#elizabethan restoration

[fluentisonus]

is there an adjective specifically for the period of queen anne's reign

[britneyshakespeare]

Actually I must resign to the fact that The Country Wife (1675) by William Wycherley is unfortunately hilarious

[thepromptfoundry]

Calling all history nerds, period piece connoisseurs, and fans of time-travel plots! Decades December is coming up here at The Prompt Foundry!

This list is being posted a little earlier than usual because historical work can take some time. The list has some reference points for you to jump off from. Show off your special interest in a particular era or event, or start a wiki walk from the the Wikipedia page for each decade to learn something new!

Have fun exploring resources like @thetimelinesofslang, the Fashion History Timelines from NYSU's Fashion Institute of Technology, or the fashion plates and historical photos from blogs like @omgthatdress or @historical-fashion-polls!

If you use this list, please tag me here @thepromptfoundry, I’d love to see your writing and art!

Feel free to combine different days' prompts with each other, or combine them with other events! Use your OCs, your favorite characters from media, your own experiences, whatever tickles your fancy.

Respond to as many prompts as you want or as interest you, don’t worry about missing or skipping any. Remember, this is supposed to be fun!

If you have any questions or musings, check our FAQ, and if you don't find your answer, shoot me an ask.

Plain text list below the cut:

1) 0010s Xin dynasty in China, Caesar Augustus in Rome

2) 1900s Edwardian era, Russo-Japanese War, release of the first feature film The Great Train Robbery

3) 300s Teotihuacan flourishing in present-day Mexico, writing of the Kama Sutra

4) 1910s World War 1, the Russian Revolution

5) 1440s Late Middle Ages/Early Renaissance in Europe, the hangul writing system is introduced in Korea

6) 1920s Prohibition in the US, rise of fascism in Europe, earliest sync-sound movies

7) 0070s Roman Epire, destruction of the Second Temple in Jerusalem, eruption of Mt. Vesuvius and destruction of Pompeii

8) 1930s The Great Depression, the Declaration of the Independence of India, art deco, color film

9) 1090s The First Crusade, the Liao, Xia, and Song dynasties in various parts of China

10) 1810s The Napoleonic Wars, the Regency era in England

11) 1940s World War 2, post-war rebuilding

12) 1000s BC The Iron Age, King David of the Israelites, development of the Phoenician alphabet

13) 1950s Baby Boom, Red Scare, the Korean War, rock'n'roll, zippers and television both become commonplace

14) 1340s The Black Death in Europe, decline of the Mongol Empire

15) 1590s Late Elizabethan Era in Europe, William Shakespeare, Imjin War between Japan and Korea

16) 1960s Moon landing, hippies, mod fashion, Chinese Cultural Revolution, Stonewall, Star Trek, the Civil Rights movement

17) 1770s The American Revolution, founding of the real Illuminati

18) 1860s American Civil War era, late Edo period in Japan

19) 1970s The Sexual Revolution, disco, the first video games, end of the Vietnam War

20) 2200s Whatever the future holds!

21) 1980s End of the Cold War and fall of the Berlin Wall, beginnings of the World Wide Web, the First Intifada in Gaza

22) 1660s Part of the Golden Age of Piracy, the English Restoration

23) 1990s Internet access becomes widespread, grunge, the Gulf War, the Troubles in Ireland, height of the AIDS crisis, Princess Dianna, first Pokemon games

24) 1230s University of Cambridge founded in England, beginnings of the Mali Empire in Africa, rein of Emperor Shijo in Japan

25) 2000s The “War On Terror”, rise of Big Tech, Y2K fashion, emo culture, cell phones become commonplace

26) 1880s Gilded Age, the first skyscrapers, electrification of cities, first household electrical appliances like fans and irons

27) 1640s Qing dynasty begins in China, the First English Civil War

28) 2010s Hipster culture, height of video streaming, YA lit boom

29) 500s Liang and Northern Wei dynasties in China, Heptarchy period in England, height of prosperity of the Mayan Empire

30) 2020s Present day!

31) 3130s Whatever the future holds!

[miscellaneousvintageobjects]

BRITAIN’S OLDEST BED, 1570s

Britain's oldest bed, a sturdy oak four-poster, has endured the trials and tribulations of a longstanding kingdom since the Elizabethan period.

It stands as the sole surviving piece of furniture from Salford's Ordsall Hall. Originally crafted for Sir John Radclyffe and Lady Anne Asshawe in the 1570s, the bed mysteriously disappeared around 1650 during a change of ownership at the Hall. For nearly three centuries, its whereabouts remained unknown until it resurfaced in the home of a resident in Whalley Range, Manchester. The circumstances of how it came into his possession remain a mystery, but the bed was eventually sold off in pieces to cover his death duties. In a stroke of fortune, Dr. Chris Douglas, a collector of medieval and Tudor furniture, painstakingly restored the bed to its former glory in 1968.

Source: Facebook

Mysterious Things

[dr3mvaalmar]

From Ritual to Realms Beyond | Kinktober Day 2

Pairing: Solomon x F! Reader

Prompt: Role-Play (nsfw, mdni)

Summary: Solomon and the reader find a mysterious page in one of his books. Taking inspiration, they decided to reenact it in a play of trust and intimacy.

Credit: @cafekitsune (divider), The Piano Lesson by Louis Tribout (art cover)

Warnings/Tags: missionary sex, blowjob (swallowing), emphasizing consent, Elizabethan dialogue (this is a warning lol)

Solomon’s room was a deep royal blue, the incandescence of the various candles providing a soothing atmosphere to the mysterious dorm. The time seemed to meld as one from ancient books, miscellaneous experiments, and modern technology strewn about in organized chaos. Lights seemed to flicker across the walls like tiny constellations. Chandeliers lined the ceiling, currently off to set a calm dimness—an ample, hardwood desk rest in the corner. Quills, beakers, and open tomes lay haphazardly on its elegant surface. The most important feature was the books that lined the wall, a plethora of genres that could occupy a person for a lifetime. A simple bed lay in the corner, sheets neatly tucked in and the light from the window illuminating the plush surface. In the center of the room was an opulent Chesterfield couch, two individuals entranced on a particular book on the coffee table before them.

“This chapter discusses river naiads. One, in particular, was the potamides that reside in rivers,” Solomon explained, flipping through the page and pointing to a particular excerpt. I gazed fondly at the text, relishing every word. “Some of these nymphs coveted young girls. It is said that these girls would have their freckles carefully removed by the nymphs themselves.”

“That’s cute,” I said with a giggle, watching as Solomon flipped the pages. “But I think freckles are lovely.”

Solomon hummed in response, a faint smile adorning his features. He paused on a page with an extensive image carefully stamped in pristine detail. I reached out, carefully feeling the aging page beneath my touch. I focused on Solomon, curious to hear more from him.

“Nymphs often would help—” Solomon began but paused as he flipped the page again. He turned it over a few times, his thoughts indecipherable.

“What is it?” I asked before he turned towards me, the corners of his lips curling. A mischievous twinkle shown in his eye. I knew something interesting was about to happen.

“Feel this page here, (Y/n),” Solomon said, guiding my hand to the page. I copied his actions from earlier but didn’t notice anything unusual. His expectant gaze told me it was apparent, but I was none the wiser. “Here, allow me to show you.”

Solomon’s hand drifted over the book as I felt the faint shimmer of magic permeate through the air. Lines crisscrossed over the page, revealing something between them. 

