#Richard the Innkeeper

[nepalcamel]

"I believe that a good innkeeper is like a good friend - always ready with a listening ear and a word of advice when it's needed."

Richard the Innkeeper of Sandholt

[lookslikethatsallthetimewehave]

Which couple do you think is the best in Poptropica?

I'm gonna categorize them like this:

Unknown how it is:

Not good:

Good, but one spouse died:

Good:

I like Kevin and Sandy the best (obviously). A nice and heartwarming story of two single parents meeting, becoming happy again, and starting over together. And as a bonus, even though their children weren't 100% happy at first, the parents had them go on the hot air balloon ride which took them to Poptropica.

[sw33ts444]

frozen crown

pairing: prince!leon x fem!reader x knight!wesker

synopsis: this marriage was something you were not looking forward to. your kingdom was struggling to maintain afloat, so you, the eldest and most demure of all your sisters, were arranged to be married of to the crown prince of the most successful, powerful empire on the continent. having to leave behind your whole life, your native kingdom, and have to marry someone who was not the knight who had stolen your heart was quite possibly your worst nightmare. but... this was for the good of your people...

content warnings: very sexual content

wc: 3358

an: this series is the first that i've tried my hand at smut i'm NGL. has me nervie.

previous chapters: 1

2: arduous path

The journey north was a long and arduous one, and though your carriage was one of the more luxurious ones, the bumpy roads were still causing you immense amounts of discomfort. The carriage days spent riding were lonely, too. It was against social etiquette for your ladies-in-waiting to ride in the same carriage. Your only comfort was looking outside the carriage window, staring mainly at Wesker's broad back as he rode ahead. The scenery was slowly changing as you rode further and further north; from dead, yellowed grass from the southern warmth, to dead grey grass as they moved further into northern climates. Travelling in the dead of winter was terrible. Cold. It's been a couple weeks now, with still many more to go.

The nights, however, were far better. Your entourage had brought a luxurious tent befitting your status. It was much more comfortable in there; the oil lamps filled your tent with warmth and the multiple furs and blankets kept you from freezing to death. But the best thing was your nighttime visitor—Wesker. Every night he would come and warm your bed, warm your body with his, but never going beyond the boundaries you had placed. His passionate kisses and the desire that burned in your abdomen and soaked your undergarments was more than sufficient to stave off the cold. The first night he snuck in came as a complete surprise—it was incredibly risky for him to be coming into your tent at night. What if he was seen by the others? But his touch was so easy to give into. You were sure your night in the palace would be your last. Thank god you were wrong.

Aside from your nights of passion and love you had with Wesker, you enjoyed mealtimes. Sitting with your ladies-in-waiting was another piece of your travels that brought you comfort. Abigail, the daughter of a Marquis, was closest to you in age and perhaps the most spunky of your companions. She was loud but she was diligent, someone you considered a close friend. The second lady-in-waiting was Clarisse, recently married to Count Richard Alveston. She was stricter, more lady-like than Abigail, and her council was one you could always count on. She was like an older sister to you. Communing with them over dinner, bathing (although you pushed to bathe yourself since they were also tired, they insisted it was their duty until they left your side), was taking your mind off of the whole situation.

The days and nights bore on, the cold becoming more and more piercing the closer you got to your destination. But tonight would be different. Tonight you would be staying in an inn, finally having reached the outskirts of the empire. The carriages and horses were taken into the care of the inn's stablemaster as Wesker led you and your company into the cozy inn. The innkeeper looked astonished to see such a large amount of guests arriving all at once.

"Oh! Hello! We weren't expecting this many people," she gasped.

"Good evening, miss," you step forward to speak, "We're looking for food and board for a night for fourteen people."

"Ah, yes miss," Wesker stepped forward to correct the way you were addressed, but you put a hand out to stop him. The innkeeper looked nervously at his intimidating expression and build, but turned to you to continue speaking. "Lucky for you, we're pretty slow this time of the year, so we have lots of rooms available!" The plump, rosy-cheeked woman gave you a wide smile, "We're having cheddar broccoli soup tonight! Please, take a seat," she gestured towards the seating area before heading back to the kitchen.

You led the way to sitting at table with your ladies-in-waiting, the knights following suit and seating themselves in tables around you. Except Wesker. Ever so vigilant, he stood by your side, at full attention. "Please, sit, Wesker. You need to eat."

"Thank you, Your Highness, but I'll dine later." He responded, stiff as ever.

"Nonsense," you patted the spot next to you, "You'll only draw attention from the innkeeper like that." Wesker frowned, but followed your directions.

"Captain Wesker only ever listens to you, Your Highness!" Abigail smiled at you, "When we ask him for anything, he'll only do it when it's for you!" Clarisse gave her a piercing look.

You blushed a little at the statement and smiled. Wesker was sitting tensely beside you. He didn't like how casual this setting was, how casual the barmaid was being with you, it was clear. "I would hope he listened to me!" The knights seated at the table to your right were beginning to get loud, rowdy with the joy that they would be sleeping in a real bed. Wesker gave them a sharp look. The innkeeper and some of her help began to come out with bowls of soup for everyone, the knights almost immediately tearing into the bowls. You slowly stirred the creamy soup, taking in its delicious smells, yet you couldn't quite focus on your meal. "Do you think Lucy will be alright?" It was about the thousandth time you've asked that to your company.

"Of course," Clarisse reassured. "That girl is as strong and smart as she is stubborn. The other princesses won't have an easy time with her." You nodded, taking the first bite of your meal. Wesker hadn't touched his yet, he was simply staring down at his bowl. He'd been doing that a lot lately, staring off into space, distracted for seemingly no reason. You understood though.

"Are you going to eat that?" Abigail asked, pointing towards his soup, covering her mouth that still had broccoli in it. The inquiry snapped Wesker back to reality, his eyes shooting up to meet hers.

"Abbie!" Clarisse scolded, "Where are your manners! You are a lady-in-waiting for Her Highness, act like it!"

"I agree with Countess Alveston," Wesker's voice was low, "You represent Her Highness. Mind yourself." With that, he began to eat his soup.

"Please, I don't mind!" You smiled at Abbie, "No one knows I'm a princess here, so let's allow ourselves the space to relax!"

"Ohh thank you, Your Highness!" Abbie cried out in joy. Clarisse looked absolutely scandalised.

The rest of the evening passed without much incident. Everyone finished their bowls of soup, some asked for seconds and even thirds before they all groggily went off to their beds. Clarisse and Abbie had joined you to your room and bathed you before allowing you to rest alone.

The small room you were in was cozy, quaint. There wasn't much to the room; a small bed, a tiny table, and a dresser. There were oil lamps and a fireplace to help keep the room warm. You breathed in the wooden smell of the room; it was calming, the room was so different than what you were used to. If you focused hard enough you could almost trick yourself into thinking you were just going on a trip, a vacation.

Groggy, but not wanting to sleep just yet, you walked over to the window, gazing down at the stables below. To your surprise, Wesker was there. Basking in the moonlight. You opened your window to call out to him, but he seemed so lost in thought you couldn't bring yourself to. Instead, you took to resting your arms and head on the windowsill, having brought a chair over, and just simply watching him. Eventually, he would come up to your room. But it was still far too soon; many would not yet be actually asleep.

The gentle breeze that blew through the window, rustling the leaves of the pines that held steadfast in the cold, slowly lulled you into a deep sleep. When next you woke, Wesker had carried you to the bed, closed the window, and lit a small fire in the fireplace. Your eyes opened to the man you so loved laying beside you, propped up on one elbow as he stroked your hair. A comfortable silence settled between the two of you.

