quirky fantasy

por Bill Tiepelman

Spellbound by Roses and Scales

Once upon a time in a realm not far from the corner of your wildest daydreams, there was an enchantress named Lyra. Known throughout the land for her shockingly bright red hair and her particularly unusual pet—a tiny emerald-green dragon—Lyra was both feared and admired, especially for her ability to bring roses into full bloom with a mere whisper. But today, Lyra had a problem. “Listen, Thorn,” Lyra muttered, adjusting her off-the-shoulder lace gown as she gave her tiny dragon an annoyed look. Thorn, who was coiled around her shoulder like a scaly scarf, yawned and blinked lazily at her with his ruby-red eyes. “You can’t keep stealing the villagers' socks!” she scolded him, plucking a rogue sock from his little claws. “Last week it was Balthazar’s best black stockings, and he still hasn’t stopped telling people I’m some kind of sock thief.” Thorn snorted, a wisp of smoke curling from his nostrils as he nuzzled her cheek innocently. The truth was, Thorn had a bit of a sock addiction. For reasons no one quite understood, the little dragon found socks irresistibly cozy—especially single socks, which he hoarded like a treasure trove beneath Lyra’s bed. She had tried giving him blankets, but they didn’t have quite the same appeal. No, it was socks or nothing for Thorn. The Sock Conundrum To make matters worse, Lyra’s roses were getting out of hand. The roses loved her so much they had started sprouting all over the place—particularly inconveniently when they appeared in her bath, her bed, and, last Tuesday, right in the middle of her morning toast. “It’s not fair,” she grumbled to Thorn, waving a toast crust at a particularly smug-looking rose that had taken root on her kitchen table. “I mean, sure, I’m the Enchantress of the Roses and all, but I’d like at least one part of my life that doesn’t involve thorns, petals, or that endless fragrance of roses. Honestly, it’s like living in a perfume shop.” Thorn cocked his head, as if to say, And your point is…? He stretched, flicked his tail, and hopped off her shoulder, sniffing around for new socks to pilfer. Lyra sighed, rolling her eyes. Thorn was an adorable pest, and she knew it. A New Challenge But Lyra’s rose problem was about to get worse. Much worse. One fateful evening, while she was sitting in her garden trying to unwind with a glass of elderflower wine, she heard a voice behind her. “Excuse me, miss?” Lyra jumped, almost spilling her wine, and turned to see an oversized rose standing behind her. It had a remarkably debonair appearance for a flower, complete with a tiny red velvet hat and an unmistakable smirk. “I—uh—hello?” Lyra stammered, wondering if perhaps she’d had a little too much wine. “No need to look so shocked, darling,” said the rose, whose voice was surprisingly smooth. “The name’s Roderick. Roderick the Rose. And I’m here to make you an offer.” The Rose’s Proposal Now, in Lyra’s line of work, she’d dealt with many a strange magical occurrence—talking owls, gossiping pixies, even a flirtatious tree—but a talking rose was new. “An offer?” she echoed, leaning back and crossing her arms. “Alright, Roderick, you’ve got my attention.” Roderick twirled one of his leaves and winked. “You, my dear, have a certain… problem. A rose problem, if you will. Roses popping up here and there, no matter where you go. I think you and I could come to an understanding.” Lyra raised an eyebrow. “I’m listening…” “You let me stay,” Roderick proposed, “as your personal garden companion—think of me as a rose advisor of sorts. In exchange, I’ll use my magical prowess to manage your rose situation. No more blooms where you don’t want them, and maybe even a few… extras where