#weasal

[sasster]

Maybe if you wrangle the Saekul for him he would be inclined to do you a favor

"If I track down a Saekul, I'm just gonna drain 'em.

Bronze doesn't taste too bad."

[thewondermentofillustration]

Chris Dunn - Cheese Delivery, watercolour and gouache Chris Dunn is a freelance artist, living in Calne, Wiltshire, England. He has illustrated a number of children's books and his work has be featured in a number of art publications.

[foxnunbanchan]

Art exchange with my friend :33 First pic arts by Alice : https://www.facebook.com/alice.tam.31586 Cute Shark <3 <3 <3 And the first pic is my girlfriend’s fursona >:33

[imaginationofacornflake]

When you get to fangirl over your friends and faves...

[clexacloneclub]

Reppin some Niylah’s Nik Naks merch yo! 😎

[merchanon]

A prelim sketch for @weasal and her new fic. I’ll make it pretty for a poster.

[queersk]

quick layer-by-layer glimpse on the underwater au for @weasal

i kind of want to draw more for this au? yay or nay?

[steklir]

Clarke should have come to Scotland. Halloween originated here and concepts like 'trick or treating' are actually called 'guising' in our wee country. No tricks either! Children have to do a 'party piece' in order to get their reward. Mine was almost always a really shit joke. www(.)historic-uk(.)com/CultureUK/Halloween-in-Scotland/

Ooh, I didn’t know that about Scotland—I’m genuinely fascinated, especially since one theme I regret not being able to include in mwtw was the Celtic festival of Samhain (i.e. the precursor of Halloween). I’d already published the halloween chapter when I learned about it (and subsequently got a little research-obsessed, haha) but I would have love to have that limited-POV contrast, Clarke thinking the UK’s behind when it comes to Halloween when it’s really the opposite. It also would have led into some fun May Queen analogies for Clarke, possibly even the genesis of Lexa’s nickname for her. Sigh! 

Actually, just remembered I went as far as to re-write part of the halloween chapter but ended up abandoning it because it would have required too many changes. Part of it is below—maybe one day I’ll do a real re-working of the fic…

There’s a rustling in the crowd and the center section of girls moves aside. Clarke scans for the familiar brown uniform and red cloak of Heda but what appears on stage is a shock, even having seen the girl in cotton-candy pink pajama bottoms and glasses a couple of weeks ago.

She’s Boudica.

She’s fucking Boudica.

Her hair is in dozens of braids, war paint on her cheeks, tattoos along her naked arms, and she’s wearing a sleeveless leather tunic and fur-trimmed cape and gold torque necklace and there’s a belt that cinches it all together and fuck she’s fucking Boudica.

Clarke’s pretty sure she’s never given a second thought to the aesthetic attractiveness of Celtic warrior queens until this exact instant and she’s even more sure this is the beginning of a lifelong kink for leather. Fuck.

Fuck.

What’s worse is that nothing about the Head Girl looks out of place. It’s like she’s not even dressed up, like she was born to wield this raw, vicious power. Like she’s finally donned her true skin.

“I was unaware that I would be called upon to say anything tonight,” Heda starts and the entire school falls shock-still. The Headmistress looks equally shaken, no doubt imagining her star pupil would be in her steadfast uniform and clean face. “But if I must say words this All Hallow’s Eve, let them be these.”

“Since the Celtic festival of Samhain and likely even further back into Britain’s prehistory, this evening has held a sacred significance, with all its macabre, liminal mythos. With the sinking of the sun, we don’t just usher in the darkest half of the year: we celebrate it.”

A pin could drop and they’d all go deaf.

The Head Girl’s eyes blaze as she lets her words settle and then sweeps them right back up in her tempest. “But our celebration isn’t for the demons and fairies, for the encroaching nights or the cold mounting its bitter war march. Nor is it a celebration of death, as many might believe.”

Clarke feels her blood turn to ice as Heda catches her eye for the briefest of moments; a shiver rockets up her spine and then down into her fingers and toes.  

“Tonight, we celebrate our certain victory over the looming darkness. We celebrate life, we celebrate green sprouts and newborn animals sure to emerge in the Maytime sun. We celebrate because the light always returns.”

“Oso gonplei nou ste oden!” She raises her fist in the air and translates louder and with even more power behind every syllable. The bronze bracelet around her bicep flashes under the florescent lights. “Our fight isn’t over!”

She’s the lit match and they all explode into fireworks; the resounding cheer shakes the chandelier, rivets of luminance dancing over Heda’s face as she stands over her troops, arms behind her back and chin as high as the sky.

After a few moments, she finally moves to quiet their whooping and they calm down quickly, although it does take a several seconds. Out of the corner of her eye, Dr. Peters has joined in the ruckus with a few slow claps of his own, as have several other teachers.  

The Head Girl finishes with the usual school valediction once they’re silent again. “Ai na gon raun gon chit ai wich in!”

“Ai ste yuj!” the school hollers back.

Clarke fails to assert her own strength.