#consistent lighting & colouring WHOM!

[theflashesoflove]

obstacle I

Larissa Weems x f!reader (nsfw) – series

part I :: part ll :: ao3

summary: Could you be more careless? Talking to a stranger online and sharing the most intimate moments of your days with her? The way you trusted her was almost ridiculous, but the way she talked to you made you sure that this grown woman wouldn’t even consider harming you in some way. One would think you were a fool who would regret her messages one day, one would even point a finger at you and say how perverse all of it was. Luckily, no one knew. Except for Lydia, your mistress, to whom you granted not just your body, but also your heart.

a/n: i always dreaded writing series, but this woman inspires me so much that i'm finally up for the challenge. i hope i will be consistent with my writing enough to bring this story where i want it to be. filthy, angsty and gentle. i think there will be two or three more chapters and it is also crossposted on ao3. btw i have a vague idea of what architects do so if you notice some factual mistakes let's pretend that in my silly imaginary world things work this way. the names of the chapters are lyrics from interpol's 'turn on the bright lights' album (it's brilliant, a huge recommend if you like male manipulator music like i do haha). proofread, and i hope it doesn't sound as broken as i think it does. (bracing myself) let's set this little bird free into the wild.

general warnings/tags: unhealthy online relationship, dom!larissa x sub!reader dynamics, sexting, nudes, masturbation + angst and all that stuff to come

chapter word count: 4k

Part I: you are linked to my innocence

Sitting on the balcony, you admired the sun slowly crawling up from its slumber, painting the sky with faint yellow and pink shades, warming up the cool earth. The view before you made you smile. Perhaps having trouble sleeping had its benefits – you could admire such a beautiful sunrise and feel at peace for at least the next hour, before the world would wake up and start swirling around you, overwhelming and demanding. 

Thinking of someone who was also so very demanding, you pulled out your phone and started recording the serene scenery. You tried to hold your phone still, though it was hard because of the chilly wind that made you shiver. Ending the video, you opened the messenger and sent it to a woman who made your heart sing just like the morning birds sang, greeting the sun.

You scrolled up your message history with her for a bit, smirking. What a sweet little relationship you had, one time you would send her a beautiful view out of your window, the next time – a picture of you touching yourself in the most sinful way.

Couldn’t sleep again? and What a lovely view, she replied an hour later. Not as lovely as you, though, she added after.

﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉

Her name was Lydia and she had just the right way with her words. She would text you, Send me a picture, and you would rush out of your meeting to the bathroom to send her a selfie. She would text you, What a beautiful shirt you are wearing, unbutton it for me, and you would spend a bit more time in the bathroom sending her picture after picture. 

You didn’t know what she looked like. She rarely sent you pictures in return, and you had only one 10 seconds long video of her touching herself. Her fingers were slender, her nails were painted a burgundy red colour, and she had those plush thighs that you wanted to squeeze with your hands. She was a woman of exquisite taste – taste in music, in foods, in lingerie.

You never asked her for more. It was entirely your choice to reveal your face on one of the first videos you sent her. She once told you, Don’t call me by my name on those videos, call me your mistress. You obliged. You always did. An impulse to ask the woman if she could reveal her face bubbled up inside your chest from time to time, but you pushed it away, never willing to make her uncomfortable. Perhaps there was something she didn’t like about herself, perhaps she wanted to be more mysterious and enticing, perhaps she just needed a bit more time – and it had been a year! Never being a selfish one, you suppressed your questions and played by her rules. 

She knew a lot about your life. You didn’t realise that you barely knew about hers. You knew that her work was stressful enough to make her speak to you in an especially dirty way in the night, urging you to send new videos for her to let off steam. You could only imagine her, spread on her bed to your sinful sound and pleas. You would tell her, i wish i could see how pleased my mistress is right now, nudging her to send you a picture in return. The woman would just answer, Don’t doubt it, I am very pleased with my darling girl, thank you and end the conversation until the next morning. You knew that she played piano and was popular in high school, though a bit overshadowed by her best friend at the time. You knew that she liked long walks in nature, ice skating and that her favourite season was autumn. She never pressed you to share any details about your life, but you did it nonetheless. 

It all started rather accidentally, and you told her millions of times how glad you were that she found you. There was an old record player that you wanted to sell online, and you even gave out a Fleetwood Mac vinyl in addition to it for free. The woman contacted you, anonymous at that time, though she contacted you too late, and the record player was already sold. It didn’t stop the two of you from continuing the conversation, talking about music and antique pieces of furniture she adored. After that, everything escalated quickly – topics changing topics and bringing you into dynamics you didn’t know you would enjoy this much. She teased you a lot, and at first you acted shy and hesitant, bending under her dominance and unravelling your own fantasies over time. She wrapped you around her finger, and on one particular evening you sent her your first video. The woman made it clear that she was hopeful to receive more of those in the future. 