you do.” “Extras?” Lyra said, trying to hide her intrigue. “Oh, the possibilities are endless,” Roderick assured her, puffing himself up. “Imagine: roses that bloom in the moonlight, petals that glow with the colors of sunset, roses that sing arias on your birthday. Think about it.” Lyra couldn’t help but smile. “Fine,” she said. “You can stay. But one prank, Roderick, and you’re mulch.” Roderick winked, clearly thrilled, and wiggled his stem in what might have been a bow. And Then Came the Wine-Fueled Mishaps That night, Lyra celebrated her new partnership by pouring herself another glass of elderflower wine and giving Thorn a celebratory sock (he pounced on it with glee). Everything seemed perfect—that is, until she woke up the next morning. At first, she noticed nothing amiss. But as she got up and walked to the mirror, she let out a shriek. Roderick had taken his job way too seriously. Tiny roses were now woven into her hair, down her back, even into the very fabric of her gown. And the kicker? They were all humming. Quietly, but unmistakably humming. “Roderick!” she shouted, as Thorn watched in wide-eyed delight from the bed. “Explain yourself this instant!” Roderick appeared from beneath a nearby window sill, looking remarkably pleased with himself. “Just a small token of our new partnership, darling. A bit of morning ambiance, if you will.” “Ambiance?” Lyra sputtered. “You turned me into a walking rosebush with a musical soundtrack!” She spent the rest of the day plucking roses out of her hair, scolding Roderick every time he dared to smirk, and muttering about why she ever thought talking roses were a good idea. By nightfall, however, she had to admit… the humming roses were growing on her. Life, Laughter, and Ever-Blooming Roses As days turned into weeks, Lyra found herself adjusting to her new, unusual companions. Thorn, as usual, continued his sock-stealing habits, and Roderick developed a penchant for serenading her as she cooked dinner. And though Lyra might have grumbled and scolded, she couldn’t deny that life felt a little brighter, a little more magical, with her strange little family. In the end, Lyra learned to embrace the endless roses, the cheeky dragon, and the overly charming rose with the velvet hat. Life in the enchanted garden was a beautiful mess, and Lyra wouldn’t have it any other way. And the socks? Well, Thorn never did give them up. — The End —     Bring "Spellbound by Roses and Scales" Into Your Home If Lyra’s mystical world of roses, dragons, and whimsical enchantment has captured your imagination, you can now bring a piece of that magic home. Our exclusive collection inspired by Spellbound by Roses and Scales is available in a variety of beautiful products: Tapestry – Perfect for transforming any space into an enchanted garden. Throw Pillow – Add a touch of magic and comfort to your home decor. Puzzle – Piece together the story of Lyra and Thorn with this mesmerizing puzzle. Tote Bag – Carry a bit of fantasy with you wherever you go. Each product is crafted with high-quality materials, designed to immerse you in the allure of this enchanted artwork. Browse the full collection here and let Lyra’s whimsical world find a special place in your life. This captivating tale brings to life our February Queen from the Nature’s Queens: A Year of Female Fantasy Icons - 2025 Calendar. Meet Lyra, the enchantress with fiery red hair, a mischievous emerald dragon, and a rose garden that has a mind of its own. Her magical misadventures are filled with humor, charm, and a touch of fantasy whimsy. Dive into Lyra’s world and bring home the magic with our 2025 calendar – a year-long journey celebrating fierce, enchanting icons of nature. Explore the calendar here.

