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I have made my Goblin Ball mask!
Started with this old Halloween thing my brother said I could destroy
Which I then cut up (probably should have work goggles) and sanded and hot glued and painted and glittered
And then hot glued some more
And here it is!!! Ready to dance as the world falls down
Working on my bro's matching fit for the Fae Ball this Friday (ignore the fact I only have a female mannequin so it gives it a bust)
Went to a Labyrinth themed “Goblin Ball” this weekend~ 🤍💜
My look was inspired by a mix of Jareth and Sarah from the film, with my own twist ✨ Instagram is: @ alex.enigmatic
I AM SO EXCITED! I am a Froud Faerie! Toby Froud was invited to present at a show called Wear & Tear : Wearable Art Gallery. There are five artists showing and each one will have a piece of wearable art as their centerpiece. I am Toby’s model! He is making this Dark Faerie outfit specifically for me and just for this event. HOW COOL IS THAT?!!?
This is just a preview. It is not at all complete. There is more painting and pieces to add, and of course, you can barely see the wings. This means the world to me. I’M A FROUD FAERIE!
Costumes by: http://dustinpanzino.deviantart.com/
Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone, Still Going
Right, so we finished with that ridiculous broom-flying class, and Harry's gonna be on the Quidditch team, and Wood has possibly missed out on vitally important information re: iguanas, and Harry and Ron and Hermione are stuck on a moving staircase (which is an actual moving staircase, and not just an escalator), and I guess they have no other option but to enter the first open door they see, which leads them to the room with the three-headed dog . . .
36. So, if the dog can only barely fit just one of its heads through the door . . . how did the dog even get in that room? Was it raised in there? 'Cause that's . . . a really sad thought.
37. Moving on to the Quidditch lesson . . . what is with the goblin ball? (Am I the only one that is pretty sure the -- what is it, bludger? -- the bludger is housing one of the goblins from Labyrinth? Yes? Oh. I see. Okay then. Awkward . . . )
38. Accents must make magic really complicated. Like, it took me a really long time to hear a difference between what Ron was saying and what Hermione was saying. And I'm not even a feather. How are the feathers supposed to know when it's right? And this means poor Seamus is at a clear disadvantage, so I don't think it's fair that he kinda has this reputation for just being a bit of a screw-up when his accent has to take at least part of the blame . . . Seriously, why is the standard RP "proper British" accent seemingly the only acceptable pronunciation in order to get anything to work? Would American wizards have to drop their rhotic accent to be able to successfully cast a spell? Because we would be pronouncing the hell out of that "r" in "Wingardium". Also, how does this affect students at other wizarding schools, where they maybe don't even speak English? Do they just have completely different spells? It seems only fair . . .
39. Why do they even hire a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher who's afraid of trolls (and centaurs, too, I guess)? I mean, I get that maybe it's a bit of an act, but isn't that the point? As far as everyone else knows, he really is that spineless, right? Or do they know he's faking, and they hire him anyway, because reasons? I mean, who is in charge of hiring? Don't they run background checks at all? The Hogwarts HR department is in serious need of a review . . .
40. You know, Hogwarts staff, if you kept better track of your students, you would have noticed Hermione was not at dinner, and it would not be up to Ron and Harry to go warn her about the troll . . . Just sayin', a roster or seating plan of some sort might not go entirely amiss . . .
41. So, like, the best indication of how stupid trolls are is that he totally went into the wrong bathroom and didn't even notice, amirite?
42. Um, Harry, you are in a bathroom. Why would you choose to wipe your troll-snot-covered wand on your robe? There are sinks right over there. Gross, dude. Gross.
43. Why do they have to lie about why they were in the bathroom? Why can't Hermione just say, "They knew I was in here and didn't hear about the troll, so they came in here to warn me, but the troll coincidentally happened to come this way, too"? I don't understand what would be awful about that. Why would that get them in more trouble than "Well, I went to fight the troll myself, and they followed along"? This just makes no sense.
44. I just really, really like how McGonagall says "sheer dumb luck." It's great. She's great. We should always take time to remember how awesome Maggie Smith is. (Also, apropos of very little, comparing/contrasting Maggie Smith-Prof. McGonagall to/with Maggie Smith-Miss Jean Brodie is always good times. That is a crossover I would mos def like to see.)
Okay, that's probably a good stopping place for now. We can pick up with the Quidditch game stuff next time. Ah, Quidditch! The game of . . . Quidditch players . . .
Goblin ball
It was that time of year in the Underground. A time for festivities, dances, and, of course, masks. No ball or soiree is complete unless it is a masked gathering. Something about a masked ball takes the already thrilling evening and adds more flare with its air of mystery. Dashing gentlemen in their finest attire and beautiful ladies swirling about the room appear more ethereal and mysterious with the anonymity an ornate mask provides. This year, the ball is to be hosted by the Goblin Kingdom.
For weeks, the goblins, and their king, have been preparing the castle for their esteemed guests. Guest lists were made, menus were decided upon, and the castle was cleaned from top to bottom. Finally, the night all of this preparation was so acutely executed has come to pass.
Goblins dressed in their finest garments and took their places about the castle. The taller of the goblins stood as sentinels outside the main doors to the castle where a smaller goblin checked off names upon the guest list. Squib, the royal crier, stood just inside the main doors to the ballroom, awaiting to announce the entrance of tonight’s guests.
The ballroom was its cleanest and most inviting with bag chairs placed around low tables in the center of the room. Of course, for the less extroverted of the guests, there were tables and chairs arranged on the outskirts. A band of goblins sat genteelly, as strange as it was, and played lovely little melodies on their odd looking instruments. All were played with strings and were of various sizes, creating the different timbres heard within the ensemble. Their melodies, for now, were light and cheerful, adding a wonderful ambiance to the room until the festivities truly began.