“I noticed the page felt heavier than the others. There’s also a faint trail of magic,” Solomon explained, ever certain with his judgment. “There, voilà.”

The page peeled with no resistance, showing the clandestine text underneath. From an outsider's perspective, the magic concealed it perfectly. Another drawing was revealed, along with related text. I could feel my face grow hot.

“Well, that’s interesting,” I said, peering down at the nymph engaging intimately with a man. I peeked at Solomon, enjoying his taken-aback expression. Of all the things to hide, it’s medieval pornography. 

“Interesting, indeed,” Solomon said, skimming through the text. “It’s a story about a ritual. A sorcerer meets a river nymph who is cursed never to leave the water. As the river dries up, she convinces a sorcerer to free her. The two of them perform a ritual to restore her depleting magical energy. The ritual strengthens her, helping her break free. I suppose the illustration shows the ritual itself.”

“The river nymph must’ve been so beautiful that the man risked himself to save her,” I murmured, imagining the tale in my head. River nymphs were known to be either a blessing or a curse. Often, it was best to avoid them altogether, no matter their desperation.

“Even the fairest of naiads could never compare to your ethereal beauty,” Solomon added. Heat rose to my face as I tried to muster up with a witty comeback. However, nothing came to mind.

“You embarrass me,” I grumbled, earning a chuckle from him, much to my chagrin. 

“Well, I can only imagine what you would look like as a naiad,” Solomon said. “You would vex every man who laid eyes on you.” “Including you?” I retorted, a flirtatious cadence to my voice. 

“Including me,” Solomon affirmed, his eyes gazing tenderly into mine. “Though, I might have to fight anyone who tries.”

This time, it was my turn to laugh as I reached down to squeeze his hand. The image of Solomon fighting an onslaught of men in my honor made my heart flutter. He truly was my protector.

“I have an idea,” I gasped, a realization coming to my mind.

“You want me to fight for you?” Solomon asked, his eyebrow quirked in amusement. I shook my head vigorously.

“No. Well, not now,” I said. “Anyways, how about we… you know? Role play?”

Solomon’s face lit up devilishly. He gazed down at the image in the tome before looking up slyly at me. I held my ground, firm on my intentions.

“You want to be the nymph?” Solomon asked, and I nodded in return. “And I’ll be the sorcerer, I presume. Well, wouldn’t that be entertaining?”

“It reminded me of that transformation spell you showed me a couple of weeks ago, remember?” 

Solomon nodded, remembering when we were studying for one of the exams. One of the chapters focused on deception. It was for demons to trick humans, but there have been instances of humans using cosmetical mirages. Solomon showed me how he can distort the spectrum of light around him, causing his hair to turn from white to different colors. Its use was very versatile.

“That’s certainly in the realm of possibility,” Solomon agreed with his finger on his chin in thought. “But it would be dangerous.”

My head tilted as I racked my brain for an explanation. Solomon’s eyes drifted away from me, a smile tugging at his lips. I was curious to know what things he would do. Solomon’s intentions were an enigma.

“Let’s do it.”

Not long after, we were starting the act. After a brief touch-up of what was to occur and what was off-limits, we reconvened to set the scene. Solomon recited an incantation from one of his books, dabbing my skin with liquid. I felt my body lighter upon finishing, realizing Solomon replaced my clothes with shimmering garments. The clothes were as light as a feather yet flowy and embellished to rival royalty. I felt like a princess, admiring my appearance through the mirror. The magic styled my hair to frame my face perfectly, adding the mystique and allure of a naiad. My skin almost seemed to sparkle like light flickering off the sea. 

“Wow,” Solomon praised, kissing my cheek. “You look enchanting.”

I laughed, pecking his cheek back a little more forcefully. “I wish looking like this was this easy every day.”

“I will confess, I’m enamored by your everyday look. It feels comfortable… like home.”

I smiled sweetly, feeling the same when I was with him. I wished we could live together in the same room so I could see him in his natural habitat. It was nice to wake up and experience the mundane together. Sneaking in or staying the night just didn’t feel the same. I wanted to make a life together.

“Are you ready? We should begin,” Solomon asked, his hand reaching towards me. I took it gently as he led me to the center of the room. We took our positions. “Follow after me, okay?”

I nodded, watching as he changed his appearance to fit the scene. Instead of simply changing his outfit, his appearance was almost unrecognizable. His hair lengthened, shimmering with a faint golden hue. He wore a long mage robe embellished with dark green velvet, almost like moss. The robe's hem robe lay an intricate golden pattern, contrasting well with the robe—a vine wrapped around his waist which hung various pouches and a flask. Solomon still had his signature cape, this time a lighter shade of green. It shifted in the light, almost like the swaying of leaves. On his fingers were various rings of different styles. Solomon’s eyes were now a shade of green but still held that playfulness I could so dearly recognize.

“Hail, fair nymph of the waters,” Solomon began with a theatrical bow. “I am a sorcerer hailing from the northlands. Mine ears did catch thine cries of distress from yonder. Art thou unharmed?”

I tried to keep my composure to keep the moment flowing, but the language change was almost comical. Solomon seemed like an entirely different person. His new identity was both charming and frightening. I had no idea Solomon could act, but it would make sense, all things considered. Though my speech wasn’t perfect, I easily replicated his language.

“Thou art quite the actor, Solomon.”

Solomon looked taken aback, his palm on his chest in mock disbelief. He was enjoying the acting a bit too much. Although, when I mentioned roleplaying, I anticipated something a bit more sexy…

“Who be this Solomon? Such a name hath ne’er graced mine ears,” Solomon said. My brow quirked up.

“My apologies. I converse with thee,” I correct with a courtesy bow. “Thy speech is…different. I half expected thee to pull out a quill and parchment.”

“Perchance, fair nymph, ‘tis thou who art not immersed enough in our role,” Solomon chided. I knew he wasn’t serious, but his tone seemed genuine.

“Nay, sorcerer. I am but…unaccustomed to thy speech. Thy tongue is as silvered as thy magic.”

“Then, let us continue our tale. Mayhaps, by its end, thou will find thyself enamored not just by mine words but by the tale we weave together.”

From there, we enacted the roleplay, adding great charm to our characters. Solomon acted like a gentleman, showing his concern. I explained to him my predicament. 

“Long ago, an envious fiend saw my realm flourish and sought to rob me of my dominion. She cursed me, chaining me to these fading waters. As they wane, so does my life force. I am tethered here, unable to seek other realms, fated to fade until naught remains.”

“I may assist thee. I am versed in a spell that hath the power to break such a curse, but thou must place thy trust in me. What sayeth thou, nymph?”

“Whatsoe’er it requireth. Do as thou seest fit,” I said, my face contorting as I tried to find the words. Speaking was a bit more tiring than I expected. When do we get to the good part?

Solomon discussed a spell with me. Although he was straightforward in his intentions, he left out a few details that confused me. When I asked him to clarify, he would find a way to distract me from my curiosity. 

“Lie thee down upon the earth,” Solomon instructed, gesturing towards the floor of his dorm. I looked reluctantly, staying in character. Regardless, I did as he told me. “Calm thine spirit and empty thine thoughts. I shall take the fore. Follow mine lead.”

My body lies supine on the ground, my arms at my side. My skin shuddered as I felt Solomon’s cold touch. He caressed my body, paying particular attention to my most intimate areas. I could hear him mumble something under his breath. It didn’t sound like a language I recognized.

“Stay where thou art,��� Solomon muttered as I wiggled underneath him. I couldn’t help it. How could anyone stay still? 

