#fore abbey

[pd-lyons]

PD Lyons Reads, Jack Bean's Fox, from When You Worship Swans No Longer

PD Lyons Reading Jack Beans Fox from When You Worship Swans No Longer.If you like what you hear I do have a few limited editions of these. Please contact pdlyonspoet@yahoo.co.uk for details and availability. These are poems inspired by #foreabbey #westmeath #ireland #pdlyonspoetThank you for visiting. Good Luck Bye!

[repulsiveliquidation]

Fore!

Leah Williamson x Reader [Tooth-rotting, diabetes-causing sweet af fluff]

Leah meets the hottest golfer she’s ever seen.

word count : 2.3k, there will be more parts coming soon!

Based off of true events, I do play college-level golf and I thought it would be fun to incorporate that into a story!

“Come on Leah, our tee time is at ten fifty!” yelled Jacob from the living room. They had planned on playing some golf today, but Leah couldn’t pick an outfit out and was becoming frustrated. “Give me a minute you arse! We won’t be late!”

Finally deciding on something to wear, they headed to the Abbey Hill Golf Club (a/n this is a real course in Milton Keynes!) where they were just in time for their tee time. “What was it you were saying about not being late, sis?” Jacob quipped, earning a hard smack on the upside of his head for his mocking tone. “Shut it before I shove this club up somewhere you don’t want.” “Alright, alright, I’ll bring the cart around.” He answered with a laugh, walking over to the golf carts searching for the one with the number 6 on it.

“Just you then, Y/N/N? Right, you’re gonna have to pair up with those two then. The course is pretty full today, that’ll speed up play.”

“Right, thanks so much Greg!”

“You’re welcome, kid. I’ll give you a tenner if you beat your own course record!”

“I’ll hold you to that, Gregory!”

“Hello, I’m Y/N. Greg paired us up today, I hope that’s okay!”

Someone taps Leah’s shoulder and she swears time stopped. Standing before her is the most beautiful woman she had ever seen. She had the most beautiful smile and was dressed in the cutest golf outfit. She looked professional, like she knew what she was doing, not like herself.

“Um, are you alright?”

“What? Oh fuck, yes. Um, what did you say?”

You giggle at her flustered answer. “Fuck,” thought Leah, “I think that’s the cutest sound in the world.”

“I’m Y/N. Greg wanted us to play together since the tee times are full, I hope you don’t mind.”

“Oh no, not at all! My brother and I just came out to have a little fun but we’re not that good so I hope we don’t slow you down. You look like you play golf a lot. That’s a really cute shirt you have on, perfectly paired with those trousers. I really like your shoes too, mine are really beat up.” “I love you.”

You giggled again, amused by her rambling. “Don’t worry about it! I just came out to have a little fun but I did bet Greg ten pounds if I could beat the course record today so you’ll need to be witnesses.”

“Course record? Just how good are you?”

“I’ve played my fair share of golf. Between secondary school and college, I’d say I’m alright.”

If Leah had a ring, she’d be on one knee proposing to this girl right now. Jacob finally pulls up with the cart and starts to lock the bags to the back. Leah, in a split-second decision to abandon her precious baby brother, tells him he can have his own cart and that she’ll share with you.

“If that alright with you, of course.”

“Not at all; what’s your name again?”

“Shit, where are my manners? I’m Leah, that’s my brother Jacob. Jacob this is Y/N.”

“Hello Y/N, Greg set us up eh?”

“Yeah, I won’t be too much trouble!”

“You’re alright, just beat my sister and let her take you out, we’ll have a fantastic day.”

“Jacob, I swear–”

“See you two on the first tee!”

A deep blush creeps up Leah’s neck as she rummages in her bag for something she isn’t looking for. You smile fondly at the woman, finding her obvious nervousness extremely attractive; her brother’s request more of a hope than a dream now.

You hop into the driver’s seat, looking back at her still rummaging but now with added grumbling. “You ready, Leah?” you ask with an amused voice, her head popping up as she stood straight and smiled, walking to the passenger side and sat in the cart. You headed to the first tee, the course looking beautiful this time of year.

Jacob stood on the first tee with a cheeky smirk on his face, driver in hand. You park right behind him and get out, grabbing your glove and driver before walking up to him. Leah copies you, following quickly behind you.

“Leah normally plays the reds but I knew you’d come up here to the men’s tees.”

“The women’s tees are too short for me, I like a little challenge anyway.”

Leah, under the guise of stretching, listening intently to your conversation with her brother. It made her stomach do flips and fill with butterflies as you spoke so elegantly about golf. She knew it was the same way she did about football but there was something so hot about the way you spoke that made her heart want to jump out of her chest.

“Would you like to start us off, Jacob?”

“Yes! Then my sister can show off her swing to impress you before you undoubtedly bomb in perfectly down the fairway to show her how it’s done.”

Leah swears she nearly committed first degree murder right then and there. You let out a comical laugh, clutching your stomach as you watch Leah come over and smack her brother hard. He does eventually play his first shot, which isn’t bad, and it’s now Leah’s turn.

“Good luck!” you tell her, smiling softly. She blushes, setting up her shot way too much to the left out of nervousness.

“Leah, too much left darling. Come over a little.” You say nonchalantly, giving her a thumbs up when she corrects herself. Her brain has short-circuited, the pet name you used making her last two braincells abandon her. She manages a shot, ball going only about 50 meters before coming to a stop. You clap nonetheless, telling her it was a good shot. She blushes even harder when you give her a high five, walking over to the tee box to play your shot. Just as Jacob predicted, you hit a drive straight down the middle, flying way past both their balls.

“Wow, that was impressive.” “I love you.”

“Perfect, that was my intention. Come on, let’s get to yours.” You tell her, taking her hand and walking back to the cart. You get in and make your way to her ball. Her face held an expression of pure shock, staring at you with her perfect blue eyes. You could only smile shyly, your boldness was a surprise to everyone in the cart.

“You’ve got 215 meters, Leah.” You tell her as you approach her ball, pulling out your rangefinder and shooting the distance for her. You sat back into the cart and let her hit her ball. You knew she wasn’t going to get there with one shot but you always tried to make anyone you played with enjoy the sport regardless of their talent level so they didn't feel intimidated. Having been surrounded by coaches who made you resent golf while playing in college, you made it your mission to have people enjoy the sport; for golf to be a hobby and not a chore.

“Thanks, what should I play?” she asks, wanting your expert opinion she convinced herself; truthfully she just wanted to hear you talk about golf. “Well, how far does your 5 wood go?” “120 meters if I don’t waffle it.” “Ha! Wonderful, use that.” “I love you.”

She does, in fact, waffle it. But she laughs it off and tries again. This time she does hit it good and it lands beside the green. “Yes Leah, that was great!” you give her another high five and see Jacob already by your ball.

“100 perfect meters. You hit that drive a long way down here.”