"I wish we could stay like this forever," you broke the silence.

"What? Laying in bed?" He smirked. "I could think of better things we could be doing than just laying here." You gave him a reprimanding look, in which he responded with a peck on your lips.

"No, you pervert, I mean spending time together, like this. Imagine this quaint room was our little cabin in the woods," you sighed wistfully, grabbing his hand and playing with his fingers. "We would make our living off lumber, making enough to feed ourselves and maybe even a little family. Just us, in our own little world." Wesker stayed silent as you rambled. But you knew he shared these sentiments. "...Should we elope?" You looked him in the eyes.

His silence continued for a moment longer as he struggled to respond. "If I said yes, would you?" Biting your lip, you looked away. He sighed, "I know you, dearheart. This deal, this arranged marriage, is far too important for your family, for our homeland."

"I wish... I wish things were different," you breathed. You'd grieved enough over your situation, and by this point your eyes seem to have run dry of any tears you could produce. The lump in your throat never seemed to dissipate though. "But, who knows? Maybe I'll get lucky and get to keep you as my guard," a wistful smile rested on your lips as you brought your eyes back to his.

"But things would never be the same," his tone was cold, this sentence holding all the truth that you didn't want to come to terms with. You rolled over on top of Wesker, who hardly seemed surprised by this action, and you bent down to kiss him, hard. You didn't want to think anymore. All you wanted in your mind was Wesker, his kisses, his touch, his skin on yours.

The nights passed by in similar fashion as you approached the capital. Whether it was in inns or your tent, every night you'd explore almost every inch of Wesker's body. You knew every part of his body, except his cock. But boy, did you want it. Despite your insistence on never going beyond what your undergarments hid, you'd taken to grinding down and getting off on his bulge. The way his hard-on rubbed against your clothed clit drove you crazy, left you wanting more on a deeper, carnal level. Wesker was left feeling the same way, each night you took to dry humping, his abdomen would wind up covered in both his own pre and cum. Whilst his underwear would be covered in your juices. The way he looked after your little sessions, flushed, eyes darkened with lust, tip poking out of his underwear, made you want to feel him stretch out your walls, feel his cock buried so deep within you, and have him fuck you so hard that he leaves you raw.

There's even been days where you would opt for masturbating in front of him, with your panties on, as if it made any difference. You'd finger-fuck yourself, imagining it was his dick that your wet little hole was clenching around, as you watched him stroke himself. And after you finished, sometimes you'd stick your fingers in his mouth, letting him suck and lick every bit of your juices off to get a little taste. But the tender nights together are coming to an end as you and your entourage have finally arrived in the capital.

The sights of the capital robbed you of your breath as you looked out of the window of your carriage. The buildings were so tall, so large, and the architecture was like pure art. Each pillar, doorway, trim, every part of every building was made as if they were a sculptor's magnum opus. The snow that slowly drifted down covered bushes and pines and rooves and made the scene look all the more fantastical. There were wreathes on the doors of restaurants, stores, inns, and other places of business. The streets were bustling, full of curious rich commoners and nobility, staring and whispering at the carriages as they shopped and went about their business. The holidays were right around the corner and the air was thick with merriment and joy—but all the awe and amazement and contagious happiness that was fluttering around in your stomach ceased when the palace came into view. And was instead replaced with dread.

It felt like the end of the world when you stepped down from your carriage. A pit of anxiety and fear and anger and so many different emotions ravaged your stomach. But as a princess, it was second nature to not let it show. There were hundreds of staff standing bowed in welcoming, which was intimidating enough by itself. But the palace that you've arrived at surpassed the staff in their intimidation factor. It was massive, with multiple buildings, floor-to-ceiling windows, stained glass, giant pillars; it was jaw-dropping. As you did your best to stay calm, taking in the sights of the palace, a tall, grey-haired man stepped forward and grabbed your attention.

He bowed, "Welcome, Your Highness. My name is Alfred, His Majesty's attendant and aide. I've come to guide you to the council chambers to speak with His Majesty before I show you to your room."

"Thank you, Alfred." He bowed, and you gestured for him to lead the way. Wesker and your ladies-in-waiting quickly fell into step behind you, the other knights trailing in two organized single-file lines as everyone made their way through the palace. While you walked, you took in your surroundings, doing your best to not seem shocked by the sheer extravagance of the palace. The ceilings were high, painted cherubs and angels smiling down and dancing amongst clouds. The trim of every doorway, ceiling, and floor was lined with gold, even the marble floors had hints of gold.

God, did everything have to have gold? You thought a little bitterly. Perhaps this palace was just to make a show of the Northern Empire's wealth, to intimidate delegates and visits from smaller kingdoms and countries like your own. Or perhaps you were looking for some small outlet for the emotions you had to keep silent under a mask of calm. A couple of servants dragged the heavy oaken doors of the reception chambers open once you finally arrived in front of them. The chambers were what you'd expect, with a regal red carpet leading to the door, seats on both sides for when nobility must attend receptions, and at the end of the room were steps leading up to three tall, imposing chairs where the royal figures sat. Knights were stationed in entrances to the room and to the sides of the royalty observing you and your entourage.

The aide led you to near the foot of your stairs, where you curtsied, your ladies-in-waiting joining you as the knights took a knee. "Greetings to the Sun, Moon, and Star of the Empire. May Glory shine down upon the Empire for all eternity."

"You may rise," The emperor stated, his voice was deep and authoritative, fitting for a ruler. You obeyed and stood, getting a good look at the Northern Empire's royalty. His Majesty was getting on in years, with a salt and pepper beard and greys growing from his temples, slicked back and tucked beneath a heavy golden crown, laden with diamonds. His attire was decked out with all the expensive silks and golds and intricate patterns one might expect the royal family to wear, but the tight fit of his clothes revealed a hidden tone of muscle. The empress was a lot warmer and kinder looking than he was. She wore an extravagant purple gown made of beautiful tulle and it was covered in all sorts of different gemstones, glimmering brightly at the slightest movement.

And the crown prince, your intended, was dressed in a similar extravagant fashion, though quite a bit more toned down. What caught your eye though was not his clothes, but his striking blue eyes. He was not bad to look at, on the contrary he was incredibly handsome. So handsome that his face alone, ignoring his status, would making him the most eligible bachelor in the Empire.

"Welcome to the Northern Empire, Princess. We've waited for the day of your arrival eagerly," the emperor gave you a welcoming smile. "We've heard of your accomplishments in the Southern Kingdom and we're all eager to see what you can do here in the Empire, with so many new tools at your disposal."

"Thank you for the praise, Your Majesty," you bowed a little as a gesture in gratitude, "but all I've done was work for my people. I hope I can live up to your expectations and do good by the people here in the Empire."

"Beautiful and humble!" The empress finally spoke. "I knew you would be the best choice!" You hid a grimace at her choice in words. You knew you specifically were chosen for your exploits in your homeland. "We saw records of the different foundations you did for peasants and the poor, helping children and the ill. Your efforts in increasing crop yield during harvesting season were impressive as well!"

"Thank you, Your Majesty. But the truth is, my efforts were not enough. My family and I are eternally grateful and in your debt for your assistance, and I will do my best to assist the Empire in any way I can." The empress smiled down at you. It felt unpleasant, having to bend so far for these people whom you hardly knew. You were determined to help your kingdom, but the price of your whole life and future really soured your whole efforts, making it feel a lot less like your honour-bound duty and more of a death sentence.

