october

November 01, 2018


Things I've enjoyed in the month of supernatural creepy shit, more commonly known as October:

 Since childhood I've loved the aforementioned "creepy shit":



Sure, I spent most of that love being beyond terrified (hello, Skeksis, let me wail in terror as you crumble before my innocent, adolescent eyes), hiding under blankets (why the fuck you gotta be so scary, Froglip? WHY?!) and leaping onto my bunkbed (a hard feat when you're fucking tiny and possess no gazelle-like qualities) because I was genuinely convinced there was a goblin under my bed just waiting to grab at my ankles, drag me under and crunch my bones.
I'm still semi-convinced there's something under there.
But I'm grown now.
I don't leap.
...
It's more of a hop.

That creepy shit, though?
My love remains unwavering and eternal.
And because I whine every Halloween that Britain sucks at not only celebrating but even acknowledging this macabre season, my family bought me pumpkin lights and Reese's Pieces just to shut me up.
...
I'd be insulted but... pumpkin lights...


.............................................


Kevin.
Fucking.
WADA!

I need this as a print.
Look at my girl's thighs.
Those be demon slaying thighs.


.............................................

This. This. THISSSSSSS:




The Book Illustration Competition 2019 is now open for entries! This year we are asking entrants to submit three illustrations and a binding design for Howl’s Moving Castle by Diana Wynne Jones. The Book Illustration Competition is a unique partnership between @illustrationhq and @foliosociety that seeks to identify and promote new talent in illustration. The competition is open to illustrators over the age of 18, both student and professional, who have not been previously published by The Folio Society. The judges are looking for your unique interpretation of the book. Originality is as important as talent and technique. Your entry must be based on the novel, not on any other adaptations. The winner will receive a highly sought-after commission, worth £5,000, to complete illustrations and a binding design for the book, which will be published by The Folio Society in 2019. Five runners up will each receive £500 cash. If you are an artist, or know one who might be interested, this is a fantastic opportunity. Start working on your entry! Find out more and enter the competition here: https://houseofillustration.org.uk/get_involved/bic-2019 #foliosociety #houseofillustration #bic2019 #illustration #competition #bookillustrationcompetition #bookstagram #howlsmovingcastle #dianawynnejones

A post shared by The Folio Society (@foliosociety) on
Honestly, I freaked out a little.
And said freak out consisted of 50% unabashed excitement because... Howl's freaking Moving Castle.
40% debilitating fear over someone I don't like illustrating it.
And 10% wondering how long I can feasibly wait for such a thing to exist and reside in my greedy little paws.
...
It might get a little Calcifer around here until then...


.............................................

Some of my favourite Inktobers (or Drawlloweens or Drawtobers depending on your allegiance):

Sarah Kipin


Weronika Mieczkowska
(1, 2, 3)


Abigail Larson


Viktoria Gavrilenko


Suzanne Kobela



Laurie A. Conley
(1, 2)


Mina Chaquet aka. Wilhelmina Fae



Miles Johnston
(1, 2)


Heikala

Dillon Samuelson
(1, 2)


(Sarah J. Maas, I beg of you, write the Blood Rite. For the love of all things Illyrian, write the fucking Blood Rite!)

Arz28
(1, 2)


Ashley Ang


Evi aka. sheevish


Anna Labi


AtsukiƩ R.


Lois van Baarle aka loish

Alessandra Criseo aka. MAIS2
(1, 2, 3, 4)


Dri Gomez


Jordan McCaw



Sarah Duarte
(1, 2)


Petra Frankova





Stephanie Mai
(1, 2, 3)



Vir Prieto
(1, 2)




Miranda Zimmerman
(1, 2, 3)


Bev Johnson


ČupovĆ” Suwi Zuzana
(one of my all-time favourite illustrators)

Seojin Lee aka. Heera Cha
(1a+b, 2)
Jack Kirby Crosby
(I love watching this shit)

Samantha Mash's cool as shit Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse series


Igor Lazarevic aka Behemot
(if you use Deezer, there's a Halloween playlist to soundtrack the inhabitants of Pumpkin Town)