“Thanks Jacob, this is one of my longest ones on this hole I think.”

“Which club do you want?” Leah asks, wanting to return the favor. “Pitching wedge please.” you tell her, grabbing it from her and playing your shot. It flies past the hole a little, leaving you with 15 feet for birdie. You smile and wave a little as they impressively clap. Jacob catches the lovesick glint in his sisters eyes as she watches you like you're the only person in the world.

“You’re a goner, aren’t ya?”

“Hook, line and sinker Jacob.” “I love you.”

The three of you spend the next 4 hours playing the most fun round you’ve had in a while. Leah ends up playing a 102, Jacob was better with a 95 and you won ten pounds from Greg after posting a course record of 63.

She was a little sad that the round was over, packing her bag much slower than was necessary. She didn’t see that you were doing the same. Jacob said goodbye and left, winking at her and teasing her. She shoved him and smiled happily, nervous about not wanting the day to end. You had just about plucked up the courage to ask her out when you stood and there she was, almost as surprised as you were.

“Uh, fuck. I was j-just wondering if you would w-want a drink or something.”

“Depends, would that mean that it’s a date?”

“Only if you wanted it to be.”

“I would love nothing more. Well, you eventually but, we’ll see.”

//

“You’re WHO?!”

“You saying you didn’t recognize me?”

“I hate that I have a feeling you’re more amused than offended that I don’t know THE Leah Williamson.”

“It’s honestly refreshing.”

You laugh as arrive at your car. You wordlessly grab both golf bags and pack them into your boot. You close it and smile at her standing there, hands shoved into her pockets as she rocked on the balls of her feet.

“How about a little lunch? I know a pretty good café I think you’d like.” She nervously suggests, somewhat scared that you would say no.

“I’d love that, Leah. Quit being so nervous, I don’t bite.”

//

“Could I do the cranberry and chicken wrap please? Maybe an iced latte to go with that too, please.”

“Make that two. I’ll pay.”

“Leah, I couldn’t let you do that.”

“It’s a date remember? I asked, I pay.”

“What a gentlewoman, you are. Makes a girl weak in the knees, you know.”

“I’ll catch you doll, don’t worry.”

Leah doesn’t think she’s ever been able to talk to anyone the same way she could with you. You were the perfect listener; attentive and engaged. You also spoke so eloquently and had the best jokes she’s ever heard. It’s not till the café owner comes over at 7PM to let you both know that they were closing did you realize the time.

You both walk hand in hand down the streets of late-night Milton Keynes. Leah insists on getting ice cream, beating you again at handing over money to pay. You both settle on a bench at a nearby park and enjoy the cold dessert. Your hands don’t leave each other’s, her thumb softly brushing over your knuckles.

“You’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen, Y/N. I don’t think I would be able to sleep tonight if I didn’t tell you.” She blurts out suddenly and it sends a dark blush up your cheeks. “I love you.”

“I lied.”

“What?”

“I lied, of course I knew who you were. How could anyone not? I was fangirling so hard but I had to keep my cool so I didn’t scare you. I’m sorry.”

“That’s the best lie anyone has ever told me.”

You continued to eat your ice cream, sitting closer to her as your laced fingers sat in your lap. Ice cream cones now finished you both just enjoyed the cool Milton Keynes night.

“Are you from here?” Leah asks as she mindlessly plays with your fingers. “Yeah, but we moved around a lot as kids because of my dad’s job. I moved back here for secondary school but went to the US for college.”

“A great friend of mine studied in the US while playing sports too.”

“Alessia? I’ve met her, she signed my jersey one time.”

“Signed–which game did you come to?!”

“I was at the Euro’s last year. Loved watching the final, I had a sore throat for a week from all the shouting. I had just come back from graduating so I thought I’d enjoy a little soccer.”

“It’s football, love.”

You laugh and lean your head on her shoulder as she takes the opportunity to slip her arm around your shoulder. You don’t protest, leaning into her. She smiles wide, grabbing your hand to hold with her other. It was past 11PM, both of you walking to your car begrudgingly at the reality of a perfect date coming to a close. You get in and suddenly have a burst of confidence. You lean in and to your surprise, she does too. Your lips meet and it's like fireworks. Her lips mold to yours perfectly, tongues swiping and tangling like a practiced tango. You pull away first, hand cupping her beautiful face and stroking her cheekbone.

“I don’t want it to end.”

“Then don’t let it.”

“Stay the night?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

[dolljunk]

Here is my Emily the Corpse Bride custom with Skelita's leg and forearm inserted onto this Abbey Bominable body.

I didn't want to crack open the upper torso cuz I can never make it look nice so I ended up carving away at the upper arm to look like a skeleton, and custom matched it to Skelita's fore arm.

As for the leg, I didfn't know what to do, so I just use an exacto knife to score across the crotch seam line enough that I could wedge a screwdriver in and cracked the hips open. I did it to Skelita too and was able to ease out both legs. Skelta's leg perfectly slotted into Abbey's hip and I reglued the crotch area. It's not a pretty mod but I'm happy I was able to swap the whole leg in.

I also custom painted an Ever After High hand to match the Abbey arm too so she's definitely a hodge podge of parts.

[townsenddecades]

Weddings 1320 - 1329

There may have been a lot of heartache in this decade (as there was in the ones before that and will be in the ones to follow), but there were also reasons to celebrate, among them many of the weddings that took place over the years.

Here's to the happiness of the new couples.

Lady Gwendolen Dudley & Arnulf Penrith, Earl of Windermere (1320)

As is customary among the nobility, Gwendolen’s marriage was arranged for her by her brother, the earl of Petersmarch. As these things go, she could certainly have done worse; her husband is an upstanding man that treats her and their children well, and more importantly for her material comfort, holder of an earldom not too many days’ travels from her own family’s seat.

The marriage has made her Countess of Windermere and given her two surviving children: a son and heir named Vincent and a daughter named Viviane. Her prayers for more children have gone unanswered since the birth of her youngest, Margaret, but as he already has an heir, her husband isn’t too displeased at this perceived failure.

Simon Townsend & Mariora Ellesmere (1320)

While not exactly childhood sweethearts – they only met when he was already thirteen years old, which his society does not consider childhood any longer – Simon and Mariora were friends before they were romantic partners.

Simon had expected many things before leaving his childhood home to become a witch’s apprentice, but certainly not to share his new dwelling with her stunning young daughter. He probably had a bit of an infatuation with her from the first, but as for her, it took her a while to see him as anything other than her mother’s newest scheme to pass on her knowledge of magic.

But regardless of their individual paces, they have fallen in love with each other, a fact which Simon brought to the fore when he, anxious that Mariora might leave after the birth of her (magically gifted) younger sisters, confessed his feelings. She swiftly reciprocated the sentiment, and they decided to marry and move into their own abode after that.

They have since had three surviving children and suffered the loss of two others. While Mariora still longs to see more of the world, both are, for the most part, content with the life and family they have built.

