#edmund is a bit angular

[ariavar]

The End Start of the Song

This repainting is taking longer than expected, so I'm uploading some process videos for now.

The original is The End of the Song by Edmund Leighton, depicting the Arthurian legend of Tristan & Isolde. A perfect fit for Rhaegar & Lyanna during the Tourney of Harrenhall :)

Some edition notes:

I was a bit undecided about the dress color palette, felt that the grey/silver + blue combination was falling a bit flat, but I spiced it up with the bronze dress details.

Did some touch-ups to her face, Isolde's original face was softer and I wanted to give Lyanna a bit more angular features and a longer face.

You can see my progression from "I will keep it short and simple, just the blue dress" > "I can add some chest and sleeve details...and the hem band maybe" > "OK OK! Will also add the hem flower pattern, but that's it!"

Lost the first video where I was repainting the hair+adding the flower crown, but for the crown, I did a bit of a collage with the roses of another Leighton painting (My Fair Lady) and reshaped the hair for it to fit.

[queenlucythevaliant]

The Pevensie Siblings

High King over all the rest

The tender-hearted big sister

The traitor who mended

And a dear, darling heart-daughter of Aslan

[hellokatzchen]

Day 6: Kate and Anthony (Menace)

After returning Edwina to her chaperoning mother, Anthony was quickly waved over to the refreshments by his younger brother Colin. Standing beside him was a tall dark haired woman Anthony had not met before.

"Brother!" Colin grinned widely-- generally a bad sign for Anthony. "Miss Sheffield and I were just speaking of you."

"Miss… Sheffield," he repeated slowly. 

"Edwina is my younger sister," she said stiffly.

Though she stood a head taller and had more angular features, he could see a familial resemblance around the eyes and nose area. "Ah, yes. The gatekeeper."

This was quite obviously the wrong thing to say. Miss Sheffield's eyes flashed with annoyance. "Excuse me?"

Never one to retreat, Anthony instead doubled down. "Your sister did say she would not marry without your approval, did she not?"

Miss Sheffield raised her brows. "So in this scenario, the gate I am keeping is for becoming betrothed to Edwina?"

"I suppose, yes," Anthony agreed with all the arrogance of a (future) member of the peerage.

"Hmmmph." Somehow Miss Sheffield managed to imbue quite a lot of disapproval into the sound. (It reminded him a bit too much of Lady Danbury, an elderly matron known for speaking her mind freely, wielding a cane with deadly accuracy and whom most of the ton had a very healthy fear of.)

"Brother," Colin spoke up, reminding Anthony he was still standing there, "I have promised Miss Sheffield the next dance. Unfortunately I have just now realized I also promised the dance to Miss Featherington."

Anthony was not feeling particularly charitable at that moment and smiled insincerely in response. "Shall I find Penelope to act as substitute?"

"Nonsense!" Colin waved the suggestion away. "Miss Sheffield is here-- take her to the floor and I shall handle Miss Featherington."

"I am certain the future Viscount is quite in demand," Miss Sheffield sniffed, injecting a remarkable amount of disdain into what should have been a complementary sentiment. "I release you of your obligation."

"No, that will not do!" Colin's charm was out in full force. "I would feel simply terrible if you were forced to sit out because of my inexcusable error."

"Really, I--"

That was enough for Anthony. He actually was quite in demand but being refused by this impertinent chit was raising his hackles. "Come Miss Sheffield," he interrupted, taking her arm none too gently and steering her toward the floor.

When they reached their spot, he turned to face her. Miss Sheffield smirked up at him. "You are going to regret this decision."

"Oh?" Anthony raised his brows. "I am not known for having many regrets."

"Yes, well," she looked away and he might've thought her bashful if she were not standing quite so straight, "I hope you wore thick boots."

Anthony waited until she met his gaze again to respond. "You would not dare."

She smiled a bit ruefully. "Honestly, I could not prevent it if I tried. I am a notoriously terrible dancer."

That startled a laugh from him. "Well then I shall hope my boots are sturdy enough indeed."

As it happened they were not. Oh, they handled Miss Sheffield's missteps well enough but when she stomped on his foot at the close of the dance it was all he could do not to swear aloud. He had, admittedly, baited her but such a juvenile response was shocking. 

Anthony did not escort her from the dancefloor. In truth she swept off before he could offer-- not that he would have after such a display but it still irked him. Instead he limped to where his parents were standing, both looking perplexed, as Colin practically cried with laughter. 

"Did you even dance with Penelope?" Anthony demanded in lieu of a greeting.

Colin couldn't seem to catch his breath, he was wheezing as he nodded.

Violet tutted at the younger brother, while Edmund pulled Anthony toward him. "Is everything all right, son?"

"Fine," he all but growled. Catching his father's startled expression (Anthony rarely had such fits of pique in his presence), he forced himself to take a deep breath. "Fine," he repeated in a calmer tone. He caught sight of Miss Sheffield and felt his neck heat in anger again. "But that woman is a menace."

Edmund spluttered, clearly trying to suppress a laugh of his own. Anthony gave it up as a bad job and excused himself to head to his club. He had had quite enough of the ton for one night.

[joonkorre]

what canst thou give?

@drarrymicrofic prompt: caught

yall cant expect me to watch the witch (2015) and not go insane trying to fit a quote into my work. also, this is the first time i ever write something veering into the 15+ category. so. go easy on me lmao

AO3

“Wouldst thou like to live deliciously?”

Draco’s breath catches in his throat.

“But only if you want to, of course. No pressure at all.”

It’s sweet, that tone, as sweet and numbing as the saliva dripping down his nape. If Draco is someone else, an unfortunate bastard even more miserable than he is, he might have believed it.

“I don’t know,” he replies, the unnatural chill on the back of his bare neck too visceral a feeling. Too real. “I think having to choose between that and rotting in a back alley is at least a little bit pressuring.”

“Not too much, though?”

“Oh, no, never.”

“Good,” Edmund whispers. At this point, Draco wouldn’t be surprised if that’s not even his real name, “good.”

Draco stays quiet. With smooth jazz crooning through the walls of bars and eateries to complete the easygoing ambiance of a mid-autumn night in Muggle London, it seems to be the least likely time of the year to find oneself bargaining for their life. But here he is.

“Now,” Draco’s pulse jackrabbits so quickly he can hear it. A delighted chuckle leaks into the night. “Your answer, please.”

When he doesn’t give one, the canines on his exposed shoulder threaten to break the skin. Unexpectedly, they lift off.

“You might want to think it through a little faster, doll,” the large hand pinning Draco’s wrists against the brick wall clenches around them, then drifts down his chest. Lays flat on his quivering stomach, a persistent pressure against Draco’s thrifted bomber jacket. “We have an audience.”

Draco sucks in the stale air with a hiss. He’s pulled his date this far into the alley because he didn’t want curious onlookers as they snog. Bad fucking idea that was. Still, the thought of strangers witnessing this horrid moment fills him with dread. They can’t do anything to help anyway, only to humiliate him even more.

“What—”

“Don’t look,” Edmund nips his ear lobe, “unless you want further mortification. You mortals are ashamed of the strangest things, I can smell it on you.”

Heat rushes through his body. Draco blinks, dizzy with… with something. He doesn’t know whether he wants to rebel, turn his head, and meet the stranger’s gaze head-on, or just rest his forehead against the grimy bricks and find reluctant comfort in Edmund’s instructions.

“What do you,” Draco murmurs, sour notes of alcohol floating back into his nose, “what do you propose I do then? Just stand here and wait for them to get lost?”

“You can make it easy for yourself and say no,” Edmund says.

Those canines are back on the base of his neck. The arm that isn’t wrapped around his middle slithers across his chest, calloused palm an anchor on his shoulder blade. Draco wonders if this looks intimate, possessive—protective, even—to their observer, when he simply feels choked. A mouse gripped within the gentle loops of a snake’s body.

“You’d look like you’re swooning in my arms while I drink from your,” the tip of Edmund’s nose travels up the length of Draco’s neck, ending at where his baby hairs are matted with cold sweat, “gorgeous, delicious essence. And it’d only take a blink of an eye. Our little voyeur would never know.”

“Merlin, can’t I have a single good date?” Draco grits out. “Just fucking say blood.”

“Oh, but you’re no fun,” Edmund says. “Being poetic has its merits, I think. Makes life interesting.”

“Life will be even more interesting when I get to live it, actually.”

The hand on his shoulder takes its time trailing to his face, and when it does, it tilts his jaw to the side. Draco’s eyes automatically slide shut.

“Oh, you will. Once you get used to the ‘undead’ part of it, life will be a joy to live.”

His hands shift against the grimy bricks, one seeking familiarity and warmth as it grips his other wrist, grounding him.

“You must’ve realized by now how anxious I am to have you by me, by us. If I’m not, I’d just pick you up from a club, drink from you, leave you behind that dumpster over there, and you’d wake up feeling hungover with no memory of me,” Edmund goes on, his face close. If Draco tries, he reckons he can swallow down the intoxicating spice of cologne wafting against his cheek. “But I’m not doing that, now, am I?”

Perhaps it’s not even cologne, perhaps it’s all Edmund.

“You see, the blood of mortals is our life force, yes, but few of them ever smell and taste like anything more than diluted shite. Blood like yours, though, that’s rare. Power like yours. That raw, untapped, repressed power hiding under masks and marks. Given enough time, enough resources, it can be brought forth, and you can prosper.

“It’d be a shame if all of what you are made of withers into nothing, don’t you think?”

Draco thinks and thinks. It’s all one can do when they’re held so firmly, quite literally stuck between a rock and a hard place. A bead of sweat trickles down his temple. Edmund kisses it away with false reverence, dotting another kiss behind Draco’s ear. Draco would have jolted if he has any energy left in him.