Varguy


Even if I wasn't a total basket case, I'd want to participate in this but I wouldn't for one very important reason... I draw too bloody slowly.
Glacially, even.
And when I try to speed up? A serious case of wonk occurs and it's not cool and interesting and progressive like when Picasso did it.
Oh no.
 It just looks... special.
...
Luckily, the Inktober participants aren't blessed with whatever the fuck case of corpse-speed I possess and I'm stupidly glad of it because look at all the lovely arts.
Half of these artists I only started following because I found them through Inktober/Drawlloween/whateverthefuckyouwannacallit this year.
It's like a month of creepy, arty gifts and that, my fellow weirdos, is what I am all about.

.............................................

Episodes:

I have eternal love for Tamsin Greig and Stephen Mangan.
I've watched Green Wing so many times I should be sick to death of it but I'm not.
I'm really not.
It's just so damn weird and funny and massively fucked up, and that's my wheelhouse for sure.
I could watch Greig and Mangan hate-flirt until the end of time.
(I might just)
Which is why Episodes is like getting a mildly gropey, sickly but welcome hug from one of my all-time favourite tv couples.
(technically a thrupple but I guess they traded in Julian Rhind-Tutt for Matt LeBlanc - who is surprisingly really good in this but maybe playing an asshole isn't that hard?)
It may not be Green Wing but I'll take it.
And now my sister will stop giving me the stink eye for not having watched it yet.
I'm only one person damnit!


.............................................

Jookabox:

Enough said.

.............................................

Finding Ramona Magazine For Girls' Instagram on my internet travels:

I stumbled across this on a day I was sick.
I was on day 5? 6? of the head cold of doom.
With a brain that felt something akin to angry candy floss.
I couldn't talk without sounding like the Honkers from Sesame Street:

(much to my family's amusement... except my mum, she was honking also and felt my pain... the rest of you are fuck-knuckles and I will have my revenge)
Oh, the wonders of head cold induced laryngitis.
I was dragging myself around like a beached sea lion.
My eyes were bleeding.
...
Bleeding tears, that is.
No demon possession here.
My stomach was swollen and painful because the angry candy floss in my head was preventing me from thinking before I ate causing a chain reaction of bodily self-loathing and belly prodding to see if I could make it deflate like a party balloon?
I may also have been pre-menstrual but who the fuck knows.
(I totally was)
And for some unknown bloody reason my wrists hurt?
???
...
All in all, I did not feel good.
Internally I was cursing the meat sack I was born into every second minute.
I just wanted to curl up and groan in misery until my immune system got its fucking act together.
...
I did this later whilst watching The Shape of Water.
But before the pitiful groan-fest, I went on the internet.
Because... Internet.
And came across Ramona.
And for a few blessed minutes (before I started groaning again) I forgot to feel shit about my body.
Or, more like, I stopped shaming it for its very existence.

I saw it as something different.
Something still making me feel as if I was being tumble dried at warp speed set to "languorous" (does that even make sense? Because it's how it felt) but not so... hateful?
Not the enemy I always think of it as for oh so many reasons.
Maybe just... mine?
My slightly shitty, imperfect, often traitorous body that keeps me healthy and alive and doesn't suck all the time.
Ramona made me feel not alone in my imperfections.
Funny to find something like this on a media platform infamous for championing "perfect" humans and in doing so ripping the rest of us mere mortals an "imperfect" new one.
So, thank you Ramona for giving a fuck and providing me with a much needed boost on a particularly sucktastic day.


.............................................


And the subsequent response:

Here's my very own dark as pitch nightmare for your viewing pleasure because he damn well needs celebrating:


A Tale* in Three Acts:



(Casually thieving photos from my sisters since 198... whatever)
There are clouds on my floor.
And by clouds I mean swathes of fluff deposited by this cretin's lumpy body whilst at play.
...
Fuck it.

Living his best boxtroll life. 
Those paws.

Regal as ever.

Casually murdering Cthulhu on this hallowed eve.
Because he's Charlie and he just would.

.............................................