"Well then," the emperor looked over to his son, who made no movement to speak, "I believe that is enough pleasantries. We shall see you again tomorrow. I assume you are all tired from your travels. We have rooms ready for you and yours, Alfred will lead everyone to the right places and dinner will be served in your chambers. Tomorrow, we shall begin to dine together. Please, Princess, make yourself comfortable." After bowing and thanking the Imperial family once more, Alfred led you all out of the room. Before you turned, you managed to sneak one last glance at the prince. And as you made eye contact with him, it occured to you that you don't even know his name.

Once Alfred had the knights led to the barracks elsewhere, including Wesker much to your dismay, he deposited you in your own chambers. He'd apologised for the size—though it was ginormous—and promised you better habitations once you wed. As he left with your ladies-in-waiting, other maids came in, not giving you a second to breathe as they whisked you away to the bathing chambers of the room. They lathered you in expensive smelling soaps and oils, thoroughly massaging your body that was sore from sitting in a carriage for so long. And once they finally left, you were finally given time to relax. The chambers felt like the size of a large cabin. There were dressers that you didn't care to explore, sofas, coffee tables, a chess table, a large fireplace, a tea-preparation area, and even a terrace for your enjoyment. But all that mattered to you was that luxurious bed. Throwing yourself onto the bed, landing with a whump, made the new reality feel all the more damning. It was finally hitting you. You're in the Imperial palace. You've seen your future husband. And soon, you'll have to say goodbye to the knights, Clarisse, Abbie, and most important of all, Wesker. As your heavy eyes fluttered closed, all you could think about was how much you'd miss his warm embrace. Your journey north has ended, and yet it somehow feels like you've just embarked on an even more arduous one yet.

2024 sw33ts444© All rights reserved.

please don't rewrite, repost, translate, or submit my work to ai 💜

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[badass-queer-couples-battle]

Sword gays showdown, round 1 of bracket one

Propaganda:

For Richard:

Context : Swordspoint was published in 1987. Several characters are explicitely gay/bisexual, including... the main character (well, Ellen Kushner is part of the community. I met her once at a signing and I was so awkward and she and her wife (who cowrote the third volume of the series) were so nice. She's also on tumblr. What a wonderful world)

So, let's go back to Richard, who lived in the country with his mother and learnt his trade for a weird guy who eventually died. Richard is a sword prodigy (he also started quite young and trains constantly - natural talent is a thing, hard training is another)

He lives in the "poor" part of the city, where prostitutes, thieves, innkeepers and seamstresses prolifer

Richard does learn the blade and eventually goes into the city. Where he becomes a swordman for hire. Famous, respected and feared, Richard isn't exactly the chatty signing-autographs type. People with good sense leave him alone because the ones stupid enough to challenge him didn't live to tell the tale

But one day... Alec happens. Alec's a penniless ex scholar with a feud with the University, a sharp tongue and absolutely not the means to defend it in ill famed places, which is the ones he prefers since he's always looking for trouble dur to his self-destructive tendencies. The first time they met, Alec tries to get on Richaed's ndrves so the other man would kill him. However, Richard finds this man unafraid of him quite amusing. Word's eventually gegs around ghat the gwo are lovers and people din't get on Alec's bad side if they can prevent it (not easy, Alec has Issues. Capital I.) to avoid having todeal with Richard's protectiveness. I mean, I wouldn't want to anger a professional swordman either

Alec teaches Richard how to read because he never knew how to m. He's the perfect damsel in distress until he isn't because his help is needed [mod note: end of propaganda- part one . Didn't leave it as a wall of text since it'd be harder to read]

The archetypal gay (bi) swordsman: he was one of the few queer characters in fantasy fiction back in the 70s when the first book was published, yet he's in an explicitly romantic and sexual relationship with a man, and he is The terrifying swordsman, infamous, terrifying, and frequently hired for his skills. Also the plot of the book revolves around him using his sword skills to rescue his lover and getting rescued back. So. Y'know.

For Dominique:

This traumatized mess of a vampire is So. She's SO. She's bi and fights with a sword and has a dead twin and a fwb relationship with her childhood friend and a badass girlfriend and a "bonding over their mutual feelings for her childhood friend" thing going on with another guy. 

she's gay she's a vampire she has a sword and I love her 

[cannebady]

Also posted on AO3.

Ed's happy, really properly happy for maybe the first time in his life. It's like getting whiplash, honestly. It feels like seconds ago that he was watching Stede live out his pirate fantasy, experiencing it through tunnel vision. He'd been so sure, when he was watching a bunch of assholes pour liquor down Stede's throat at Spanish Jackie's, that it was the real beginning of the end, that he never really stopped to think what would happen if he asked Stede to stay.

Getting the Inn up and running has been a challenge. When he was coming up as Blackbeard, there'd been a roadmap for success written by the greats, a lifetime of misery to kindle the fire of his anger, and steady, ruthlessly pragmatic Izzy Hands to guide him. This time, he had only his ideas, Stede's indefatigable optimism, and the bittersweet memory of Izzy's, "Just be Ed," to shepherd him through.

Granted, that's quite a lot to go on really. Much more than most people get.

Their Inn by the Sea is open and operating relatively smoothly, and against all odds, Ed ends each night in his warm bed, with a full belly, entwined with the love of his life; and while he misses Izzy and the crew something fierce sometimes, he loves the life he and Stede have carved out for themselves.

That doesn't mean that he isn't stalked by the black dog these days. His black moods have been a tumultuous companion since childhood and no amount of warmth and food and orgasms are going to take it away entirely (though the Inn is always quite warm, and the food is excellent and the orgasms - those are next level).

Sometimes, in the small hours of the morning when sleep won't take him, the guilt and the night terrors and the self-hates start to overwhelm him. Stede is always willing to coax him through with soft touches and softer words, but Stede, who's proven to be quite the jack-of-all-trades when it comes to innkeeping, needs his rest and Ed needs to be able to bring himself back. He wants to be able to bring himself back. He wants to know that no matter what happens, he won't relapse into the Kraken.

So, when his skin starts to feel too small for the horrors his mind's held onto, Ed walks. He's come to know the beach like the back of his hand. He's explored caves and tide pools, knows all the best coves for fishing and where to find the most succulent crabs and shrimp, and on one memorable occasion, found a collection of bottles with something in them.

He'd had a nightmare, the morning he first found them. It was a recurring one, where he can stop watching Izzy die in his arms, but, to add insult to injury, instead of Richard Banes having pulled the trigger, he finds the gun in his own hand. So he goes and talks to Izzy (he kept him close, he thinks Izzy would forgiven him all things considered) and apologizes for the three-hundredth time that he didn't love him as good as he could've, and then he walks along the water line for hours. As the sun had started to peak over the horizon, he'd been about to turn back, looking forward to crawling back into bed and into Stede's arms in the home he's made for himself, but the sun glints off of the collection of bottles on the sand just right and Ed's drawn in like a moth to flame.

There's dozens of them and Ed first thinks that, maybe, he'd missed a bit of a shindig when he realizes that he recognizes those bottles.

Another memory, shrouded in soul-deep fear, kicks up as he recalls his knife in the shoulder of a British officer and his hand around another's neck while he read words of love and devotion to unlock his blocked up heart; finally rearranged him into a set of needs and wants and desires that fit.

Stede had said that he wrote him letters. Letters in bottles thrown into the sea, every morning. It would stand to reason that they'd end up here.

So now, when Ed's storm rolls in and he feels like he's being drawn under, he goes to this spot and selects a random bottle. Some letters contain Stede's hallmark flowery language as he pours his heart out to Ed in the months of their separation. Some are more lie diary entries with Ed as the intended audience, just Stede rambling about the things he did and the people he met. It's comforting to know that Stede thought of him so often (thought of him always).