Could you be more careless? Talking to a stranger online and sharing the most intimate moments of your days with her? The way you trusted her was almost ridiculous, but the way she talked to you made you sure that this grown woman wouldn’t even consider harming you in some way. One would think you were a fool who would regret her messages one day, one would even point a finger at you and say how perverse all of it was. If you told any of your friends about Lydia, they would tell you that you went nuts. They would tell you to stop texting her immediately and delete the chat to destroy the blackmail material that you’d shared with a stranger. Luckily, no one knew. Except for Lydia, your mistress, to whom you granted not just your body, but also your heart.

Back in the day, you suggested moving the conversation from reselling website direct messages to a more convenient messenger, one that the woman hadn’t heard of before. It took her two days to create an account for contacting you there. Her profile picture was a bush of red flowers, her personal information included just a lyric of a song she liked, and all of it was only for your eyes to see. Not much, but her empty profile on an app which she signed in just for you never aroused any suspicions. Well, sometimes it did, but then she would ask you how your day went and the sweetness of the texts the two of you shared washed your worries away. 

In fact, it wasn’t all about sexting. You could see that she was genuinely interested and caring, and you didn’t send her pictures and videos every day, after all. Maybe… three times a week? Five if she was desperate. She woke up earlier than you if you managed to fall asleep the night before and always brightened your day from its beginning with a sweet ‘Good morning, darling’ message. She always wished you a good night and checked in throughout the day, answering your texts and moving the conversation forward. Sometimes she would even send you flowers, and a delivery man would call you and ask for the address. The man would appear on your porch with a delicate bouquet later, a card attached to the wrapping would say, ‘To my favourite girl – L’. You could only giggle and smile to yourself for the rest of the day. No matter how hard you tried to get her number to send something in return, the woman would always brush you off. You can send me a picture in return, she would text you. That was exactly what you would do next. 

You’d always start with pictures. On days when you felt especially good about yourself, you didn’t even wait for her to ask. Undressing, you would send her several pictures, losing yet another piece of closing on every photo. Sometimes it would take her too long to reply, and you would record a video for her in advance. There wasn’t any surface in your house that wasn’t caught on camera while you would thrust your fingers inside, making it all pretty and appealing to look at. The sounds you made were an absolute turn on for her, and you always ensured that you put on a good show. It wasn’t even necessary to try hard, you would just recall all the dirty messages she sent you over the course of your relationship, you would imagine how it would feel to be held by her, how those long fingers would pound into you, how her lips would tease your flushed skin. You had a good imagination, and it was enough. The tiniest bits of her that were available to you – all of it was enough, that was what you were trying to convince yourself of. A hopeless romantic you were, blindly expecting that one day she would surprise you and reveal herself, and tell you how much she wanted to meet you in person. Still, it never came. That day never came, and you tried not to overthink it. You were supposed to be grateful for what you already had, after all.

﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉

I have a very important meeting today and I just know that it won’t go easy on me. Can you please bend over your desk for me this evening, dearest? Lydia texted you a few hours later after receiving the video. 

of course, mistress, you answered playfully. your boss doesn’t give you a break, huh? ;)

Thank you, darling girl, I’ll be waiting, she replied, ignoring the message about her boss. 

You made sure to text her during your lunch break, checking if she didn’t forget to eat in between her piles of work. She told you that she had a snack and it was very nice of you to bother. A couple of hours later she asked how were you feeling since you didn’t get any sleep last night. You told her that you were running on energy drinks and green tea and she jokingly scolded you for the energy drinks part. It made you bite your lower lip, how caring she was for you in return.

The desk in your office was never neat. Scattered papers, your laptop always on charge, heated up with architect software. You hunched over the plan with a pencil in your hand, making sure that the plumbing system of the building made sense at all. Working in a reconstruction and restoration company, you never really got a chance to do the part you studied for in the first place. Always checking other architects’ plans and fixing their mistakes for them, not having the opportunity to do something of your own. Your days were filled with somewhat ridiculous tasks yet even those managed to make you feel the struggle of workload.

The surface of your desk shuddered when your phone buzzed with a reminder about forthcoming meeting, and you straightened, feeling a familiar ache in your lower back. You threw on a jacket, took your phone and notebook and left your office, politely smiling at coworkers passing by. 