He realizes it now. Ever since the day Edmund’s gaze lingered a second too long, it was over. There is no one left to remember him, and if he ‘makes it easy’ for himself and says no, nothing will change. Sooner or later, he’d die without a purpose, alone.

What if he eliminates dying from the equation altogether?

He realizes it now. There has never been any choice.

Only one foggy, crooked path forward.

“Yes.”

Draco’s eyes open with a heavy drag, allowing in but a sliver of light. In the misty blurriness, he sees a smirk. One stark-white canine pulls the bottom lip inward, pierces through papyrus skin.

Draco’s vision darkens as red lips touch his. His nose clogs up for a brief moment, overwhelmed by the onslaught of scents and tastes. With every languid swipe of a clever tongue, copper as bitter as Charon’s obol forces its way into his mouth. A sharp needle of pain pricks his bottom lip. Draco flinches, tries to take a step back but the hand on his jaw keeps him close. One long finger sneaks into his mouth, prying it apart.

Swallowing the harsh tang of iron down, a rich, foreign sweetness floods his senses. It’s the nectar of late-June peaches and lingonberry syrup swirled in chamomile, coating his palate with a luscious glaze. A low moan escapes as his muscles relax. If it’s not for the steady hand on his stomach, Draco’s knees would have hit the dirty ground already.

“There we go,” Edmund whispers. His hands guide Draco to lean against him, back to chest, sending intermittent shivers to rack through Draco’s body. It’s cold, so cold, but he can’t pull away, just lets Edmund takes whatever he wants to take. “Good boy.”

“Don’t call me that,” Draco gathers enough of his declining wit to argue. “Sounds like you’re calling a dog.”

“Ah, you’re cute. The Sisters will adore you.”

“Sisters...” Draco says, the furrow of his brow easily smoothened by another leisurely kiss.

“Sisters,” Edmund says. The hand on Draco’s jaw edges to his neck, thick fingers adding a slight squeeze to the vulnerable valley on either side of his Adam’s apple. Draco sighs into Edmund’s mouth. “Surely you don’t think there’s only one of us out there?”

Not very certain of what to say, Draco purses his lips instead. Edmund lets out an amused hum and indulges him, sucking on his bottom lip. It’s good, so good, until it becomes sickening, like raiding the entirety of Fortescue’s stockroom. Being a creature of the night is rapidly losing its novelty.

“Okay, enough, enough, thanks,” he says, tapping the muscular arm around him and turning away. Edmund only continues his little ministration below Draco’s jaw.

He doesn’t know how long his eyes have been closed, so he opens them once more. It’s like… it’s like he’s been floating on thick water and is only recently dragged into shore. Rubbing the creak out of his neck, Draco squints.

Past Edmund’s sturdy form and angular lines, out in the main street, the thin crowd of pedestrians pass by in chattering groups and pairs. Opposite to the alley, however, one lone figure stands just out of reach of the street lamp. The yellowish light merely suggests their existence as they lean against the restaurant Draco and Edmund exited from earlier. The bright tell-tale red of a cigarette butt is visible but other than that, no detail to be discerned. Looks like someone who’s just minding their own business.

“You must think yourself funny,” Draco says, arching his neck to accommodate the kisses peppering his skin, “using my own shame against me. I doubt people even remember there’s an alleyway here.”

“Don’t forget that when a being has lived for as long as I have, has accumulated this much power, nine times out of ten, he knows what he’s saying. I’m powerful enough to catch the scent of every mortal walking by, even know if they’re actually mortals or not. Our little voyeur? He’s still here. He’s watching. He’s waiting for you, doll.”

Edmund pauses, then:

“And whether he’s a mortal? That remains to be seen.”

Draco pushes away as far as Edmund’s firm grasp allows, which is only a few centimeters away. Whatever his blood did with Draco’s own, it snaps him awake with startling clarity just as swiftly as when it’s reduced him to a little more than a rag doll. Everything is so sharp it’s almost disgusting, like his eyeballs are gouged out, scrubbed clean, then shoved back in again. Draco locks his legs, willing himself not to stumble.

“That makes no goddamn sense,” he says.

“You don’t feel them now, but wait until they set in,” Edmund tries to tug him back, shrugging when he doesn’t obey. “Your abilities. We’ll go back to the House of Collective tonight and when you wake up tomorrow, you’ll know what I’m talking about.”

“I,” Draco says. “Please say that again. With actual information.”

“So demanding,” Edmund leans back and looks at Draco like he’s seeing him for the first time, a hint of humor in his serene demeanor. “The House of Collective is where the majority of us in Britain frequent and reside. The newly Turned are brought there to be with their brethren. Trying to deal with these new abilities alone is what makes them go Rogue and lands them on the front page. Think Jeannette McDermott, the poor woman.”

Jeannette McDermott drained and devoured 6 people in a single weekend. The Aurors got to her first before the news outlets. Being a shut-in and hating being perceived in general—Merlin knows how she got bitten in the first place—the only pictures ever taken of her as an adult was of her mangled body, torn by her own claws and twisted into stillness. It was a once-in-a-century scandal that paralyzed Wizarding Europe for 2 months straight.

Draco frowns. “I’ve always wondered. How did she—why wasn’t she brought back to the House, then?”

“That’s what irresponsible Turning looks like. If we want to Turn someone, it must be carefully considered and planned, for there must always be more prey than predators. Such is the law of nature,” Edmund says it like it’s a walk in the park rather than changing people’s entire lives. “Deacon Frangos was careless—amateur little weakling—and wanted something more thrilling than, say, going to clubs for gullible drunks.

“During the official trial at the House, he confessed that he spent days working through her wards and broke in. Never expected that McDermott was a fighter. She couldn’t get to her wand, but she did have a knife. She stabbed him 3 times as he was drinking from her. Their blood mixed, and Frangos ran off to lick his wounds before we found him. That was Friday.”

“Merlin and Morgana,” Draco breathes, “that quick?”

Edmund only looks at him, silent as he waits for Draco to weigh his decisions. Or lack thereof.

“What about, what about my apartment? My things?”

“You’ll only be at the House of Collective until we get you accustomed to your new life, then you can return home. Or,” Edmund tilts his head to the side, “you can stay. It’s akin to a commune, there’s space for all. It’s in the middle of the woods, too, hidden behind extensive wards and Charms, very private. Don’t you love your privacy?”

“What, do you live there?”

“Yes! Just so you know, I built my own dwelling. It’s stunning, if I do say so myself. Marble floors, 5 balconies. Just added a new pool last month. Plenty of space to… christen, unlike your studio apartment.”

Edmund lets a casual grin grace his face, all jokes. Draco curls his lips. It’s a mystery for the ages as to how he’s ever found this man charismatic.

“I’d rather the, um, the studio apartment. It does have its charms. Checkered bathroom tiles, and, hmm, a working oven. I might paint the fireplace next week, who knows?”

“Big plans, big plans,” Edmund nods solemnly. “However, you will need to pay a visit at least twice a month for resources and news within the community. There are tons; we even have a matchmaking service so you wouldn’t have to explain yourself to some bumbling mortal and worry about lifespans. Isn’t that so very neat? But, you already have me.”

Edmund shoots him a wink. If he’s not, well, Edmund, Draco might think it’s attractive.

“I think,” he starts. His neck is aching something fierce the longer he looks back, so he turns to face Edmund directly, “we need to have a talk about ending this entanglement.”

“My,” Edmund adjusts without trouble, interlacing his hands behind Draco’s waist, just above his bum. “Must you hurt me so? After all we’ve been through in the past three dates, you want to cast me aside?”

“Those three dates were nothing more than bouts of insanity. My apologies, I was in a moment of weakness and was somehow fooled by your… Merlin, I don’t even know. Basically, you were a passing fancy that I will rue ever having for the rest of my life.”

Edmund sighs and lowers his head until it’s nestled where Draco’s neck joins his shoulders.

“My 161st love has broken my heart. Oh, how can I recover from this pain?”

He lifts his head up, meeting Draco’s unimpressed gaze with a smirk. “Perhaps one last kiss will be the balm I need. Come on, just one more for closure.”

Draco gnaws his bottom lip and wets the still-throbbing cut on it. Then, he rolls his eyes, sliding them shut. No big deal.

“You’re so generous, Draco,” purrs a deep voice right at the corner of his mouth. Draco parts his lips, breathing in the hushed words. “Can’t say I won’t miss this. Your blood truly is a delicacy.”

“Hurry the fuck up.”

Sweet, sweet wine.

Draco sags against Edmund’s strong chest, head lolled to the side, panting. They have stopped before it got too much this time, yet Draco still teeters over the edge of insanity with every suckle of lips, every caress of tongue. Edmund has been gentle, large hands cupping Draco’s face like he’s a priceless treasure made of opals and emeralds, combing through the slightly wavy hair Draco has grown out. He has fixed Draco’s shirt as he plucked off every scrap of sense remaining in Draco’s head, has stroked the purple marks in bloom, and covered them with the bomber jacket.

As Draco clutched those broad shoulders and wrinkled the expensive fabric adorning them, he had half a mind to demand Edmund to be rougher, to stop trying to savor it. Stop making it something to go breathless over.

Toying with the shiny button on Edmund’s wool suit, he reminds himself that it was smart to end whatever they had between them. Otherwise, he can see himself becoming addicted, and such a problem has no place in his life.

“It’s getting late,” he says. The street outside is still bustling with people, bursting with sound. The person leaning against the wall opposite is lighting up a new cigarette.

“Oh, doll,” Edmund hugs him tight. “Darling. You’re right, it’s getting late. ”

They stand there for a few moments more nonetheless, clutching each other. Then Draco sees it. Sees him.

As if on cue, the person straightens from their position against the wall. They step forward, one foot after the other, slack and loose, into the buzzing light. Draco can’t observe intricate details from this far away—has to wait until tomorrow, apparently—but he still has eyes.