Either way, it reminds Ed that even when he was at his worst, his most monstrous, someone was waiting for him. Even when he was in the gravy basket, arguing with himself about the pros and cons of life or death, someone was with him, wanted him, loved him anyway.

He doesn't tell Stede about the bottles, because he doesn't need to. He thinks, somehow, Stede knows (Stede also walks sometimes, it stands to reason he may have found the same spot and left it there for Ed - Stede would do that).

When Ed comes in with the dawn, smelling of salt and sea air and look a bit worse for the wear, and he curls up around the heart that lives outside of his body and breathes deep to remind himself of the here and now. On these mornings (or evenings - depression doesn't keep to a convenient schedule), Stede will blink his hazel eyes and give Ed a small smile, imbued with their specific brand of love, whisper, "Good morning, my love," and pull Ed right in. Like he belongs here. Like Stede carved out a space next to him in Ed's shape that's unmovable, permanent, ever-present.

After years of a half life, Ed Teach finally gets to be loved and gets to love in return. What a gift.

[v-thinks-on]

In the year 1187, I began as a journeyman to the village apothecary. When the call came to follow the noble King Richard the Lionheart, like many young men, I eagerly went. The Crusades brought honours and penitence to many, but for me it had nothing but misfortune and disaster. After months of delirious fever, I was fortunate to return to my native England with little worse than a limp and a lame shoulder.

I had neither kith nor kin in England, and was therefore free as air—or as free as a man with neither health nor livelihood can be. Under such circumstances, I found myself wandering the countryside, where all the loungers and idlers live by their wits and the fleeting generosity of strangers. It was a meaningless, comfortless existence, spending what little health I had far more freely than I ought.

I knew I could not last like this for much longer; I had no choice but to make some drastic alteration in my style of living. The day I had come to this conclusion was in late spring, graced with the charming weather of my native isle; a heavy blanket of grey hanging above the tree tops and a chill in the air, which made my shoulder ache and my legs stiff, and I feared a turn for rain.

I hoped it was not far to the next village. It had already been some days since the kindly innkeeper, who had traded some food and a place to rest for the night for a poultice for his ailing daughter, had pointed me in this direction. These woods were dangerous, he had said, but there was a man in these parts who might be able to help a poor wanderer such as myself. It seemed an unlikely solution, but even a brief respite would be a relief to me.

The deeper I went into these woods, the thicker the growth became; the trees gathered tighter together and it became increasingly laborious to pick my way through the dense undergrowth. Only a dim light filtered through the canopy of clouds and leaves above, leaving the whole forest in twilight, with who knew what manner of men or creatures lurking within—I thought I spied the glint of a Sacaren spear, but it was only a shiny drop of dew upon a thorny bramble.

However, the whiz of an arrow through the air was unmistakable. I had no sword—I was no knight, merely a village apothecary who had gone to tend the brave souls who followed the King into battle, but when the battle began, all men became soldiers—but still I tensed for a fight, glancing around me in search of my assailant. But I saw nothing, only the deep dense woods and an arrow embedded in the tree behind me, mere inches from where my head had been.

“You had better be careful, an old campaigner travelling through these woods alone.”

I started at the voice which sounded just into my ear and turned to find myself face-to-face with a long, thin man who appeared to have materialised from the woods themselves. He was dressed all in green, with aquiline features, and rough bow in hand, another arrow already knocked into place.

“You were at Acre, I perceive,” the man said.

“Y-yes,” I said, too startled to protest at the pronouncement, “did you also follow King Richard the Lionheart?”

He shakes his head, a laughing curl to his thin lips, though there’s a darker irony lurking in his keen eyes. “I have only heard tales of the destruction.”

I can only bow my head in acknowledgement; the evidence of my hardships is unconcealable.

[greensparty]

Movie Review: Revival69: The Concert That Rocked The World / MaXXXine

This week I got to review two new ones: a documentary and a narrative.

Revival69: The Concert That Rocked The World

On September 13, 1969, Canada hosted their big music festival about a month after Woodstock in the U.S. Toronto, Ontario had the Toronto Rock and Roll Revival, at University of Toronto's Varsity Stadium. I didn't know too much about the concert festival itself beyond John Lennon's performance. John and wife Yoko Ono put together the Plastic Ono Band for this festival including guitarist Eric Clapton, bassist Klaus Voorman, and drummer Alan White. That performance was released as a live album in late 1969, Live Peace in Toronto 1969. Beyond D.A. Pennebaker's 1971 documentary Sweet Toronto, the music festival never got the proper historical documentary treatment until now. Revival69: The Concert That Rocked The World began its festival run in 2022 and has been doing indie film screenings in recent weeks as well as a digital release.

movie poster

Using the original 16mm footage that Pennebaker filmed of the concert as well as archival footage, newly shot interviews and animation, director Ron Chapman does a deep-dive into this concert headlined by Chuck Berry, Bo Diddley, Chicago, Alice Cooper, The Doors, Jerry Lee Lewis, and Little Richard as well as the Plastic Ono Band. This got some attention as it was the first big concert Lennon did outside of The Beatles. There's interviews with festival promotors John Brower and Ken Walker as well as Voorman, Cooper, and Robby Krieger of The Doors to name a few.

Ono and Lennon at the Toronto Rock and Roll Revival Show

I had the same feeling watching this as I had when I saw Summer of Soul, Questlove's doc about the 1969 Harlem Cultural Concert. While that was a very different story (had more to say about the era itself and the story of unearthing the doc footage became a part of the story as well), this is also a doc about a 1969 music festival that was in the shadow of Woodstock, but had some of the biggest names of that era and I was blown away by the archival footage of both. The centerpiece of this festival is that Lennon became a part of it and performed. I had heard their performance on the live album, but seeing it as well as the interviews about it coming together is a gift for Beatle fans like me!

For info on Revival69

3.5 out of 5 stars

MaXXXine

Ti West is one of the most exciting horror directors of this century. His third movie The House of the Devil was a powerful homage to 80s horror films on an ultra low budget. His follow up The Innkeepers was a worthy follow-up in the same slow burn vein. The found footage VICE journalists investigating a cult film The Sacrament was uneven at best. But he quietly came back with the one-two punch in 2022: the 1979-set X and the 1918-set Pearl (both among my Best Movies of 2022 list). West also found his muse in actress Mia Goth. She did double duty in X as adult film star Maxine Minx and the elderly land owner Pearl. But then we got the prequel of the early days of Pearl in 1918 and what lead her to be the way she was in the first film with Pearl. It's been two years, but the third in the trilogy MaXXXine opens this week from A24 with West, Goth and bigger cast than one would expect from this series.

movie poster

It's now 1985 and Maxine Minx is in Hollywood a few years after surviving the massacre in Texas from the first movie X. This isn't glitzy Hollywood, this is sleazy seedy Hollywood in the mid-80s. Maxine is still pursuing fame not just as an adult film star, but in mainstream movies now. But while doing sleazy jobs in between auditions, the city is fearing the Night Stalker, a serial killer walking the city at night in L.A. There are some cops looking to Maxine for answers played by Michelle Monaghan and Bobby Cannavale. There's a studio horror movie Maxine is working on with a director played by Elizabeth Debicki. There's an agent played by Giancarlo Esposito. There's a porn star friend played by Halsey. There's a shady private eye played by Kevin Bacon.