“Easier for thee to utter,” I said indignantly. Solomon leaned above me, placing a finger over my lips. His face was furrowed in concentration as he continued the ritual, paying my disbelief no mind.

“Thou shalt feel aught peculiar. Heed it not,” Solomon muttered, but it was too late. I squeaked as I felt my body move on its own accord. I felt the ground leave from below me as my body hovered. It was a simple spell but enough to make my senses overreact. With no stability, I felt incredibly unbalanced and flailed my arms.

“Solomon, I’m going to fall!” I exclaimed, panic setting it. Solomon seemed to have no intentions of letting me go, however. Instead, he simply grasped my waist and pulled my body into his. To say I was a bit flustered to have his pelvis between my thighs was an understatement.

“What are you doing?” I said, breaking character yet again. Solomon flashed me a mock disapproving look. 

“I didst bid thee to follow mine lead. Thou hast turned a deaf ear. This is an act of trust and circumspection. If thou continuest to wriggle, thou’lt mar the ritual,” Solomon said, his hands slowly running down the length of my body. His touch resonated through my skin. For a moment, I forgot my predicament. His eyes shined. Solomon knew he had the upper hand. 

As Solomon supported me with his lower body, he started speaking in the strange language again. His voice was soft and sultry. Every word vibrated the air around us, and I could feel it against me. His voice was powerful. It made me feel vulnerable underneath him. Even though this ritual was an act of trust, it dived even deeper into our relationship. I wanted to say something but feared interrupting it. I also relished the power dynamic.

I noticed my skin starting to glow by the end of the incantation. It was simply mesmerizing. Slowly, I could feel my body begin to descend. Solomon’s touch didn’t dare leave me as he guided me. His actions soothed me.

“The hour is nigh, dear nymph, for thy salvation to be realized,” Solomon said as my body settled on the ground. I could only stare at him doe-eyed. Every movement and touch seemed to spark fireworks inside my head. Solomon leaned forward, and I realized how much I loved to see the outline of his chest through his clothes. I felt, in that instant, an intense desire to see more. More. More.

Solomon procured an item from his bag. It appeared to be a paintbrush with a pointed tip. I felt the brush tickle me as he traced symbols on my body. He used no ink or medium, yet images materialized on my body. I’ve never seen such shapes before. Each character carried an intense weight with each one he drew. Each stroke was meticulous and delicate as if painting on thin paper. I moaned as he lifted my shirt tantalizingly slow. Solomon paused.

“Doth the touch of a sorcerer stir thy senses?” 

Solomon's eyes didn’t leave my face as I looked away shamefully. His hand carefully dragged each finger across my abdomen and belly. I arched my back, desperate to rid myself of the growing heat within me. 

“I trow a mere whisper might send thee to the heavens,” Solomon said as he refrained to show the full extent of his amusement. “Yet we must proceed.”

He continued to draw more symbols across my flesh. All body parts must be covered, much to my embarrassment. He removed my clothes until I lay bare before him. Even though he had seen me naked a hundred times before, I felt like a virgin. The black text decorated my entire body. He seemed to study his work, but I realized his gaze was more focused on what lay beneath the symbols. My skin prickled with goosebumps as I tried to keep still.

“Dost thou fancy what thine eyes behold, sorcerer?” I said, a coy smile gracing my lips. Solomon looked taken aback but smiled wickedly. The distance closed as he crawled on top of me. He took a moment to gaze at my face as I lay entirely beneath him. Solomon’s blue eyes spoke more words than could be said at that moment.

“To touch thee, ‘tis to dance with the very flames of desire,” Solomon replied, leaning into a sweet kiss. I melted into his lips as I matched his movements. It was a respite from the aching within me. If Solomon continued to tease me, I wouldn’t be able to act anymore. His lips seemed even more appealing than the thousands of times I tasted them before.

I reached towards his waist, gripping at the fabric. My half-lidded eyes stayed transfixed on him as he parted. I needed him. I couldn’t keep this charade any longer.

“Thy lips speak innocence, yet thine body doth beckon me closer,” Solomon said. My face contorted as I rolled my eyes.

“Just fuck me, Sol,” I said, moaning as I pulled him into another kiss. I greedily moved my lips with him. My tongue swiped at his bottom lip, ready for entrance. Solomon hummed, using my lowered defense to slip his tongue into my mouth. Every time I tried to get the upper hand, Solomon was one step ahead.

Solomon’s arms wrapped around my body, keeping me steady against him. His tongue parted from my mouth, searching for new realms. Kisses lined my collarbone, my sternum, all the way to my hips. Each kiss tickled my skin, causing me to giggle. Seeing him so fixated on me brought warmth to my chest. I felt comfortable. 

Solomon flashed me a smile, which was my cue to reassure him I was enjoying myself. He always kept an eye on me, even when preoccupied with his own pleasure. Seeing him eager to please made me feel secure. Even now, as Solomon suckled on my breasts, he made sure to monitor my reactions.

I gripped the back of his head, urging him for more. I cooed encouraging words as he licked and prodded. His right hand played with the other breast, his other hand cupped around my thigh.

“Mm, your taste is delectable,” Solomon said, nuzzling the flesh with his cheek. He seemed to forget his previous identity, as he seemed distracted with lust. “I would be content like this for eternity.”

I caressed his cheek, his eyes gazing upwards. Solomon’s beautiful eyes were glazed, a look of admiration and love smitten across every feature. Solomon hypnotized me. It reassured every uncertainty in my mind. Solomon was mine, and I was his. I committed each detail to memory as he returned to my body. 

Solomon’s hand trailed down, rubbing the inner part of my thigh. Instinctively, I closed my leg. His touch was precise, like he understood every nerve within my body. I whimpered as I felt him rub his fingers along my exposed slit. Simply caressing me caused wetness to pool from within me. He used this benefit to rub my clit, my body twitching in response. I squeaked, clutching at his clothes. Solomon was quick to kiss my lips, causing my body to relax. 

“Be careful,” I warned, rubbing his back gently. “I’m sensitive.”

“Isn’t that part of the fun?” Solomon chuckled, earning a wary glare from me. “I’m teasing. I will tread carefully, but I expect you to keep up.”

I held my breath as Solomon descended on my most intimate area. Various thoughts ran through my mind at that moment. Even though we have had sex in every conceivable position, this felt different. There was a strange feeling in my gut. I couldn’t explain it. Solomon was enjoying himself, as am I. Yet, I felt something new. Different. 

I groaned as his tongue met the tender flesh of my clit. I could feel my legs twitch as he set the pace. Waves of pleasure reached my head. The worries became hazier and hazier. All I could think about was how much I loved Solomon. I would do anything for his love.

Solomon squeezed my thigh, digging in deeper. My breathing became heavier as the tension inside me built up. Each time he sucked my clit, it felt like a zap to my brain. I flexed my legs to resist the urge to close my thighs against him. Despite the looming threat, Solomon seemed content as he slipped a finger into my vagina.

“Ah, Solomon!” I gasped, placing both my palms by my side. My hands stretched and closed, finding a distraction against the new sensation. His finger rubbed the roof. It was slow at first before he eased more into it. Solomon let out an airy chuckle as I tensed underneath him. 

The aching within me was building to unreasonable levels. I tried desperately to suppress it, but it was too much. I cried out, my body giving in to the onslaught of euphoria and pleasure. The high lasted a few moments before Solomon paused, allowing me to gather my bearings.

