#robin of loxley

[skullislandproductions]

Even greatest rivals can put their differences aside for the common good. In this drawing from “Tom and Jerry: Robin Hood and His Merry Mouse” 2012, the boys strike a truce, in order to take down the Sheriff of Nottingham and his evil boss, Prince John.

[badwolfrt]

Okay, maybe a slightly controversial take, but I think Marion should have been the next "Hooded Man" after Robin of Loxley's death actually. Hear me out!

She is often the one Robin goes to to voice his doubts and worries the way one would with a second in command; when he doubts the villagers abillity to fight in Swords of Wayland; the trouble with Will/the villagers in Children of Israel when Robin tries to straight up quit and Marion challenges him to get back on track; in The Witch of Elsdon when he confesses that he bargained with the Sheriff's life and now the Sheriff won't stop hunting him "Till one of us is dead". I know some of that is probably because she's his wife, but some of those conversations (Will troubles, villagers fighting abilities) seem like things you'd discuss with a second in command to me.

The few times Robin is out of commission, she generally takes the lead. When Robin's imprisoned in The Swords of Wayland, she's the one who leads them to the Earl of Godwin, she's the one who instructs the Merries to get the sword, she's the one who breaks Robin out of prison. And when Robin's enchanted, she's the one who comes up with the idea to go to Herne and she's the one who ends up going to Herne alone. Even in season 3, when Robert leaves with Isadora in The Inheritance, the rest of the Merries kind of default to Marion as the leader and the one to spur them into action.

Speaking of Herne, out of all the merries, other than Robin himself, Marion is the one who has the most direct contact with him. In The Witch of Elsdon, Herne appears to Marion in the lake, shows her a vision (the only other person who gets his visions is Robin) and instructs her on how to save the Merries. And as mentioned above, in The Enchantment, Marion is the one to speak to him directly. Also, in Lord of the Trees, she (from Herne's perspective), sits at Robin's right, directly next to him, while the rest of the Merries are further back.

Also, what is maybe the most defining trait of Robin Hood? His archery skills. Who's the second best archer? Marion! (A case could be made for Nasir, but by the time The Greatest Enemy comes around I think Marion and Robin are pretty equal in skill, so she certainly would equal Nasir, if not surpass him.)

Robin gives her his sword in The Greatest Enemy and instructs her to carry on with his mission. I know that in canon, after Robin's death the group falls apart, but personally I kinda hate this choice. I don't think Marion would've let that happen, especially not after Robin's last wish for her. She had the strength and smarts to lead the outlaws and I think Robin knew that too.

Anybody agree with me? Disagree? I'd love to discuss!

[sonohtigris]

[rex-scrolling]

unfriendly reminder that if you want the fic to exist, you actually have to write it.

[thegremlininmyhead]

Robin Hood (2018), features themes that span millenia, includes a scene that could have been shot in the modern Afghan war but is set in the Crusades, constantly blurs the lines between ancient and modern appearances, makes the story of Robin Hood timeless, literally has the opening line 'I would tell you what year it was, but the truth is, I can't remember', the line 'this war, all wars, everything happening is as old as time'.

Critics: oh its anachronistic and it doesn't make sense.

How can these people literally be paid for their media literacy and have precisely none 🥲

[woodelf68]

Expose Your Fictional Crushes

Share 9 of your fictional crushes and let everyone guess your type!

I was tagged by @rins-love-wins.

Tagging anyone who wants to do it.

[entrehormigones]

[asterias-record-shop]

SMUT W ROBIN HOOD FROM 2018?????!!! GIRL I LOVE U SO INCREDIBLY FUCKING MUCH U JUST MADE MY NIGJT OMG CANT WAIT TO GET RAILED!!!!!

HELP ME-

I’M FRICKIN GONE

but yes, I can’t wait to write getting railed by that man omg 😭😭

[farmergilesofham]

The First Story (That I Will Be Writing Here Because Fuck It)

Waking up in a box underground has to number among my least favourite experiences. Then again, I used to be dead.

I awoke on a Sunday morning, some four hundred years after I first died, or so my little floating friend tells me. It had just stopped raining when my hand first broke the surface. The dew and drops still hung, beaded, off the ends of long-grown blades of grass as I dug myself out of my old grave. There were a lot more graves there, cracked and overgrown, trees bursting between ancient burial stones, sun shining brilliantly down between their branches. Quite beautiful, really.