Mia Goth and Ti West on the red carpet

I wanted to like this after really liking the previous two especially Pearl and being a fan of Ti West. But boy was this a letdown and a half! It is a film that thinks it's hip and cool and it's not. The previous two films were low-budget and West was pulling out some serious scares. Here it feels like he had a much bigger budget and bigger cast and "hey look how 80s this is!!!" production design and costumes. It had so much potential which is what's so frustrating about this: the idea of setting the Maxine in the Reagan 80s at a time when heavy metal music was bubbling up from the underground, video nasty VHS videos and low budget horror were on the rise, and devil worship was more than just something on Geraldo - and all of these things were converging in 1980s Hollywood. There could've been an awesome horror movie and instead it was trying too hard to be mainstream and glossy. And another thing - through this whole movie it's bowing at the alter of Brian De Palma's highly underrated 1984 erotic thriller Body Double and then in the last third (semi-spoilers ahead) West goes all-in and films the climax at a house in the Hollywood Hills that if it's not the house from Body Double it's a pretty darn close replica. Dude - I'd rather just watch Body Double at that point!?! There's elements of House of the Devil....but it lacks the undercurrent of fear and tension that film had. The two things that do deserve credit are Giancarlo Esposito who stole the entire film (look closely and there's an element of Gus Fring from Breaking Bad / Better Call Saul in his character) and Mia Goth who blew me away with Pearl and here she rose above the weakest film in the trilogy. But both Goth and West can do much better and I hope they do with their next film(s).

For info on MaXXXine

2 out of 5 stars

[blindrapture]

WEDNESDAY JUNE 29TH, 2011 (Rael's Exodus I: Start With The Pronouns)

7:15 AM You ready for this, journal? ‘Cause I’m not.

7:32 AM I’ve got all my stuff, Donnie’s got all hers, we’re heading out now.

7:33 AM The innkeeper’s asking us to wait for everyone.

7:49 AM I see Richard and Meredith. Meredith’s carrying some sort of briefcase. I get the feeling that was the one of Rogers’ that Bill wanted to show me.

8:01 AM We’re all here. The innkeeper wants everyone to know everyone else before we board. There’s the Innkeeper (Penelope Judge), Mister and Missus Finchplus thirteen-year-old Omar Finch, Mister and Missus Haggard, Mister Gerome, Miss DeNumante plus five-year-old Brian DeNumante, Mister and Missus Burgandy (Richard and Meredith), Mister and Missus Tickrand plus fifteen-year-old Quinn Tickrand, sixteen-year-old Jordan Dooling and seventeen-year-old Donnivan Rand, as well as Ms. Desmond (currently sick, will be wheeled in after everyone else). And that’s just the passengers. The crew of the Exodus: Captain Jonathan Fitzgerald, eighteen-year-old Patrick Yates (made into second-in-command), Chef Zachary Gusteau, secondary chef Sarah Virtshire, engineer Carl Rackleberg, and two men who weren’t members of the crew but are now: Doctors Johnson and Jackson. Twenty-four people. Ms. Desmond, as mentioned above, is currently in her room. She will be wheeled on-board separately. I wonder what she’s sick with.

8:23 AM There it is, the R.M.S Exodus. It’s quite large. I mean, not the biggest boat in the world, but then again, I think it’ll do the job well. The ramp’s set up, and it’s time to board.

9:44 AM Donnie and I, despite having separate surnames, are classified as a couple. ..I’m fine with that! :3 But so, we’re assigned to the same room. Again, not a single complaint here. .w.

9:51 AM Apparently, the ship’s intercom works fine. Time for transcriptions! “Hello, passengers. This is your captain speaking, Captain John Fitzgerald at your service; you are currently aboard the R.M.S Exodus. I’m sure you know that, but I’m just going through these formalities, or at least whatever formalities I can remember. It’s been a while since I last captained a ship. “Just to reiterate, this will be, at the least, a six-day voyage. The demons and baddies can’t get us out on the ocean, so don’t fret. Your well-trained staff and crew will take extra-good care of you. So just kick back, relax, and enjoy six days of beeeeautiful red sky and blue sea. “Chef Gusteau will be serving dinner at six in the dining room. I hear today’s meal is a thrilling steak and kidney pie. “Now, uh.. here’s a formality I don’t normally have to say, but I think you’ll appreciate this. There may or may not be a creature on-board this ship, looks a little like a cross between a man and a feral dog. Don’t look into its eyes, and.. just try to avoid it at all costs. If you spot it, make sure to let a trained crew member know. “I’d go over all the normal health and safety regulations, but c’mon, I’m fairly sure you ladies and gentlemen know not to jump off the deck. Keep your arms and legs inside the vehicle at all times, stay posted for further announcements, and.. “..stay alive. Fitzgerald out.” What was that about demons and baddies not being able to get us over the ocean? Have these guys gone over the apocalyptic ocean before? I need to ask them about that.

10:00 AM Donnie wants to go up to the deck. I jokingly said “Whatever you want, hun.” Because.. we’re counted as a couple. She kissed me. Journal, this is already a wonderful voyage.

10:14 AM Oh my god, just look at that beautiful sea reflecting the sun’s rays into the sky! ..how does that work, it’s science We’re finally leaving. We’re leaving England. There’s not much wind. This is strange.

10:22 AM Heading back.

10:30 AM ..we’re kinda lost. This place is huge! So many twists and turns and more twists and rooms left and right and staircases and wow what was this, a cruise ship?

10:35 AM ..we turned a corner and saw that one old lady. She’s still there. Donnie’s seeing her too. Donnie called out to her. The lady turned and walked down this hall. Around a corner. Can’t see her now. We don’t know where we’re going, so we’ll follow.

10:39 AM ..cargo holds. This place is quite large, quite dark, and quite cold.

10:40 AM We’re prolly not gonna stay here l fuck leaving

10:41 AM Slammed door shut behind us, locked. We need to find the crew.

10:50 AM Found Carl Rackleberg, the engineer. Told him we saw the Rake. Cargo holds. Carl says he’ll do something about it.

10:51 AM I also told him about the lady we saw. He said that’s extremely odd; the only old lady on board is Ms. Desmond, and she’s in a coma. ..wait, coma, I thought she was just sick.

10:53 AM Carl explained a bit about Ms. Desmond. She was found drowning in a river. She seemed alright, but when the people accompanying her reached Liverpool, she got terribly ill. The people who brought her in wound up dying, so Miss Judge, the innkeeper, started taking care of her. This morning, Ms. Desmond was found in a comatose state. So the fact that Donnie and I saw her standing, walking, entering the cargo holds.. well, that’s a little odd. The fact that I’ve been seeing her a few times before is also a little odd. Carl advised us to carry weapons with us the next time we wander around the ship. Duly noted.

11:11 AM I wish that we can stay safe for this voyage.

12:28 PM I’m taking a nap.

5:44 PM I dreamt of water. Of water and prog. Prog. :3 I like prog. Then something started to rise out of the water. A giant finger. The sky was suddenly filled with clouds. But then the prog turned to punk rock, the clouds dissipated, and the finger submerged. I woke up to hear the Sex Pistols playing on the ship’s intercom. I’m not a massive punk fan.

5:47 PM “Attention, passengers. First of all, we just found a heapload of CDs here, and we’re starting with the Sex Pistols’ studio release. So hopefully, you’ll be able to enjoy a fun voyage with much music. “In more important news, dinner will be served in the dining room in about ten minutes; I recommend you show up fashionably early, as Chef Gusteau is quite proud of his work and would like to know your opinions as soon as possible. “Also, we’ve heard reports of that creature being spotted in the cargo holds. Carl’s gone and blocked that door, as none of your cargo is in there anyway. But you’re advised to carry a weapon with you when wandering the ship, just to be on the safe side. “Once again, this is your captain speaking, advising you to stay alive. Fitzgerald out.” I guess we should start heading for the dining room now. Taking Tiger Stripes.