I gently rubbed my knee against him, my brain too overwhelmed to utter a single word. Instead, I reached out to him with my hands. He quickly understood, embracing me in a tender hug. Love, lust, and admiration all came to a head. At that moment, I wanted it all.

“Are you ready for more?” Solomon asked, pecking my lips. I hummed in agreement. He whispered something unintelligible, but I was too busy focusing on his figure on top of me. Solomon’s hips rutted against me, his breathing becoming more rugged. I could feel his rigid dick through his pants. Knowing that I turned him on was pleasure enough.

Before I could register his actions, I felt the hot flesh of his dick rubbing the outline of my pussy. My hips moved with him, taking every ounce of pleasure I could get. He whispered more dirty words, but still, all I could think about was what was yet to come. The anticipation was killing me.

Solomon’s dick prodded at my entrance, coating the head in the slickness of my essence. It only took one push before he slid inside. Feeling my pussy expand against him made me gasp. The air seemed to leave my lungs the further he pushed. Solomon is powerful in many ways. His body was a force to reckon with.

“Are you doing well, my dear?” Solomon asked, his eyes lighting up in delight at my squirming form. I let out a muffled reply, slowly absorbing the many sensations. When his full length wrapped around me, Solomon thrust slowly. It was gentle initially, but I knew he was simply resisting the temptations. I squeezed his bicep, encouraging him with a smitten glance.

That was all Solomon needed. His pace became more vigorous and sloppy. The sounds of his cock against my wet pussy was enough to arouse me more and more. Each thrust was a shockwave. I couldn’t keep in the moans the more he delved into me.

“Solomon,” I gasped, the first response I could fathom to say. He leaned forward, gingerly sucking on my nipple while he fucked me senseless. My hips rotated in unison, the tip of his member rubbing the bundle of nerves inside. The tension came back in full force, as well as an overwhelming desire to reach its peak.

“Every gasp, every shiver—my entire life has led up to this moment. Take it all, my dear,” Solomon whispered, saliva trailing between his mouth and my breast. I cried out as he lifted my hips, angling deeper and deeper. I was a mess as I mumbled incoherently, letting the pleasure rush over me. Before I knew it, the tension snapped, and I was riding yet another orgasm to its finish. By now, Solomon had wiped every sane thought from me.

Solomon’s thrusts lessened as he watched me. I grunted with each movement, my senses heightened and out of control. What was a mere moment felt like an eternity. Oxytocin and dopamine incited a primal need to love him—to be with him. I never wanted to part from this intimate moment.

Before I could protest, Solomon retracted his dick from my aching hole. I whined, an emptiness left in his wake. Nothing could prepare me for his departure.

I knew he was still in need of an orgasm. I crawled towards him, taking his wet cock between my hands. It smelled like sex, our scent heavy in the air. With an experimental taste, I pushed it into the damp recesses of my mouth. As I bobbed my head up and down, I adjusted to his girth. Pride welled up inside my chest as my nose touched the base of his dick. My tongue synchronized with my movement, earning a distinctive moan from the sorcerer.

“Ugh, if you keep that up, I’m going to—” Solomon gasped, but it was too late. He thrust inside my mouth. I gargled in protest, my eyes widening as I felt his seed release inside me. My thoughts screamed to retract, but I wanted to appreciate the moment. I wanted Solomon to fill up my throat with everything he had.

I could see his chest heave up and down. His hand caressed my hair as he watched me swallow his cum. It was thick and salty. I loved it, but it wasn’t an easy task. I grasped Solomon’s dick, licking up the rest. His brows furrowed with each touch.

When I was done and satisfied with my efforts, I returned to eye level with him. My smug expression said everything that was on my mind. I felt victorious, another win over the conniving man.

“Why must you look at me like that,” Solomon chuckled, slowly pulling his clothes back on. The illusion from our play had faded, revealing our usual attire. I somehow felt more at ease seeing him like this.

“Maybe I just like looking at you,” I teased, licking my lips. Solomon’s taste wouldn’t leave my lips. It was simply perfection.

“Well, aren’t we fortunate? I happen to enjoy being the object of your gaze,” Solomon said, earning a giggle from me. He reached out a hand towards me. “Let’s get you cleaned up. Do you need some water?”

No matter how many times we spent together, I knew my satisfaction was Solomon’s priority. I felt pampered and loved by the end of the day. That’s all I desired, and I wanted the same for him. We forgot our roleplay long ago, but it will remain in my heart forever. Even though we never reached the story’s denouement, we shattered the true curse. Through trust and our unwavering bond, I finally felt free. 

[the-full-shakespearience]

He was not of an age, but for all time

Sometimes that famous quote by Ben Johnson about Shakespeare feels more real to me. Shakespeare's work has been hugely popular for over 400 years, and it connects us not just to his time but to all the time in between.

This is a page from from my copy of Macbeth from The Temple Shakespeare. The Temple Shakespeare was a collection of Shakespeare's plays published individually. These little red volumes were published prolifically from 1894 - 1930 (The New Temple Shakespeare was published from 1934 - 1956). They're fairly common in vintage bookstores throughout the English-speaking world. My copy of Macbeth was published in 1896.

One of the previous owners (perhaps the original owner) left their name inside the cover:

It looks to me like the name is Z. R. Stuber (though it could also be E. R. Stuber). There is also a little ticket listing the bookseller, Gilbert and Field at 67 Moorsgate Street, London E.C. The only information I can find about the bookseller is a reference from the Royal Academy of Art. They have a listing for Don Quixote of the Mancha by Edward Abbott Parry that also had a ticket in the front cover for the same bookseller, which they describe only as a book seller in London during the 1890s.

The area of the city that housed this bookshop was heavily bombed during the Second World War, which lead to the widening of London Wall just west of here. Most of the buildings around this address are obviously modern, though this building is either older or was built/restored in an older style.

This is 67 Moorgate today, a store selling designer greeting cards and stationary:

This book went on its own journey for more than 120 years before I acquired it, being bought and sold an unknown number of times before getting here. It is a century older than I am. The people who first printed, sold, and bought it are gone. The store that sold it is gone. The street it was sold on is unrecognizable. The company that published it was bought by another company that was in turn bought, like a matryoshka doll of corporations.

The story inside was already ancient when this was published, and now the world in which it was created is as inaccessible as the Elizabethan Era.

And yet something has endured.

Knowing that other people have shared in these stories with us makes them real like almost nothing else can. Charles I retitled his copy of Much Ado About Nothing. Sylvia Plath annotated her Hamlet. Z. R. Stuber left their name in Macbeth.

This is my copy of Macbeth now, but for how long? Will it outlive me? Will its fragile pages fall apart before I do? Or maybe I'll leave my name in the cover so that one day someone else can try to decipher my handwriting and know that we read the same lines.

[antiquecritique]

|| Min-Ji & Duncan ||

It had been perhaps less than a week since a new place had opened up in Opulence, a strange and peculiar house which outwardly may not look like much more than a slightly out of place family home on the very border between Bowden and Dillon. Built before Bowden had been given all of its rows of townhouses in a neat line along its main street, the house seemed to stick out like a stubborn nail refusing to be hammered in, surrounded by its own patch of green where predominantly asphalt and bricks ruled. It broke the overall concept of the neighborhood but added significantly to its quaintness.  