A pair of snickering women stroll by, and the street seems empty for a split second. It’s enough for Draco to see large, black boots (Dragonhide, the part of his brain that never forgets Mother’s fashion books notes) and dark, well-fitted pants stretching over thick thighs. Sleeves rolled to the elbow, exposing dark arms with a myriad of pink-white scars. White button-up, wrinkled and stained, tied by leather harnesses crisscrossing at the chest, like the wearer has forgone changing after work and instead hurried off to deal with an urgent task. An unusual outfit for urban London, but somehow, it works.

Left hand tucked in a pants pocket, the other tapping the fine ash from a cig into a puddle on the concrete. It lifts to hover in front of full, waiting lips. One sleepy bloke trudges by, a heavy bag slung over his shoulder. A hazy billow of smoke spills forth lazily as the bloke walks out of view, opaque clouds masking an expressionless face before disintegrating into the night.

“Doll.”

Draco glances back at Edmund, who is staring at his lips. His hands run tiny circles over the small of Draco’s back.

“We decided on one kiss.”

“I know,” Edmund’s thumb swipes over the cut, as soft as a brush dipping into paint. “There’s still blood.”

“Obviously,” Draco says with a slight snort, “you bit it. Like a brute.”

Edmund’s reply comes in the form of his thumb pressing against the cut as if wanting to both stopper the blood and squeeze it out. Draco assists by opening his mouth, slipping the finger into moist warmth. And for some godforsaken reason, his eyes travel back to the street beyond.

This time, both hands are in the pants pockets. The cigarette has stopped its light bouncing, now lying still between pillowy lips. Like before, the voyeur is a statue amidst a sea of movement.

Draco swirls his tongue against the pad of the thumb, tasting himself and gulping it down. It’s bitter and sour without Edmund’s blood to sweeten it up, but he keeps licking until all he can feel is the saltiness of skin, the clenched fistful of his jacket against his hip, and—

And green.

“It’s getting late,” Edmund whispers against his forehead, his lips a touch away from kissing his fringe.

Letting the finger fall from his mouth, Draco whispers back.

“Okay.”

The voyeur never stops looking. Draco knows because neither does he.

“We’re never doing this again.”

Draco’s eyes glide back to Edmund. “I never thought you’d be the one to say that.”

“Me, too. But I’m serious,” the man says, but doesn’t clean his finger. “From now on, we keep our hands to ourselves.”

“And mouths.”

“Yes, those especially.”

Draco huffs out a laugh, “Okay. Very well. I’m glad we’ve reached an agreement.”

Edmund shakes his head, then blinks. He looks up at Draco, mischief in his eyes.

“Alright, Draco, you’ve done enough for the night.”

“Pardon?” Draco says, sliding his arm into the crook of Edmund’s. “You Side-Along us.”

“Of course, and I meant. Merlin, you’ve done quite enough. Oh, goodness, that’s pungent.”

Edmund pats Draco’s hand on his forearm and leans toward his ear.

“Say goodbye to him.”

Draco’s fingers tighten around Edmund’s arm in warning. He doesn’t say ‘goodbye,’ but he does look to the street light opposite the alleyway. Before the Apparition wrenches all the thoughts out of his head, Draco vows not to think about the expression on that face.

[isolemnlyswearpevensie]

16th Avenue | Edmund Pevensie x Reader

Warnings: Mentions of drugs and alcohol

Time/Era: Modern AU, Aged 19

Word Count: 2k 

Summary: A midnight adventure in which the only things available to Y/N and Edmund are limited cell service, saved Spotify playlists, and Y/N’s 15-year-old hatchback. 

Request: Hi! first I wanted to say that I love your stories, I discovered them recently but I already read them all, and then I wanted to know if you could write an Edmund x Reader based on the song I Think He Knows by Taylor Swift, thanks!

A/N: Basically a small town AU where two kids in their late teens are trying to find entertainment one late summer evening. 

masterlist | narnia playlist | read on ao3

Edmund laid in his bed with his phone held above his face, staring blankly at the illuminated screen. He read over the messages he shared with Y/N L/N, a girl he had met at university a few months before he moved home for the summer. The conversation, in his opinion, was rather flirty, but it teetered to close to the line between friendly teasing and romantic advances for Edmund to know for sure.

His room was sticky with heat, making all the warm air stick directly to his skin. He yearned to go swimming or at the very least take a shower, but running the water at half-past midnight would surely wake his entire family.

Moving back home for the summer seemed like a good idea at the time; he could save money, see his little sister, and spend a bit of time to himself. But, as time passes on, Edmund yearned for the freedom of his newfound adulthood and life away from his family. 

Y/N proved to be a saving grace in that aspect, as her family lived a few towns over from Edmund and she owned a car. It wasn’t a very attractive car, but it had a sunroof, large hatchback trunk, and an AUX cord, which is all you really needed. She always kept a few snacks and blankets in her backseat, too, so the car (which he learned was called Comet,) served as a little oasis in the boring world that was home. 

The brown curls on Edmund’s head stuck to his forehead in a thick layer of sweat; the August heat was proving to be too much for Edmund’s body. So he laid, duvet pushed in a heap at the foot of the bed, and overthought the texts. His finger teased the power button as the heat lulled him closer to sleep. 

That was until Y/N’s typing bubble popped up on the screen. Panic surged in his chest and he shot up from his bed to pace around the dark room. His only source of light was the screen of his phone, which made his face appear slightly blue due to the screen. 

pulling up in 10. be ready. 

Edmund looked down at his appearance; the skin of his bare chest was moist from sweat and his boxer briefs clung to his toned thighs. 

are you crazy? My mother will kill me if they knew I was out at this hour. 

The metal box fan clanked in the corner as if it were a washing machine full of tennis shoes. 

so? we’ve been over this. you’re 19, not 9. loosen up, pevensie. 

Edmund took a deep breath before dressing himself in as lightweight clothes as possible and packing his backpack. He never packed heavily, but he grabbed some headphones, a phone charger, a flashlight, a pack of gum, and a sweatshirt. It was doubtful that the sweatshirt would be needed, but it could potentially be used as a blanket for the two to lay on, or rolled in a ball to form a pillow. 

The door to Edmund’s room squeaked loudly as he opened it, making all of the muscles in his body tighten. He glanced at his sister’s door and breathed a breath of relief when there was no movement behind it. All he had to do was make it out the door without being noticed. 

“Ed?” Lucy’s voice sounded through the darkness at the exact moment Edmund’s hand came in contact with the front doorknob. 

“Lu,” He responded nearly frozen in place. 

“Where are you going?” The bag of pretzels in her hand crinkled. Ed mentally cursed himself for forgetting she was a midnight snacker. 

“Somewhere,” He pulled the door open with a single movement of his arm. “Do me a favor and don’t tell?”

She popped one of the pretzels and chewed it completely before responding. “Tell me where you’re going and I might consider it.” 

“I’m going out with Y/N, there are you happy now?” 

Her eyes widen and she smiles, “Like, on a date?” 

“No, I don’t think so. We’ll probably just drive around and chat.” The headlights from Comet shine through the open door and blind the two siblings. “Promise not to tell?” 

“I promise! But really, Ed, you better lock her down. The good ones never wait,” 

Edmund nods, shutting the door before half-jogging to get in the passenger side of the hatchback. 

“Pevensie! I thought you were going to wimp out on me when I saw you staring into the darkness with the door open.” She looked over her shoulder to check for cars before making a U-turn. 

“Oh, yeah, I was talking to my little sister. I had to convince her not to tell my mother,” Edmund forced a chuckle. 

“Your sister still lives at home? I thought she went to that one uni in, like, Scotland?” The crystal hanging from the mirror swung side to side as Y/N steered. It was oddly mesmerizing. 

“That’s my older sister, Susan. I’m talking about my younger sister, Lucy. She’s 17.” 

Y/N made a small “o” with her mouth and nodded. “It must be nice to be in such a big family, you guys all sound so close.” She pulled the car onto one of the main roads, which was completely empty at this hour. The thrilling feeling of spontaneity settled in Edmund’s stomach and any reservations he had about coming faded into existence. 

“Yeah, I guess it’s fun. That is until you realize my mother has a bad case of empty nest syndrome and has her heart set on keeping me inside the entire summer,” 

“Is that why you are only ever able to hang out past midnight?” 

Edmund chuckled for real this time. Something about Y/N’s constant teasing made his heart fly in the most carefree way possible. 

“Yeah, I have to sneak out the front door so she doesn’t see me, her 19-year-old son, leave the house without permission.” 

Y/N gasped, whipping her head to look at the boy. “How dare a 19-year-old leave the house without Mummy’s permission! Are you trying to give Helen a heart attack?” The two erupt into laughter, making Y/N grip her faded steering wheel cover even harder.

 “Come on, Dj Ed, why aren’t you playing music?” One of her hands found the AUX cord and threw it onto Edmund’s lap. He stares at it for a second before connecting his phone. “Play the playlist we listened to last time, I liked that one.”

The street lamps on the road became less and less frequent as they continued to drive further into the country. Edmund had never been in this direction before, at least to his knowledge; It was always hard to distinguish places at night. Y/N, however, was very familiar with where they were going. Living in such a small town, Y/N had ventured out as soon as she got a driver’s license in order to find any smidge of entertainment. That was when she found 16th Avenue. 

“Where are we going?” Edmund asked at last. He had to speak loudly over the music blasting through the speakers. 

Y/N made a left turn down a pitch-black dirt road, which appeared to be more of a ditch than a street. It was in the middle of two very large fields, one wheat, and one corn, which were illuminated by Comet’s headlights. It looked like the setting of a horror movie and seemed as though a monster was going to jump on the car at any moment. A nervous feeling filled Edmund’s lungs. 

“Welcome 16th avenue, Ed.” Y/N’s happy tone made her companion relax a bit. Not a lot, but a bit. 