Sir Robert Chevalier & Mademoiselle Elisaria de Bellefaye (1322)

While not as high up in society as Lord and Lady Windermere, Sir Robert Chevalier and his bride, the lovely, demure Mademoiselle Elisaria de Bellefaye, still had their marriage arranged for their mutual benefit. It is unusal for a bastard, who by most members of society is viewed as an incarnation of sin and looked down upon, to wed the daughter of even a minor branch of nobility (even if it is French nobility), but his half-brother, Lord Petersmarch, has always had a soft spot for him.

The fact that he was at the moment of its arrangement involved in a forbidden romance may have spurred Robert into the marriage rather than kept him from it, especially after his love’s own marriage ruined to any hopes he might have kept alive for a happy ending to that attachment.

Regardless of his feelings at the time of his marriage, Sir Robert and Lady Chevalier have since fallen deeply in love with each other, and there is nary a person at Praaven Castle that is not aware that the good knight worships the ground his wife walks on.

The couple has two healthy daughters, but sadly, has had no luck when it comes to the survival of their sons.

Gregory Townsend & Agnes Walker (1326)

While Simon, Gregory’s older brother, and his wife may not have been childhood sweethearts, Gregory and Agnes most certainly were. They met while he was learning to paint at the abbey of St. Wright, where she was a resident. Her birth was more than a bit scandalous; her mother was a sister of the convent, while her father was one of the abbey’s brothers. How neither were thrown out or excommunicated is a mystery no one can quite explain (one could say that the Watcher turned a blind eye), but nonetheless, many looked down on her for it.

Not so Gregory. He befriended her then and made it a point to see her when he could, which led to them falling in love as young adolescents. He went to see her before he went to start his apprenticeship and asked her to wait for him – he would need to become a painter in his own right to be able to support a family – which she promised.

It was a joyous day for them when he was made a partner by his teacher and could finally fulfil his oath to come back to her. They married as soon as they could after that, in a simple but joyous celebration with their family and friends present.

They have had two sons since then, Colbert and Wymark. Sadly, only little Wymark is still alive.

Elsie Watmore & Frederick Branson (1328)

Frederick “Freddy” Branson and Elsie Watmore have known each other since they were children, but unfortunately for them, childhood friendship or a mutual attraction are not the reason for their marriage.

The match was arranged by the earl both as an alternative for the Watmore family to paying a fine they had incurred and as a means to put a stop to a land dispute between their two families. The piece of land was arranged to be part of Elsie’s dowry, to make matters clear once and for all.

Neither of the two young people was happy with having their spouse decided for them, but they resigned themselves to their fates. This proved to be especially hard for Elsie when Freddy ignored her wish to wait until marriage to consummate their relationship, forcing them to have their wedding earlier to avoid scandal. While she gets along well with her new family, the event has permanently damaged her trust in her husband.

They have since had a son, Elton, born around eight months after their marriage.

Annette Crawley & Monsieur Alexandre de Bellefaye (1329)

Another marriage that was arranged for convenience is that between Annette Crawley and Alexandre de Bellefaye. While Annette comes from a very wealthy family that has no sons to inherit, Alexandre is connected by blood by both of the local aritocratic families, which makes them a powerful match.

Initially, Annette’s ambitious grandmother had aimed even higher for her, but Annette herself is rather pleased with how matters have resolved. Her new husband is attentive and romantic, and if she can just nudge him in the right direction to use the benefits they have, they could rise very highly indeed.

The couple wed in Praaven’s imposing cathedral at the very end of the decade, so has not done much yet other than settling into their new lives together, but rumour has it that Annette may already be expecting their first child.

Previous: 1320 - 1329 Deaths <--> Next: 1320s Storyteller's Secrets

[52booksproject]

Book 43: Hand Lettering A to Z

The random letter generator eventually came up with "SY" and I found a delightful book by Abbey Sy, Hand Lettering A to Z: a world of creative ideas for drawing and designing alphabets. I happen to have a font making program that hitherto-fore had only been used for making an ocarina tab font, so I thought why not try it for a real font?

I admit the book itself wasn't much help to what I was doing. It was about traditional media like ink pens and watercolor, and if you want to do some lettering on paper it's a brilliant resource. It did have some good universal tips like making sure your size is consistent and thinking about coherent design and all that. It was also very helpful in providing a wide variety of font styles to be inspired by.

SHOULD YOU READ THIS BOOK: If you want to be inspired to make your own font it's great. Again, the meat of the book is traditional paper media, so whether that's helpful to you is something you would know.

ART PROJECT:

Ok, here is what I was most looking forward to. I ended up having so much fun making the first typeface that I made a second, bonus one. The first is all animal shapes with each letter starting with the name of the animal it was shaped like.

and the second font. As you can see I need to work on the S, which was inspired by those diamondy line Ss that were popular with schoolkids.

[itsmemateinnit]

Whitechapel series 4 press pack

Written by Ben Court & Caroline Ip (Story 1&3) and actor Steve Pemberton (Story 2) and created by Court and Ip, Whitechapel is produced by Carnival Films, the producers of Downton Abbey, for ITV and stars Rupert Penry- Jones, Phil Davis and Steve Pemberton.

Executive Producer, Sally Woodward Gentle says: “I’m delighted that the audience enjoyed our new formatted triple dose of Whitechapel as much as we enjoyed making them. Ben and Caroline’s stories get richer the more they delve into the dark history of Whitechapel and with the brilliant, inventive mind of Steve Pemberton behind one of the stories, Whitechapel promises to take us into even darker, more thrilling territory.”

Chandler, Miles and the team investigate a series of bizarre and macabre murders that set them on edge. A darkness pervades their cases; something unsettling, something that lurks in the shadows that makes you not want to turn out the lights. Buchan is challenged to use his extraordinary resource of archive material to find historical precedents. Can he give the team the edge over a series of ruthless and cunning adversaries?

This series touches on historical precedents such as witchcraft, cold war espionage, ghoulish Victorian surgeons, cryptozoology and hidden horrors in the East End’s underground tunnels. The history of Whitechapel as a centre of evil comes to the fore. The world remains a shadowy, gothic place, infused with history, dripping with the blood of the past. In Whitechapel, history isn’t dead, it’s deadly.

[butlerbarrow]

“ i  wouldn’t  touch  that  thing  with  a  ten  foot  pole . ”

a dark brow is raised in response, although the footman's steely grey eyes remained focused on the task at hand. the shotgun lay dismantled on the table, each component neatly layed out as thomas set about cleaning it. it was the fifth one he'd done this afternoon. august was still some time away, and so to was the shooting season, but... it had been a relatively slow day, and carson had given him the extra task to complete.

❝ no? then it's a good thing you're here off season. ❞ the servant countered. his lips twitched upwards slightly, gaze finally flickering to farleigh for a brief moment. it was an informal address, casual, the honorific 'sir' omitted from his speech entirely — something thomas wouldn't dare do if there were anyone else in the room with them. attention turning downwards once more, he dabbed a cloth with gun oil and started working away on the metal of the fore-end.