Right by the wrought iron gate which leads into the now fully restored from its previous weed-overgrown state of neglect front garden was an inconspicuous but unmistakable once noticed blue sign, hand-painted and weather-worn, simply informing ‘Antiquities’. Finding out what that meant exactly was only possible by asking the one and only person running and managing it, who was very often away or unreachable. But, at the very least, the place no longer looked abandoned and would never be locked again, at least not until its single resident and owner decided to mysteriously vanish without a trace once more, just like he did almost fifty years ago. How he got it back to looking livable in within a week with basically no noise complaints or any curiosity raised by the neighbors was yet another mystery…

Once through ‘Out of the Attic’s’ door though, a not entirely expected magic within awaited. There was not a single spot, place or corner in the shop that wasn’t intricate, old, peculiar or uniquely different. Yet everything came together in one perfectly arranged harmony, mixed styles, periods, materials and uses of every single piece of furniture and decoration somehow coexisting in a flurry of blended colors pleasing to both the eye and the soul. Nothing was out of place, nothing could be pointed out as something that did not belong, even if by all rights it could be called out as in one way or another mismatched. Medallion Baluch rugs were spread under early 19th century mahogany armchairs, art nouveau blended into rococo - you could sit in William and Mary style, lounge in Queen Anne, go through the drawers of Chippendale cabinets, write on Empire desks, draw French Restoration curtains, go through a hallway of gothic revival and then end up in an Elizabethan room only to decide to cook in a kitchen that appeared like it was brought not only from another time but from a whole other side of the world too.

A time machine glitched and spat ‘Out of the Attic’ out and now it was there, in Opulence, a little rusted, a little chipped, but very antique and vintage.

Maybe just like its owner, but one could never tell when it came to him. In one of the back rooms, he sat over a workbench, bent over a very purposefully directed light source which, even this early in the afternoon, was much needed to carefully and without any slip-ups bring a rough detail brush upon a tiny, rusted silver spoon in much need of a proper cleanup. Just a small first step on a long journey to its restoration to former shine and glory, requiring patience and a loving eye for details. A tinkle of a small bell above interrupted his peaceful focus, connected through the house by a tightened wire tied to the front door, a completely electricity-free motion sensor alerting him that someone had made an entrance. At no rush whatsoever, Duncan slipped off an old piece of magnifying head gear, too complicated to be called glasses. Everything was put down carefully before he rose and made his way to the front, to check who’d one of his first visitors since his arrival could be.

@min-ji-min

[littlegirlwiththeblueribbon]

MY SPECIAL INTERESTS:

✸ Cryptids, Cryptozoology

✸ Aliens, Abduction Phenomena, UFOlogy

✸ Ghosts, Paranormal Phenomena

✸ Fortune Telling, Psychic Readings, Tarot

✸ Astrology, Zodiac, Horoscopes

✸ Alchemy, Past & Present Chemistry

✸ Astronomy, Space, NASA

✸ Oceanography, Marine Biology

✸ Dinosaurs, Fossils, Paleontology

✸ Speculative Evolution & Biology

✸ Lost Civilizations, Cultural Extinction

✸ Animal Classification (Taxonomy)

✸ Taxidermy, Animal Death Studies

✸ Birds, Especially Corvids & Birds of Prey

✸ Passenger Trains, American Railroads

✸ Passenger Ships, RMS Titanic, Queen Mary

✸ Nuclear Power, Radiation, Radioactivity

✸ Radios, Radio Waves, Radio Towers

✸ Conspiracy Theories, Denialism

✸ Government Scandals, FBI Cover-Ups

✸ Urban Legends, Folklore, Internet Hoaxes

✸ Religion, Catholicism, Cults, Scientology

✸ Doomsday, Apocalpyse, Pandemics

✸ Meteorology, Weather Patterns, Predictions

✸ Petrology, Mineralogy, Faceting Gemstones

✸ Botany, Herbalism, Horticulture

✸ Mycology, Mold, Penicillin

✸ Toxicology, Poisons, Neurotoxins

✸ Historical Crimes & Unusual Punishment

✸ Elizabethan Era History, Fashion, Culture

✸ Shakespeare, Plays, Musical Theatre

✸ Theatre Design, Stage Management

✸ Filmmaking, Cinematography, Sound Design

✸ Composing, Soundtracks & Scores, Lyrics

✸ Theremins, Synthesizers, Electronic Sound

✸ Figure Skating, Artistic Roller Skating

✸ Fonts, Typefaces, Typography

✸ Graphic Design, Advertisements

✸ Defunct Amusement Parks

✸ Antiques, Appraising, Restoration

✸ Clocks, Watches, Pocket Watches

✸ Puppetry, Muppets, Vintage Puppets

✸ Stage Magic, Escapology, Mentalism

✸ Dime Novels, Pulps, Westerns & Sci-Fi

✸ Postmodernist Literature, Dystopias, Utopias

✸ Hellenism, Greek Mythology, Greek Classics

✸ Portuguese, Basque, French, Latin, Greek

✸ Secret Codes, Ciphers, Shorthand

✸ World War I, World War II

✸ Horses, War Horses, Lusitano, Friesian

✸ Cowboys, American Wild West

✸ Pirates, Golden Age of Piracy

✸ Vexillology, World Flags, LGBTQ+ Flags

✸ Sapphic, Lesbian, Queer Women History

✸ Fado Music, Women’s History in Portugal

✸ Book Translations, Translators

✸ The Count of Monte Cristo, Alexandre Dumas

And, apparently, organizing things nicely in list.

Ask me about any of these, I love to share!

Of course, I have many other interests that I don’t consider my special interests; just these are the ones I study religiously and devote the most of my time to.

UPDATED 12/9/23.

[fanficsforheartandsoul]

I just finished Orlando by Virginia Woolf and maybe it's the burnt-out student in me who's deep in her exam phase rn but I'm- I dunno, I chose this book for my literature exam a year ago, knowing basically nothing about Woolf besides the fact that she was a famous writer (yeah is a bit embarrassing as a linguistics and literature student but hey, I'm technically still in my second year of literature so bohoo) - and I read Orlando and... I don't really feel it? Like maybe it's because I barely have time to read and analyze all the works on my reading list for my exam but uhh- or the fact that as a non-native speaker, overly descriptive and flowery language is really hard to understand for me and it makes it boring but... I don't like her writing style. Like the excessive nature descriptions and Orlando's self-talk and seemingly a bit weird mind.

I just think it's so strange because I was like uh Woolf is well-known, feminist and queer icon kinda so like yayyy!! But here I am and my rating is 6/10. Like I like the premise (like trans rep??), the acknowledging of gender roles, the comments of the biographer, the various references to other works and writers of the Elizabethan age, Restoration etc. but I just don't feel that it's that amazing. Maybe I'm just ignorant. I'm working on 2 braincells rn so it might be that but honestly, somebody tell me what makes this story that great, thw writing so marvellous because for me it's just mid rn. Help me change my mind and maybe enlighten me?

[ultraheydudemestuff]

Harcourt Manor

2178 Harcourt Drive

Cleveland Heights, OH

Harcourt Manor, located at 2178 Harcourt Drive in Cleveland Heights, OH, part of the Ambler Heights Historic District, is a 10,050-square-foot, four-story Elizabethan Tudor Revival style mansion designed by architect Frank Meade for $37,000. Kermode F. Gill built the home between 1910 and 1915. Gill’s company, John Gill and Sons, also built the Allen Theatre (1921) and the Terminal Tower (1927). The stone house featured massive chimneys, a crenelated central tower with a slate roof, and a half-timbered prominent gable. The façade featured an unusual small auxiliary wing with a garage. Coffered ceilings and sumptuous woodwork were included in each of the imposing large-scale interiors. The mansion had a ballroom, gymnasium, large foyer, marbled tiled morning room, seven fireplaces, and eight bedrooms.