“It looks like some possessed scarecrow is going to run across the road at any moment,” Edmund half-joked, fiddling with his backpack strap. 

Y/N giggled and pulled off the road and into the wheat field. The crops had been parted previously, it appeared, so there was a little path big enough for the hatchback to squeeze through. 

“Why would there be a possessed scarecrow? This town is much too boring for paranormal activity.”

The path soon widened into a large circle clearing and Y/N parked the car. Before turning off the engine, she opened the sunroof, rolled down the windows, and lowered her seat. 

“Lay your seat back, Pevensie,” Y/N instructed before getting out and opening the trunk. Edmund obeyed and watched as she circled the car to return to the driver’s seat. 

“Tada,” She bent her knees so she was laying back and her shins were resting against the steering wheel. “16th avenue, my favorite place ever.” 

“The stars are so bright out here,” Edmund gazed up in wonder at the twinkling lights above. Canis major was perfectly visible through the roof. 

“I know, it’s so far from the city so there’s no light.” Y/N turns her face to admire Edmund in the moonlight. 

Half of his face was dark, but the part of his skin that was visible was smooth and blemish-free. Y/N’s eyes traced the curve of his button-nose to his sharp jaw. It appeared angular and strong, but Y/N couldn’t help but think how soft it would be to touch. His eyelashes batted beautifully against his rosy cheeks and the freckles that dusted his nose matched the constellations above. Edmund moved his head to match Y/N’s gaze, a blissful smile tugging at his lips. 

“Do I have something on my face?” He mumbles, having felt Y/N’s eyes trace every visible piece of him. 

“Other than your cute freckles and strong jaw? Nothing,” Y/N spoke before she overthought her words. Tonight was about adventure and risks. 

Edmund’s already heat stained cheeks darkened, his smile growing. “Cute? You’re the cute one,” The warm summer breeze whistled in through the windows and rustled their hair. 

“Not even, not when you have a face like that and a body like-” She gestures towards his lying form. “-that.” Y/N’s eyes followed the lines of his legs and up his torso. She wished she knew that body as well as she knew her own.

Edmund seemed to take a breath, “You took me all the way out of town and into a wheat field to call me cute, is what you’re saying.” His bashful smile turned cocky as he quirked his head upwards.  

“Well, yes and no. I brought you here because I was tired of waiting.” Y/N sat up and turned so she could see Edmund. He followed suit quickly. 

“Waiting for what?” 

“To finally see what’s under that attitude of yours,”  

Ed swallows the lump in his throat and scoots a bit closer. It wasn’t much closer, due to the center console, but it was enough to make the point. 

“There have always been sparks between us, you can’t deny that, Ed. So, I brought you here to chase them. The sparks, I mean. I want to chase them with you, if you want to, of course.” Y/N’s eyes never left Edmund’s as she spoke. 

“God, I want to. Fucking hell.” 

Edmund leaned over the console to capture Y/N’s lips in a well overdue kiss; the kiss the pair had been dreaming about for months. The warm air stuck to their bodies as they held each other the best they could. Y/N’s hands ventured into Edmund’s messy curls and his thumb rubbed into her thigh. Y/N felt him smile into the kiss and move the hand up her leg. 

Y/N thanked the universe that they were in the middle of nowhere as she climbed over to join Edmund on the passenger side of the car. 

[dillydedalus]

august reading

minus my women in translation month reads, because i’m still working on the last one but want to include it... that wrap-up will come in a few days once i’m done with the last book. 

not all dead white men: classics and misogyny in the digital age, donna zuckerberg classicist donna zuckerberg (facebook dude’s sister!) talks about how the alt-right, pick-up artists, incels etc. use the classics to assert & justify their misogyny and racism & portray themselves as the inheritors/saviours of western civilisation etc. the main examples she looks at are stoicism, ovid’s ars amatoria, and ancient narratives about sexual violence, which were all really interesting, but i feel like this could have been expanded a lot. 3.5/5

magic for liars, sarah gailey fun & cool crime story about a murder at a secret magical school (school nurse cut in half in magical library!), answering the burning question of what would happen if petunia dursley became a somewhat dysfunctional PI & had to solve a magical murder at hogwarts, where lily is a teacher. 3/5

the lie tree, frances hardinge frances hardinge writes the kind of middle grade/YA books i wish i could have read between like 10-14, where the world is spooky and the girls are angry spiteful stubborn resourceful sneaky things. i loved a skinful of shadows and i loved the lie tree, where curious snake girl (not literally it’s not that kind of a book) has to investigate her scandal-hounded natural scientist father’s death by spreading lies on the miserable island he died on and literally feeding them to spooky science-defying tree - and faith is very good at lying, and very angry, and very much willing to drag the whole island down with her. read for spooky trees, fake ghosts, and victorian male natural scientists being dumb and sexist & victorian female (& thus secret) natural scientist being smart & awesome. 4.5/5

the dead ladies project: exiles, expats & ex-countries, jessa crispin i have been at turns in love & really annoyed with crispin’s 2012 essay on william james, berlin & her own mental breakdown (x) since uh..... 2012 - it says some really interesting things about berlin’s capital-i Image as the city for self-destructive broke & weird messes, it’s very quotable, while also being some of the most irritating Anglophone Expat in Berlin Bullshit ever concocted (’we have surprisingly affordable rents’ sure didn’t age well.....) and saying almost nothing about the actual city outside of the Expat Bubble (apparently every single person in berlin is here because they feel like a failure.... YALL SOME PEOPLE JUST LIVE HERE). this book, structured around crispin’s soul-searching trip around europe, with each city being discussed in connection with an artist/writer/artist’s wife/etc who lived there, opens with that essay and i’m still torn. the thing is, crispin is smart & well-read & occasionally capable of some interesting insight & good writing..... she is also at times utterly insufferable, ranting at length about how she despises women who perform learned helplessness & prioritise men over everything else only to turn around & do the same fucking thing over & over, incl. going on endlessly about her torturous affair with a married writer, performing her ‘broke but independent woman traveller’ while uh.... staying at a friend’s luxurious farmhouse in switzerland for free... at one point she says she never felt at home in kansas bc based on her looks people don’t believe she’s really from kansas & constantly ask her where she’s REALLY from because.... y’all.... while she’s a good-looking white woman she has an ANGULAR FACE. sure jan. there is so much cool stuff in here, and i wish crispin had kept some most of the personal stuff out of it. 2/5 

mansfield park, jane austen hmmmm... austen is always good but this feels like it’s maybe the one novel of hers that is most negatively affected by values dissonance in that its morality feels like it’s from an alien culture which considers a private theatre performance to be the very height of impropriety (aka regency england apparently); as a result, fanny, a passive, timid, neglected girl of strong convictions often comes across as a moralistic prig (i will make no excuses for edmund, who’s just a patronising sanctimonious prig outright). there’s a quiet sort of triumph in fanny’s integrity & conviction in the face of a literal campaign of harrassment from everyone in her life including the dude she’s in love with to marry a reforming (maybe) rake & i love her for that, but her triumph in returning to mansfield park elevated in the esteem of everyone there (except aunt norris who is delightfully vile) feels empty considering that these are the same people who previously neglected her. also edmund sucks. 3/5 #justice4marycrawford #mary/fannyOTP #alsoarewegonnatalkabouttheslavery #guessnot

fool’s quest (fitz & the fool #2), robin hobb the first one in this trilogy was pretty much slow-paced set-up and character development... this one is much better: there’s a lot going on & the character development feels much more organic & complex - fitz seems to have come down from Peak Dumbass a bit & i really liked how it developed shun (shine!!!) and lant, who felt really one-dimensionally awful last book. also there are so many moments when the farseer family really comes thru for fitz & i cried literally every single time. so yeah. this one’s great, can’t wait for the next one but i also really don’t want it to be over :/ 4/5

what matters in jane austen, john mullan fun little collection of essays looking at specific details and minutae and their meaning/importance in austen’s work - like, how old are the characters (incl. age differences), how do characters address each other, what do games do they play, what about the servants, etc. don’t expect deep litcrit but it’s fun. 2.5/5

dead mountain: the untold true story of the dyatlov pass incident, donnie eichar hello i’m fred & i am obsessed with mountaineering disasters. the dyatlov pass incident refers to a night in 1959 where 9 russian hikers died in the ural mountains after they left their tent half-dressed without shoes for ~mysterious reasons. it’s pretty creepy & theories about it run from ‘avalanche’ to ‘animal [yeti] attack’ to ‘aliens and/or soviet conspiracy theory’. eichar too is super obsessed w/ this mystery and even went to the ural mountains & the dyatlov pass to investigate, which sadly makes for the least interesting (and possibly the longest) part of this book (the other timelines are the dyatlov group hike & the investigations after their deaths). the ‘59 timelines are both interesting tho & provide a good look into how weird the whole thing is. i enjoyed this, but i wish he had cut the endless chapters of him investigating, which is mostly russians being like ‘idk man aliens/radioactivity/secret govt agents?’ and him hiking around in a lot of snow, neither of which really added to his theory or my enjoyment. 2/5

if beale street could talk, james baldwin baldwin’s prose is staggeringly brilliant as always. this is a story about a young black couple (tish, who is the narrator, and fonny) in the 70s who are planning to move together and marry when fonny is wrongly arrested for rape by a racist cop with a grudge; tish and her family try to get him out, especially once tish realises that she’s pregnant. tish is a great narrator, at the same time kind of naive and soft, and full of world-weary cynicism about white institutions and racism, and her narrative voice at times drifts in and out of other characters’ minds, which i found an interesting effect. as many baldwin’s novels this is full of rage & violence & tenderness & tiny sparks of hope. 4/5

lady susan, jane austen epistolary novella about a 35-year-old lady susan, a scheming, ruthless, not-so-grieving widow, who is trying to get her timid daughter frederica married to a buffoon. while staying with her sweetly clueless brother-in-law vernon and trying to win over his much more suspicious wife, she makes the wife’s brother reginald (lol) fall in love with her. a very different protag and story for austen & while the end can’t quite commit to either punishing susan very much or letting her triumph, it is a lot of fun. 3/5

on a sunbeam, tillie walden this is an absolutely beautiful (the colours!) graphic novel about a spaceship crew (the spaceship is a fish) who fly around & restore old space buildings. it’s also a story about a romance between two young girls at a boarding school (in space) and about found families and deep space and there’s not a single man in this, just women and elliot, who’s nonbinary. lovely, dreamy and completely gorgeous. want me a fish spaceship. 4/5

between birthday books and birthday giftcards i also acquired uh.... 12 new books??? which is INSANE. i’m not committing to a book buying ban but i should probably chill a lil in the next few months. 

