cosplay: the corsair


CalArts Sketchbooks at a Glance

These are my favorite pages from the four sketchbooks I sent to CalArts (and which I think were solely responsible for my acceptance!).

I’m sorry about the teeny tiny size. I’m just not sure I want my sketchbooks available in full HD at the moment.

I did make a video, including all of the less well drafted pages, which I’ll post later (once I’ve gotten it onto my computer from my sister’s fancy camera).

All these he wielded to command assent:
But where he wished to win, so well unbent,
That Kindness cancelled fear in those who heard,
And others’ gifts showed mean beside his word,
When echoed to the heart as from his own
His deep yet tender melody of tone:    
But such was foreign to his wonted mood,
He cared not what he softened, but subdued;
The evil passions of his youth had made
Him value less who loved — than what obeyed.
—  Lord Byron, The Corsair
Than there his wonted statelier step renew;
Nor rush, disturbed by haste, to vulgar view:
For well had Conrad learned to curb the crowd,
By arts that veil, and oft preserve the proud;    
His was the lofty port, the distant mien,
That seems to shun the sight — and awes if seen:
The solemn aspect, and the high-born eye,
That checks low mirth, but lacks not courtesy;
—  Lord Byron, The Corsair

“So, you found out what was happening to the missing Time Lords. Let me ask you this, before you join them as spare parts. Was it worth it?” House’s booming voice filled the entirety of the pocket dimension that was its body.

The Corsair didn’t hesitate. “Yes,” zhe said, as House’s minions began to tear zhim apart.

Time stopped.

“Did someone call for a deus ex machina?”

House paused.

The Corsair paused. 

“Oh no,” said House. “It’s you again, isn’t it?”

“I’m the White Guardian. But you can call me Clara. Well, I’m one of her echoes, with perhaps a bit more self-awareness than most. Yeah, definitely call me Clara.”

House seemed exasperated. “Seriously? One of you became the frigging White Guardian? I can’t even escape you by leaving the universe?”

The White Guardian blinked and slowly looked around. She sniffed the air, licked her finger, and held it up for a few seconds. “Oh, it’s you again. I thought something about this was familiar. Is this what you finally become, Great Intelligence? A parasitic tick cowering outside the skin of the universe, feeding on lost timeships?”

“Hello,” said the Corsair. “I don’t mean to interrupt, but I’m in the process of being torn limb from limb and to answer your earlier question, yes I would like a deus ex machina please.”

“Right, yeah,” said Clara. “Sorry, it’s just, you know how it is when you’re traveling through space and time. You don’t expect to be constantly bumping into old acquaintances.”

“You’d be surprised,” said the Corsair. “I run into Drax alone practically every other week. He gets himself everywhere. Now would you please, please do something about this Ood trying to rip my arm off?”

Clara looked apologetic. “Oo, the arm thing. Look, I’m very sorry, but I can’t save your arm. Fixed point in space and time, yeah? What I can manage is to save the rest of you and give you a job.”

The Corsair sighed. “Beggars can’t be choosers, I guess.”

When it was over, and the Corsair had regenerated a new arm, they had time for a little talk. 

“Why do they call you the White Guardian, anyway? You aren’t dressed in white. That bird on your head is definitely not white.”

Clara seemed sheepish. “I’m new at this, okay? The bird is more for you, anyway. Someone needs to look after you when I can’t.”

The parrot hopped off of Clara’s head and on to the Corsair’s shoulder. 

“His name is Captain,” said Clara. “He’ll fill you in on the details on what you’re supposed to do, but first you’re going to need to get the attention of a woman called Sarah Jane Smith…”

thewivesofriversong  asked:

20 Brax/Corsair c: (I forgot to reply to your msg but I do really love this idea of yours!)

  • 20. little talks

(be warned, I have only a vague idea of brax’s history and timeline, but then i think that’s everyone)

Brax is a hoarder of the rare, the Corsair is a thief of the precious; logically-speaking they’re a natural fit. Supply needs a demand, every purchaser a vendor. But it goes deeper than that. They both have the raw intelligence, the kind that isn’t found at the top of a graded math test. They can banter and keep up with one another. From a young age, they make dangerous friends.

Even when the Corsair leaves Gallifrey and its newest politician, they keep in touch with Braxiatel. Braxiatel always refuses to share anything but the blandest of information about the political scene, but the Corsair can read how things are going in the twitch of Brax’s lips, the the strands of tugged hair, the wandering of his eyes.

Once the Collection opens, Braxiatel has his own employees, seeking out the universe’s treasures. Still, he calls up the Corsair and asks if they’re busy, or if they could do him this small favor. The transactions are just (fairly illegal) formalities at this point; they’re there to see each other, but it’s not the same without the Corsair tossing Braxiatel a priceless treasure that is then nearly broken.