     The Gills resided in the mansion until 1954 when Dorthea died. It was then sold to the Herget family. Three generations of Hergets lived in the home. They kept its original style and fixtures, but added a secret room, hidden behind a bookcase, to the fourth floor.   In 2011, the Hergets listed the home on Howard Hanna; News 5 Cleveland (2013), and the Cleveland Plain Dealer (2016) covered its sale. It sat vacant until 2016 when John and Anya Rudd purchased it for $565,000 from James P. Herget. The Rudds spent the next four years undertaking a comprehensive restoration of the property and grounds.

     New landscaping was designed by David Thorne of DTR Associates, using photos of the original gardens. The gardens took three years for Exscape Designs to install and build. Architect Richard Gates designed and constructed a pool house and spa, and the manor’s new exterior areas also include a koi pond, pergola, and fountains; the manor's original sculptures, iron gates, potter’s shed, and stone summer house were retained and restored. The restoration work was covered in numerous news and design publications and the Rudds received the AIA Craftsmanship Award from the Cleveland Restoration Society in 2019.  Although privately owned, Harcourt Manor is made available to the community at large for use in fundraisers and other social functions.

[racefortheironthrone]

Why did Elizabeth I do as she did with England's religious settlement?

So the thing to keep in mind about England's religious settlement is that it was constantly changing throughout the English Reformation, partly due to the monarch at the time, but also in significant part due to the changing environment of the time. The England of the Pilgrimage of Grace in 1536 was a very different place from the England of 1547-9 when the Protestant reformers under Edward VI made their move against Gardiner, which in turn was a very different place from the England of 1553-1555 when Mary executed the very politically tricky reconciliation with Rome, which was a very different place in turn from the England of 1558 when Elizabeth I came to the throne.

In part because he shows up much less in pop culture depictions of the Tudors, there is a tendency in the popular historical imagination to skip over the seven year reign of Edward VI and jump from Protestantism under Henry to Catholicism restored under Mary to Elizabeth. This is a mistake for a couple reasons: first, as I've said, the Henrician period is really damn complicated and is hard to characterize as definitively Protestant or Catholic; second, the Edwardian period while relatively short saw really profound changes both in religious governance (in this period, the Church of England was pretty clearly not just Protestant but strongly Lutheran, which isn't something you could have said before or after) and in English religious culture.

Namely, as you can see from the map above, the Edwardian period really transformed English Protestantism from a purely elite project to one that, while still very much driven from above (the Book of Common Prayer was hardly a populist measure), had a popular constituency. This isn't to say that England was majority Protestant (yet), but you can see a strong regional divide with Protestantism having its base in London, the Home Counties, and East Anglia, and then Catholicism retaining its traditional strength in the North of England (which not coincidentally is where the Pilgrimage of Grace had originated from).

So when Elizabeth I ascended to the throne, she inherited a kingdom that was fairly evenly religiously divided. To that end, a lot of her religious policies were aimed at trying to steer a middle path: the Church of England would once again be independent of Rome, there would be Edward's Book of Common Prayer and other Lutheran elements of doctrine, but a lot of the outward forms of worship that were associated with Catholicism to keep that faction happy.

At the same time, Elizabeth was very much a monarch of the Reformation, a time when no one on any side believed in religious toleration. Hence the Elizabethan settlement making it illegal not to attend weekly services at the Church of England, at the penalty of crippling fines for "recusants." This policy, along with a no tolerance policy towards the existence of Catholic priests in England and a number of plots and conspiracies linked to said priests, did pretty rapidly reduce the number of English Catholics to a tiny minority, although as I've said, it ultimately failed to end disagreements within the Church of England that would eventually give rise to the Puritans.

[britneyshakespeare]

i didn't like the roaring girl by middleton and dekker as much as i was expecting to. i have the feeling it's just one of those you-have-to-watch-it plays but as someone who has read a lot of elizabethan-to-restoration era comedy this year, there are other have-to-watch-it plays that still fare as better entertainment in a reading. basically the selling point to me moll cutpurse as the main character herself, and on that front she didn't disappoint, but every other character in the play had minimal interest to me, or if they did, they only had a little bit of time on the stage. having already known that the plot is that she saves other women from dishonor and remains a single woman by choice, yes, that's still cool—the gender fluidity inspired by the real moll cutpurse is cool. i enjoyed reading about that. but the whole action and plot around it. lackluster.

[bodybeautifulbymills]

the history of Chatsworth

Chatsworth comprises a Grade I listed house and stables, a 105-acre garden, a 1,822-acre park, a farmyard and adventure playground, and one of Europe’s most significant private art collections.

The home of the Duke and Duchess of Devonshire, Chatsworth House has been home to the Cavendish family since 1549. Standing on the east bank of the River Derwent, it looks across to the low hills between the Derwent and Wye Valley and is set in the magnificent landscape of Derbyshire's Peak District National Park.

Set in a 1000 acre park, Chatsworth House has been labelled the 'Palace of the Peak' and features more than 30 rooms, a large library and a magnificent collection of paintings. A look around the grand house reveals a selection of fine sights and puzzling curiosities. These include four royal thrones, a sculpture gallery, paintings by the likes of Rembrandt and Van Dyck and the memorable illusionist painting of a violin hanging on a door. It is estimated that more than a million people use the estate in some way every year making Chatsworth House one of Derbyshire’s most popular tourist attractions.

It started with another powerful woman, Bess of Hardwick, who was second only to Queen Elizabeth I in wealth and influence during her 16th Century lifetime. The estate of Chatsworth was bought by her second husband, Sir William Cavendish, in 1549, from the Agard family. Together with her second husband, Sir William Cavendish, Bess of Hardwick built the first house at Chatsworth, a building which would later imprison Mary Queen of Scots. The building was completed by Bess of Hardwick, after Sir William’s death in 1557. ‌

During the English Civil War both sides occupied and damaged the family home and the then Earl of Devonshire did not return to Derbyshire until after the restoration of the monarchy. The three storey Elizabethan house was completely remodelled by 1707 by the 4th Earl of Cavendish, who was made the first Duke after helping William of Orange ascend to the throne in 1689. He had to restore much of the building and radically altered Chatsworth House at the turn of the 18th Century, creating most of the current imposing building.

www.youtube.com. (n.d.). The Magnificent Chatsworth Suite Built For King William III | Real Royalty. [online] Available at: https://youtu.be/qIgvfVSu2yg?si=QDp6LOj_OHdBLFaq [Accessed 25 Oct. 2023]. ‌

[eddieredmayneargentinablog]

Eddie Redmayne: 'I'm on my way to the present'

His versatility and his acting skills make Eddie Redmayne one of the most sought-after stars of his generation. In an interview, the GQ Man of the Year 2022 talks about effort, success and love for his job. 

Eddie Redmayne is an Oscar winner, art historian, Hollywood star, fashion model, family man, true gentleman and "GQ Man of the Year 2022". The 40-year-old Briton's versatility is hard to grasp. He knows how to use this excellently for his career and his way of life. If you listen carefully, you can learn from Redmayne how to find yourself. 