[bellringermal]

I have a low key headcanon that gherman used to craft things like dolls in his spare time before the hunters workshop perhaps as a means to make extra money, albeit smaller ones for children, which explains why he made such a lifelike doll so easily and maybe even why he's good at making clothes and weapons for hunters

Daisy and I have a pretty similar headcanon :)

Gehrman was always fascinated by small, pretty things since childhood. He used to cut figurines from newspapers and make little toys out of straw and scraps of clothing that he then had to keep hidden in a box under the floorboards because his father would’ve considered them girly and infantile.

[Pic from “Andersen. Zhizn bezlyubvi” because obscure period dramas are my jam. And if you read some of my posts before, you probably know that my fan fiction, from which 90% of my lore theories stemmed from, is a massive mixture of period dramas/gothic novels/historical figures’ biographies and even fucking Tchaikovsky ballets that I like very very VERY much.)

He hadn’t the worst childhood ever, but it was tough for a scrawny, quiet boy like him to be forced into combat training at such a young age. When he got hired at Byrgenwerth (and escaped his father’s clutches, so to speak) he could finally do whatever the heck he wanted in his free time and Dores and Edmund, being respectively a scholar and a handyman, encouraged his love for books and for tinkering with anything within range.

In our story, Master Willem selects his students and assistants because of their special talents and is (to an almost unbelievable level :P) able to ‘see greatness’ in them even before said greatness manifests. Willem is, to put it simply, a talent scout :P That is why he often recruits extremely young people like Caryll (9) and Micolash (14) only to then groom them into loyal students while enhancing their innate abilities.

With Gehrman, it was no different. And when many of his ‘hobbies’ became an integral part of his job, he began to take them really seriously and actually devoted entire years of work and research to the development of the spring mechanisms that made trick weapons possible and basic hunting gear, reason why all future hunter uniforms are based on that first model that he made out his own everyday clothes. When asked about his profession, he doesn’t see himself as a ‘weaponsmith’ but as ‘something more akin to a clockmaker’.

He obviously has his own (quite creepy) collection of little dolls and carillons but he keeps it in his room reason why not many of his students are aware of it, just like they don’t know about his secret stash of cheap romance novels :P. The rough instruments of death that he crafts at the workshop with Archibald’s assistance are in stark contrast with the delicate clockwork toys that are found on his desk next to the tiny tools and watchmaker magnifying glasses.

[Pics from “Nutcracker the motion picture” 1986]

Lil extract from my fanfic below the cut because I think I’m getting decent at translating this crap XD

[Picture from ‘Crimson Peak’. Thomas Sharpe lil workshop in the attic. It’s a trope and I love it.]

As she looked around, Maria could see that that wasn’t the workplace of an amateur. Screwdrivers, pincers and labeled boxes brimming with bolts and stain springs of any size filled the dustless shelves of cedar wood as two big oil lamps lit the quiet, humble room of the First Hunter uniformly projecting their glow on the desk. The floral wallpaper was almost completely hidden by three huge cork boards covered in blueprints and heavy metal chains ran down from the ceiling just like they did in the actual Workshop. But instead of dangling siderite blades, what floated over the noblewoman’s head were cogs as big as those she has seen on the pedestal of the Lunarium’s telescope.

It was then that she remembered that Gehrman was also asked to keep the elevator at the edge of the woods in working order so that students could get from Yharnam’s outskirts straight to the college without venturing too far into the forest.

How many tasks was that man assigned to, again? Hunter Chief, groundskeeper, weaponsmith, handyman… Master Willem better be paying him generously, she thought as she wondered if her teacher’s room was always that organized and clean or if he had tidied it up for the occasion.

No matter the answer, it felt like something WAS out of place. Actually, it felt like something was missing. As she scanned the shelves, one in particular caught her eye. Like the others, it was perfectly clean but instead of harboring meticulously organized tools and parts it was empty except for one small, bizarre shiny thing that Maria mistook for a golden egg at first glance. She took the weird object in her hands only to discover a small key inserted in its round side. A wind-up toy? She herself owned a few of those when she was little, one had the shape of a carousel and its curtains lifted once the key was turned, revealing a row of tiny running horses. What was hidden inside that golden egg? A mechanical goose, perhaps? She knew the fairytale by heart.

Won by her own curiosity and without even asking herself why stern old Gehrman would even possess such a thing, she turned the key three times, balancing the egg on the palm of her gloved hand. When the mechanism clicked, she realized that something was not working as intended since the petals in which the golden-finished surface was split into could barely move. Perhaps it was broken, or some parts were missing. Still, the tiny clockwork prisoner trapped inside the shell kept bouncing and clicking inside the egg, almost begging to be freed. She gently pressed upon the tip, parting the petals with her thumbs as a twinkling sound filled the silent room with a familiar tune. It was the central portion of a folk song often sang during weddings and Spring celebrations. Finally free from its golden shell, a graceful female figure now danced on the huntress palm. The little automata was unpainted and naked, clearly unfinished, with only a ribbon tied around her metal torso, probably marking her waist point before a dress could be made for her. Her hair was cast in copper, each lock finely chiseled.

Gehrman snatched the toy from her fingers before she could even realize he had entered the room. How did she remain oblivious to his presence for so long, she didn’t know, but the entrancing dance of the little figure was most likely to be blamed.

“I-it’s not finished! Don’t look at it!”

“Have you made it?” She asked with a smile, seeing how he cradled the little thing in the cup of his large, bony hands. “It’s lovely. I am no expert, but it looks really well made.”

He nervously brushed the back of his head “Well… thanks.”

“I didn’t know you were into such cute little things. It… suits you. Somehow.” The ballerina was still spinning on her pointy feet when the First Hunter placed the carillon on the shelf and turned to the desk.

“Have you brought your gun, Maria? Let me see what’s wrong with it.”

She blinked. She had almost forgotten why she came to the hunter’s room in the first place. “Oh, yes I believe the flintlock is broken. Or at least parts of it.“

“Let me see it.” She handed the Evelyn to her teacher, but her attention was still on the little doll. “Have you made more of these?” She asked as the mechanism came to a stop and the ballerina froze in place, her body tilted in a slightly unnatural position.

“Of what?”

Maria raised an eyebrow, unamused. “Wind-up toys, Gehrman.”

The silver screwdriver he was using to remove the flintlock from the beautiful wooden frame of the Cainhurst gun shook between his fingers, but a warm smile appeared on his lips. “It’s a guilty pleasure of mine.”

Maria rested her back against one of the shelves “Why ‘guilty’? I know people that would pay a fortune for stuff like this.”

“I guess I could devote myself to it once I retire. If I don’t get killed first.” “Gehrman’s toyshop, mh? Doesn’t sound bad. You could make tiny stain hunters and beasts that open their jaws and roar. I used to steal my cousin’s stain soldiers and wooden swords. Why do boys always get the better toys?“

“Not fond of your dolls, I presume.”

“I had so many, but truly cherished only one of them, Janice, a brunette. She was engaged to one of Ghislain’s stain officers even if she was almost three times his size. Perhaps he went to war because he was afraid of her.”

Gehrman chuckled, as his capable hands carefully replaced the gun’s splinter “I’m not sure about that, as our dear Konrad proves, some men really like their women tall.”

Maria sat down on the desk next to him to watch him work, oblivious to the sudden blushing of his cheeks now that her well-toned thighs were so close to his elbow.

“Janice really looked a bit like Gratia now that I think about it. Now… why don’t you tell me where you hid all your other creations? That empty shelf is really suspicious, you know?” She teased him, crossing her legs.

It was in moments like that that Gehrman questioned his own judgemental skills. Was she truly flirting with him or was it all just wishful thinking?

He snapped out of confusion bringing back his attention to the Evelyn “You have a good eye.”

“So I’ve been told.”

“I stored them all in the drawer right under the shelf. Not so imaginative. Nor that far from their original placement.”

She didn’t move, her eyes wandering on the First Hunter’s angular face. “Why have you hid them?”

“At times I just feel more comfortable around machines than people.” he admitted, letting out a long sigh. “At times I even prefer beasts to people.”

Maria threw her head back, dangling her legs like a child on a swing. “Don’t we all?”

He moved the gun closer to the oil lamp “…it should work now. But let’s wait till it’s morning to try it. We don’t want to scare everyone to death by firing a few shots so late at night.”

“Definitely not. Thank you so much, Gehrman.” She took the short musket from the man’s hand and placed it back in her holster. “So, about that drawer…” “FINE! I’ll show you.” He blurted and Maria returned his slightly annoyed glance with a smile.

Gehrman rose from his chair, suddenly reminding the young woman of his impressive height. Considering his quiet and reserved behavior, it was easy to imagine him as one of those small fellows who always get trampled upon in boisterous crowds, but his appearance didn’t fit such a mental image at all.

He crossed the room and pull out a key from the pocket of his sage green vest to open the mysterious drawer. “Promise me you won’t laugh.”

Maria tilted her head “I can’t promise such a thing. Your expression is already pretty hilarious to look at.”

