#AY EDMUND

[drummer-from-down-under]

You can't tell me that this boy wouldn't have loved The Lost Boys if he had just lived for another 8 years

[eucidianlyendless]

Not quite what I intended to start as my latest art post, but I might as well start off with the most cringiest thing ever.

If you know, you know.

[darkbluekies]

You are quite the artist, I demand illustrations in every one to your story's form now on!

Ay ay captain

Here's a drawing of Edmund looking out the window at the forest fire in a little game

And for the moment there are no more of these exclusive oen of a kind masterpieces so may I interest you in book covers inspjred by real traditional physical book covers for some oneshots that yours truly has created

I was supposed to make more but I... didn't?

[1donoow]

MIX FANDOM FANFIC REC PT.1

[Fanfics i've read]

Edited

......

♡ - smut

Mostly fluff

......

The letter room [richard alonzo muñoz]

MPHFPC [Alma peregrine][Enoch O'Connor]

encanto [the madrigals][camilo madrigal]

a series of unfortunate events [klaus baudelaire][violet baudelaire]

harry potter [weasley twins][neville longbottom][luna lovegoods]

narnia [Edmund pevensie]

triple frontier [santiago garcia]

·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·

———THE LETTER ROOM———

richard alonzo muñoz

@marvel-and-mischief - matching pyjamas

——————MPHFPC——————

@dapperappleton - imagine being an ymbryne and having your own loop

- imagine taking care of clair and olive

·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·

Alma peregrine

@vostokovasmelina - sleeping next to alma lefay perigine would include

@multifandomfix - imagine alma loving it when you paint her and the children

@zafirosreverie - an special case

·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·

Enoch O'Connor

@she-writes-with-kisses - quiet

- space jump

@dapperappleton - imagine being able to create death and dating enoch

@clean-bands-dirty-stories - shirtsleeves

@klineinie - blanketed

@imaginefan - story time

@y2fandom - sending him cute things

@frost-queen - no pain

@maeby-bby - you fluster me

@pink-princess-pussy-pop - dating enoch would include

————— ENCANTO ——————

madrigal

@cloud-9ine - madrigal reacting to being called their full name

@camilosnovia - there's two of them

- Madrigal Adults reacting to child!reader giving them gifts

·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·

Camilo madrigal

@sesamestreet47 - camilo w/ a tall s/o

- Camilo with a shy, sweet girlfriend

- friends

@nixthewolf - camilo simping over reader

@radiorenjun - shape-shifting frolics

@madrihoes - camilo nickname

@cloud-9ine - with or without you

@magicalencanto - camilo's s/o having power like pepa

@multificsworld - ___

- Tu Alma Tan Hermosa, Como La Luna

@caramellahoney - future daughter-in-law

- wait no wait-

@luvrcami - camilo headcannon

@bumblesimagines - being friends with camilo

@mihlo - camilo with fem s/o who wears glasses

@dos-oroguitas - angelita

- ay mamacita

— A SERIES OF UNFORTUNATE EVENTS —

klaus Baudelaire

@strangerdangerwrites - incompatible

@a-second-hand-sorrow - goodnight

- Not a problem

@ssadumba55 - not that easy

·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·

violet Baudelaire

@trustsalvatorewriting - dating violet Baudelaire would include

————HARRY POTTER————

@archivesofthevoid - Pulling their hair while making out

- The boys (+ Percy) stealing a kiss on the way to class hc

@lithiumfae - sexy habits they have (marauders)

·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·

weasley twins

@therandomficwriter - The Weasley Twins Having A Crush On You

@lilahisntsadanymore - Slytherin sunshine (fred)

@moonlit-imagines - ___

@therandomficwriter - weasley twins with a non ticklish s/o

·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·

neville longbottom

@hogwartseighthyear - crush

@very-unsirius - blurb

·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·

luna lovegoods

@iamthemain-character - Falling in Love with Luna Lovegood

@fromforeigntofamiliarity - taming cowardly lions

@sublimecatgalaxy - ___

——————NARNIA——————

Edmund pevensie

@pink-princess-pussy-pop - dating edmund would include

@wrenwreads - she's enough

- wardrobe malfunctions

@witchthewriter - being king edmund's wife would include

@pariahsparadise - warm pt.2

———TRIPLE FRONTIER ———

@violentdelightsandviolentends - tethered ♡

·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·

santiago garcia

@stormkobra-5 - ___♡

[pierrotwrites-hc]

Part III Ch1 sneak peek

Bartimaeus Kemp came down the gangplank and onto the wind-scraped beach to meet his king. Bestride a dark horse, cloak tossed over his shoulder, Kenever looked every inch the grandson of Roland the Conqueror. He had the upright carriage of a soldier, while the thick black hair touched with gray at the temples gave him a scholar’s gravitas. His stiff double-breasted tunic was styled after the Solasan officer’s uniform he’d worn for most of his adult life, but the gray wool was embroidered with the sigil of his Guyish mother’s house. He was the living embodiment of royal diplomacy.

This is what a king should look like, thought Kemp as he bowed.

Kenever swung down from his horse and made the royal sign before clasping Kemp’s hands in his.