6:07 PM This is fucking delicious, oh my god. My compliments to the chef! Not a lot of people seem to really be enjoying it, though. Everyone’s tense, some tenser than others.

6:11 PM Someone’s missing here. It’s a crew member.

6:12 PM I brought it up to Carl. He looked around and realized I was right. Patrick Yates, the second-in-command, isn’t here. He’s talking to the crew about it now.

6:16 PM Sarah Virtshire, chef’s helper, is asking if anyone would like to form a search party for Yates. I’m in, as is Carl, Mister Finch, Sarah, and Miss DeNumante.

6:24 PM Yates’ quarters are empty.

6:31 PM ..I heard a splash. Came from the deck.

6:33 PM Yates is out here. Fasdj8 oh, sorry, Finch slipped in a puddle. ..cut himself. o_o The water’s helping his wound, though. ..somehow. Does water work like that? ‘Cause it works like that now. Anyway, yeah, we found Yates, he says he just wanted to look at the sea. He said he’s been to many ponds and rivers and lakes over the years, but he’s never been to the ocean. He can’t seem to take his eyes off it. Finch can’t, either. I don’t see what’s so inspiring and riveting about the sea. It’s just water. A lot of water.

6:36 PM I asked Sarah about the captain’s assurance that no baddies could get us out here. She took me aside and told me that that’s just to keep the weak-hearted happy. The truth is, we have no idea what’s in the ocean anymore.

6:39 PM Alright, our reunion’s over. We’re heading back to the dining room now.

6:44 PM I hear footsteps. Running. ..panting. Snarling. Tiger Stripes, give me stHOLY FUCK RAKE YATES fsdha EAT GUITAR CONTROLLER YEAH YOU’D BETTER RUN Bastard got Yates. Hard. It was going for Finch next, but we fought it off and now it’s gone. Carl says it’s probably heading back to the cargo holds. In the meantime, we’d better clean up what’s left of Yates. How the hell are we gonna explain this to people?

7:14 PM Donnie and I are back in our room. I filed her in on what happened, and she’s a little afraid of what might happen over this voyage. Gotta admit, me too. I mean, anything could h door I’ll get it.

7:16 PM It was Mister Finch. He said, and I quote, “Keep an eye on Ms. Desmond, Rael.” Then he walked off. The hell.

8:02 PM “Ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain speaking. Uh.. I regret to inform you that Patrick Yates.. fell off the ship. As we were looking through his quarters, we found some CDs, so in honour of Mister Yates, we will be playing them. “This one is called, uh…. Tarkus. Emerson, Lake & Palmer.” ..holy fuck, really? o__o Yates was a prog fan too? This might be a pretty fun night, actually. I love “Tarkus.”

8:18 PM FUCK YEAH, AQUATARKUS. ..that is, the.. last movement. Of “Tarkus.” Aquatarkus. One of my all-time favourite melodies. ..of all time.

8:20 PM THE FUCK WAS THAT NOISE HOLY FUCK THAT’S A BIG FISH It’s gone. I was just proggasming, right? To Aquatarkus, right? Then I happen to look out the window. BAM, bigass fish out there. I mean big. In the distance, but it was a fucking tower, but I only caught a glimpse of it as it sank into the water. I have a bad feeling about this. I’m gonna call that thing the Leviathan, in loving memory of Mastodon’s second album. The one that told the story of Moby Dick. I just hope we don’t have to see it again.

8:40 PM “Right, that was Tarkus. Interesting stuff, I guess. Here we have an album called Nursery Rhy—no, sorry, Nursery Cryme. By.. Genesis. Right.” I’m impressed, Yates. I am impressed.

8:43 PM “The Return of the Giant Hogweed.” Fuckin’ love this song. God, I fuckin’ love this album.

8:08 PM I swear I saw the Leviathan again. Maybe not.

9:33 PM No music’s played for a while.

9:45 PM “Oh. Right. This is your captain speaking. Uh.. does anyone want to volunteer to take over my duties for the night? That was originally Yates’ job.”

9:53 PM “Doctor John Jackson here. I’m taking over for the captain as he sleeps. I’ll be playing music of my own, a bit of freeform jazz to help you guys sleep. Hopefully, we’ll have an uneventful night. Doctor John out.”

10:38 PM Donnie’s going to bed. I think I’ll join her.

11:00 PM twenty-two

(Attached: “I’ll start with the pronouns. Salmacis prefers a system of ‘it’ and 'her’ but never 'she.’ It’s a creature of pure complexity, pure lethal abstraction. Thinking about her’s like delving to the bottom of the ocean, trudging slowly forward and hoping you can hold your breath for long enough. If you keep on that course for long enough, you might go a little nuts, but you’ll also see some of the most magnificent things the world has to offer. And then you'll lose yourself.”)

[PREV LOG] [TABLE OF CONTENTS] [NEXT LOG]

[psalm22-6]

Source: the San Bernardine Sun, 25 December 1978 Wild to learn about the reach of the March/Laughton film from ‘35. Also this article is so funny to me because they can no longer just say Cosette, Fantine,  or Marius and assume that the reader knows who they mean so they end up saying Valjean’s ward, Valjean’s ward’s mother, and Valjean’s ward’s lover and other round about things.  Also I read in a later article that the program “drew 38 percent of the national audience, according to the Neilsen ratings, and was the week's highest-rated special.” But overall it was ninth in the week for ratings, tied with a rerun of MASH.

HOLLYWOOD  — If Victor Hugo was alive today he'd be one of the most sought-after writers by television network presidents. His stories contain all the elements deemed necessary to make a film or series successful. Most notable example is Hugo's "Les Miserables," written in 1862. Inspired by the French people seeking freedom from oppression, he wrote the now-classic tale of an impoverished man, Jean Valjean, who steals a loaf of bread to feed his starving family, and that act of survival sets off a chain reaction that includes drama, adventure, jeopardy, love, hatred and, above all, the action of the chase. CBS has picked the middle of what is usually considered an "off-week," the period between Christmas and New Year's Day when people are too preoccupied with holiday festivities to watch TV, to show the latest version of "Les Miserables," the Norman Rosemont Production in association with ITC Entertainment which occupies all three hours of CBS' prime-time programming Wednesday. It's CBS' gift-wrapped treat amid the rubble of reruns. The family that takes time out to relax from Yuletide activities will thoroughly enjoy a class production filmed in France and England in authentic surroundings that look as though no stone has been dislodged from its place since Hugo described its locale in his drama. Richard Jordan portrays Valjean, whose life is to be dogged by his obsessed pursuer, Inspector Javert, played by Anthony Perkins. As with his other revivals of the classics, "The Count of Monte Cristo," "The Man in the Iron Mask" and "The Four Feathers," all produced for both TV and theatrical release, Norman Rosemont has populated the cast with distinguished veteran actors. In his last performance, Claude Dauphin, who died recently, is seen as the kindly bishop who befriends Valjean. Sir John Gielgud is an elderly aristocrat. Celia Johnson is Valjean's housekeeper. Flora Robson is the head of a convent. Cyril Cusak is the convent's groundskeeper who provides brief refuge for the prison-escaping Valjean. Ian Holm is a greedy innkeeper. Joyce Redman is the bishop's housekeeper. 