por Bill Tiepelman

The Guardian of Blossoms and Butterflies

Once upon a time in a meadow far from anywhere you’d find on a map, there lived an unusual creature who was known simply as “The Guardian.” She had the body of a snow leopard cub, but her ears had sprouted a pair of colorful butterfly wings—brilliant, fluttering things that added a whole new layer of flair to her already adorable appearance. A Peculiar Job with Peculiar Responsibilities Now, you might wonder how a leopard cub with butterfly wings on her head wound up as the "Guardian of Blossoms and Butterflies." Well, the truth is, it wasn’t exactly a job she applied for. In fact, she didn’t even know she had a job. One day, she was just out there in the meadow, lounging amongst the wildflowers, when a particularly opinionated bumblebee declared her “the perfect candidate for the role.” “A Guardian must be fierce but also look like they’ve been dipped in a rainbow!” he buzzed importantly. “You, my dear, are perfect.” Our young leopard cub had no idea what any of this meant. She wasn’t even sure what a “guardian” was, but she liked how it sounded. So, she puffed out her chest, wiggled her antennae, and accepted her new role with a modest but slightly smug smile. The Duties of the Meadow’s Guardian As The Guardian, her responsibilities were quirky at best and utterly baffling at worst. For instance, she was tasked with "protecting the harmony of the meadow." But in practice, this mostly meant scaring off creatures that disturbed the peace. “Shoo, you rowdy rabbits! Less thumping, more hopping!” she’d say, waving her butterfly ears at a group of cottontails who had taken to slam-dancing on the flowerbeds. The rabbits were generally unimpressed by her authority, though, and often bounced away while giggling about her “pretty butterfly hat.” But The Guardian also had her moments of triumph. There was the time she convinced a whole swarm of caterpillars to "cross the meadow in an orderly fashion," arranging them into a caterpillar conga line that stretched from one end of the meadow to the other. It was a sight to behold—and quite an improvement over the usual stampede of wriggling chaos. The Butterfly Misunderstanding Things took a turn for the bizarre when she met a butterfly named Myrtle who mistook her for a distant cousin. Myrtle was an overly chatty butterfly with a penchant for melodrama and an impressive lack of personal boundaries. “Oh, darling, I simply must introduce you to the family!” Myrtle exclaimed, looping around The Guardian’s ears in dizzying circles. “We have so much in common! The colors, the wings, the flair!” Before The Guardian could protest, Myrtle had organized a full butterfly family reunion around her head. At one point, no fewer than twenty butterflies had gathered around her ears, chatting about wing maintenance, petal gossip, and “the latest trends in pollination.” The Guardian didn’t understand a word of it, but she nodded politely as the butterflies fussed over her “exquisite antenna styling.” Enter the Grumpy Toad and a Quirky Friendship Just as she was beginning to think the butterfly brigade would never leave, a squat, elderly toad named Reginald hopped up to her. “Oy! Guardian! Could you kindly inform this swarm of flying color-splashes that some of us are trying to enjoy a peaceful nap?” he croaked irritably. Reginald was notorious in the meadow for his grumpiness and the suspicious way he regarded anything even remotely cheerful. But The Guardian found his sour attitude oddly endearing, and they quickly became unlikely friends. “I’ll handle the butterflies, Reginald,” she said in her most official Guardian voice. She cleared her throat and turned to Myrtle’s clan, who were mid-discussion about pollen prices. “All right, everyone, thank you for visiting! Please find your nearest flower and take a seat—quietly!” To her amazement, the butterflies actually complied, fluttering to various nearby flowers and folding their wings respectfully. Reginald grunted his approval and settled down beside her. The Night Watch and the Mysterious Glow One moonlit evening, Reginald, The Guardian, and her butterfly entourage noticed a mysterious glow rising from the far end of the meadow. “Probably just a firefly dance-off,” Reginald muttered dismissively. But The Guardian’s curiosity got the better of her, and she tiptoed closer, her wings and ears trembling with anticipation. As she approached, she discovered an enormous gathering of fireflies spelling out messages in their glow. Messages like “Be Kind” and “Eat More Wild Berries” floated above the flowers, pulsing gently in the night air. “It’s a wisdom ritual,” whispered Myrtle, who had followed close behind. “Once a year, the fireflies share their secrets with us.” The Guardian watched in awe, feeling a sense of peace wash over her. Her meadow wasn’t just a patch of grass with wildflowers and rambunctious rabbits—it was a place of magic, community, and even wisdom. Ending with a Laugh The next morning, The Guardian sat beside Reginald, recounting the fireflies’ messages. Reginald rolled his eyes but listened politely. “Eat more wild berries? What are we, herbivores?” he grumbled, giving her a sidelong glance. “I swear, Guardian, this meadow is getting weirder every year.” But The Guardian just smiled, watching a butterfly land on Reginald’s head as he sighed in resignation. As the sun rose over the meadow, The Guardian felt grateful for her odd life, her quirky friends, and her very strange but beloved job. She was, after all, the one and only Guardian of Blossoms and Butterflies—and she was exactly where she belonged.    Bring the Guardian's Magic Home If you fell in love with the whimsical world of "The Guardian of Blossoms and Butterflies," why not bring a piece of it into your own space? Explore our exclusive collection inspired by this magical character and the meadow she calls home. Each item captures the charm and enchantment of the Guardian and makes a perfect gift for fans of fantasy, art, and nature. Tapestry: Transform any wall into a mystical landscape with this vibrant tapestry featuring the Guardian in all her butterfly-eared glory. Throw Pillow: Add a touch of whimsy to your living space with this plush throw pillow, a delightful accent for any couch or bed. Puzzle: Immerse yourself in the Guardian's world piece by piece with a beautiful puzzle that reveals her story as you go. Tote Bag: Carry the magic of the meadow with you on all your adventures with this charming tote bag, perfect for art lovers on the go. Let these enchanting items remind you of the Guardian’s world and her quirky friends, and bring a dash of magic into your everyday life. Shop the full collection here.