He sighed again, slowly opening the drawer.  It was well worth the risk. After all, Maria looked even prettier when she smiled.

[lovelyfantasticfart]

2018 Volvo XC60 T5 AWD Take a look at: Like Volvos That We Used To Know

Store Edmunds' automobile, SUV, and truck listings of over 6 million autos to search out a cheap new, used, or certified pre-owned (CPO) 2015 Volvo S80 on the market close to. Honda engineers spent appreciable time within the wind tunnel tweaking the aerodynamics, holding airflow from being disturbed as it passes over the automotive. I even just like the styling; Cadillac's new design direction (that being huge-set, stacked headlights together with angular and creased sheet steel) is toned down a bit and thus works significantly better on the SRX than on the too-busy CTS. Although he withheld any future product plans, he enthused the concept of a doable SUV and even a efficiency version of the V40 hatch. Ought to the crew cater to the tailgaters outside the observe, or to the legions of children who're the superfans of the long run? T6 models are not obtainable with entrance-wheel drive. These are the same people who whenever you ask what automobile is that, they say 鈥渁 pink one鈥?I once reviewed the IBM PS/1 and was greater than a little bit upset. 2018 nissan juke nismo rs, redesign, launch date posted in nissan - june 30, 2017 - by orga itsuka 2018 nissan juke is the brand new suv automotive from japanese-based mostly automobile manufacture, nissan.

Is the Acura MDX an excellent SUV? You possibly can possible save money - and get a really similar SUV - by purchasing for an older model in the same technology as the 2016 XC60. Its distinctive look, its lack of any real energy, and the self-righteousness of some house owners can make the Prius a tricky automobile to love. Properly, make that for some consumers. Initially, American consumers will get the 2.8-liter Turbo engine, with the smaller 2.0T to observe. It additionally options GM's Panic Brake Assist system that will apply full braking power when an emergency state of affairs is detected. The Verano shall be supplied with a alternative of 17 and 18-inch alloy wheels. That enhance to Volvo sales offered by the S90 is much less obvious within the UK. There鈥檚 additionally town Safety system, first introduced in the Volvo XC60, final yr. Standout features added to the Inscription trim embody quad-zone automated climate management, driftwood trim, Nappa leather upholstery, a navigation system, and a arms-free power liftgate. Zero l, 200 HP TSI engine and, the place appropriate, the 6-pace manual or automated transmission.

We鈥檙e a giant fan of the TSI Evo engine - a neat blend of punch and thrift. The Foton Tunland pickup is powered completely by the Cummins ISF2.8T diesel engine. 25% tariff on pickup trucks, which dates back to the 1960s and long has been vigorously defended by Detroit鈥檚 automakers. This is particularly obvious when the S60 is sitting alongside extra-just lately updated Volvos - like the 2018 XC60 - that function a big, sleek contact screen. Is Driver Alert Control a safety characteristic you'd put money into? Between the gang of buttons, the infotainment system's sophisticated menus, and the unintuitive controller knob, this system requires more attention from the driver than it should. Last-minute lane modifications had been no drawback, as there was more than enough juice beneath the hood to handle sudden bursts of acceleration. It鈥檚 not loud enough to be annoying (Chrysler uses noise-cancelling know-how to quiet the expansive inside of the minivan, but it鈥檚 distinctive to this model.

Whereas distinction stitching is used in other Momentum interior schemes, it鈥檚 not used on this one. Whereas some regard any minivan as stodgy, the Pacifica is a scorching commodity among our workers of household travelers and youthful vagrants. Comfort is the default setting, and this tester did a lot of his work-commute driving in that mode. Plus, there鈥檙e Consolation and Sport alternatives, which principally change the speed and readiness of the gasoline engine鈥檚 involvement. The 2018 Volvo XC60 T8 hybrid mannequin earns EPA green numbers of 7 for Smog and 10 for Greenhouse Gas versus a pair of 5s for the gasoline-solely mannequin. Volvo鈥檚 XC60 crossover, which debuted as a 2010 mannequin and was last updated for 2014, is a competent and subtle luxury ute when seen in isolation. However the XC60 is also a stylish and functional car, and it handles unusually nicely for a crossover, let alone one with a Volvo badge on the entrance. The 2.9 V6 is powerful, however since discovering one is a problem forget about it.

The second-row seats slide and recline within the T6 and T8 trims, upping the consolation stage further. 370z nismo isn鈥檛 all concerning appearance, consolation or maybe line speed. The encompass-sound impression is surprisingly good and presents richer, fuller sound for all seating positions, although the standard sound with surround turned off is nothing to complain about both. It is a spacious inside - significantly within the rear where the ground has been lowered to extend the headroom. After you have identified a used car you are eager about, test the Carfax and Autocheck vehicle historical past studies, read vendor reviews, and discover out what other homeowners paid for the 2019 Volvo XC90. After failing to find the clock setting within the journey pc, I turned to the craptastic menu functions on the center stack. Cadillac initially denied it might launch a major shake-up in its product plans alongside the lines of what de Nysschen now says is coming for the brand.

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[marketingatsuperspeedreadin-blog]

2018 Ford Expedition Review | Test Drive | Edmunds

MARK TAKAHASHI: So what we have here is the all new fully redesigned 2018 Ford Expedition. [MUSIC PLAYING] MARK TAKAHASHI: Now, this is their big SUV. Like the Lincoln Navigator, which shares a lot of its internals, it’s really quite good. Unlike the Navigator, though, I think I like the grill and the whole front of this a little bit better. It’s a little more tapered, it’s not quite as imposing and flat. Under the hood, a liter twin turbo V6 that puts out 375 horsepower. Unless you get this, the Platinum Trim, which has 400, and that’s made into a 10 speed automatic transmission. So you get a combination of good acceleration off the line, as well as good fuel economy up high. Right here, 22 inch wheels. Normally, we’re not a fan of wheels that big because they tend to stiffen up the ride a bit, but not so much with this because we have a decent amount of sidewall.

Further down the line, we have some nice chrome accents on the mirror caps, as well as this bottom of the greenhouse. Otherwise, it’s fairly plain on the side, and I’m actually OK with that. One thing that I do really like, though, power deployable running boards. With a car this big, it’s pretty much a requirement, especially if you have smaller passengers. With a top trim SUV like this, you would expect it to have a hands-free power liftgate, as this does. Now, there’s not a whole lot of space back here, just over 19 cubic feet. One thing back here that’s also cool, once we fold this up, is this split level cargo organizer. So you drop these tabs here and here, and now you have this nice little barrier so that stuff you have here, whether it’s grocery bags or sports equipment, won’t come rolling out if you’re parked on an incline. It also transforms to a shelf like so, and this glass window here actually flips up so you have added access.

The problem is, well, it’s a little bit tall. So taller people would not have so much of a problem getting into this area, but shorter people probably not so much. Also, back here we have power folding seats. So now you have the flexibility of cargo and passengers. Another thing that’s nice is this negative angle here at the lip of the cargo area. So if you have fruits and cans or something rolling around back here and you’re parked on an incline, again, probably won’t go rolling down, you won’t have to chase them going down the street. There’s a lot of elements that remind me of F-150, and that’s not entirely a bad thing. It’s a nice angular, almost utilitarian approach to an interior. Materials quality is about what you’d expect from a nicer version of the F-150. Storage, we have some decently sized cup holders here, a slide bin here that has a wireless charging pad as well as two USB ports. We have here the SYNC 3 Infotainment System, which is their latest, greatest, and I actually quite like it. Add in standard Apple CarPlay and Android Auto and it’s one of the easier systems to use for sure.

Audio quality from the BMO System is really quite good as well. Maybe not super high end audio file quality, but certainly enough to get some good bass and some nice clear highs as well. On the steering wheel, plenty of useful buttons for cruise control on the left and audio on the right, as well as some voice command buttons as well. The instrument cluster has two analog gauges that are flanking a central color display for all your trip computer fuel economy as well as a bunch of other information that come in handy as you’re driving and even off roading. The seats themselves are really well-shaped and generously padded. In this top trim we also have ventilation, and a hot day like today, it really proves its worth. After, let’s say, several hours of driving this, I can’t see a whole lot of fatigue coming from seat comfort. It’s one of the better seats that you can get and, in this class, that’s saying something.

Under my elbow is a massive bin with a sliding tray as well that’s removable. You’re going to fit a ton of stuff down there. Here in the second row seat, there’s plenty of support, they do recline somewhat. That’s quite a bit of travel right there. Mitchell’s quality, like the front, is also quite nice. I do like this kind of organic stitching they have here, and all of your elbow touch points are really nicely padded. In this trim we also have a tri-zone climate control back here, a house of power outlet, as well as two more USB ports. Optionally, they do have some rear entertainment headrests that will either play DVD or even stream from mobile devices.

So one good smart feature that they built into this is when you need to access a third row, just hit the button here and unlocks it. And that means that this whole thing slides forward and tilts forward. So if you have a child seat in here, you don’t necessarily have to take it out. Of course, you need to take the kid out, but that’s a pretty decent pass-through to get to the third row. And it doesn’t take that much effort to push it back, so maybe a kid could actually do it on their own. As you’d expect with something this size, the third row space is quite generous. I’m 5′ 10″, and I fit back here just fine. And, in general, you’re not going to be putting, let’s say, adults back here if you don’t have to. In a pinch, it is totally fine, and even for, let’s say, a longer trip, I’d be totally fine back here, too.