Two young British newcomers, Caroline Langrishe and Christopher Guard, were chosen to play Valjean's pretty ward and the grandson of Gielgud. And Angela Pleasance is the beggar woman who further impedes Valjean's escape by entrusting her daughter (Langrishe) to his care. 

Of the many films on Hugo's classic (Jean Gavin as Valjean in the 1952 French movie; Gino Cervi in a 1943 Italian feature; Michael Rennie in a 1952 TV kinescope), the 1952 Warner Bros, movie with Frederic March and Charles Laughton is best remembered. 

Who can forget Laughton's Javert, having finally cornered Valjean (March) in a Paris sewer after his three-decade pursuit, shouting "The law is the law!" although, he, like Valjean, is aged and weary of this senseless pursuit. Did the specter of Laughton's dominating performance lurk in the background of this 1978 version? "No, not really," replied Glenn Jordan, who directed the $3 million production. "I saw the Laughton version twice and found very little I could use. One of the few things I thought interesting and useful was that Laughton played an eccentric. So I had Tony play it eccentrically, but in an entirely different way.

"Laughton was always Laughton in the end, not the characters he portrayed. I felt it was important to be the character Hugo intended because, after all, a lot of people have never seen those other versions or ever read the book." 

[Glenn] Jordan, who won an Emmy for the Ben Franklin specials on TV, among other citations for notable TV and stage productions, says that [Richard] Jordan, who first gained attention in TV's "The Captains and the Kings," and Perkins are much closer to the characters Hugo described in his lengthy novel. "I remember March and Laughton as being too old for their roles. They didn't really age as much as people would in real life, especially people who went through what they did. We assume Hugo's characters were about the same age in the beginning. The imprisonment period is 20 years, then a jump of five years passes, then it's 10 years more. [Really? March is such a young Jean Valjean]  "That's why it was important to cast young men who could age (via make-up and character change), rather than start out with older actors in those roles." Redoing the classics has bothered some purists who prefer to let the original versions stand on their merits. But Glenn Jordan has valid reasons for remaking a classic such as this. "The social problems of poverty and justice vs. justice, these are things, I think that are self-explanatory," he said. "But the human problems, the relations between the people are the most interesting because, it seems to me, that when you redo a classic you have to make it vivid for today's audience. "When you see older versions of such stories they are very much versions of their time and reflect the thinking of their time, including the style in which they were done." By PAUL HENMGER Gannett News Service

[nepalcamel]

"Every traveler who comes through our doors is a unique and valuable individual, and we do everything in our power to make sure their stay with us is as comfortable and enjoyable as possible."

Richard the Innkeeper of Sandholt

[manynarrators]

//So I just finished season 2 of Our Flag Means Death, and this can go under a readmore in case people don’t want spoilers!

So A Lot of people are upset by Izzy’s death, and I mean, I get it! I bawled through the entire half of the episode! Hell, I went for a walk after and am still trying not to cry every handful of minutes up over it. But I also like it, and I think it works narratively.

In the end, there’s the acceptance that he and Edward were, collectively half of Blackbeard. Edward leaves to be an innkeeper, and this I think, is the important part. I don’t feel like it would be as satisfying for Izzy to work under any other captain, but he also wouldn’t just settle down.

In some ways, he even gets the historical Blackbeard’s death, dying in battle again the English rather than being captured and dying a beggar in London. And I mean, the historical accuracy for this show is… loose, at best, but the fact that Blackbeard as a figure, dies with Izzy!

The Golden Age of Piracy is very short lived in the great grand scheme of things, and you see pieces of that in the show itself. Ed is tired of being Blackbeard, Ned Lowe and Calico get got, Anne and Mary are worried about being too old for it. None of them are young and at the height of their careers. Whether the Prince dealt this devastating blow to the pirates only hastens the inevitable.

Izzy’s death crystallizes this moment on the tipping point, he doesn’t see the fall of this thing he’s spent his life doing.

Con did a truly incredible job, and that’s part of why it lands so well.

I mean. I want SO MUCH fix-it fics, and very well might end up doing a sad gif set to that Richard Siken “you are going to die in your best friend’s arms” quote, but yeah, that’s my five cents on the whole thing.

[stedebonnit]

rules: tag 9 some people you want to know better and/or catch up with, then answer the questions below! — tagged by @hamletisabitch

Last song: State of Grace by Taylor Swift

Three ships: Gentlebeard (obviously), ineffable husbands (also obviously), and let's do whatever the ship name is for Jim and Archie and Olu and Zhengs polycule because I adore them all

Currently reading: No Bad Parts by Richard Schwartz

Last movie: Tbh I have no idea, I never watch movies and I cannot tell you the last time I did.

Craving: My boyfriend ig lol

No pressure tags: @blakbonnet @youshouldseemeinadeerstalker @wearfinethingsalltoowell @jeff-the-innkeeper

[bobbieisthebest]

Joel: How do I cite a dream/hallucination in APA 7th?

Kato: What?

Joe;: I want to include something that was revealed to me in a vision in one of my research papers. But I do not know how to cite it.

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

Bobbie: stop your addiction to being right!

Alicia: good advice for everyone who isn’t me.

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Charles to Jake and Joel: It must be a liberating thing for you both, not to be blessed with a moral compass.

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Kato: Ah, the Scientific Method. Step One: Fuck around. Step Two: Find out. Step Three: Record your results. Step Four: Confirm, or fuck around again.

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Patty: How did you get Alicia to co-operate with you?

Wendy: We threatened to reveal her dark secret.

Patty: Which is what?

Juniper: I honestly have no idea, we were both bluffing, but it must be something horrible.

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

Bobbie: Joel is a good person, if you ignore all the things he does on purpose and concentrate on all of the things he does by accident!

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Nathan: We should turn you in right now.

Jake: You wouldn’t! Would you?

Richard: Give us one reason why we shouldn’t.

Jake: Because… I’m cute?

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Sam: We’ve known each other for a long time, right? You’ve come to respect me?

Flick: Sure.

Sam: Well, get ready to stop.

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Buddy: Do you ever think about these things before you say them, or just…?

Joel: Yeah, I do. I think ‘Wow, that’s brilliant, I should say that out loud’. And then I do, and it’s spectacular. It exceeds my expectations.

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Sam playing CnS: Nathan and I are here on a vital mission of friendship and loyalty.

Kato, the tired DM: And here I thought you were on a mission to get drunk and bed the local innkeepers.

Sam: We can do more than one thing at a time.

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

Charles: You do realize that stunt you pulled defines “out of control”?

Alex: I just wanted you to see that I would never put any of you at risk if I wasn’t willing to take the same chances myself.

Juniper: I love how you think that’s comforting.

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Patty: Do cats understand what static shock is, or does my cat think I have a mildly painful defensive ability that I sometimes use on them for no reason?

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Jake: Alcohol tastes better when you’re underage because the secret ingredient is crime.

[princesssarisa]

Since I've been re-listening to the classic fairy tale radio show Let's Pretend, I've been thinking of Arthur Anderson. He was a mainstay character actor on Let's Pretend throughout most of its long run, from age 14 until age 32. But he was probably the cast member with the most notable career beyond radio.

Most famously, he was the original voice of the Lucky Charms cereal mascot Lucky the Leprechaun. He voiced Lucky in commercials from the 1960s through the early '90s, and to the end of his life, people would ask him to sing his musical catchphrase, "They're magically delicious!" I'm sure he was still the voice actor in the very first Lucky Charms commercials I vaguely remember seeing as a toddler. But that wasn't sum total of his non-radio career.