I love watching people draw:
But with a healthy dose of hypocrisy, I loathe others watching me draw.
It's hateful and I will throw things at you until you leave.
...
Heavy things.

.............................................

Swiss Army Man:
I... WHAT?!
...
That's it.
That's all I've got.
I'm so wonderfully confused.

.............................................

Showing one third of the Witchy Trifecta** some love:


Fairuza Balk, you've never been more insane or more glorious.


.............................................

The truth of the much maligned Night Owl by Shenanigansen of Owl Turd Comix:

"My BiL is a neurologist who has done a lot of sleep research and one of his favorite areas of study is circadian rhythms. He says that being a night owl is real, it is predicated on the genetic structure of the brain, it is not just “laziness,” and it is not a disorder. He hypothesizes that its original evolutionary purpose was basically to produce night watchmen—people who can stay awake and alert at night to protect the domicile while the early birds sleep.

 So we’re not lazy, night owls; we’re the fucking late shift lookouts. Gonna grab my torch and patrol the perimeter if anyone would like to join me."

- galadrieljones

These are my people.
And if we're talking night watches then I have to go with Corporal Vimes and Constable Carrot.
Who wouldn't want to patrol the salacious streets of Ankh-Morpork with a curmudgeonly detective turned reluctant aristocrat and a ginger-haired 6ft 6 "dwarf"?
That's right, everybody fucking wants to.


.............................................

Whispers Underground:


There’s always a secret door,’ I said. ‘That’s why you always need a thief in your party.’
‘You never said you used to play Dungeons and Dragons,’ Lesley had said, when I explained my reasoning. I’d been tempted to tell her that I was thirteen at the time, and anyway it was Call of Cthulhu, but I’ve learned from bitter experience that such remarks generally only make things worse.

And so the adventures with PC Peter Grant continue.
This handsome dork.
I couldn't love him more.
Within the space of a few chapters The Discworld, Lord of the Rings, Dungeons & Dragons, Ghostbusters, Conan the Barbarian, Black Adder and The Hulk are mentioned.
All of the above coming from the nerdy forefront of Peter's brainpan.
And then there's stuff like this:

'Death Line,' said Nightingale, surprising me. 'Starring Donald Pleasance. Don't look so shocked Peter. Just because I've never owned a television doesn't mean I never went to the cinema.'
Actually I'd always thought he sat in the library with a slim volume of metaphysical poetry until the Commissioner called him on the bat-phone and summoned him into action. Holy paranormal activity, Nightingale ‑ to the Jag mobile.

 You see.
Massive dork.
But that's why I love him so very, very much.
Over the past few years I've met my fair few of Urban Fantasy chosen ones but none quite like Peter.
None that make frequent and detailed references to the nerdy underbelly you dare not speak of if you possess even a measure of "cool".
None that don't have a blood-soaked past of pain and misery (or that I know of, I'm only three books in!).
And none that take such a perverse amount of pleasure in being a little bit shit at their magical craft:

'You are not to teach anybody magic,' he said. 'In the first instance you're far too reckless in who you expose to the art, and in the second you just aren't qualified to teach. Anyone learning from you is bound to pick up your sloppy form and those embellishments you find so amusing.'

There's no one quite like Peter.
Which is why I'm still having such a bloody hard time fan-casting him in my head.
I should get paid for the amount of brainpower I'm putting into this shit.
Grr and argh.

.............................................

Did I buy orange Gazelles specifically for Halloween?:
Yes.
Yes, I did.

And did I wear them with this jumper from two years ago?

Bet your spooky ass I did.

Did I completely fail to watch anything scary this Halloween?

This calls for cannonballing Castlevania, The Chilling Adventures of Sabrina and The Haunting of Hill House with as much leftover Halloween confectionary as I can feasibly consume before falling victim to the sugar groans.
Oh... the sugar groans.


.............................................

Rainbow Rowell being a damned tease:


I mean, thaaaaaank you but fuck, I've got to wait until 2020 to see my wizard boys again and this is just uncalled for.

(dancingwithdinosaur)

.............................................