Now, look, the materials quality isn’t quite as nice as the first two rows. This is a pretty hard elbow touch point here that would get on my nerves after a little while, but these have a power recline, which is unusual, as well as another USB port here and on the other side as well. So you are really well covered. So from behind the wheel of the Expedition, I’m not going to say that it drives like a smaller SUV but it doesn’t drive bad at all. It doesn’t feel like it’s out of sorts on this winding mountain road. The suspension is doing a really good job of soaking up all the bumps, and you do have the option for adaptive suspension to stiffen things up or soften them up as you see fit. And even right now in the sustained long corner we’re in, there’s not a whole lot of body roll. It’s really well-managed. Now, we are riding quite high. You’ll feel some undulations, especially with the left to right stuff because you are riding so high, so it’s like being at the end of a whip. Now, we get to demonstrate its turning circle.

Is it going to need– no. Actually, that’s a really small turning circle. So that bodes really well for maneuverability if you’re in a tight parking spot. And also if you need to do a bunch of U-turns on residential roads. So probably a lot fewer three-point turns than you’d expect. It’s always a good idea to instead of ride the brakes all the way down is to shift into a lower gear, let the engine slow you down. So to do that, you hit the M button here in a manual mode, downshift, and there you go. I certainly would prefer to have the buttons on the steering wheel, either on the wheel itself or a paddle behind it, but as seldom as most people will use that, it’s fine where they put it.

And we have a rotary selector here for the gears. It’s all right. I mean, it takes a little getting used to, but it is better than the push button transmission that you’ll find in some other cars. As far as road and wind noise, while I’m hearing some of both, but they’re really not that bad. The stereo is off so if I were to just turn it up a little bit, it would drown it right out. There’s obviously a lot more noise coming through than the Navigator, but this is a good 200 or 300 pounds lighter than the Navigator, so you’re going to make up those small inconveniences with fuel economy and driveability.

In terms of visibility, while this A-Pillar is pretty thick, in a left turn these windows are so wide and that A-Pillar is positioned at least well far away so that I’m not having to bob back and forth to see what’s on the other side. This B-Pillar over my shoulder is pretty thick. So I’m making a lane change, looking over my shoulder, I’m not going to see much. At least the mirrors are wide enough to give you a better idea.

Combine that with a blind spot monitor, takes a lot of that guesswork and stress out of it. And when it comes to towing, the Expedition does it really well. Just over 9,000 pound towing capacity, I believe. And, yeah, that’s what we like to call best in class. You do have the reverse trailer assists. I don’t know about you, but for me, when I’m backing up a trailer into a spot, I break out into a cold sweat. That essentially eliminates all the stress out of it because you’re steering with this little dial rather than the steering wheel. It uses cameras and a bunch of other sensors to make sure that you’re backing up right into where you want. It’s a smart feature, not particularly new, but I really love it nonetheless.

So I’ve spent quite a bit of time in this, the 2018 Ford Expedition, and I have to say I quite like it. There aren’t a lot of SUVs that compete with this at this scale. The most notable being the Chevy Suburban. And I would take this over the Suburban pretty much in an instant. There are far less things you have to worry about as far as cargo space. The Suburban has kind of a three inch lift that you have to get over, and the ride quality isn’t nearly as nice as this, either. There are also quite a bit more features that you can get with the Expedition. Well, that’s obviously a case of this coming out now versus three years ago when the Suburban did. But, all in all, I really quite like it. It drives great, the pricing is pretty reasonable considering the size of the car, starting around $50,000 for the base model all the way up to about $80,000 for the top trim like this. Compared to the Lincoln Navigator on which they share a mutual platform, there’s not a whole lot difference as far as engine transmission, all that stuff.

But the Lincoln Navigator certainly has more style and bling. This is a lot more utilitarian and useful, but it’s also $20,000 less when you’re talking about trim levels from bottom to top. Now, if you are considering either of them, honestly, it’s going to come down to your budget. How much bling do you really want? For more information on the Expedition, as well as the competition, head over to edmunds.com. And if you want to see more videos like this, hit subscribe.

[MUSIC PLAYING].

For More Info : Mental Photography

[trevorbailey61]

Kraftwerk 3D

Royal Concert Hall, Nottingham

Sunday18th June 2017

The star bursts onto the screen, the word “Boing” picked out in bold red letters against the yellow background. As ti fades, it is followed by “Boom”, the middle two Os pushed forward while the B and the M lurked further back. This is turn is followed by “Tschak”, thinner, angular and eventually being smashed into shards that leap out of the screen; “Boing, Boom, Tschak” repeated, the code to tell us we are nearly at the end, “musique, non-stop”. Music - non stop, a treble clef moves towards us growing larger and larger until it can no longer be contained by the stage it has emerged from, eventually bursting its boundaries and releasing a flood of musical notation; crotchets, quavers, semiquavers, semibreves, sharps, flats, f, ff, a jumble of symbols, the spectacle continuing until the very end. The trouble is, this isn’t the end, Kraftwerk are only just getting started and are now informing us that it is “More Fun to Compute”. Instead of tumbling musical symbols, we should be watching animated wave signals pulsating across the screen, digital code for our “Home Computer”. Behind the scenes, a glitch has found its way into the programme and unleashed the finale; the four standing on the stage carry on, either unaware that the images no longer match what they are playing or aware and confident someone will sort it out. They do and soon the images are where they should be, “Boing Boom Tschak” eventually reappearing in its rightful place, one last piece of electro funk before we leave. It seems unlikely that this will have escaped the attention of Herr Hütter and no doubt some harsh words were exchanged after but it showed that, until the Robots eventually do take over, a live performance will always involve a human interface and this will lead to mistakes. Someone will press the wrong button, the finale for the show will appear in the third song and then someone will have to start frantically working their way through all the cues until they get things back on track. For a few moments, the “Man Machine” was a bit more man and a bit less machine.

It was in 1980 at the Top Rank Club on Dale End in Birmingham, later to become the Hummingbird and then the Academy. On stage, Nick Lowe looks down at the front row of the audience and for a moment breaks the fourth wall as he scans the faces looking up at him. Of the people there, he picks me out, points directly and smile. In reply I wave frantically but by then the moment is over and he is back to his bass duties as next to him Dave Edmunds launches into another verse, can’t remember what of but lets say it was “Queen of Hearts” for no other reason than I remember it was played. This brief exchange was almost certainly quite random but it did cross my mind that about two weeks previously I had occupied the same position when their band, Rockpile, played Nottingham University. Just possibly he noticed a familiar face and wondered, who is this superfan? As it was, my attendance at both resulted from a misunderstanding, my sister had booked tickets for the Birmingham show unaware that I had also decided to see them at University. This meant, however, that this was the first time I had seen an act twice on the same tour and my dedication was rewarded with a couple of extra songs, Lowe did “Cruel to be Kind” which he omitted in Nottingham, and a surprise guest appearance by Robert Plant which made it all worthwhile. Since then and aside from festivals, there are only two acts I have seen more than once on the same tour. The first of these was at the NEC in 1987 when I went to see two of the three nights Bob Dylan played with Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers as part of the “Temples in Flames” tour, incidentally his last before his touring became never ending. The second time I managed three concerts, seeing Bruce Springsteen’s “Wrecking Ball” Tour in London, Coventry and Cardiff. For each of these, there was a spontaneity that meant no two shows were ever the same, setlists would change from night to night which in Dylan’s case meant that his backing band were as much in the dark about what to expect as the audience, sometimes even after he had started playing it. Kraftwerk, however, have always sort to take the spontaneity out of live performance, sounds and images are created in the studio making the performance a means of presenting what has already been rehearsed and programmed. Whereas Dylan could soar one night and plummet into the depths two nights later, for Kraftwerk to goal is consistency, each audience should experience the same show, until of course someone presses the wrong button.

It was almost a year ago that the email arrived carrying with it both excitement and dread, it was only a few years ago that I had spent almost an entire day trying to phone a number that was constantly engaged and attempting to log into a website that had crashed. As we arrive in Nottingham, we walk past Rock City, a venue Kraftwerk played in about 1981 although for some reason, I can’t remember why, I traveled to Birmingham to see them. Despite the venues now being larger, their popularity has massively increased to the extent that tours sell out in minutes, the website at Tate Modern that day unable to keep up with the demand. On a Friday morning, just under a year ago, everything was prepared, websites logged into so that I could pounce the moment the tickets were released, Birmingham and, as insurance, Nottingham. There was a nervous wait in a queue but shortly after 9;00am the Birmingham tickets were secured and Twitter was already informing me that other venues had sold out. I decided to check Nottingham, really just to see if what I had just seen was correct, and I find that tickets are still available, not quite the prime seats we had at Birmingham but still in the stalls and not far from the stage. Without thinking, I continue with the order and a few moments later an email arrives to tell me my quest has been successful. It is only then that I begin to consider firstly the hit my credit card will take and secondly whether I really need to see them twice. The note that arrives with the tickets informs me that I will have to bring proof of identify, no touting then, but there was really never any doubt that I would be here and on a hot Sunday evening we join a queue that snakes around in front of the Theatre Royal.

My wife’s new found love of teutonic techno pop does not extend to seeing them twice in a week so my companion for this evening is my sister; this is our first trip out since she ended up in A&E which means that the excitement is tempered with a few nerves. We have, however, spent the afternoon in the company of our 94 year old aunty and despite the oppressive heat, both seemed to be remarkably chipper which, in an all seater venue, makes me confident that we will make it to the end of the evening. When we do eventually reach the entrance, the rather cursory check makes me wonder how the queue had become so large but after the customary snap wearing the 3D glasses, the projection of four pixelated figures informs us that the ride is about to begin. The curtain draws back to reveal the four empty lecterns, outlined in green, the synthesised voice welcomes us and begins the counting “Numbers” and the four figures clad in skin tight, semi luminous jumpsuits take up their position. The show, of course, is the same but this is what I both wanted and expected and having taken in the spectacle a few days earlier, I found that my attention was taken much more by the music and those performing it.