As a teenager, he played the slave boy Lucius in Orson Welles' famous 1937 production of Julius Caesar. He was the real-life equivalent of Zac Efron's character Richard Samuels in Me and Orson Welles, although that movie is heavily fictionalized. He was already a regular on Let's Pretend when that production took place – I don't suppose Me and Orson Welles shows Zac Efron performing in a fairy tale radio show, but if not, it should have.

Later, he played small roles in films like Midnight Cowboy, Green Card, and I'm Not Rappaport, and on various TV shows too.

In his old age, he was the second voice actor for Eustace Bagge in Courage the Cowardly Dog.

He also wrote two non-fiction books: Let's Pretend and the Golden Age of Radio, and his autobiography, An Actor's Odyssey: Orson Welles to Lucky the Leprechaun.

He lived a good long life, eventually dying in 2016 at age 93.

While I don't have a complete list of his Let's Pretend roles, these are all his roles in the episodes I've heard:

*The title character, Bud, in The Youth Who Learned to Shiver and Shake (the only episode I know of where he played the lead)

*The Giant in Jack and the Beanstalk

*The Witch Doctor in The Little Mermaid (they gender-bent the Sea Witch to add another male role to the story)

*Falada the horse in The Goose Girl

*Alan-a-Dale in Robin Hood

*The Bumblebee King in Thumbelina

*The Crow in The Snow Queen

*The Blacksmith Elf in The Night Before Christmas

*The greedy man George Brown in the show's other Christmas special, The House of the World

*The Prime Minister in The Brave Little Tailor

*The Chamberlain in The Chinese Nightingale

*The King's Counselor in Drakestail

*Sir Ector in King Arthur

*The Emperor in Princess Moonbeam (the show's adaptation of the Japanese story The Tale of the Bamboo Cutter)

*The Witch's servant Jacques in Jorinda and Joringel

*The mean innkeeper Mr. Schwarz in The Elves and the Shoemaker

*The mean innkeeper Mr. Crafty in The Donkey, the Table, and the Stick

*Thomas, one of the two heroic brothers, in Bluebeard

*The rat-turned-coachman in Cinderella

*The wise old man (and a talking parrot) in Why the Sea is Salt

*The father kings in Sleeping Beauty and The Six Swans

*The Witch's guard dog in Hansel & Gretel (just barking)

The next time I want to listen to a marathon of Let's Pretend episodes – as I sometimes do – I just might have to make some Lucky Charms ice cream or Lucky Charms marshmallow treats to go with it, in honor of Arthur Anderson.

@ariel-seagull-wings

[janeeyreheresy]

Jane Eyre Heresy Masterpost

Warning and Disclaimers

Introduction (incl Quick Summary of the Beginning)

Jane's Arrival at Thornfield Hall

Meet Cute

Enter Mr Rochester

The First Nocturnal Incident

The Party at Thornfield

The Gypsy Woman Episode

The Merry Company

The Second Nocturnal Incident

Interlude

Mind Games

With a proposal like this, who needs death threats?

Would I Lie To You? (Yes, You Would)

Blanche Ingram (incl Digression - A Better Man)

A Note on Fake Dating

The Engagement (incl Mrs Fairfax's Warning and The High Street Hell)

The Third Nocturnal Incident

The Wedding

The Secret Wife

The Connections of the the Uncle in Madeira

The Solicitor and the Clergyman

Rochester the Scoundrel

Rochester's Origin Story

Not Insane in the Brain

The Inconsistencies

I Choose Violence

Mad and Bad and Dangerous?

Some ideas on Bertha's State

Age Is Mad

Richard Mason

Wide Sargasso Sea

What Edward Did Next

Celine Varens (incl Digression - What in the Sherlock?)

Womaniser, Womaniser

Indecent Proposal

The Escape (incl Was There a Better Way?)

The Shelter

New Fortune, New Family

The Saint John (incl What Could Have Been)

The Return to Thornfield

The Innkeeper's Testimony

Grace Poole

The Firestarter

Reunited

Stupid Girl

Reader, She Married Him

Adele

Happily Ever After

Final Thoughts

What the Year of Our Lord?

Real Life

The Cancelled Sister

But Really?

Bronte Tragedy

Other Posts

[bartfargo]

Benjamin Franklin and His Hoaxes

When I mention Benjamin Franklin, odds are that the first thing you think of is him flying a kite in a thunderstorm, and thereby proving that lightning is a form of electricity.

However, there are several peculiarities about this experiment: He is uncharacteristically vague about when he did it, only giving June of 1752 as the date; he never wrote a formal report on it; the only witness was his son, who never spoke of it; and, as the Mythbusters showed, anyone who tried it would risk death by electrocution. For these reasons, there are those who believe that the "experiment" was a hoax.

If it was, it's in good company: Franklin pulled off a number of hoaxes in his life. Some hoaxes were to bring attention to matters that concerned him; some were just to highlight the credulity of his fellow men; and some were just to amuse himself.

Franklin's first hoax began in April of 1722, when he was just 16, and working for his older brother, James, who published a Boston newspaper called the New England Courant. James refused to let Benjamin write for the paper; so, instead, he wrote a series of letters to the paper, claiming to be a middle-aged widow named Silence Dogood. In these letters, Franklin poked fun at numerous aspects of life in colonial America: public drunkenness, religious hypocrisy, the persecution of women, and the pretentiousness of Harvard University, among others. The letters were so popular that several men wrote to the paper, proposing marriage to "Silence." When Benjamin admitted his authorship to his brother, James became displeased, worrying that the flattery "Silence" received might swell the lad's head (Why, what did you think might worry him about it?). Indeed, Benjamin ran away to Philadelphia to seek his fortune in the world.

Ten years later, in 1732, Franklin began publishing Poor Richard's Almanac, adopting the persona of a henpecked husband named Richard Saunders. During this first year, he predicted that a rival almanac writer named Titan Leeds would die in October of the next year. He meant it only as a joke, but Leeds was less than amused, and he chastised Franklin in his own almanac. Franklin responded by taking a page from Jonathan Swift; when the appointed time came, he declared that Leeds had died as scheduled, and that someone else was assuming his identity. He kept this up until Leeds actually died, at which point he congratulated the "impersonators" for finally ending their pretense.

In 1736, Franklin made three "enigmatical prophecies" that astounded readers: A great storm would cause all the major cities of North America to be under water; a number of ships would be "taken out of the ports... by a Power with which we are not now at war;" and "an army of 30,000 musketers will land... and sorely annoy the inhabitants." A year later, Franklin declared that each prophecy had come true as he had written: The storm caused rain to fall, thus putting the cities under water; the ships were taken out of port by the power of the wind; and the "musketers" were mosquitoes, which had definitely annoyed people.

In 1747, Franklin wrote a false story for the London General Advertiser, describing the trial of a woman named Polly Baker. According to the story, Baker was an unmarried woman who had five children, and was therefore charged with having sexual intercourse out of wedlock. In a speech at her trial, Baker supposedly admitted her guilt, but argued that the law itself was unfair, since the men who she had slept with were not similarly charged. As Franklin was the father of an illegitimate child, the hypocrisy of laws that punished mothers while allowing the fathers to remain free did not escape his attention.

Franklin could even come up with hoaxes on the fly. One night, he went to a tavern to take his supper. When he arrived, however, the innkeeper said that he had no room; though his customers had settled their accounts, they weren't leaving. Franklin accepted the situation, but asked the innkeeper to bring his horse a plate of oysters. The patrons were astounded: A horse that eats oysters? They all got up to see such an animal. Franklin then sat down at one of the now-empty tables; when the innkeeper told him that his horse had refused the oysters, he replied, "Then give them to me, and give that fussy nag some oats."