It’s fun, and neither their banter nor their relationship ever go far enough to cause discomfort. It’s fun, even if the law is looking at them sideways. It’s fun, even though the Corsair’s jokes about stealing Braxiatel away aren’t always jokes. It’s fun until it’s not.

The requests become stranger, the prices steeper, the comments more cutting, the conversations tenser, until one day the Corsair looks at Braxiatel and can decipher nothing. They see nothing of their old friend and shiver.

After a few stiff drinks and days of reflection, they inquire at Gallifrey about the inter-dimensional mapping project.

comics, cosplay, and corsairs

Originally posted by jobeyjewface

In honor of the SDCC mania this weekend (and my desire to be there), I thought David and Killian deserved an adventure in Cali. Read on as Killian learns about fandom, cosplay, and…is that Jack Sparrow?

He’d forgotten how bloody heavy his jacket was. Killian had become quite comfortable with this realm’s much lighter outerwear, so when he put on his old pirate duster at Emma’s request, he was a bit overwhelmed at first.

But once they arrived at the event, he was glad for the familiarity of the garment, as he was truly a fish out of water here.

Signs advertised titles, persons, and programs that sounded foreign to him—and perhaps to the rest of his crew. The venue was something of a maze, though he at least had a map to guide him. Nothing could have prepared him for the mass of humanity, though, all either glued to their talking devices or in a rush to this or that thing.

He wore his old clothes like a shell, protecting him from the general surrounding hysteria and also keeping it at bay. Few were apt to antagonize a man dressed all in leather with a sword at his side and a hook instead of a hand. Less so when a similarly dressed prince was at his side. Though an increasing number had asked to take a photo, which he found curious.

After he and David obliged yet another young lady squealing about “Fandral and a hot pirate,” he wondered aloud what the appeal was.

“They think we’re cosplaying,” David said quietly. Another word to add the vocabulary, Killian thought with a sigh. The list of new terms was growing by the hour in this adventure; he added that alongside TSA, airplane, baggage claim, rental car, California, and lanyard.

“And what, pray tell, does that mean?”

“It means they think we’re dressed as characters from TV shows and comics.”

“Are we?” He’d seen a few examples of this realm’s view of pirates, but wasn’t sure if he’d come across any that looked or dressed like him—most were either dreadfully dirty or complete ponces.

“I guess. I know I am.” David was wearing what little of his Enchanted Forest wardrobe had come over with the curse, and he too had his sword; apparently, that was enough to pass for this Fandral fellow. Killian vaguely recalled the character in one of those “superhero” movies Henry enjoyed; how odd that the lad was so enthralled with fictional figures given the family he was born into.

“If you say so, mate.”

“I think you’d be more recognizable if you put on that mask Emma gave you.”

“What, and deprive everyone of my dashingly handsome face?”

Keep reading

Peter Capaldi Thoughts (Rebloggable as requested)
What are your thoughts on casting Peter Capaldi?


I think Peter’s a brilliant actor (the best conversation I ever had with an actor was a phone call with Peter about Islington, and about how Islington always believes itself to be in the right). I can’t wait to see what he does. I’m glad that we’re getting an older Doctor — we’ve had two puppies, it’s time to see someone older. It’ll change the nature of the relationship with Clara in interesting ways, for a start.

(And here, for what it’s worth, are my other thoughts: Do I think it’s time to cast a woman as the Doctor? Not yet. Not quite. And lord, if and when they ever do that, I want them to keep it the biggest secret in the world until we see it happen on our screens during the regeneration. Would I like a person of colour as the Doctor? Absolutely. Paterson Joseph was the Marquis de Carabas in Neverwhere, because he aced the auditions, and beat all the other actors, mostly white, who tried out for the role. I’d want that kind of performance at the audition for the Doctor. And there are certainly actors good enough out there that it feels like a missed opportunity. Does that mean I’m disappointed by Peter? No, just excited to see what kind of Doctor he makes. He’s an Academy- Award winning director, an amazing actor and I really liked him when I worked with him before.) 

Could you further explain what you mean by “not yet, not quite” time to cast a woman as the Doctor? Please and thank you :-)


Not really. Other than, if I were show-running (I’m not) I wouldn’t cast a woman as the Doctor yet, and it would absolutely be on my list of things to do in the following regeneration. (I was the one who wrote the line about the Corsair changing gender on regeneration, in “The Doctor’s Wife” after all, and made it canon that Time Lords can absolutely change gender when they regenerate.)

Some of that is stuff I’d find hard to articulate, mostly having to do with what kind of Doctor you follow Matt Smith’s Doctor with: someone harder and much older and more dangerous and, yes, male feels right to me, as a storyteller. Where you go after that, ah, that’s a whole new game…

It doesn’t have to feel like that to you, nor am I telling you what to think. We’re talking stories here, and opinions after all, and your opinions are, obviously, as valid as mine.