By Ulf Pape

December 23, 2022

An excellent British gentleman

Eddie Redmayne also proves what an excellent British gentleman he is in a digital space like our zoom interview. Right at the beginning of the call, he remembers our last encounter a few years ago in London, a shoot for GQ. “It was in this incredible house. It was beautiful,” he says, beaming. 

The screen he's sitting across from you on is the same screen that showed him playing a serial killer yesterday. Eddie Redmayne has never been seen so dark in film. The Good Nurse tells the true story of male nurse Charles Cullen, who poisoned at least 29 patients in New Jersey between 1988 and 2002. As so often, Redmayne is hardly recognizable in the role of the supposedly caring caretaker. The range of his acting skills makes him the unpredictable on Hollywood's A-list. (Also read: These were the 2022 GQ Men of the Year Awards )

Redmayne went to college with Prince William 

The beautiful house Redmayne is talking about is in Fitzroy Square, a hidden square where personalities like the writer Virginia Woolf and the director Guy Ritchie lived. The townhouses on Fitzroy Square impress with their Georgian architecture typical of London.

Redmayne is well versed in the styles of bygone eras. He studied art history at Cambridge. Previously, he was at the famous Eton College with Prince William in the same year. He says he was so enthusiastic about the house when he was shooting because he was buying an old house from the 18th century at the time in order to extensively restore it. His family is growing. He and his wife now have two children – and the new house has been restored. 

There Redmayne is now sitting in front of an old, large lattice window with red velvet curtains. The window offers a view of a treetop and a weathered brick wall. It looks British and cosy. Doesn't he lose himself in the restoration as a studied art historian? "No, not at all," says Redmayne. “I approach renovation in a similar way to acting. You peel off one layer at a time to find out what the real core is. That's what I enjoyed so much about this house because it's steeped in history. My wife and I delved deeply into the era and tried to bring the building back to the roots of its time.”

 At that precise moment, our conversation is interrupted by the ringing of a bell, which really sounds like it's off the 18th century. It's Redmayne's daughter who wants to know something about her papa. 

"I'm on my way to the present"

The room Redmayne is sitting in could easily be the office of Newt Scamander, the wizard Redmayne plays in the Harry Potter spin-off Fantastic Beasts. He laughs at the question of sharing the house with Scamander. "Yes, it's a bit spooky here." He spent a long period of his career in the Middle Ages, playing 13th-century monks, Shakespeare's Richard II at the theatre, spent whole years in the Elizabethan era.

"At least I worked my way into the early 20th century with Newt Scamander and into the 60s with 'The Trial of the Chicago 7'. With 'The Good Nurse' I finally arrived in the early 2000s. I'm on my way to the present. All I need now is contemporary drama.” 

In all likelihood, however, Newt Scamander will be with him for quite some time. Since 2016, Redmayne has been the center of the blockbuster franchise, which has now brought in almost two billion euros with its three parts. Two more parts could come. With such a contract in your pocket, designed for almost ten years, you can not only plan a career in a relaxed manner, but your whole life. 

Eddie Redmayne on "The Good Nurse" 

Redmayne's involvement in "Fantastic Beasts" not only gives him security - a rare commodity for an actor. It also gives him the freedom to take on roles that stand out artistically, theatrically, and dramaturgically. Compared to all his historical roles, "The Good Nurse" was a total contrast in terms of costume alone. All he had to do was put on a shirt and a nursing tunic. 

The greatest contrast, however, is that Redmayne plays a deeply cruel human being for the first time. Has switching to the side of evil intimidated him? He says he didn't know the story of the murdering nurse. “As I read the script, I found him to be incredibly caring, gentle, and empathetic. Then, when you slowly learn how monstrous he really is, the story overwhelms you.” What fascinated him was not so much the cruelty that he had to portray, but rather the heroic story that lies in the material. It's the story of the nurse who discovered Charles Cullen, Amy Loughren. "I got to know her. She is an amazing woman. She was able to do as an individual what the health system couldn't. That fascinated me.Stephen King has been watching this Netflix series for weeks and you should too ) 

How Redmayne prepared for his role as a serial killer

Indeed, The Good Nurse comes at a time when the vulnerabilities of healthcare in a number of countries have been exposed by the pandemic. The financial pressure that privatized hospitals are under creates a system of insecurity in “The Good Nurse” – precisely where people are hoping for medical rescue, for healing. 

“The Good Nurse” was directed by the Dane Tobias Lindholm, who has already provided complex analyzes of our present with films such as “Die Kommune” or “A War”, for which he wrote the screenplay. A War was nominated for an Oscar for Best Foreign Language Film in 2016. "The Good Nurse" should also appear as a favorite in the coming season of the big award ceremonies, at least the acting performances of Jessica Chastain in the role of Amy Loughren and Redmayne's performance are pure Oscar material.

In preparation for the role, Redmayne dug deep into Charles Cullen's biography, sifted through whatever material was available, studied photographs, read psychological reports, unearthed other primary sources, even worked with a dance choreographer to create the Body language developed for the role. 

Redmayne on his eyes in "The Good Nurse"

Just what Redmayne conveys through his eyes in the role of Cullen could fill entire acting seminars. He himself calls Cullen's gaze a kind of dissociation between the caring nurse and the cold-blooded killer. Redmayne can talk at length about how he acquired the look. "It kept me from sleeping at night. Everyone who has met Cullen has told me that there was something wrong with his eyes.”

Redmayne says he tried to move his one eye detached from the other in front of the mirror. 

Training your own body to speak such complex languages ​​and letting them speak is what distinguishes Redmayne. His portrayal of the critically ill astrophysicist Stephen Hawking earned him an Oscar in 2015 at the age of just 33. A year later, the Academy also nominated him for an Academy Award for his title role in the film The Danish Girl, about transgender artist Lili Elbe who underwent gender reassignment surgery in the 1920s. 

Is the deep preparation of the roles Redmayne's secret of success? No, it is the security of being able to rely on yourself. "What I really love about acting is the research I do for a role and then scrap it. Nobody cares about your homework.”

Redmayne on ups and downs

What should also make his career so successful is his passion for theatre. Redmayne was eleven when he first took the stage in London's West End, for a tiny role in a major production of the musical Oliver!. It was directed by Sam Mendes, who later directed several Bond films.

Redmayne had exactly one sentence to say. But for this sentence, he says beaming today, he was allowed to leave the math class, leave his friends behind at school, take the tube alone across London to the Palladium Theater and step onto the stage. 

"Walking through the stage doors of the Palladium is like entering a fantasy world." What struck him at the time was the seriousness with which all the costume designers, wig makers and make-up artists worked together to create this fantasy world. Even then, he understood that he had discovered his passion here. “You can go through a lot of ups and downs in this industry, and you can lose your love for it. But when I was back on stage in London last year, the eleven-year-old in me was just as happy as I was back then.” It is at this point that Redmayne comes full circle that defines his ability: to follow his passion and generate self-confidence from it , which brings him to brilliant performances. Or just to be with yourself when you have all your knowledge, throws all his preparations upside down again and again. "At some point I'll be standing across from Jessica on the set and I've internalized all the preparations. But then I actually only react to my counterpart.”

What makes his success 

Redmayne comes from an upper-class family in London. The path into art is more of a special path there. His father Richard Redmayne can look back on a 50-year career in the Financial District. His brothers are also businessmen. Eddie stayed true to the theater even while attending the most prestigious schools in the country, worked part-time in a pub, shared an apartment with Jamie Dornan, graced campaigns for houses like Burberry as a model, and he spent more or less work-intensive phases in Los Angeles , in which he became friends with colleagues such as Andrew Garfield. If you look back on his unconventional career today, he has always been one thing: the unpredictable. 