To begin with, I didn't even speak this language, but I picked up on it fairly quickly once we set our minds to it. I'm guessing I must have known it before I died the first time - and to clarify, I have died quite a few more times since then. I have retained my memories through those ends, yet still some few parts of my old life remain a mystery to me despite the wonders of the Light. Lox - my 'ghost', as he swiftly sought to inform me - tried assuring me that every Guardian loses all of who they were before being risen, and that looking into it only brings unnecessary pain. I only now agree, that it brings pain, from experience.

The little town I rose in has been overtaken by the ancient forest that its inhabitants had once cut back on so mercilessly to make space for their lives and families, and as I walked beneath the bent boughs of those ancient trees, I could feel the gentle tingling of memory at the edges of my mind. Bathed in the midmorning sun, standing at the heart of the place I was laid to rest, they came wafting back to me - those days spent with my family, with my friends, with... someone special. Lox maintains it shouldn't be possible. Maybe, maybe not. The Traveler is clearly not a choosy god, as recent events have thrown into sharp relief, but that open-armed acceptance may well be what gave me this fantastic gift. Either way, I know I had a life, and I know it wasn't too bad either.

I found my family home at the bottom of a hill, in the cool shade of mountainous evergreens, barely touched by the years. Only the windows were gone, and that from the wood rotting away. As I entered, with my pale wisps of recollection bundled tightly in one hand, I at first felt nothing. Disappointed, I headed deeper into the house - an old kitchen, now the house of a family of squirrels and one very large frog; a bedroom, the remains of a bed, dry and dusty; a bathroom, tasteful if a little cracked; a staircase, spiraling up to the next floor. I came to a new room, with faded yellow walls and rotted wooden floors, and of a sudden found myself on my knees, then on hands and knees, then barely able to see for the tears.

I had lived here. This had been my home. I had spent some of my happiest years here, those heart-rending memories shouted at me. I had slept on a bed and looked at the stars, yelled those recollections, I had slept under the little stars and heard the songs of long ago, spun out by the voices of my mother and father. I cried until the tears couldn't come, then stayed in place, wallowing in the loss. And yet, it was those same remembrances of a life lost that stood me on my legs once more; it had been and gone, yes, and I would never see my loved ones again, but now that I lived - now that I remembered - they would never disappear. Not so long as I draw breath. Four hundred years ago, I was a carpenter and part-time artist. I made tables and chairs and balustrades and, sometimes, even door frames. Each piece made with meticulous effort, each given over with utmost care. I checked after them, at the top of the hill. Six of them outlived me by half a millennium. I rather like that. I hope to check in on them again in the future.

My reveries were cut short, however, when Lox politely informed me that I had a duty to the People of the Last City of Humanity - a city built at the foot of an enormous celestial sphere, the Traveler, which seems to have arrived at some point in the twenty-first century. Fancy that. And, as I soon came to learn, there is good reason why it is called the Last City.

I first encountered them about a day's journey away from my grave, and at first I thought they were ordinary travelers on the road, in some sense similar to me. Talking amongst themselves, pulling along some manner of materials in a hand cart - I was delighted! Except then I got closer and noticed some odd things. One of them was easily the height of a door frame, probably taller. Several had more than one pair of arms. The first one that saw me screamed, but it was no human scream - guttural, chittering, piercing my ears, it screamed in surprise and terror before levying a weapon at me. That got the rest's attention, and of a sudden I was in the sights of seven alien creatures the likes of which I had never seen before. A little voice, whispering from within my slapdash poncho, informed me these were 'Fallen'. Fallen from where, and how? As it stood, these few seemed to be doing quite alright for themselves.

I felt something then, a sort of tingling - not the same as when my memories returned, being this time a tingling in my fingers - which slowly rose in intensity until a further whispered hint suggested I should imagine what I most needed right then and there. It should be what immediately comes to mind, Lox said. So I set my mind to it - and with a brilliant flash of light and heat, I held a lovely golden walking staff. I genuinely do not know what Lox expected, even knowing as I do now that this was the telltale sign of enough accumulated power for a 'Super', but my would-be assailants seemed even more surprised when I waved "hi" and set off on the path again, now using the staff for some well-earned back rest. I had, afterall, been walking for more than an entire night and day straight, and was loath to stop lest I bump into less accommodating company.

I have heard eleven different retellings of that encounter, and only two of them are accurate to my recollection. As for the rest, all seem to involve some manner of battle with wildly different arrangements of combatants - sometimes I was with a group of fifty, other times it was an accidental duel. I have not tried particularly hard to dispel these differing accounts, although the people who should know the truth do so, and that is enough for me.