“It is so good to see you, Kemp. I trust the voyage wasn’t too difficult?”

Before Kemp could answer, Tam Tregeryth jumped down from the gangplank. As he straightened, the sun caught on his handsome, smiling face. Kemp felt Kenever's hands tighten involuntarily around his own.

Tam winked at Kenever—Indiscreet, Kemp chided in his mind—before bowing. Kenever released Kemp and went to Tam. They stood simply looking at each other, Tam beaming, Kenever almost smiling—which, for him, was as good as the broadest grin. He was not a man who showed emotion in his face.

Rather like the Golden Bird in that way, thought Kenever.

It was not a thought he would ever share, except perhaps with Emine. Likening a king to a pleasure slave was a bridge too far, even for a man with politics as radical as Kemp’s.

Still, comparing the two in his mind, he could see clearly how marked they both were, Kenever by navigating Highcourt’s perilous waters as the second son of a weak king and Luca from whatever horrors had been visited upon him at the training house. Both had grown into men whose implacable exteriors served as armor for what lay beneath.

It had been Kemp and Kemp alone who saw their potential. As he watched Kenever mount his horse, he allowed himself a moment of satisfaction at how well his investment had turned out.

Mounting his own horse proved the usual combination of painful and humiliating. Kemp was keeping himself up by a death-grip on the damn thing’s mane while trying to maneuver his good foot into the stirrup when strong arms lifted him up and placed him on the saddle. He looked down to see Tam grinning at him.

“I thought you’d lost weight since we left Absalom, Teacher.”

“Testing a theory, were you?” said Kemp, returning the smile.

“Aye, and right I was! We’ll need to fatten you up once we get to Castle Guye.”

Kemp laughed. It was always a marvel to him how little Tam had changed from the lively, good-humored boy he’d once been. Then again, it wasn’t as if Tam had ever endured the hardship that changes a man’s character. The sun had shone on him all his life. Kemp suspected it always would.

As they rode along the rocky beachhead, Kenever pulled his horse alongside Kemp’s. Kemp had been expecting to be taken aside for a conference, but he was surprised when the first words out of Kenever’s mouth were, “Teacher, I need your advice.”

“Of course, my dear boy,” said Kemp, lapsing into their usual informal address.

“It’s about my half-sister, Amelia—or rather, her sons. What do you know of my nephews?”

Had anyone else asked the question, Kemp's answer would have been painstakingly neutral. Fortunately, Kenever rarely wanted anything but the truth.

And the truth was what Kemp gave him. He described Edmund, Amelia’s eldest, who had all his mother’s vanity but none of her shrewdness. This was to be expected: Edmund was good-looking, which Amelia never had been, and as a man, he hadn’t needed to learn the low cunning and subtle games his mother made her art. Indeed, a man in Edmund’s position needed to play no games at all. He’d been cursed with too much of everything: wealth, breeding, beauty. It had, in Kemp’s estimation, resulted in an idle, stulted mind.

So much for Edmund. Rafe was another matter. He had the potential to be very dangerous indeed. He’d been born to the same banquet of riches, but his eyes were never on his own plate, always on Ademar’s. They were very alike, the King and his cousin. Decadent, ruthless, childlike. That streak of immaturity came out in Ademar’s tantrums and lethally short attention span. In Rafe it manifested as a monstrous yet fragile pride. Even minor or accidental slights he took as mortal wounds. Every act of perceived disrespect obsessed him. His reprisals were carefully planned, totally merciless, and undeniably brilliant—cruelty being perhaps the only sort of brilliance he was capable of.

Kenever listened silently, the furrow in his brow deepening. When Kemp finished, he shook his head.

“Sometimes I believe what they say about my father’s first wife having cursed blood,” he said. “What about Amelia’s youngest, Tobias?”

“There I can offer very little. I met Lord Tobias only once, when we visited Chesten after the death of your royal brother, may he feast in the Hall of Rest.”

Kemp paused, trying to recall the young Lord Tobias. A memory took shape of an unloved and unlovely child, unwilling or unable to speak, lurking at the back of every gathering until the opportunity came to make his escape.

“A lonely boy,” said Kemp at last, “and quite desperately unhappy.”

“Yes, that was my impression as well,” said Kenever, sighing. “When I heard my sister had sent him to squire for that lowborn General, I worried for him. Well, it seems the General sent him away; my scouts found him wandering in the Wychwood. He’s at Castle Guye now.”

“As your guest?”

“A guest with a room locks from the outside. He’s already tried to run away once, you see. Something about a slave he had some attachment to.”

“Ah, so he takes after his father the Duke.”

Kenever shot him a humorous look.

“It doesn’t seem to be that sort of attachment, thank the gods. I almost wish it were; that would make him a little easier to understand. He’s a very strange young man. More like a boy, really. The tantrums he throws! He’s got the servants convinced he’s spirit-ridden. I tell you, Teacher, what Amelia was thinking sending him to war I'll never know. A blind man could see he has no promise as an officer.”

Kenever was an even-tempered man, but there was outrage in his voice. No mystery why; Kenever had himself been an inconvenient youngest son sent off to war too soon. Fortunately he had all the promise Tobias apparently lacked.