❝ did you need me for something? ❞ he hummed.

downton abbey sentence starters .

@signetied

[asteriighoul]

Cast out from the Heavens

AN: i have been loving the band for years and years, and i found fanfics too, and I just have to.. sorry :D

PAIRING: - none yet but - + fem!ghoul!reader

WARNINGS: depression, mental health issues, BAD thoughts

Tonight's ritual felt different for all of them, but no one knew why. They were anxious, jittery, and somehow, as the ritual progressed a scent of sage and seasalt became ever so present in the air, invading all their senses. It was towards the end of Call me little sunshine when Copia saw you.

You will never walk alone, you can always reach me, all you gotta do is call me..

A pair of violet eyes shone from the very back of the place. He sang the rest of the song only looking at the pair of strange eyes. As Swiss, and Aether caught on, they were all looking at the strange woman in the back, you. Quietly agreeing that they couldn't let the strange little woman leave without talking, but when the show came to Dance Macabre they were surprised to see Copia doing what they never seen any Papa do before. He was climbing down the stage, and walking while singing straight for the now smiling being, who in turn, walked towards him as well, with a big smile on your face.

The sage and sea salt scent got stronger as she started the dance with Copia.

Something within your eyes Said it could be the last time 'Fore it's over...

They saw Copia gently twirling you while singing, the hordes of people long forgotten, as you got closer and closer to the stage.

When the solo came, he leaned and gave a kiss on your cheek, making the crowd go wild, while he ushered you towards security, signaling them to bring you to the back for the rest of the show.

As soon as they bowed, finishing the ritual, Copia ran, sweeping the now giggling friend in his arms, peppering your face with kisses.

-(Y/n), you made it. I can't believe you're finally here.

-And you're Papa now Copi, look at you! - you beamed down at him, while the ghouls stood there, puzzled and confused. When Copia put you down, not letting his arms fall from your waist still, you tilted your head towards the ghouls somewhat anxiously.

-Ah right, right. These are the ghouls and ghoulettes my dear. This is Swiss, Dew, Aether and then theres Mountain, Rain, Cumulus, Cirrus. Ghouls.. this is (Y/n). - Copia said, his hand still on the small of your back as you gave an awkward little wave for them. Dew started towards you, but Copia stopped him with his hand. -She doesn't like to be touched I'm afraid. - said with a smile, and Dew pouted while pointing to his hand on your back without a word, making you chuckle.

-Dewdrop, right? I.. its not against any of you, it's just im.. a bit different.

-Different how? - asked Swiss.

-She is demi, with a hint of spice you see.. You won't be able to woo her with touches, and looks, you'll need... - said Copia as he tapped his temple a few times, as a signal for intelligence, making them all give out aaaaahhhhh sounds. Dew slotted his arms behind his back, bowing slightly with a smirk, making you laugh again. - I got straight A's back in school. - he said with a boyish smile.

-I imagine I can leave you guys for tonight, we have a lot of catching up to do after what? - Copia looked at you -5 years? 6? - which you confirmed with a nod. He took your hand and interlaced your fingers leading you towards his car.

-What does demi mean? - asked Swiss, making Cumulus roll her eyes.

-It's when you don't feel attracted unless you have emotional connection. I guess the spice part is only liking being touched by those close to you. And by the looks of it they are close. - she pointed towards the retreating pair.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

Copia took you back to the abbey, you were walking the grounds, close but not touching.

-So a ghoulette huh? - he asked.

-We know it was just a matter of time. You saw it in a dream, I saw it in mines.

-How did it happen? - He asked.

You looked at your feet, stopping for a second, fiddling with your own fingers. He knew you well, you didn't need to say it.

-Oh my sweet.. - he said as he gave a kiss on your forehead, hugging you close as he felt you sniffle, even your scent turning a bit more bitter. -You'll always have a place here, I hope you know that. You'll always be welcome.

-That's why i came to the ritual Copia.. I might not be much of a use, but, I would like to try. If you'll have me. - (Y/n) said shyly.

He picked you up happily, holding you up in the air. Spinning around a few times, hoping it will make you laugh.

-That's wonderful my little star, until we figure out your room situation in the den, you can sleep in mine, I know you wouldn't be comfortable sharing with anyone else just yet. And dont even try that 'not much of use' thing again. You might belong below, but your voice is surely from above my sweet. I would never forget the first time i've heard it.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Their relationship confused the ghouls. They cuddled, held hands, but never kissed on the lips, and even after days (Y/n) spent in Copia's room they not once smelled his essence on her.

The next week Copia was called away for duty, leaving (Y/n) in the abbey with the other ghouls, sisters and brothers. You mostly kept to yourself, but on the second day Mountain found you in the back of the library. Slowly walking closer, but not close enough to disturb your peace.

-Your room will be finished today (Y/n). - he said to you, his voice rumbling in the place.

-Thank you Mountain. I was getting worried that i'll be annoying Copia for too long. It will be nice to have my own place.

He nodded along before looking at the clock.

-Do.. Do you maybe want to have lunch with me? It's.. it's not anything flirty, just.. we will be living together in the den, we all would like to get to know you. - he said, but when he looked up at you, he saw your eyes wide open, faint scent of fear starting to linger. - Oh no no no, I am sorry, the other's won't be out of practice until the afternoon, it would just be us. Copia told us about how you don't like big groups and all.. - he smiled at you as your shoulders sag a bit in relief.

-Okay then. - you nodded with a small smile.

As you walked through the corridors towards the kitchen, Mountain striked up conversation, mentally thanking Copia for giving them a few main interests they could go by in his absence.

-So, would you recommend a book to me? I.. I used to read a lot, and I want to get back into it.. But I'm afraid it has been too long and I am lost. - he said scratching the back of his head where the mask didn't cover it. Your eyes started to sparkle.

-What genre would you like? I'm not that well versed in sci-fi but anything fantasy, romance, historical, kind of dark stuff, you can come to me. My books are mainly in the storage now, but after my room will be finished and I assembled my shelves, you can come and take a look. - you started, and only stopped when they entered the kitchen. You noticed you were going on and on about books for a good 5 minutes at that point, face suddenly blushing as you looked at your feet. -I'm sorry, i've been rambling haven't i? - you said shyly, making Mountain chuckle.

-No, please go on. I.. really like your enthusiasm. So what is this favourite book of yours? - he urged you to continue as he grabbed stuff to make a quick meal while he listened to you talk. He noticed that your scent wasn't just sage and sea salt anymore, it had a hint of warm sunshine to it. He really liked this little note. He thought it suited the beaming sunshine and excitement you showed while talking about your books. He quickly made some marry me chicken, and in no time, he put a plate of it in front of you with a smile of his own. You looked down, then back to Mountain.

