMNED EP he watched to refresh himself before sitting down to write, then took it and ran. He fucking flanderised it!
A tale of two kingdoms_part 15 - Lakan
Lakan twisted and turned, his body burning from the inside. His mind felt split open and as if someone were pouring burning oil into the wound. He had been through this a lot of late. His dreams induced more dread than peace and with each passing day he felt himself grow more numb from the pain. Where he would wake up screaming for hours he now only sat still. Shaking and clutching his sinewy arms. What had once been the body of a young man in his prime was reduced to a sick frame with deeply sunken eyes. The pendant on his chest had lost all its shine and now seemed to radiate darkness. Ones eyes were drawn to it as if it held the soul of one in a deathly grip.
During the crowning ceremony Lakan had not smiled or uttered a word of pride or thankfulness. He had said; "It is done. You may all leave." As the crown of ancient kings had descended unto his head the pendant had given a single spark but quickly descended to a darkness like that of the depths of the sea.
"SEND THE RIDERS!" the voice seemed to emit from his innermost self, it burned in him, each word falling on him like iron shackles unto a slave. "Send them north, above the mountains, let them find the librarian. I know of his whereabouts." A voice not his own later commanded The Riders to seek out the man known as Jerome and to inquire him about a scripture not of this world.
And again Lakan descended into darkness. - FR