After a sufficient amount of time has past, to allow for small talk to be had and such, Jareth made his way to the ballroom. The doors opened wide for the passage of the lone man, for dramatic effect mostly. The entrance was almost as dramatic as his appearance and the presence the king possessed. The Goblin King stood tall and proud atop the large stairway that descended into the ballroom. From there he was able to see that all eyes were on him, as they should be. Well, the fanfare provided by a goblin horn duo didn’t hurt matters, either. He sported an elegant black suit with grey accents on his collar, cuffs, and cummerbund and seen in the ornate stitching on his lapel. His pants were a sleek, slim fit as was the coat, providing a striking silhouette on the statuesque king. A pair of well-shinned black shoes with and ornate “GK” accent in silver calligraphy stop each shoe completed the look. His mask was neither ornate nor was it was not simple. Its colors were black and silver, to match his ensemble and he held it to his visage, covering the upper half of his face. The design was swirls of black and grey with the two colors seamlessly changing to blanket a small part of the mask. He stood stoically, allowing the silence to prolongue for the string ensemble had quieted once the fanfare began. After a few moments, Jareth removed his mask with an elegant sweep of his arm, a grin playing his lips.
"Welcome!" He greeted, his voice projecting effectively over the vast space of the room. "To the Goblin Kingdom’s Masked Ball! Now, that your king has arrived, may the festivities begin!" With that, he disappeared in a puff of shimmery smoke, his guests erupting in applause at his grand entrance.
He reappeared upon the ballroom floor, without the cloud of glitter. The Goblin King couldn’t very well saunter down the steps, now could he?Where was the flare in that? He walked about, smiling and conversing with a few guests here and there.
As winter came upon the lands of the dragonlords the excitement was electric in the air. The blankets of snow already present upon mountaintops and seemingly topless buildings stretchinig to pierce heavens. Life did not slow down however, the morning of hoarfrost lushed with unvoiced excitement. It was the time of year where two cultures clashed into celebration and boast of their wealth and resources. This turn however was naught of the Lord of Diamonds. It was the Kingdom beyond the sea, whose flamboyance melded perfectly with the one of Valyria.
The dying Sun painted crowns of snow gold, its rays pierced through late mist, exiling it to turn into a clear starry shade, tinted with silver, as the greater clouds were lurking about with the promise of more fluttering flakes from above. A fog of warm breath hovered over the fiery wyrms' caverns, the beasts already prepared for their flight. Lucky it was, the hold being the most Southern one, without the need of travel by ships, though indeed those ships would have been the glam of the harbour they would have graced.
All the day have been of was the promise of night's passing. Meals were destined naught to fill, but to sustain, baths were meant to leave scents lingering upon flesh for hours' long, not to mention proper dressing, leaving no other means to chance. The committe then at their peak caught flight, the lords and ladies of the hold littered the already darkened skies with the shade their mounts laid. In their passing ivory towers of the seaside city appeared in between the mountains, veined with orange and yellow, while the Sun's shine dimmed, they shed down their golden skin. They were the tallest among merchant buildings and inns, their rooftops a dark blue crashed with white from the snow, as if they envied the waves nearby. But the waves carried on on the longer travel across the sea, threatening to devour anything that may fall.
And soon enough the Goblin Kingdom could be seen on the horizon, giving a queer argent spark to lead the way for their arrival. Landing was gracious with the riders and in some sort of miracle none of their intricate headdresses and suits and folds were torn by wind. So did the glory and the ostentation of the even came obvious. It seemed the king and his subjects were hold for their work, for everything was as splendid as it should have been and more. The greeting ceremony was, as always, particularly fashioned around the king himself, but it was all as it should have been. Handmaidens and lesser ladies with their delicately shaped masks were already at the height of their heartrates, whispering subtly and not much so about the host.
A light curl twisted on plump crimson lips at their sight. The silverette enjoyed the early parts of the evening nearby the tables providing drinks of the most extravagant nature. It would have been worth attending solely to experience the subtle competition either party gives into the shared events, always finding elaborate means to impress. The dress of silver and white, adorned with lace and feathers of ivory peacocks or the same of ebony at the lower seams of the skirt to in a way to represent the colours of her house. Honour and pride, as their words said, but at times she could easily say it was naught, but about pride. The corset embroidered with miniscule diamonds mirroring colours of backdrop ever so slightly.The pair of emeralds canvased around the room to see the host finally not standing between hens. Tyyne thought it the best opportunity to express her appreciation for the invite. Making her way through the crowd, the younger lady nodded courtly upon catching sight of the King. - Good evening, your grace. The invitation was most kind of you. - She smiled upon lifting the mask of her face. - As always it is a pleasure to attend the wonder you manage to bestow upon us.
Goblin ball!
Just finished my bio and sent it off!! :D it's too close to the date for me to be included in the actual story, but considering I wouldn't want them to talk to me anyway, that's probably for the best. I'm pretty happy with it though considering I had so much trouble deciding what I wanted to be, but here it is in all it's glory! Arien Rilynntlarn: Arien is an elven commoner from a small fishing village in the ice kingdom, who, faced with the reality of becoming a wife to one of those "boorish, brainless oafs" called men back home, has decided she's better off attempting to make her own fate. However- unlike other girls, she refuses to marry a well-to-do suitor or become a servant to a royal just to elevate her station. She sees herself as above that kind of behaviour, and has a more cunning plan. Ridiculously savvy and armed with a quicksilver tongue, she's managed to finagle herself a ticket to the goblin ball- and hopefully a ticket to a higher quality of living.