-You made this? You really did? - you asked in awe.

-You were here the whole time, you know I did. - he said chuckling, handing you utensils. You didn't wait long before taking a forkful of it, chewing and a little moan leaving your lips. You quickly covered your mouth, blushing deeply again with wide eyes.

-Oh my lord. I'm sorry, its just... it's really good. - You stated looking at the plate, taking it in your hands, and basically running out of the kitchen before Mountain could say a word. He just stood there, brain trying to process what just happened.

That was the exact moment when Aether walked in.

-Was the little lady just here? - he asked, thumb pointing back towards where (Y/n) ran off.

Mountain was just staring in the direction (Y/n) left. Aether looking back an forth between Mountain and the door, before waving a hand before his face.

-Earth to Mountain. What happened? - thats when he smelled it. He was aroused. Now he was even more confused.

-I.. We talked about books and I've made lunch and.. - he said still dumbfounded.

-And what? Why did she run away? - Aether asked curiously, kind of knowing where this would go.

-She tasted it and.. moaned. And then got embarassed and ran. - he said, and Aether slapped him on the back.

-Well, how did she sound then? Altho by the change in your scent... - teased Aether.

-I.. - said Mountain for once blushing too.

[shurikensgang]

"Y'know what? After that, I feel like singing something more... confident."

Abbey blinked as she thanked Kiara for the compliment. "What are you thinking?"

"Take a Hint? It's been a while, and based on Finals I think you need to let off some steam."

Abbey thought about it before getting her mic and change of clothes.

"Weell...I suppose." She said uncertainly.

"Great! Meetcha out there!"

...

As the opening tune of "Take a Hint" played, Abbey and Maryam came out. Abbey was wearing black leggings with a fuzzy pink crop top while Maryam was wearing a sleeveless camo shirt with ripped shorts and combat boots.

They took a deep breath and sang.

"Why am I always hit on by the boys I never like?"

"I can always see 'em coming, from the left or from the right."

They moved across the stage in perfect sync.

"I don't want to be a priss, I'm just try'na be polite,"

"But it always seems to bite me in the..."

They stared directly at the crowd and stood shoulder to shoulder. They sang until the chorus where Abbey took out her hair and let loose of all the pent up feelings.

"Get your hands off my hips, 'fore I'll punch you in the lips,

Stop your staring at my hey!

Take a hint, take a hint,

No you can't buy me a drink, let me tell you what I think,

I think you could use a mint,

Take a hint, take a hint,

T-take a hint, take a hint!"

They continued the song, but with Maryam's visor tinted green.

After that, the girls were left both breathless.

"You're right, it took a lot of stress off of me."

Maryam laughed and nodded and they both looked towards the crowd.

Abbey- You see Tera in the hallway one day, hands in her pockets and looking at the floor, tail swishing in thought.

(Her Turn~)

She looked at Tera curiously.

"Hey, you're new around here!" She smiled softly.

(oop-)

[logi1974]

Irland 2018 - Tag 5

Dienstag, 15. Mai 2018,

Herrschaften!

Heute Morgen verließen wir unsere fabelhaften Gastgeber und das Teltown House nach einem letzten, fulminaten Frühstück.

Renee und ihr Mann verabschiedeten sich ausgiebig von uns und wollten uns eigentlich gar nicht gehen lassen.

Was war das schön hier! Ein toller Geheimtipp und wirklich ein richtiger Glückgriff. Besser hätten wir es nicht treffen können....

Wie geplant, ging es etwa gegen 10 Uhr wieder weiter, jetzt in östlicher Richtung.

1. Stopp war in Loughcrew. Dort befinden sich noch einmal um die 30 neolithische Ganggräber, die nur nicht so bekannt sind, wie die berühmten Verwandten von Newgrange. Allerdings ist der Zugang ungleich schwieriger, da sich die Grabanlagen allesamt auf Hügeln befinden. Hügel ist eigentlich untertrieben - in Schottland würde man dazu wohl eher "Munro" sagen. Jedenfalls fiel uns unten am Parkplatz erst einmal die Kinnlade runter, als wir da schon diverse bestens ausgerüstete Wandergruppen losmarschieren sahen.

Ein Blick auf die Infotafeln setzte darüber in Kenntnis, dass eine Aufstiegszeit von etwa 1 Stunde zu veranschlagen wäre. Nix für Fußkranke! Also, fiel diese Besichtigung schon mal weg.

2. Stopp war Fore Abbey. Eine Benediktiner Abtei aus der 1. Hälfte des 7. Jahrhunderts, zu dem unsere Reiseführer aber so gar nichts zu berichten hatten. Jedoch bin ich bei den Recherchen zu unserer Reise darüber gestolpert.

Diese Abtei und auch das Dorf entpuppten sich als erstaunlich gut erhalten, wobei der größte Teil wohl doch aus späteren Jahrhunderten stammt.

Bis heute werden der Stätte vielfältige "Wunder" zugeschrieben - und so findet man in den "Heiligen Bäumen" unzählige Devotionalien, die dort angebracht wurden. Vom Babystrampler bis zum Asthma-Spray war alles vertreten.

Da durfte der Hasenbär beim “Wünsche wünschen” natürlich nicht fehlen....

Im Mühlbach waren etliche Münzen und sogar Schmuck auszumachen. Ganz klar hatte dort auch jemand einen Verlobungsring hinein geworfen -  das scheint ja eine besonders glückliche Verbindung gewesen zu sein.

Die Besichtigung ist kostenlos. Es gibt ein Visitor Centre mit Coffee Shop und Toiletten, das jedoch geschlossen hatte. Für Wanderfreunde führen einige Wanderwege in die Umgebung und auch zu den Burgresten auf dem Berg.

3. Stopp war dann der Corlea Trackway bei der gleichnamigen Ortschaft Corlea und unweit vom pitoresken Royal Canal mit seinen hübschen Schleusen.  

Schon bei der Anreise waren uns die riesigen Torfabbaufelder aufgefallen. Und neulich fragten wir uns auch, was da wohl zu komisch riecht: Torf!

Man heizt noch mit Torf. An den Weiden bzw. Wiesen sieht man es auch, dass da alles mögliche an Feuchtigkeit liebenden Pflanzen wächst, aber eher weniger Gras.

Und so kam es, wie es kommen musste: 1991 stieß man beim Torfabbau nicht nur auf Moorleichen, sondern auch auf einen Eichenbohlenweg aus der Mitte des 2. Jahrhunderts.

Damit war es dann mit dem Torfabbau vorbei, da die Universität Dublin sofort mit den Ausgrabungen begann. Die bisher geborgenen Eichenbohlen wurden aufwändig konserviert und ein Teil ist im neu erbauten Besucherzentrum ausgestellt.

Als wir dort eintrudelten wurden wir sofort eingekascht und einer Gruppe zugeteilt, die gerade von einem weiblichen Guide in ausschweifender Ausführlichkeit durch die Ausstellung geführt wurde.