“Would you mind interviewing my wayward nephew, Teacher?” Kenever asked. “You have Akena’s eye, you always have. You see things in people they don’t see in themselves. I should know,” he added with a hint of that self-deprecation which Kemp had always felt it so important for a king to have (or, at least, pretend to have).

“It would be my pleasure, Your Highness.”

“I’ll count it as a favor.”

“Really, my dear boy, there are no favors between us.”

Kemp had been vaguely aware of Tam and his friends playing some game which involved trying to shove each other off their horses and over the ridge. Now he galloped past Kenever with a taunting whistle. Kenever gave a shout of mock outrage and kicked his horse forward. Kemp would be the first to admit that his was a cold heart, but watching his former pupils spar and jest, he felt it thaw a little.

The warm feeling lasted exactly as long as it took to arrive at Castle Guye.

[livelaughnarnia]

better luck next time

warnings : a badly written duel/fight scene, slight angst at the start cuz they miss each other

word count : 1.2k

edmund stepped out of the portal in his own world, already missing her, missing narnia. he was so glad he could go back, but him and lucy didn’t know how long they would have to wait this time. they didn’t know if it was going to be a few months or a few years, but the time they were back in their own world was spent thinking about narnia.

y/n and caspian were busy at work leading a kingdom, and yet still they found time to think about their lovers. y/n and caspian weren’t siblings as such, but they had grown up together in such a way that anyone who didn’t know them could mistake the two for siblings. y/n was the child of caspian’s uncle miraz, which you would think would mean the two would be enemies, but y/n had in fact been raised by the professor working in the castle, her mother and father having only been young royals when she was born. y/n and caspian had been friends since they could remember, always doing everything together, so it was no surprise when they decided to lead narnia together. y/n, despite being intelligent, was much better with her sword than with a quill. therefore caspian was left to political matters while y/n was left to deal with military matters, a subject she enjoyed thoroughly. the two also knew how to throw a party, growing up inside the castle they had been to their fair share of balls and other various events. currently, both were aboard the dawn treader, one of the finest ships narnia had seen. drinian, the captain, was a master of the seas, he had been sailing most of his life and the two royals trusted him with their lives. the rest of the crew was composed of relatively normal sailors and narnians. the dawn treader hadn’t been sailing long and conditions were good, but the royals were looking for something in particular. something they couldn’t find in their own land.

water began to rise around edmund, he watched as it took his sister under and soon his cousin eustace too. he swam up, watching the room they had been sat in disappear around him. eventually he broke the surface of the water, shouting for lucy he shaded his eyes from the bright narnian sun, watching as a large ship came towards them. “ed! edmund!” he heard lucy shout from behind him. he turned to see her and eustace, swimming towards them and away from the ship. “who do you think is on the ship?” lucy asked, trying to keep herself afloat. they watched as crew began to dive from the ship, swimming towards them, eustace began to panic, and they all began to swim away from the crew. “it’s alright i’ve got you.” said caspian as he grabbed lucy, stopping her from slipping under the water. “caspian!” lucy shouted, excited the see the young king again. “let’s get you back on the ship ay?”

“caspian it’s great to see you again!” said ed, “if your here, where’s y/n? did you leave them to rule while your gone?” he asked curiously, hoping y/n was in fact on the boat too. he had missed them so. “i’m right here ed!” they exclaimed from behind him. he turned and enveloped them in a hug. “i’ve missed you.” they said in unison, giggling like lovesick teens. “y/n here didn’t come to save you as they didn’t want to get their hair wet!” caspian laughed. “hey! cas, you know i only managed to get it to look good today! i wasn’t ruining it!” they retorted, turning to lucy and pulling her in for a hug, “i missed you too, lu! don’t tell ed but your my favourite sibling.” they whispered. lucy laughed returning their hug before eustace screeched out. “you better tell me what’s going on right now! i’ll report you to the british consulate! have you arrested for kidnapping!” y/n began to chuckle at the boys outburst, walking towards him and reaching out their hand. “queen/king y/n of narnia, welcome to the dawn treader!” they smiled warmly at the boy, trying hard not to giggle at the boys reluctance. “eustace scrubb, those two over there happen to be my cousins, theyre always going on about this place called narnia, quite annoying really-” he was cut off by a minotaur “your in narnia boy!” eustace turned, and before he could even reply, he passed out, probably from the shock of seeing a minotaur. “something i said?”