And Leigh Bardugo's pulling this shit too:


You can also read the first chapter if you're subscribed to the newsletter...
... but I won't because I never do.
I want the full effect when I read a book.
...
I'm screaming inside at my self-inflicted abstention.
...
You're playing with my emotions here, ladies.
Not cool.
...
Nina, though.
Lovely Nina.

.............................................

And to top it all off, Thalassa's joined the torment party:
I'm not reading this until it comes out in paperback... and that's not happening until at least the new year.


...
Cruel, evil women.
This'll just be me creeping around Thalassa's various online abodes until the paperback comes out:
Oh, and people of Goodreads?
Until then?
Don't you even dare spoil me or there will be Fae-based hell to pay.
I'll make the King of Night look like a goddamned fluffy bunny in comparison to the fury I will rain down on you.
(I'm not 100% sure if that was the right "rain" to use... cue grammatical panic)

.............................................

Speaking of:

The speed with which I pressed pre-order on this beauty could be considered really fucking embarrassing but it's me, so... fuck... that?

It's so pretty and foil covered and edgily sprayed and goddamn, I'm practically drooling here.

Also, behold the shaky-fingered, cack-handed tosser that is I.
Trying to elevate a hardback whilst turning its pages when it's not facing you is bloody hard.
Especially when you already possess the trembling hands of a seasoned meth head.
You're lucky it's steady at all.
And to think, I had aspirations of working for a claymation company.
Can you imagine the mess I'd make?

(music playing is Grand Pax's Phase Ep)

.............................................

Gothwick:
I am deeply invested in the sad sack adventures of Frankenstein's monster.
His little face is killing me.

.............................................

The second in The Wraith Kings series, Eidolon:

"I would have been content to live my life as just Brishen," he whispered into her hair. "Who was loved by Ildiko."

 "I'm content to live my life as just Ildiko," she said softly, repeating words similar to those he once whispered in her hair when he thought her asleep. "Who is loved by Brishen."

Do you hear that noise?
That tremulous banshee-esque noise?
Well, that's just me.
Sobbing into the void.
Because Grace Draven has ripped my fucking heart out.
In a really lovely way but still, there's emotional viscera everywhere...
...
And there isn't an official release date for the next book.
...
And the focus won't be on Brishen and Ildiko anymore.
...
My precious interspecies OTP is being taken from me.
...
Sure it's being replaced with a new precious interspecies OTP I'm already all over like an enraged but besotted scarpatine*** but... but... Brishen and Ildiko.
...


.............................................

Season 3 of Mr. Robot:

This is probably the weakest of the seasons.
The acting/music/visuals are as stellar as always but the storytelling felt a little... stretched.
Not unheard of in shows with complex plots that become even more so season by season.
It's kind of inevitable.
Those last two episodes though?
...
Christ.
Now that's incandescent storytelling.
Between Rami Malek and Christian Slater waging a very personal war and Mac Quayle's endlessly affecting score, Sam Esmail really outdid himself with these episodes.
It felt like a callback to the first season where Elliot's emotions are very much at the forefront instead of taking a backseat to the absolutely necessary but often dull hacking espionage that goes on.
This is a show making a very blunt statement about the current state of "The American Dream" and the cyber rebellion against it after all.
But really?
At its very heart?
It's about Elliot and his constant struggle just to be.
The last two episodes, specifically the penultimate, wrench us straight back into that emotional fray and remind just how damn good this show can be.
It helps that Rami Malek can break my heart with a look.

And that they closed the penultimate episode with Wyld Stallyns' In Time - my late 80s kryptonite:

Here's hoping the final season can take all that pain and give us a season worth hacking for.

.............................................

Mark Lawrence breaking my heart for free:

Sometimes I cry when I read.
More often than not it's because I haven't been blinking and my dry eyes are protecting themselves.
...
This wasn't one of those times.
I cried because this is beautiful. And it hurts. And it was full of joy in only the way remembering someone beloved always is.
...
I cried because this hurt.

.............................................

Discovering the most me thing that ever did me on the internet:

Really, though?

.............................................