Ein Film zu den Umständen der Ausgrabung wurde in einem eigens errichteten Kinosaal ebenfalls gezeigt. Danach wollten wir uns gleich mal verdrücken, aber da hatten wir die Rechnung ohne die Lady gemacht.

Außerdem kann man diesen rekonstruierten Bohlenweg nicht etwa so einfach bestaunen, denn der befindet sich nämlich in einer eigenen, klimatisierten und befeuchteten Halle, die nur mittels eines Schlüssels zu öffnen ist! Nur dann fährt das Rolltor hoch - was für ein Tamtam!

Jedenfalls faselte die besagte Dame ohne Punkt und Komma von dem Mysterium und dem Enigma und was nicht noch alles für Superlativen. Ich kam gar nicht dazwischen, um ein oder zwei Fragen zu stellen, wo doch dem archäologisch vorgebildeten Besucher schon nach 30 Sekunden klar ist, dass es sich hier um einen rituellen Weg zwecks Bestattung von Toten handelt.

Unter dem Vorwand, ich müsste mal dringend zum Klo, habe ich mich dann mit dem Monsieur le Chauffeur im wahrsten Sinne des Wortes verpisst und die restlichen Gruppenmitglieder, die auch alle schon mit den Augen rollten, einfach ihrem Schicksal überlassen.

Draußen wieder angekommen, trabte gerade eine Exkursionstruppe an uns vorbei, alle stilecht in Gummistiefeln gekleidet. Die machten sich offensichtlich zu irgendwelchen Feldforschungen auf ins Torfmoor. Da sind wir unauffällig mal ein Stück hinterher.

Als wir wieder zurück am Auto waren, kamen gerade die restlichen gepeinigten Mitglieder unserer Gruppe aus dem Gebäude des Besucherzentrums. Irgendwie sahen die Leute leicht mitgenommen aus...

Jetzt hatten wir uns aber ein vernünftiges Stück Torte zum Kaffee verdient - und so machten wir uns auf zum Lough Ree (Loch Ri), um in der Wineport Lodge am Seeufer einzukehren.

Der Monsieur le Chauffeur entschied sich für den Bananen-Cheesecake  und ich für die Amarenatorte mit Mandelgedöns, dazu 2 Cappuccino. Als das Zeug serviert wurde, da staunten wir aber nicht schlecht!

Der Cappu war prima, aber der Kuchen..... Der Cheesecake ging ja noch, aber meine Amarenatorte entpuppte sich als ein dünnes Stück Klitschkuchen mit 5 Amarenakirschen aus dem Glas. Macht insgesamt zusammen: 25 Euro!

8,50 Euro pro Stück Kuchen. Das heißt, mein Klitschkuchen war schon günstiger, da haben die Amarenakirschen einfach nur 1 Euro das Stück gekostet - und für den Cappu dann 4 Euro pro Nase. Dafür gab es aber jede Menge View! Däh!

Der Monsieur le Chauffeur hat sich den ganzen Weg nach Tullamore nicht mehr eingekriegt über den dämlichen Kuchen.

Am späten Nachmittag trafen wir dann im Bridge House Hotel, einem hochherrschaftlichen Haus aus dem 18. Jahrhundert, ein.

Zum Abendessen ging es dann in das hauseigene Grillrestaurant, wo im Sportprogramm auf allen Screens das Match der Ü 17 Weltmeisterschaft Irland - Niederlande gezeigt wurde.

Leider hat der Schiri sich beim Elfmeterschießen nicht besonders viele Freunde gemacht.

Der Monsieur le Chauffeur hat sich abwechselnd über den sch.eiß Kuchen aus der Wineport Lodge und den Schiri aufgeregt.

Recht herzlichen Dank für die Aufmerksamkeit! Es grüßen Angie, der Monsieur le Chauffeur und der Hasenbär

[h0me0pathetic]

Fore Abbey & Lough Lene, Co. Westmeath

[pd-lyons]

Wordless Wednesday ~ Fore, County Westmeath, Ireland

Wordless Wednesday ~ Fore, County Westmeath, Ireland

enjoy some peace and quiet all photographs by pd lyons ©2020 For more please visit, Pdlyons’s Explorations Irish American Poetry Photography Worldwide ~ pdlyons.wordpress.com Fore Abbey

[weaselandfriends]

yo, so I checked out Rot, the Redwall fanfic you mentioned a couple asks back. I was struck by the fact that, compared to the "Bavitz" fics, it feels strangely more accessible, less overtly offputting, requiring only faded memories of a Redwall book or two and being very much SFW--all especially surprising by your standards, considering the premise of "the rot has set in and all bets are off, authorially". Some things I was interested in hearing your thoughts on:

- In keeping with the style of Redwall books as I remember them, there is no overt romance--the closest thing to it is Bristol's would-be engagement to Olly. Other cases that stood out to me were Roane's attitude towards Laramie, and of course the Alagadda/Vellis relationship.

- One of my favourite elements was the recurring motif of the "many blades", where by the end of the story many blades are given a long paragraph recounting their history. As the story unfolds and the many stories-within-the-story revealed, it becomes apparent that the cast's lives are much more closely connected than first appears, with Fentress in particular as lynchpin. Stories and blades, and the power they hold, are all closely interlinked (I'm surprised Laramie didn't stab Alagadda with the quill, but I suppose that would've been too on-the-nose). I loved the metatextual aspect where many characters' actions are influenced directly by the stories: Laramie imploring Jareck to "Remember Romsca", Bristol's use of the story as her means of escape, the many perhaps-lies Jareck tells, the vermin literally using stories as fuel by burning them, much as Alagadda's entire leadership method is to try and avoid the tropes of failed warlords in the stories she was told as a kid, and many more examples besides of characters trying to convince each other of the truth of stories (the word "Rot" itself is commonly used to refer to a mistruthful story). Jareck in particular is notably framed at the end with his face replaced by the stolen tapestry of Martin, as though he has become the embodiment of those stories, what's the deal with that?

- And where does Sosostris get her seer knowledge from, which seems to be unerringly on the mark as to what's happening theologically? How does that factor into the idea that all seers are frauds?

- The contrast between the vermin and the lizards is very compelling, with the lizards being your key point of dissonance from canon--at one point, it's alluded to that a reptile appeared only once in the original series, I think? Certainly I have no memories of lizards from those I read as a kid. I found it interesting how the natural food chain was brought to the fore with these characters--shoutout to that almost-title-drop where Laramie becomes conscious of the gore-covered/red sandstone walls of the abbey.

- Unusually for you, there are no chapter names, until ENDGAME/EPILOGUE. Was this just a stylistic choice to match the original books?

- Speaking of your usual style, I found the beat with the snake, Kennebec and Luce where you describe a "tableau" in your typical manner very funny.