“y/n here has actually been leading narnias military at the minute, theyre better than you with a sword now ed!” caspian bragged, watching as she rolled her eyes and edmund gasped. “how about a duel then?” ed smirked, watching y/n think about his offer. “why so i can beat you ed?” y/n smirked back. now the crew had started to gather, excited to watch the action unfold. “the people want to see it.” said lucy laughing. “we cant disappoint the people ed!” y/n laughed too. they unsheathed their sword as edmund did the same with his. “first to be disarmed loses!” y/n exclaimed as they pointed their sword at edmund. “fine, but if i win…” he pondered, “you have to tell the kingdom i’m a better swordsman!” y/n scoffed. “just wait until i beat you!”

their swords clashed as the duel began, onlookers passing whispers between themselves, betting on who they suspected would win. y/n swung their sword towards edmunds leg, he jumped narrowly avoiding the blow before sending his sword towards their shoulder. the clang of metal resonated as they blocked his hit. y/n took a deep inhale, taking a step towards edmund before swinging, narrowly missing his head. their swords met again, and this time y/n managed to turn theirs just at the right angle, watching as edmund struggled to keep a hold of his sword they lightly kicked his abdomen, pulling their sword away and watching him stumble back slightly. onlookers watched with intent as edmunds sword left his hand. the blade fell almost in slow motion before hitting the deck, the sound declaring y/n victorious. they cheered, watching edmund flush red after being beaten so easily. “better luck next time ed!” caspian shouted from the sidelines, and y/n swore they could hear the exchanging of coins from the crew. “yeah ed, looks like the kingdom will never hear how good of a swordsman you are!” y/n laughed.

“what do you want?” asked ed. “what?” “for winning, what do you want?” he asked again. y/n thought for a moment before walking closer towards edmund. “it depends, how much of your dignity are you willing to sacrifice?” they quirked an eyebrow, trailing their fingers across the buttons of his tunic and glancing towards their small wardrobe. “all of it for you y/n” “good”

“ed! you look hilarious!” lucy and caspian were crying with laughter as edmund strutted out in y/n’s clothes. “y/n i cant believe this is what you made me do!” he began to turn red as he watched the crew stare at him, beginning to laugh when he continued walking further onto the deck. “that’s what you get for losing king edmund!” shouted drinian.

[thecharlestonroyalfamily]

Henrik's office; Charleston Palace; late fall 2062

Henrik: Look Ben you're not in any trouble. Ben: It sure doesn't seem like it. Michael: We just want to talk. Henrik: Ben, I know you know that getting spotted by these tabloid photographers is bad for your image. So the question is why does it keep happening.

Ben: It happens because I don't care to check every corner of a club before having some fun alright. Michael: What about your security? Surely they could check. Ben: Yeah I don't take those with me. Henrik: Why on earth would you not?! Ben: It seriously isn't such a big deal why are you so uptight about this?

Henrik: "It isn't such a-?" *sigh * Ben you KNOW it is a big deal. Without security you could end up in danger. And the photos affect your image as a prince. Which is your job should I need to remind you. And like any job that comes with responsibilities. Ben: Well I sure as hell didn't ask to be a prince now did I. Michael: No you didn't, which is why your father and I have offered all you kids a chance to do something else. Henrik: Which you have not taken by the way.

Ben: Yeah and give up this life of luxury for what? A desk job? Yeah no thanks. Henrik: Ben your title isn't just some free pass you can use to get free clothing and an invitation to all the hottest parties. If you want to keep it you WILL have to start treating it as more then that. Ben: But it sort of is that dad. Henrik: Absolutely not! You are the second in the succession! If anything were to happen to me- Ben: Then Rora would take the crown and I'd keep on going as I always have. It's not like she'd pass the chance to have it. Michael: KARL-BENJAMIN EDMUND WILLIAM HAAKON!

Ben: Wow the full name treatment. Alright Watcher, if it's such a big deal for you I'll be more careful. Henrik: *sigh * That's all we ask. Michael: See you at dinner kid. The door closes behind Ben.

Henrik: By the Matron, what will we do with that child of ours? I wonder if this is how mom felt with Helene back in the day. Michael: Based on what Helene's told us I'd say she was worse. Henrik: *chuckles* I suppose. Michael sees Henrik is still worrying. Michael: Hey none of that. Henrik: None of what?

Michael: Pouting. As cute you are this will all be okay, alright? Try to remember we too were 24 once. Henrik: Hmm, if I remember correctly at 24 I was happily married to you and one year away from becoming King. Michael: Ah that you were weren't you. Hmm your rebellious youth phase was rather short. Henrik: Well I did have an international sex scandal with you. So I'm still one up on Ben in that. Michael: Oh dear Gods let's hope they spare us from that.

Henrik: Indeed my dear husband. Now please shut up and kiss me Michael: *laughs* Aye aye my love.

[fourchuu]

Day 19: Palette 1

I'm so excited for this I wrote for every palette lol

Character(s): Xanthe

Wc: 516

The ocean was obviously a deep blue, but the golden gates protecting the high blood trolls showed a different hue of water. As the water grew closer to the marble palace of the Heiress the water grew more purple and pink.

Within the palace there was the soft white marble with deep purple rugs and bold fuchsia drapes. A pristine eye making sure to have the blood colors pop as strongly as possible.

Xanthe was never the biggest fan of the bright, eye-catching fuchsia color; she was quite content with her muted shade of rose, still falling into the Fuchsia Caste. But, similar to her blood color, she was more interested in decorating in paler colors, softer lilac-esque purples and muted rose pinks. While she didn't mind the whole palace being decorated the way it was, Xanthe was determined to make her living quarters more her taste.