por Bill Tiepelman

The Enchanted Duo in Plaid

The Enchanted Duo in Plaid: A Gnome’s Tale In the depths of the forest where the leaves whispered secrets and the wind tasted like honey mead, lived Gornick the Gnome, an eccentric figure known for his extravagant plaid hats and quirky antics. But Gornick wasn’t just any woodland gnome; he was the self-proclaimed "Master of Mischief" in the Hidden Valley of Outlandish Oddities, where magic and absurdity coexisted in a strange, whimsical harmony. One evening, as Gornick sat by his moss-covered toadstool, a puff of smoke erupted from his hat—his largest plaid hat yet. This was no ordinary hat. No, this one had "spells gone wrong" woven into its very fabric. Adorned with dried lavender, pinecones, and suspiciously crunchy berries, it was more of a magical misfire waiting to happen than a fashion statement. But Gornick didn't mind. In fact, he welcomed chaos with open, stubby arms. Sitting atop his lap was Lilith, his tiny witch companion, a doll-sized magical being with a knack for sarcasm and a heart as dark as a cauldron full of bat soup. She wasn’t just his companion; she was his little devil on the shoulder, whispering wicked ideas in his ear like, “Turn those squirrels into sock puppets!” or “Let’s hex the mushrooms to sing bawdy tavern songs at midnight.” One evening, Gornick had grown bored with his usual tricks—floating fireflies, making the river flow backwards for a laugh—so he decided it was time for a bit of real fun. "Hey Lilith," he said, scratching his scraggly beard, "How about we spice things up tonight? I’ve got just the spell." Lilith rolled her tiny, beady eyes, sitting cross-legged on his knee. "If this is like the last time when you ‘accidentally’ set your pants on fire, count me out. My hair still smells like burnt gnome." "That was not my fault!" Gornick protested. "The incantation book was in gnome-ish, and I’m more fluent in... well, whatever this is." He wiggled his fingers, causing a puff of glittery smoke to erupt from under his fingernails. "Besides, this one’s foolproof. We’re going to summon the Great Spirits of the Forest. It'll be a riot!" Lilith looked skeptical, which was her natural expression. "Foolproof, you say? Your last spell turned half the forest into tap-dancing frogs." "Fine," Gornick admitted. "That was a little froggy mishap, but this is different! Trust me, this spell will make us kings of the woodland!" He opened his ancient spellbook, which, truth be told, looked more like a gnomey shopping catalog from several centuries ago, with sections torn out and replaced with random doodles of mustaches. He chanted the incantation, his voice rising to a crescendo: "By the shadows of the twilight tree, by the dew on the midnight pea—oh spirits of the forest, come unto me!" Suddenly, the air grew thick with the scent of pine and something… else. A foul odor, like overcooked cabbage. The ground trembled, and with a great whooshing noise, a figure emerged from the mist. But it wasn’t the majestic, ethereal forest spirit Gornick had hoped for. Instead, it was a squat, greasy creature that looked suspiciously like… a disgruntled hedgehog? The spirit was dressed in a tattered bathrobe, holding a cup of what smelled like day-old coffee. His eyes glowed with the rage of someone who had been awoken from a deep nap. "Who the hell are you?" the hedgehog grumbled. "I—uh, we… summoned you?" Gornick stammered. "Aren't you the Great Spirit of the Forest?" The hedgehog scoffed. "Great Spirit? I’m Frank. And this better be good, because I was in the middle of something important." He sipped his coffee with an expression that said he clearly wasn't buying any of Gornick's nonsense. Lilith snorted, "Well, looks like your foolproof spell just summoned Frank, the slightly cranky hedgehog." Gornick’s face turned a shade of beetroot. "Okay, okay, I admit this is not what I expected. But I can fix this!" He flipped furiously through his spellbook. "Aha! Here we go. This should give us something... bigger!" With a wave of his hand and a chant that sounded suspiciously like someone gargling rocks, Gornick cast another spell. This time, the ground split open, and from the fissure, out crawled a… giant turnip with eyes. It blinked slowly, then looked at Frank. "This… is my cousin," Frank said flatly. "Turny. You’ve summoned a turnip." The enormous vegetable let out a low groan, then belched, filling the air with the smell of compost and rotting leaves. Gornick waved his hands frantically. "Wait, wait, I can fix this!" Lilith was laughing hysterically at this point, nearly falling off Gornick’s lap. "Oh, please don’t. This is the best entertainment I’ve had in centuries!" As Gornick tried to conjure another spell, Turny the turnip had already started wreaking havoc, flattening trees with its massive root-like arms, while Frank the hedgehog looked on in complete disinterest. "I’m gonna need more coffee," Frank muttered before strolling off into the woods, completely unbothered by the chaos. Gornick finally gave up, tossing the spellbook aside. "Well, this is a fine mess," he sighed, watching as Turny knocked over an ancient oak tree with a loud thud. Lilith, wiping away tears of laughter, patted his arm. "You know what, Gornick? Never change. Life with you is like living in a bizarre fever dream." "Yeah, well, at least it's never boring," Gornick grinned. And so, as the turnip rampaged through the forest and Frank disappeared into the mist, Gornick and Lilith sat together, watching the absurdity unfold, content in their strange, magical world where nothing ever went quite as planned—and that’s exactly how they liked it.     If you enjoyed this whimsical tale and the enchanting image of Gornick the Gnome and Lilith, you can bring the magic home! Prints, merchandise, digital downloads, and licensing for the artwork are available at our gallery here. Explore a wide range of options to add a touch of woodland magic to your collection!