- The Laramie/Alagadda conflict over creatures getting "what they deserve" (or, the goodbeast/vermin dichotomy) is reminiscent of Chili and the Chocolate Factory, which interrogates the same kind of pat moralising present in Roald Dahl's work as you do here for Jacques. Rot and Chili complement each other well, in my opinion.

- Rot's conclusion is fascinating, because after spending most of the story deconstructing Redwall, the ending conforms exactly to formula--typified by the Redwallers finally replacing all the rotten wood at the story's close, much feasting, etc. Alagadda notably is seemingly compelled to make every single mistake she initially sets out to avoid at all costs, with what happens with Conredd and so forth. Every single lizard dies. Your omniscient authorial voice is momentarily replaced by Sully-as-recorder(-as-author?), I don't remember if that's specifically a recurring element in the books. I also wasn't sure of the significance of the final epilogue with Jareck in the south.

- Why the fuck were you pretending to be a League of Legends player?

Very glad to have read this story, you perfectly recaptured the prose style as I remembered it--this may not be an all-time great story or anything, but to paraphrase a review of the first twenty minutes of The Transformers: The Movie (which consist of a slaughter much like the one in Rot, narratively speaking, intruding on the formulaic, tame status quo), it's "like the best [Redwall book] ever", providing that same sense of a "perfectly fulfilling and conclusive ending" you describe the Homestuck Epilogues as having, the Final Word on the setting.

I have not thought much about Rot since I wrote it, so I may not be able to answer all of these questions with as much certainty as I'd like. The questions I can answer:

Why were you pretending to be a League of Legends player?

I thought it'd be funny. I'm also a long time fan of professional League of Legends; many character names in my stories I've taken from pro League players (Marc El-Marghichi, for instance, takes his surname from Jonas "Memento" Elmarghichi, a Swedish player of Moroccan descent). More fun facts: In an earlier draft of Modern Cannibals, Z.'s older brother had an expanded role, accompanying Frederick and Mom Roddlevan to the convention to bring back Z., and in his POV scenes he was depicted as a professional League of Legends player who was struggling to stream on hotel wi-fi. I've also kicked around the idea of writing a sports story where the sport is League of Legends, which would probably feature Z.'s brother in a major role.

Why no chapter names?

This is a question with a probably more interesting answer than you expected. Prior to Fargo, I didn't use chapter names at all, for any of my books. My 2012 novel about Luxembourg, for instance, uses a Shakespearean Act/Scene naming system (where chapters would be named, say, Act II Scene III), and my 2013 novel about the Rodney King riots names each chapter after that chapter's POV character, similar to Faulkner's As I Lay Dying. The problem I found when writing Rot was that the chapter index on ffnet looks really stupid if you have unnamed chapters:

So, when I wrote Fargo shortly afterward, I decided to give each chapter a title. I pulled the chapter titles from quotes from books I had read and as the story went on I started getting creative with what the quotes were referencing, how those references played with the chapter's content, and what tone the titles set, so the trend has stuck with me since.

Why no overt romance?

This is not unique to Rot by any means. Anything I wrote prior to Rot was equally devoid of overt romantic or sexual themes, mainly because I was extremely uncomfortable writing them. Up to the time I wrote Rot my media consumption was almost exclusively Western in nature, and Western media on the whole, unless it is explicitly billed as a "romance," often treats those elements as an utter afterthought, something that is not touched upon whatsoever until the male lead and female lead kiss at the very end of the story. Even when a Western work tries to be "sexy" it's almost always in a very clean, distanced, perfunctory way, merely evoking the aesthetic of "sexiness" instead of depicting any content that is actually lewd. (Or, in the realm of horror, the one area of Western media that is willing to get actually, tastelessly lewd, sex is usually depicted as something bad that is to be brutally punished.)

In 2014 though I started watching anime which for better or worse does not have any of those issues, and so in Fargo I was able to write a character like Delaney, who is aggressively sexual. But even then it was a difficult topic for me to grapple with in a serious way; there's a reason why the main characters of Fargo, Modern Cannibals, and Chicago are explicitly or implicitly uninterested in sex. The pornographic parts of CxC were extremely difficult for me to write, having never written anything even broaching pornography before, and I had to write and rewrite each one many times before I could come up with something that really had the ethos of porn.

Alright, now the questions that are specific to Rot:

Is Sosostris a real seer?

In Redwall, there are seer characters who are exposed as total frauds, and seer characters who seem to have actual supernatural insight into things; it depends on the character. Sosostris skirts the line, possibly unintentionally on her part.

Why lizards?

Lizards appear prominently in one Redwall book, The Pearls of Lutra, as the minions of Ublaz Mad Eyes. Lizards will also sometimes appear in other books as a one-off adversary. I kind of just plucked them out as an underutilized element of the books that I felt like I could expand on and flesh out more. The thing about the Redwall series is that it is extremely formulaic, and almost every element of its world has been probed thoroughly. But if you're just retreading all the same ground of the original work, why write a fanfic? This was also the impetus for why I decided to set Fargo in someplace completely removed from the typical Japanese urban landscape of the canon series.

Why is the ending so traditional to series, with the good guys winning and feasting and whatnot?

While I did attempt to delve into some elements of the series that were not explored, I was writing far too respectfully back then to deviate too far from its ultimate tone. Fargo is the same way; tonally, it's an exact match to the original PMMM, albeit more violent. What I wanted for the end of Rot was it to feel hollow or melancholic rather than triumphant. By the end of the story, Alagadda and Vellis are, if not sympathetic, characters with some depth, so their deaths aren't really moments to be happy about. Likewise, Jareck making out with the tapestry is the final melancholic nail in the coffin. If stories are important to the world of Redwall, that tapestry is the most important one, and Jareck pawns it off to a distinctly Renaissance Venetian city, suggesting a transition out of the pastoral medievalism of the Redwall series to the next historic epoch. Basically, a new time has come, and the world of Redwall has come to an end, even if for its denizens that end is a traditionally "good" one.

[madbirdwoman]

Fore Abbey

[leahoftheforests]

worldbuilding: the collected works of George St. Fore

As of today, George St. Fore has released 5 books that have been nationally published and have developed a small following in St. Maur. 

Livery

The thrilling debut novel that introduced George St. Fore. A dramatic account of the lives of the servants in one of England’s great houses and the lives of people who are employed to be invisible. (Similar in theme: Downton Abbey, Upstairs, Downstairs)

A Siren Song of Waves

A pensive, moody novel about a fisherman who takes to the ocean to avoid the responsibilities waiting on land. (Similar in theme: The Old Man and the Sea, Walden)Sons of Yesterday

A family drama about two noble male brothers, and their fight with both each other to inherit their father’s lands, and with a society that tempts them into folly (Similar in theme: Vanity Fair)

The Problem With Mary Is 

Likely the most controversial book in George St. Fore’s bibliography. Written in an experimental prose, the protagonist is a mother bogged down with feelings of anxiety and stress who wakes up one day spontaneously as a man. (Similar in theme: Orlando, Mrs. Dalloway)

The Man Who Would Be Lord

George St. Fore’s most recent novel follows the housekeeper of a grand estate who, although giving every ounce of himself to care for his family, dreams of living in his beloved house as its lord and master. 