Whilst separate songs are picked out, fittingly for a concert hall the music merges into a whole, different tracks from the same album are often combined with some appearing simultaneously and the gap between each section is brief. Despite this consistency, however, parts stand out, some the same as before but others emerge. The thump of the thundering bass of “Man Machine” is still powerful, even when it is expected, and contrasts superbly with the shimmering beauty of “Neon Lights”.  Of course the “Spacelab” is now hovering over Nottingham before coming to rest outside the Royal Concert Hall and “Autobahn” seems a little different, the melody being picked out at a slightly lower pitch although this could be in comparison with the recording rather than the previous show. “Radioactivity” is still haunting, again its impact still as great second time around, and the music from “Tour De France” is combined into into one supreme montage. Appearing almost a decade after their previous work, it has never been my favourite Kraftwerk album but the presentation here justifies the endless reworking. If anything, the crashing metallic sound of “Trans Europe Express” is more striking and the appearance of the “Robots” adds wry but sinister humour.  It is in “Airwaves” however that I find something new, its trance like beat showing in this one burst the origins of techno dance music. With the lecterns disguising what it is that the four are actually playing, it is tempting to think that everything is preprogrammed and all those on stage have to do is press buttons. Whatever it is they do, however, requires their full attention and the different roles begin to emerge. Despite the technology, the band structure seems very traditional with two forming a rhythm section, the others provide melody and counter melody whilst Hütter alone provides the vocals. They even each get a solo before they leave the stage, there are some traditions that technology can never fully replace.

As I complete this section, I am listening to the newly remastered “Sgt Pepper”. It is something I didn’t really think about, the choice was based on scanning through the new releases on Spotify, but now it seems somehow appropriate. For those of us of a certain vintage, these are probably the most significant series of concerts of the year and there has been no shortage of articles and reviews as they make their way across the country. Many have opined on Kraftwerk’s legacy and in terms of influence comparisons have been made with The Beatles, some suggesting that their reach could be further. They were by no means the first to adopt synthesisers but previous examples had included using them to rework the classics without an orchestra, “Switched on Bach” being a record that I remember and hated from my childhood, or to create some atonal dirge that verged on the unlistenable. What Kraftwerk did was to add the pop, the Beach Boys inspired ode to the German motorways, the catchy melody of “The Model” and the electro dance of “Electric Cafe”. They inspired David Bowie to move into his dark Berlin Trilogy, they have been sampled by New Order and Madonna, their influence is seen in techno, hip-hop, acid house and EDM and Coldplay had a massive hit with a song using the melody of “Computer Love”. The “Tomorrow’s World” managed to get it right then, what the short clip of four serious young men in a Dusseldorf studio were creating was the sound of the future, a future that without them would have been very different. Bigger than The Beatles? no way, more influential, well maybe with that there is a point. Put like that, then, seeing them twice becomes a duty; that it was so brilliantly entertaining made it a pleasure. All it needed was for Ralf to notice I was there, point in my direction and give a little nod and a wink. “Boing, Boom Tschak”.

[hannahkpatel-blog]

To Kill a Mockingbird Covers

I am looking into the different designs there are for To Kill a Mockingbird. I found a website which has different styles of the cover which I found interesting for my research. The website can be found here:  https://www.visualnews.com/2016/02/22/20-beautifully-designed-book-covers-harper-lees-kill-mockingbird/

Inkymole

This cover was designed by Inkymole. On her work, she wrote

‘For me the most poignant moments are those when the feared Boo Radley leaves his little gifts for Scout and Jem hidden in the tree, especially the tiny figurines of the children. That needed to be central to the image and in the end, it literally does form 'the spine' of the book. The other elements were Scout's tomboy clothing and the trees (forming play areas and hiding places)’.

When watching the film to this book, the moment where Boo leaves gifts in the tree for the children is also a moment that sticks out to me. It plays an important part in the story. The colours in the design reflect the storyline. Set in the early 30s, sepia tone reflects the heritage of this story. The use of type within the illustration is what interests me the most, as the type is disguised as tree branches. 

Luis E. Quevedo

What I like about this piece is how photography is incorporated with typography. The design of the cover is very simple, and simplicity is the best way to show an idea. The artist did not leave a description of his work, but from my understanding of the book, the reason for the bird-shaped hole in the tree is to portray the hole in the tree in which Boo Radley left gifts for the children. The colours again relate the the time of when the story is set. And the typography used is simple and fits to the shape of the hole.

Jesslyn Tan

As said by Tan herself: ‘I chose to focus on racial inequality along with the "killer" and the "mockingbird". The book cover juxtaposes the two characters to show this. Besides the American themes involved, the American pop art style used was also to pay homage Harper Lee's childhood town (Monroeville, Alabama, U.S.) where events in the book were allegedly inspired by’. 

This quotation has given me the idea to look further into the background of the story, such as Harper Lee’s hometown of which the story was inspired by. The cover itself is very different to the rest of the covers I have seen, as it seems very up to date. It makes the story look as if it is more recent, and it will also be visually appealing to a younger audience. 

It is almost as if it is giving the book the wrong message. A lot of the other designs I have seen seem dark and classical compared to this design.

Mickenzie Robbins 

In his own words: ‘The imagery symbolically portrays the protagonists movement toward a loss of childhood innocence as she witnesses events unseen to most 8-year-olds, as is shown through the bright yellow which is being overshadowed by a harsh black’.

What strikes me about this design is the colour scheme used in this design. The black and yellow stand out and suits the bold imagery. The use of using a lino print is visually appealing. 

It gives me a sense of how important it is for me to experiment when designing this cover. Also, the type is very interesting as it is blocky, and is bespoke.

Fuel Studio

This cover is my absolute favourite cover I have seen so far. From the designer:

‘The design of the cover was based on social inequality, most notably the underlying theme of racism and human morality. The fist is a representation of the black community within the book who are repressed by the white community. The shackle is a portrayal of the white community it also acts as representation of the innocence of the children’.

What strikes me most is the type used within the illustration. The whole simplicity of it and the colour scheme just fascinates me. The colours work really well and the imagery symbolises an important subject within the story. 

Ally Simmons

From Simmons herself: ‘I made the cover with all the wonders Boo Radley put in the tree in my mind. I used sepia colors to evoke that feeling of timelessness’.

The red type used in this design look to me as if they are made with wool. The cover focuses on the objects that were left for the children. They are the objects of how the children will remember Boo Radley. The lines on the detail of the oak tree, to me make the design feel more interesting and give it a bit more age and character. The way the objects are represented in a sketchy style also reflect the style of the time era of the book. The colour scheme works well together. The red is the first thing that is seen, and reads the most important part of the design.

Meagan Murray

From Murray herself: ‘The typography was hand lettered to look like words carved into a tree. That type was then repeated and turned into a pattern for the background. The background is black while the words are done in a varnish so that when the light catches it there’s a little more to see’.

From first glance, the book represents a dark story. The type and colour used for the type give the design a scary feel. It is as if the book is a horror book and the type is cut into skin. To me, the handwriting represents the innocence of the children in the book. Where as the black background is neglecting what is around.

Unknown Artist

The designer for this piece is unknown. I found this cover on Pinterest. What interested me the most about this is the style of design. It has a 70′s colour scheme going on, and the shapes are curved, but angular. It is as if the design has been consturcted from shapes that have been printed. The faded colour on the image of the bird and on the work ‘kill’ give it that aged feel.

Edmund Zaloga

The design I am most interested in is the last design on the image. A lot of the covers I have seen, 97% of them have an image of a bird. However, this design has shown the bird in another context, and says exactly what it says on the tin. 

From Zaloga: ‘The title refers to the metaphor that to kill a mockingbird, is to kill innocence and beauty itself. This metaphor connects strongly to the characters in the book that were discriminated against, falsely accused of wrongdoing, and later unjustly killed.’

The use of type is interesting too. It relates to the time era of the book and overall, the book has a modern, but vintage feel to it.

Marc Storrs and Rob Morphy 

Immediately from looking at this design, I am driven by the colour palette. There are only 4 colours used, and the use of black makes the important parts of the book stand out. The idea of the knife and the bird relates to the story. The knife is a symbol to the knife that Bob Ewell was killed with. Although no birds were killed with the knife, it relates to the title of the story. 

Abby Pratchios

A different take to the book cover to the ones that I have posted. This cover is designed for the 50th edition of the book. It has a sleeve to protect the pristine white cover. Minimal colours have been used to keep it at a classic look. The word mockingbird is repeated many times within the cover, and is played on throughout the design. 

The Folio Society

This is a different take to the cover all together. The striking orange catches the eye, making the black illustrations stand out. The idea of a cage and the figure of the man relates to Tom Robinson, and the injustice he faces. The images of the mockingbird are a common theme in all of the covers I have looked at. The material that this design is produced on makes the book look classy and elegant. It is a timeless classic book. 

Mari

A different take to the cover altogether. In Mari’s own words:

‘I chose this idea as my book cover because the watch is the one they found in the tree in the Radley's place, it symbolized Tom Robinson's death and how time is all worth it as the book comes to an end. The mockingbird flying away and into the watch is symbolizing how the innocent is not saved and they have flown away into the time that has been too short for them to live. And the tree in the back ground is the mystery of the Radley place.’

To me, the child like imagery relates to how the story is seen from Scout’s point of view - a six your old girl. She is noticing events which are life changing for herself and her family.

Melissa Moscoso 

This design focuses on the characters of the story. It looks as if the designs are produced with a lino print. The colours are neutral and suit the theme of the story. Not quite sure why the imagary is faded, but it creates the form of the character as if we were amking it up in our head. From Moscoso herself:‘The concept is to have each character's negative reputation depicted on the vellum sheet and when removed, the untarnished true identity is revealed,"

Jimmy Thanh Chanthavong

Complete different concept. Having a cutout design on the sleeve, so that when the sleeve is put over the book, there is a striking design that is revealed. The type on the spine of the book is something I find particularly interesting. I admire the cut outs on the holes in the letters which separates the type style to the front of the book.