you know when it gets to the point where you’re really sick of colouring. i reached that on page 2.
Anyway, the end of ptolemy’s gate in (sort of) comic form for ya. Enjoy…or cry, you know whichever. :)
It’s eight hours, twenty-four minutes and thirty-three seconds since I finished Ptolemy’s Gate, and I still carry its emotional distress. Who do you think is the lucky one?
“Well, it was my first time as a raven. And I’d had to alter in the dark. What did he expect? But it wasn’t the time or place to argue. I changed the beak.”
Bartimaeus and Faquarl as ravens. Based on a scene from The Amulet of Samarkand.
This took me forever to animate, so I hope you guys enjoy.
YOU ARE AMAZING.
the bartimaeus trilogy —> opening and closing lines [click for full size]
Jonathan Stroud, The Ring of Solomon (via adesideratum)
The gangly effect was heightened by his choice of clothes: a swanky suit, so tight it looked as if it had been painted on, a ridiculous long black coat, dagger-sharp shoes, and a flouncy handkerchief the size of a small tent hanging from his breast pocket. You could tell he thought he looked terribly dashing.
- The Golem’s Eye (Bartimaeus Volume 2)
this is why you don’t let teenage magicians pick out their own clothes
Doing a bit of animating based on the Bartimaeus triology.
Bartimaeus transforming from pigeon to gargoyle form.
Ptolemy’s Gate by Jonathan Stroud, pg 38 (British Version)
Neverending list of books that everyone should read ∟Bartimaeus, by Jonathan Stroud
“According to some, heroic deaths are admirable things. I’ve never been convinced by this argument, mainly because, no matter how cool, stylish, composed, unflappable, manly, or defiant you are, at the end of the day you’re also dead. Which is a little too permanent for my liking.”
‘You know,’ I said huskily, ‘I’ve got low standards, myself. And sometimes I even have trouble meeting them. But torturing other spirits? Keeping them captive? That’s new. I’ve never even heard of that before.’ I raised a hand and brushed away a smear of essence that was trickling from my nose. ‘And the amazing thing is,’ I went on, ‘that’s not the worst of it. That’s not your real crime.’ I flicked a ringlet of hair back behind a handsome ear, dropped my hands to my sides. ‘You love your master. You love your master. How could any spirit decend to that?’
The Ring of Solomon by Jonathan Stroud (pg 204, British Version)