shadow lantern


Life Still Goes On by Motonori Ando
Via Flickr:


These last 24 hours it’s been like the swedish weather has wanted to wipe away all the darkness and unhappiness that has spread over the world by covering Sweden in a thick and fluffy layer of pure, clean and pristine snow.

And since I recently found out my dear @highfaelucien had never seen or built a snow lantern I realised this was my chance to right at least one wrong in the world, so I went out into the calm, fluffy darkness to make her one this evening.

I give to you, The Lauren Lantern. 


Watcher of Dalman Gate by Henrik Sundholm
Via Flickr:
A goat watching one of the gates in the medieval wall surrounding Visby.

With BvS around the corner, I’d like to address the phrase “Batman is just a man. Superman would just punch him and kill him.” So allow me to list some things that this ‘just a man’ has accomplished.

  • Disarmed Green Lantern of his ring
  • Escaped being buried alive
  • Fought Superman and won
  • Kills the Justice League
  • The only human to ever dodge Darkseid’s omega beams
  • Solved endless puzzles and tricks by Ra’s, The Riddler, and Mad Hatter
  • Trained by the League of Shadows
  • Fought some of the strongest villains (Bane, Solomon, Clayface)
  • Stopped invasion of the Batcave by master assassins.

In conclusion, if you say Batman is ‘just a man’ you better know how to dodge omega beams.

Stupid Cupid, Chapter 4 (Caryl).

Sorry this is so late.  I had most of it written before the episode, but it was pretty short.  I wanted to be nicer to you guys than Gimple and his two minutes of Carol, so I went back and wrote another 500 words, lol.  Hope it was worth the wait. Mistakes are all mine.   

Carol and Daryl deal with their newfound popularity. 

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Chapter 1 excerpt from: Future That Never Was by Kin S. Law

My first thought upon setting boot in the tavern was a guilty pleasure. Sure, I had seen my share of beautiful bodies and vivacious visages, but those had been limited to lantern-lit shadow play, and jasmine-scented nights lingering like incense on the skin.

With my unshaven beard, it would be hard for the girls to tell I wasn’t a native. Kowloon might not be home anymore, but the girls there were short, slender, and demure. They spoke very little, giggled over men who looked like children, and covered their lily-pad feet with silk. I always thought of them as carefully tended orchids, easily plucked or crushed. Girls in this Dublin pub looked like a field of sunflowers: gold where Kowloon girls were dark, round where they were flat, some even tall enough to look me in the eye. My back straightened a couple vertebrae just asking for a table. Everywhere they moved they laughed and joked with the patrons. And what patrons they were, a dirty drunk, decadent, downtrodden, delinquent, dated, dour, diverse, different bunch.

A few gentlemanly types trawled through in various levels of stupor. Clinging to the girls and ordering liquor like water, the group inspired me in a mostly Sherwood Forest kind of way. I was not the only one. A quartet of sailors in waterproof slickers eyed the dandies, their coin occasionally drawing attention, but unable to compete with the gold fobs, expensive cigars lit with shining flintlocks, nor the frilly lace likely to disintegrate at the taste of salt. I sensed an upcoming confrontation. If the dandies left with the whole covey, some would likely see the end of a dagger. Say what you like about the dirigible age, but it does bring people together.