Her drawing room was a purple tinted marble, adding some depth to the otherwise lifeless white of the palace. Here her furniture was the standard gold chairs and sofas, cushions being the bold fuchsia color of the Heiress, but her personal touches: the drapes, rugs, flowers, pillows, these were all softer shades of pinks and purples.

The rugs were a muted amethyst, ornate tufting with rose colored flowers adorning plum stems and leaves. Xanthe adored her rug, it was far more plush than one would expect. She enjoyed sitting on it as she mailed and texted her friends.

As she lays here, back along the rug, legs folded upwards to have her spine fully stretch along the rug. She often keeps an iron grip on her phone, and even with her efforts she has had the occasional slip where her phone plants itself right onto her nose or chin.

Feeling herself grow bored from staring at her phone, Xanthe begins rolling onto her side, slowing sitting up.

'What to do.'

Lips puffed and frowned, Xanthe thinks along the list of what can cure her boredom. She's done her duties for the week: attended her classes, cleaned up her areas, talked to her courtiers. But what to do now?

She could walk around the palace, but that's also boring.

'Some high blood will ask me to help them or something.'

While that thought wouldn't be all too dreadful, right now Xanthe doesn't need some stuffy high blood giving back handed comments while pressuring her to help them with something probably having to do with the Heiress.

'Edmund?' Xanthe thinks, 'No, he's probably in one of his classes. Maybe fencing or violet blood stuff with his dad. Hmm.'

Getting up, Xanthe begins walking around her quarters. Checking the fireplace, the tall bookshelves, even under her bed. Seeing her tub of yarn she shakes her head.

'My hands still ache from the skirt I made last week.'

Feeling her phone vibrate, Xanthe looks down to see who texted her.

"Ah!" She says happily.

'Wanna g8 sh8pping l8er?' Aleena texted.

':D Your fish is my command! When?' Xanthe texts back.

'Ab8ut an h8ur? I'm stuck doing something for Sylvee right n8w.'

'Aye, aye!'

[lorellaishc]

Turning Tides

(( DWC November 2023, Day 3, Inspiration/Unresolved, CW: combat, violent death; @daily-writing-challenge ))

Lorellai rolled away from a blast of flame launched at her by a flame-scarred druid, barely avoiding the worst of the heat even as the caster began another incantation. She drew up to one knee, and put her fingers in her mouth to let out a sharp whistle.

The druid sneered at Lorellai, the cruelty on her face plain to see. "No one will stop us from recovering our perfect immortality!" the druid shouted, the flames flaring bright in her hands. Lorellai coughed.

"Yeh won't be seein' it!" the girl shouted back, as a form loomed up behind the druid. The smack of a wet sticky tongue caused her to lose concentration on her spell, and the look of fear and confusion on her face was almost comical as Stroganoff pulled her into his mouth, biting down hard. Her legs kicked twice, and then stopped while the mighty hornswog burbled, bathing his victim in his molten juices. Stroganoff was not one to play nice when his dwarf was in danger.

"Good boy, good, good boy!" Lorellai said, pulling herself to her feet and leaning on Stroganoff to steady herself. Her arms felt like jelly, and she didn't need a mirror to know she was covered in soot and minor burns. She'd had to toss her bomb pouch for fear of it cooking off, and the rest of her gear was in rough shape from the hours of fighting for the Wellspring. She pulled her goggles down, wiping the lenses clean as she scanned the battlefield for her friends. Down the way, Ghorren, Edmund, Shansii and the rest were holding back a swarm of primalists and fire elementals with everything they had, while further down the line she could see the Kaldorei and the Dragons being hard pressed. She'd been tasked with helping knock out the ritual towers the primalists had created to block arcane spells, and she had done her part of the job, but it had taken everything she had. Lorellai was exhausted. They all were.

A pained roar interrupted her reverie. She gasped as she saw Alexstrasza fall, struck from the air by Fyrakk, both taking their visage forms down below, out of her range. She zoomed in, seeing them speak, seeing Fyrakk raise his axe... and then she saw the smile on the dragonqueen's face. Zooming out, she saw the portals opening, and the smile that grew on her face threatened to split it in two. Their friends from the dragon isles, the Kirin tor, and the heroes of the Alliance and Horde emerged, and forced Fyrakk to retreat. A horn blew, and she saw the banner of the Argent Crusade flying, and knew that her uncle Dolraan was down there as well.

A burst of arcane energy flared from the other side of Stroganoff, catching her attention. She had barely moved to look and see what it was when she was grabbed and pulled into a familiar hug. "Och, lass, there yeh are! Oh I'm so proud of yeh!" Drogar yelled, holding her close enough she worried she might not be able to breathe. Well, she'd held her breath for worse reasons, and she just gripped him tight, burying her face into his beard like she had when she was little.

"Oh da," she said when he loosened his grip, "it's been real hard out here, harder than any of your stories!" Drogar beamed at her as he continued to hold her, feeling her shudder as she tried not to cry.

"I know lass. Some things the stories can never get across. But you've done so bloody well, and I'm so bloody proud of yeh. But there's more t' do, so why don't we get on down and finish up this fight so we can catch up proper, aye?" he declared, stepping back and pulling a rifle and one of his combat mecha-squirrels from their place on his back. He tossed his daughter a potion that was caught and eagerly gulped down, restoring her stamina.