[dwellordream]

“…Many parents of all classes sent their children away from home to work as servants or apprentices - only a small minority went into the church or to university. They were not quite so young as the Venetian author suggests, though. According to Barbara Hanawalt at Ohio State University, the aristocracy did occasionally dispatch their offspring at the age of seven, but most parents waved goodbye to them at about 14. Model letters and diaries in medieval schoolbooks indicate that leaving home was traumatic. "For all that was to me a pleasure when I was a child, from three years old to 10… while I was under my father and mother's keeping, be turned now to torments and pain," complains one boy in a letter given to pupils to translate into Latin. Illiterate servants had no means of communicating with their parents, and the difficulties of travel meant that even if children were only sent 20 miles (32 km) away they could feel completely isolated.

So why did this seemingly cruel system evolve? For the poor, there was an obvious financial incentive to rid the household of a mouth to feed. But parents did believe they were helping their children by sending them away, and the better off would save up to buy an apprenticeship. These typically lasted seven years, but they could go on for a decade. The longer the term, the cheaper it was - a sign that the Venetian visitor was correct to conclude that adolescents were a useful source of cheap labour for their masters. In 1350, the Black Death had reduced Europe's population by roughly half, so hired labour was expensive. The drop in the population, on the other hand, meant that food was cheap - so live-in labour made sense.

"There was a sense that your parents can teach you certain things, but you can learn other things and different things and more things if you get experience of being trained by someone else," says Jeremy Goldberg from the University of York. Perhaps it was also a way for parents to get rid of unruly teenagers. According to social historian Shulamith Shahar, it was thought easier for strangers to raise children - a belief that had some currency even in parts of Italy. The 14th Century Florentine merchant Paolo of Certaldo advised: "If you have a son who does nothing good… deliver him at once into the hands of a merchant who will send him to another country. Or send him yourself to one of your close friends... Nothing else can be done. While he remains with you, he will not mend his ways."

Many adolescents were contractually obliged to behave. In 1396, a contract between a young apprentice named Thomas and a Northampton brazier called John Hyndlee was witnessed by the mayor. Hyndlee took on the formal role of guardian and promised to give Thomas food, teach him his craft and not punish him too severely for mistakes. For his part, Thomas promised not to leave without permission, steal, gamble, visit prostitutes or marry. If he broke the contract, the term of his apprenticeship would be doubled to 14 years. A decade of celibacy was too much for many young men, and apprentices got a reputation for frequenting taverns and indulging in licentious behaviour. Perkyn, the protagonist of Chaucer's Cook's Tale, is an apprentice who is cast out after stealing from his master - he moves in with his friend and a prostitute. In 1517, the Mercers' guild complained that many of their apprentices "have greatly mysordered theymself", spending their masters' money on "harlotes… dyce, cardes and other unthrifty games".

In parts of Germany, Switzerland and Scandinavia, a level of sexual contact between men and women in their late teens and early twenties was sanctioned. Although these traditions - known as "bundling" and "night courting" - were only described in the 19th Century, historians believe they date back to the Middle Ages. "The girl stays at home and a male of her age comes and meets her," says Colin Heywood from the University of Nottingham. "He's allowed to stay the night with her. He can even get into bed with her. But neither of them are allowed to take their clothes off - they're not allowed to do much beyond a bit of petting." Variants on the tradition required men to sleep on top of the bed coverings or the other side of a wooden board that was placed down the centre of the bed to separate the youngsters. It was not expected that this would necessarily lead to betrothal or marriage.

To some extent, young people policed their own sexuality. "If a girl gets a reputation of being rather too easy, then she will find something unpleasant left outside her house so that the whole village knows that she has a bad reputation," says Heywood. Young people also expressed their opinion of the moral conduct of elders, in traditions known as charivari or "rough music". If they disapproved of a marriage - perhaps because the husband beat his wife or was hen-pecked, or there was a big disparity in ages - the couple would be publicly shamed. A gang would parade around carrying effigies of their victims, banging pots and pans, blowing trumpets and possibly pulling the fur of cats to make them shriek (the German word is Katzenmusik). In France, Germany and Switzerland young people banded together in abbayes de jeunesse - "abbeys of misrule" - electing a "King of Youth" each year. "They came to the fore at a time like carnival, when the whole world was turned upside down," says Heywood. Unsurprisingly, things sometimes got out of hand. Philippe Aries describes how in Avignon the young people literally held the town to ransom on carnival day, since they "had the privilege of thrashing Jews and whores unless a ransom was paid".

In London, the different guilds divided into tribes and engaged in violent disputes. In 1339, fishmongers were involved in a series of major street battles with goldsmiths. But ironically, the apprentices with the worst reputation for violence belonged to the legal profession. These boys of the Bench had independent means and did not live under the watch of their masters. In the 15th and 16th Centuries, apprentice riots in London became more common, with the mob targeting foreigners including the Flemish and Lombards. On May Day in 1517, the call to riot was shouted out - "Prentices and clubs!" - and a night of looting and violence followed that shocked Tudor England. By this time, the city was swelling with apprentices, and the adult population was finding them more difficult to control, says Barbara Hanawalt. As early death from infectious disease became rarer the apprentices faced a long wait to take over from their masters. "You've got quite a number of young men who are in apprenticeships who have got no hope of getting a workshop and a business of their own," says Jeremy Goldberg. "You've got numbers of somewhat disillusioned and disenfranchised young men, who may be predisposed to challenging authority, because they have nothing invested in it."

How different were the young men and women of the Middle Ages from today's adolescents? It's hard to judge from the available information, says Goldberg. But many parents of 21st Century teenagers will nod their heads in recognition at St Bede's Eighth Century youths, who were "lean (even though they eat heartily), swift-footed, bold, irritable and active". They might also shed a tear over a rare collection of letters from the 16th Century, written by members of the Behaim family of Nuremberg and documented by Stephen Ozment. Michael Behaim was apprenticed to a merchant in Milan at the age of 12. In the 1520s, he wrote to his mother complaining that he wasn't being taught anything about trade or markets but was being made to sweep the floor. Perhaps more troubling for his parents, he also wrote about his fears of catching the plague. Another Behaim boy towards the end of the 16th Century wrote to his parents from school. Fourteen-year-old Friedrich moaned about the food, asked for goods to be sent to keep up appearances with his peers, and wondered who would do his laundry. His mother sent three shirts in a sack, with the warning that "they may still be a bit damp so you should hang them over a window for a while". Full of good advice, like mothers today, she added: "Use the sack for your dirty washing."

- William Kremer, “What medieval Europe did with its teenagers.”