Following that strange encounter, and my very handy walking staff disappearing from my hands mid-step, I was cautioned to probably have something to defend myself with, were an adverse situation ever to arise. So, when next chance came, I put some of those old memories to use. These hands remember how to split and quarter and log, perhaps even without knowledge of my past, and in short order I had the raw materials for a quarter stave. One problem was the lack of knife, but Lox pointed out that some risen folk could, quite handily, summon a knife for indefinite periods. How fortuitous, though it took some concentration to get the right sort of knife. By the end of the day, I had a nice quarterstaff, sanded to a dull lustre and in need of a bit of oiling.

That evening, I used my power to make a fire. Sitting there, in the warmth, I could finally appreciate how completely empty the landscape was - even the animals one would normally expect, birds and deer and the like, were largely absent. It was as if the land itself were holding its breath, be it for fear or in preparation before something dramatic, I had no way to know.

I met my first Hive six days out from home, harassing a group of travelers. Before my revival, I had never counted myself a violent person, but something primal was sparked in me as I saw those thrall. Toying with human lives, acting like it was some kind of game, as if their power gave them the right to destroy people's lives for fun. Not on my watch. I was rather too angry to think about what it was I summoned to hand before stepping in to fight, but it wasn't a terrible surprise to find that the first Thrall's head was ripped clean from its shoulders by a glowing, fiery hammer. Its body stayed upright for a moment more before toppling to the ground, clawed arms splaying out to its sides. Then things got bloody.

I found out afterwards that those Hive had been stalking the wanderers for weeks, always just a day or two behind, until a broken ankle had slowed the people's pace enough to get caught. That day, I swore to myself that I'd protect anyone I could find, and avenge those I could not.

Perhaps I will tell more of my story to you later.

For now, I bid you a fond farewell.

-Robin

[bl4ckr0se-3006]

Robin Hood Prince of Thieves Rp

The Blog I want to use for this RP is @scarletwilliam

I find myself longing to do a Prince of Thieves Rp, as in Robin Hood prince of Thieves, I would be the one playing Will Scarlet for this - and we discuss this more in detail in pms but ideally I want want to do something platonic between Will and Robin so I am looking for someone willing to play Robin of Loxley/Robin Hood, I don’t have a specific plot for this but I would happy to come up with something together.

I am fine for you to take inspiration from other versions of Robin outside of the 1991 Prince of Thieves I just won’t personally, not for Will Scarlet, I actively despise any other versions of Will Scarlet’s character because they feel wrong to me - and yes I am well aware Christian Slater can’t do a British accent to save his life but still I heavily prefer his portrayal of Will Scarlet and I do want to stick to the Prince of Thieves sub storyline of him being Robin Hood’s younger half brother, I just need this.

If you’re interested please comment here or pm me so we can discuss this more. I will set up a rp blog designed around my character for this and I would to do using the blog system on that blog, I will send my alternative blog in pms. So if you’re interested please pm me or comment here and I’ll pm you and we can organize things from there.

[medievalandfantasymelee]

Uhtred of Bebbanburg [Alexander Dreymon] VS. Robin Hood [Michael Praed]

Happy 53rd birthday, Michael Praed!

[rex-scrolling]

got my eye on the biblically accurate lesbian with the elven features and perfect face framing layers.

[cluelesspigeons]

This is written for the song “coming back” by Robin Loxley & Smudge Mason from @drarrymicrofic

Word count: 143

Drarry microfic: coming back

Cw: parental death & grief

Draco held her frail hand in his. It was cold to his touch. Tears were streaming down his face, his soft sobs the only sound in the quiet room.

A heavy hand was placed on his shoulder. Draco leaned closer to it.

“She’s not coming back, Draco.” Harry leaned closer, placing his lips against Draco’s temple. “I’m sorry.”

Draco took a shaky breath, letting go of his mother’s hand. He bent down and placed one last kiss on her forehead. “Until we meet again, Mother.”

When they exited the room, Draco clung to Harry like he was his last hope. He didn’t dare look back. The only thing he focused on was Harry’s warmth and the love he could feel radiating off of him.

Though his mother might not be coming back again, he knew his husband would always come back to him.

Prompt from February 24th

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[artistocrazy]

Slapping with gloves didn’t come with the challenge - but I could see it going like this, if it ever did

[medievalandfantasymelee]

Uhtred of Bebbanburg [Alexander Dreymon] VS. Robin Hood [Michael Praed]

[tudojuntoemisturado]

{Marion Loxley icons}

please like or reblog if you save :)