"Alright dad, let's do this." Lorellai declared, hefting her spear, and shouting a warcry as she charged down the hill, Stroganoff at her side and her father at her back. They had a battle to win.

[whatthecrowtold]

#unhallowedarts The Tale Of Lohengrin, Wagner and the Golden Age of Illustration

“Aye , quick it is with the seeds of

change

With blessing and with bane.

But I deem it a thousand years shall run

Or ever beneath the open sun Thy voice shall sound again”

(T.W. Rolleston)

It was a knight in shining armour all right, albeit not white-steeded but pulled up the river Scheldt by a white swan, to save Elsa, ubiquitous damsel in distress, from dark Count Telramund’s cabal to usurp the Duchy of Brabant. In trial by combat, goes without saying, as it was the custom back in the days of King Henry the Fowler, which were at the turn of the 10th century when the place was part of the East-Frankish kingdom of Austrasia. Or so Richard Wagner would have it in his usually somewhat giddy take on Medieval epics and historical events. The valiant’s name, however, was Lohengrin, the one from Lothringen, Lorraine, obfuscating the man’s true origins: Lohengrin hailed from the grail castle Monsalvat, Wagner’s scene for “Parsifal” thirty years after “Lohengrin” premiered in Weimar in 1850.

Lohengrin’s mystical provenance is one of the arch-Romantic opera’s central motifs and, of course, the Germans have a word for it, “Frageverbot”, the forbidden question after the man’s origins, checking at least two of the “tall, dark, stranger” three boxes. Lohengrin is a luminous figure, but a rather sad one and the story ends in tears when the hero sails, swan-propelled, into the sunset after his work is done. Bitter, but Wagner and the zeitgeist wouldn’t have it any other way.

The tale of Lohengrin itself hails back to the High Middle Ages, honourably mentioned by Wolfram von Eschenbach in the early 13th century as Garin le Loherain in the minnesinger's “Parsifal”, gets two own contemporary verse epics and several variants of the swan knight theme over the next centuries until Wagner collected them all and crammed the rich material into his three hour opera, along with heroics from antiquity, elements that were perceived as Germanic paganism in the rather clouded view of the 19th century on Iron Age customs and beliefs and politics of Wagner’s own day when the Germans fought for their national unity. Along with romanticised Christian mysticism. Lohengrin is a grail knight, after all. And they do get properly married, Elsa and Lohengrin, to the sounds of “Here Comes the Bride”, no less, faithfully guided, “Treulich geführt” in Wagner’s original German from the opera’s libretto, a tune heard at the fabled joyous event across the globe ever since a Prussian royal wedding in 1858.

Wirkmächtig, efficacious, and if only for said tune, even if the topic borrowed from the old tale of Zeus and Semele, the metaphysic being hiding its true identity because the partner-to-be, as the saying goes, “can’t handle the truth” should raise every imaginable red flag, Romantic mystery or not. Even if Lohengrin reveals his true identity in the end, before his picturesque exeunt when the king calls to arms to make war against the pagan marauding Hungarians down South.

On that note, it is not without irony that Willy Pogany, born in 1882 in the back-then Austro-Hungarian city of Szeged, illustrated the tale of Wagner’s “Lohengrin” for Rolleston’s retelling with rich imagery that equals that of the better known Arthur Rackham’s of the “Ring” trilogy published around the same time. Pogany’s “Lohengrin” hit the booksellers’ shelves in 1911, along with “Parsifal” and “Tannhäuser”, when precious “gift books”, illuminated by the luminaries of the Golden Age of Illustration, were still all the rage as Christmas presents in a time when “education” was a hallmark of what passed as “better classes” back in the day.

Pogany, pronounced PO-gahn, immigrated to the US before the Great War turned the world upside down in Europe, after getting properly married in London, revealing his true identity from the very beginning, goes without saying. He continued to illustrate mainly children’s books and stuck to his Art Nouveau-influenced style that sometimes reminds of Edmund Dulac, albeit with stronger lines and expressions than the Anglo-French better-known master would come up with in his dreamy takes on often the same themes as Pogany took on.

T.W. Rolleston retelling of Wagner's "Lohengrin" along with all of Willy Pogany's enchanting (and often quite dark) illustrations can be cherished following the link to a facsimile below:

[thrifted-thread]

One thing about me is

I'll turn on medieval lofi music at night and start cleaning the kitchen to feel like a tavern keeper at the end of the day and say shit like, "Aye, that storms only just begun..." "I need to tell Edmund to get more candles when he goes to market in the morn..."