I don't know why but this made me really fucking emotional.
I was seriously close to having one of those private, unexpected sobs I'm prone to:
Maybe because it's so beautiful I could, well, cry.


.............................................

Quite possibly my favourite thing about reading a series is bonus material.
It's well established by now that I get a little... involved whilst reading (see: two entries up).
I can't help it.
If an author creates a group of characters I can't help but fall in love with, then how else am I supposed to react?
Which is why when I'm either stopping myself from reading everything too quickly (Oh, Kate. Kate, Kate, Kate. I'm trying to make you last, I really am but you're just so gooooood) or the author hasn't finished the latest book (goddamnit, Thalassa, I'm dying here) I need something to keep me going.
Think of it like a case of literary hangriness.
I need my fix or I'm not responsible for how twitchy and mean I'll get.
And I'm already pretty twitchy.
And a whole lot mean.
Luckily, such things as novellas and short stories exist and almost all the series I'm currently rolling around in like a happy salamander possess such things.

Enter, Hangry Suppressant #1:

Shifters play a huge part in the Kate Daniels series.
They're equally as important as Kate, herself.
And one of my favourites is Dali Harimau.
She's a were-tigress.
A mystical white were-tigress, to be exact.
However, mystical she may be, stereotypical shifter she is not.
Most shifters are exceptional creatures with preternatural strength, speed, vision and so on.
Y'know, the usual supernatural fodder.
...
Dali's a half-blind vegetarian (not a judgement but they're shifters for fuck's sake!) who faints at the sight of blood and experiences temporary memory loss when she shifts (the first time I read her shift she was confused by her own paws).

 Let's take a moment to witness Dali in natural habitat:

Cats will be cats pic.twitter.com/R5G3AG20cg
There's also sneezing involved because she's quite possibly allergic to herself.
Butterflies also use her as a landing bed.
...
My heart...

 Magic Dreams is an 86 page novella devoted entirely to Dali and Jim (a horrendously grumpy were-jaguar, alpha to the Atlanta Pack and Dali's lobster) solving a magic-based mystery, showing off Dali's insane intellect and mad magic skills, and just generally squishing my heart with all the hate-flirting.
It's my kryptonite.
I will never tire of this kind of relationship.

Ughhhhhh, I'm not allowed to read the fifth book yet and it's killing me...

Enter Angry Suppressant #2:

Night Tide is a standalone novella in the Wraith Kings series that played with my heart and freaked me the fuck out.
Giant ocean spiders that lure grief-stricken people to them with honeyed whispers and then eat them up, up, up?
...
No.
Just... NO.

New OTP, though?


Enter Hangry Suppressant #3:

The story in question in this collection of shorts from three of Grace Draven's series is A Matter of Trust featuring my loves, Brishen and Ildiko from the Wraith Kings series.
There's not much to say other than... smut.
Unapologetic smut.

I live for this shit.

 Enter Hangry Suppressant #4:

Captive Prince is one of those series that everybody went batshit over.
And I just... didn't.
To be fair, I've only read the first in the trilogy and I didn't hate it but it just didn't grip me.
Pet, however was essentially just smut but interesting smut that gave me a better insight into a sassy as fuck side character I wanted more of in the first book.
Consider me reeled back in, C.S. Pavat.


.............................................

Killing Eve:

Be still my maniacal heart.
You wouldn't think that soft, pink creature up there could rip your throat out with her teeth and a gleeful expression on her face while she did it but...
Phoebe Waller-Bridge proving yet again she is the immortal queen of sharp-tongued, kick-ass females.
...
Season 2, please.

Cue the requisite fan art:
Skogen

art and me

Diana Novich aka. holepsi
(only mildly itchy to see this appear as a print)

Molly Murakami

Carlie McCoy

Camille Pelletier

.............................................

David Simon spewing this little nugget of unholy beauty:

I'm really starting to like using Twitter.

.............................................



* I was so tempted to pun. So, so tempted! Behold my mighty willpower and kneel, lesser creatures.
** The Craft, Practical Magic, Hocus Pocus.
*** Think of an overgrown black scorpion crossed with a lobster.
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