Redmayne landed international roles in her early 20s, for example directing Robert De Niro in "The Good Shepherd" or alongside Cate Blanchett in "Elizabeth: The Golden Age". But the real breakthrough came with the worldwide hit "Les Misérables". Then came the big leading roles, the awards, theater and musical performances on Broadway or in London's West End - and of course the mammoth role of Newt Scamander. To this day, he regularly appears on theater stages. "Which also means a physical exertion, working six nights a week, not losing your voice, not touching alcohol, not being able to put the kids to bed." When asked about his busy work, he laughs and says: " I'm happy that I give the impression that I work so much". 

With the subway through New York

Even if the slender Brit with the red hair is so keen on that Redmayne is sometimes flown in by helicopter to appointments, even in London he mostly travels by tube. Since he already talked about encounters with fans in the underground train in our first interview, we are talking about it again today. Of course, he says, he still takes the tube, otherwise you wouldn't get anywhere in London. 

When he lived in an apartment in New York City with his wife and children for the filming of "The Good Nurse" last year, didn't he also take the subway there? "Yes, of course! I love the subway in New York. We were there at the time when life was just getting back to normal after winter lockdown. I was sitting in the crowded train with my son on my lap, who was three years old. When I looked away for a moment, he was licking the steamed up windows.” 

Redmayne bursts out laughing. "Oh god, really? Have we been taking every possible precaution for months now to have you lick the windows here? But no, of course everything was okay.”

On the pitfalls of a “cosmetic life”

Redmayne has some thoughts on the subject of locomotion. "I think sometimes with all that work comes a lot of appointments that you get picked up for, you get driven around, you end up in incredible places... And it can all become a kind of cosmetic life." 

If you're not in control of it keep, says Redmayne, it can quickly feel like living for others. It's not real anymore. "That's why I ride the subway. Because then I see how the world is connected. Namely through the people … The people that I see there.” 

But maybe that's why Eddie Redmayne likes to use public transport so much because he'll be eleven again, on his way to the Palladium in the West End for his first appearance on a theater stage.

Photographer: Pierre-Ange Carlotti of Phenomena

Grooming: Petra Sellge

Production: North Six. With thanks to The Savoy Hotel www.thesavoylondon.com

*Translated by Google.

You can find all the pictures from the photo shoot in the GQ Germany here

[generallygothic]

"𝕸𝖞 𝖔𝖓𝖑𝖞 𝖑𝖔𝖛𝖊 𝖘𝖕𝖗𝖚𝖓𝖌 𝖋𝖗𝖔𝖒 𝖒𝖞 𝖔𝖓𝖑𝖞 𝖍𝖆𝖙𝖊, 𝕿𝖔𝖔 𝖊𝖆𝖗𝖑𝖞 𝖘𝖊𝖊𝖓 𝖚𝖓𝖐𝖓𝖔𝖜𝖓, 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖐𝖓𝖔𝖜𝖓 𝖙𝖔𝖔 𝖑𝖆𝖙𝖊!" - Shakespeare 🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️ On this day, 14th February, 269AD, Saint Valentine was martyred by Emporer Claudius Gothicus in ancient Rome. Valentine's crimes were the restoration of a blind woman's sight, followed by the conversion of her whole family to Christianity. Whilst awaiting execution, Valentine wrote to the woman from prison. The letter was signed: "From your Valentine"...or so legend would have it. 🫀 I am not, generally, one for romance beyond that of the canonical gothic or the 'big R' poets. Having recently completed a re-read of Shakespeare's 'Romeo and Juliet', though, my eyes are opened to the incomparable power of romance through tragedy! 🫀 Queen Elizabeth I (the reigning sovereign) sparked a renaissance for the ancient classics of Greek and Roman literature and philosophy. She was considered a strong female figure; parallels can be made between her and the British bard's young, tragic heroine. 🫀 The actions of the titular teen protagonists are, at times, infuriating. Events unravel with the purest tragic timing, compounded by constant miscommunication, fatally flawed characters, and heaps of dramatic irony. Though the tale itself is not Shakespeare's own, I think it stands the test of time. To me, 'Romeo and Juliet' justly endures as one of the great love stories. 🫀 ⚜️ Which tales do you rank amongst the greats of romance? 🫀 💌 Whilst Valentine's traditions of the mostly illiterate Elizabethans are unclear, by Victorian times the craze was real... and kind of cruel. Ornate love letters and horrifically specific hate letters were crafted and delivered with equal fervour. Victorians took St. Valentine's as a day to air feelings openly, for better or worse! With that in mind, I truly wish you all a merry Tuesday and thank you for following along as I [sporadically] do this thing. 🫀 🖼️: 'Juliet and her Nurse', John Roddam Spencer Stanhope (1863). https://www.instagram.com/p/CoqGnTOrQkg/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[antiquecritique]

|| Sol & Duncan ||

The ‘Out of the Attic’ antique shop was always officially open over night, a fact many Greywood residents tended to miss despite an additional board put up under a single hanging sign simply stating ‘Antiquities’ in beautiful blue painted cursive above the entrance to the place. It was a strange and peculiar house which outwardly may not look like much more than a slightly out of place family home. Built before the neighborhood had been given all of its rows of townhouses in a neat line along its main street, the house seemed to stick out like a stubborn nail refusing to be hammered in, surrounded by its own patch of green where predominantly asphalt and bricks ruled. It broke the overall concept of the neighborhood but added significantly to its quaintness.  

Once through ‘Out of the Attic’s’ door though, a not entirely expected magic awaited within. There was not a single spot, place or corner in the shop that wasn’t intricate, old, peculiar or uniquely different. Yet everything came together in one perfectly arranged harmony, mixed styles, periods, materials and uses of every single piece of furniture and decoration somehow coexisting in a flurry of blended colors pleasing to both the eye and the soul. Nothing was out of place, nothing could be pointed out as something that did not belong, even if by all rights it could be called out as in one way or another mismatched. Medallion Baluch rugs were spread under early 19th century mahogany armchairs, art nouveau blended into rococo - you could sit in William and Mary style, lounge in Queen Anne, go through the drawers of Chippendale cabinets, write on Empire desks, draw French Restoration curtains, go through a hallway of gothic revival and then end up in an Elizabethan room only to decide to cook in a kitchen that appeared like it was brought not only from another time but from a whole other side of the world too.

A time machine glitched and spat ‘Out of the Attic’ out and now it was there, in Greywood, a little rusted, a little chipped, but very antique and vintage.

As mentioned before, ‘Out of the Attic’ was only open overnight, solely because its owner was a vampire too old-fashioned to regularly bother with sunlight charms and was, therefore, awake when the sun set behind the horizon. Over the day the doors to the shop were still open but the visitors would be greeted with magicked reception desk providing only basic information and advising to come back during official working hours should they be interested in more than just browsing around. Come 8PM though, Duncan would assume his usual spot behind a large oakwood desk that had once been used in an old bank by their clerks, immersed into this or that little delicate restoration and evaluation task that did not require the use of the workshop in the back. This is how his first customer of the evening would find him, bent over a set of freshly delivered old coin collection, trying to determine their value and origin by their size and faint texture of their engravings under the rusty, blackened layer of dirt that oxidized on them. Even as the doorbell above the entrance rang to announce someone’s arrival, the vampire remained focused on the task, barely looking up.

@solomonreznik