[blooddrinkingbartender]

theotherrookie

"I'll be honest. I wanted to be the one to kick your butt because you did the same for me." It only felt right to her to return the favor. But there would be time to discuss everything later, preferably in Lucien's absence. He was doing his best to appear to be doing just fine, but his stance was off. Hearing what his past misdeeds would not be helpful at the moment. "Glad to help." he gave a polite nod. Edmund tipped his hat, "Jolly t' see ye too! I 'eard ye've got a job fer me." "Yes, so, we've got a Cat Sidhe on the loose and we need some time to reorganize. I need you and the others to spread around the city and keep track of what he's up to. Just watch, don't get too close." "Belay dat. Is dat the same cat ye helped afore?" "It's him. So I need you to be my eyes and ears for a bit. And don't tell mom." "Ay, ay, Cap'n!" Edmund saluted, before disappearing. Rook then started heading back into the shop to grab some supplies for the trip, Lucien trailing after her. "Shouldn't you have a witty remark to go with this?" he asked. She tilted her head in thought for a moment, "…Cat season's open." It didn't take long for the order to be passed around and soon enough, the Queen's crew split up to search the area and keep an eye on Antonio's movements. They trusted Rook's judgement and would simply watch, regardless of what he might get up to in the meantime.

"Heh, maybe you'll get another opportunity after this," Bill said, with a small grin, "Life has its ways, you know."

And it seemed that was all he was willing to stay on that particular subject. He had never liked having to keep Rook held back with his abilities, even if it had been for everyone's safety.

It seemed that Edmund was up to the task, and Leofric was glad to hear the warning of not getting too close. Antonio would be on the hunt for souls and ghostly energy to take. Innocents, dead or not, did not deserve to be caught in that crossfire.

Leofric nodded.

"Yes, I suppose it is."

With that, Bill turned up the music on the headphones.

Antonio pushed himself away from the wall slowly. He wobbled and winced. Still hurt. Still dizzy. Still hard to move without his cane. Why did he leave that behind?

Oh yes, because he didn't want to waste time trying to find it. Antonio knew all too well his head start wouldn't last long, and it would be a matter of minutes before at least one of them was back on his tail.

So he had made his way forward again, trying to ignore that sudden feeling that he was being watched. He had to take what he could while had the time.

So it was a soul fragment at a time. Unsuspecting passers-by. He left them dazed just long enough to take a part of their soul, just like might tear off a piece of bread to dip into soup. It would leave them tired, a bit weak, and a bit confused with no memory of what happened. He would have loved to taken more, or forced them to do something for him. But again, too much time.

A small part of him said that he should surrendered back at the shop, maybe even pretended that he had gone back to his old pathetic self. But no, too late for that. He was going to do down swinging if he had to.

"I suppose some have a redemption arc, and I suppose some go in the opposite direction," Antonio said, "On this occasion, you are the better person than me, I won't deny that."

He chuckled a little bit.

"Of course not," Antonio said, drumming a set of sharp claws on the top of his walking cane. When had they appeared? "You think I'm going to miss a rare chance to be something more than what I am now?"

Despite all of his efforts. It appeared that Lucien just couldn't be swayed. Antonio could see it in his face, especially his eyes.

"Heh, of course not," Antonio replied then, "Well, you've made your choice. Seeing as I can't have your mind..."

The green swirling mists disappeared from his eyes, and they instead turned a solid black, like that of a long abandoned tunnel. His teeth appeared sharper, and green energy formed around his hands. He then held one of that out towards Lucien, who might have started to feel a horrible stretching sensation inside of his chest.

"I'm going to have your soul."

[longitudinalwaveme]

Ron Pearle's Lear: Act 4 Review

Edgar doesn’t get his whole “things can’t possibly get any worse” speech here. That’s too bad. 

But he still gets the line where he calls himself out for tempting fate. That’s odd. 

Poor poor Edgar and Gloucester.

The servants have some seriously flat line delivery. 

Edgar is insanely cute. 

“Is that the naked fellow?” “Aye my lord.” No idea if the servant’s response was supposed to sound as disgusted as it did. 

Gloucester seems quite insistent upon holding his arms out straight in front of him even when he has someone to lead him. 

Goneril’s hair is down (it was in a bun earlier) and she’s all giggly. 

It’s not really funny but I did giggle a little when Albany panicked when Goneril came close to him. Poor Albany. 

Wow, she actually slapped him. Wasn’t expecting that. Poor Albany. 

Full-on cat-style “meow” when Goneril’s says “marry,  your manhood mew”. 

Albany’s horrified reactions are quite good. 

The string music is a lot softer now. 

The Gentleman has an enormous hunting rifle. Kent has a gun too. 

The doctor is female in this version. And Cordelia’s voice is much improved. 

Regan’s attempts to see Goneril’s letter are very well handled. She does the flirty in-his-space body language well. 

For some reason she gives Oswald jewelery when she tells him to go and murder Gloucester. 

Edgar has underclothes on now. They seem maybe too modern? 

Edgar leads Gloucester around in a circle while he’s leading him “to the edge of the cliff”. 

“Farewell” (cups hands around mouth to make his voice seem echo-y). Edgar is a gem. 

Gloucester’s fall was more of a roll. 

And now Edgar is Southern. 

Edgar is so cute. 

Edgar’s really really getting into his performance as “guy who saw Gloucester plunge off of a cliff”. He missed his true calling as a theater major. 

Lear has lost a lot of his clothes but somehow still has his cape. 

Edgar is amazingly adaptable. He slips right into the roles Lear casts him in. 

Crazy Lear is surprisingly chill and happy. 

The coughing when Lear says he’s not ague-proof is great. 

Gloucester actually full-on kneels to crazy Lear. While blind. Both admirable and a sign of some seriously skewed priorities. 

Poor Edgar. He’s gonna need some serious therapy after all this. 

Edgar falls down whilst attempting to pull off Lear’s (entirely imaginary) boots. 

Does Gloucester seriously not have any other name?  

Lear’s extensive rant about women’s sexuality was cut. I can’t say that bothers me too much. Especially since they included all of his ranting about the injustices of society. 

Poor Gloucester (and his perpetually-extended arms). 

Oswald swaggers onstage for murder. 

Extreme crazy German-sounding accent from Edgar as he tries to stop Oswald from murdering his father (by running at him and grabbing his leg). He doesn’t have a sword at this point. 

Edgar just grabs the sword out of Oswald’s hands. Good work, Oswald.

I’m starting to suspect that this particular production didn’t have any experienced fight choreographers. All of the fights have been very brief and unexciting. 

The audience is very happy to see Oswald’s untimely demise. 

Why doesn’t Edgar find Regan’s letter? Granted it’s not important to the plot, but still. 

The line delivery doesn’t really help me understand whether or not this Edgar had already suspected Edmund before he found the letter. 

Time for crying! 

Cordelia’s voice is bad again. It seems as though she puts too much emphasis on certain words and causes her lines to sound unnatural.

Good job, show! You’ve successfully made me feel bad for senile narcissist Lear. 

Lear’s little stumble is great. 

This scene gets me every single time. 

[sillypersonagarden]

@tatavlasahne • Tatavla Tiyatro’nun ilk prodüksiyonu Aktör Kean 9. Yılında da seyircisine kavuşuyor. 23 Aralık saat 20:30’da oynayacak oyuna yerimiz kalmamıştır. Bir sonraki temsilimiz 10 Ocak saat 20:30’da. ——————————————————— Tatavla Tiyatro'nun üç ödüllü oyunu Aktör Kean bu ay sadece bir temsil ile sahnede. Tolga Yeter��in yönetmenliğini yaptığı, ödüllü oyuncu Eraslan Sağlam’ın oynadığı Raymund FitzSimons’in tek kişilik ünlü oyunu ‘’Aktör Kean’’, seyirciyle buluşmaya devam ediyor. ‘’Aktör Kean’’, İngiliz sahnesinin hükümdarı haline gelen, taşkınlıkları İngiltere'de olduğu kadar Amerika'da da dillere destan olan, büyük romantik oyuncuların birincisi, Shakespeare'in eşsiz yorumcusu Edmund Kean'in yaşamını anlatıyor. Londra'da ilk kez 1814 yılında Drury Lane Tiyatrosu'nda sahneye çıkan ve oyunculuğundaki yalın gerçek, tutku ve ateşle eleştirmenleri şaşkına çeviren Edmund Kean, ilk yıllarda çektiği yoksulluk kendisine sanatında belli bir disiplin sağlasa da, üne kavuşur kavuşmaz, hızla baş aşağı gitmeye başladı. Büyüklük hastalığı sınır tanımayan, perde aralarında soyunma odasına gelen fahişeler işini bitirmeden, perdenin açılmasına izin vermeyen Kean, sahnelerin tek egemeni olarak kalmaya kararlıydı. Ancak durumunu koruyabilmek için kusursuz oynamaya, kendini aşmaya gücü kalmayan Edmund Kean, Drury Lane'de bir korku ve dehşet dönemi başlattı, yanında alkış alan oyuncu hemen kovuluyordu, eksen karakteri Kean olmayan hiçbir yeni tragedyanın oynanma şansı yoktu. Çok fazla yükseldiği için düşmesi de baş döndürücü olan Edmund Kean, 45 yaşında öldüğünde, bela okuyanı, tiksineni çoktu; fakat ondaki ölümsüzlük havasını sezenler, böyle bir sanatçıyı görecek kadar yaşadıklarına şükredenler de vardı. İlk 2014’te seyirciyle buluşan ‘’Aktör Kean’’ oyunundaki performansıyla Eraslan Sağlam, ‘‘Kültür Vakfı En İyi Erkek Oyuncu Ödülü’’, ‘‘Lions Başarı Ödülü’’, ‘’Direklerarası En İyi Tek Kişilik Oyun Ödülü’’ sahibi oldu. https://www.instagram.com/p/Cm8pNwHITIQ/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[yeyayeya]

What

[ozyite]

The "meave" part of Ro'Meave is an Irish name. In Irish, "ea" is pronounced kinda like "ay" so it would be "may-vuh".

Since Garroth is an alternative spelling of a Welsh name and he has a British accent, and Garte is maybe an old English name, having a similar "Celtic" surname, makes sense since the two "representatives" of the Ro'Meave family have anglo-celtic names. Plus, Esmund is just a letter from Edmund, which is an English name too.

mkay i love this fandom i do (sometimes), but why, Why, do even stans spell my faves names wrong?

it should be ro’mAEve not ro’mEAve

romeave looks like romEEve which has 0 grace. yknow who has grace? roMAEves