The meeting went as smoothly as always – at least you enjoyed the working atmosphere of the company. Your boss talked about the updates in the company policy and proceeded to inform the staff about upcoming projects. He announced that the Principal of Nevermore school contacted them for the reconstruction work, and your coworkers didn’t even try to hide their opinions on outcasts and how infamous the school was, especially after the causality that happened a few months ago. Not paying attention to their grumbling, you thought it would be a great opportunity to finally show your skills, and your boss thought so too.

“Y/N, you will take over this project. I’m passing you the papers with details, I feel like the time to shine has come!” he said, approaching your seat with a folder in his hands. Some of your coworkers sighed in relief, glad that they wouldn’t be involved with Nevermore. It made you wince – you never thought badly of outcasts like the majority of others did, the idea of being hostile towards someone just because they were different made you nauseous like it would do to any decent person. “The Principal insists on cooperation, and I have to warn you – you will probably have to visit the site more times than would be necessary for a usual project. I hope it won’t be a problem,” he said with a light smirk.

You smiled and bit your cheek, anticipation tingling on your fingertips. “No, it won’t be a problem. Thank you,” you uttered, taking the folder. “When am I supposed to start?” 

“Next week. We arranged a meeting with Principal Weems, she said it was very important for the school, and I quote, ‘to thoroughly negotiate the reconstruction process’.” 

The school was enormous, but the work was connected to a relatively small part of it, a tower that was destroyed recently. You spent the rest of your evening studying the documents – an old plan of the school that included the tower. It was impressive how old this building was. Besides, you would be taking part in preserving and reconstructing the historic site, the whole prospect of reconstructing a part of Nevermore ensemble sounded like a dream coming true. The fact of such a project being granted to you to work on would be unbelievable if deep down you didn’t know the reason for it. It seemed that no one from your company wanted to work with Nevermore, but the school was about to pay generously, so they had to find someone to 'deal with the outcasts'. How foolish your coworkers were for declining such an opportunity, you thought, smiling to yourself.

﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉

Back home, you didn’t bother to change into your indoor clothes, knowing full well that you would need to be completely naked soon anyway. Having had a quick meal and relaxed on the couch, closing your eyes for a little too long than you planned, you finally entered your bedroom and started setting a scene. Sometimes the lengths you went to make a perfect video for Lydia made you embarrassed, but how could you do it any other way? The woman’s attention was worth all of your efforts. You cleaned up your desk, returning previously forgotten mugs to the kitchen, shoving papers into the desk drawer and moving the pile of laundry laying on the floor out of frame. The curtains had to be closed for the last sun rays entering your bedroom not messing with the lighting on camera, the cosy shine of a garland and the dim light of a bedside lamp would be enough to illuminate your form in the most lovely way. You checked your reflection in the mirror and wiped away a few particles of mascara from under your eyes. For a second you tensed, your insecurity taking over. Would Lydia like you as much if she saw you in person? Wouldn’t she be disappointed that a flawless image you tried to create for her wasn’t as flawless in real life? Perhaps that was why she didn’t want to meet up in the first place? Did she already know that wasting the time of her busy schedule would completely disenchant her perception of you? You took a deep breath and shook your head, backing off from the mirror. It was alright. She liked you. Still you desperately wanted to be perfect for her. 

The next thing you did was distract yourself with having fun and a bit of a struggle with setting up a phone stand out of books. After you were sure that your phone wouldn’t slide down halfway through the recording, you set a 10 seconds timer and started slowly unbuttoning your shirt to catch the process on camera. The photo turned out just the way you wanted from the first try, revealing the right amount of skin and a glimpse of your lingerie. It didn’t even matter in the end, but you were always attentive to details. Completely taking off your shirt, you grabbed your phone and took the second picture – a close up of your lacy bra, nipples visible through the fabric, collarbones calling to be showered with your mistress’ kisses. The sound of timer counting down rang across your bedroom once again, you unhooked your bra to send it down onto the floor and stepped back, already topless, unzipping your pants and craning your neck to the side with a soft smile on your lips. Oh, how much you loved spoiling Lydia even if sometimes it stressed you out to the point of worrying about your imperfections. Your pants made their way onto the floor as well, out of the frame, of course, and as the next timer started counting down, you rushed to your desk to bend over it prettily, exposing your cheeks for the last photo. Then, you returned to your phone and sent pictures to Lydia, smiling to yourself at the thought of her ending her tedious day of work and seeing your message.  

It took you a fair amount of time to warm yourself up for the video by bringing yourself to the edge with a vibrator, uncomfortably sprawled in your chair and growing hotter with every second. You barely managed to stop yourself from climaxing, removing the vibrator from your clit and standing up on wobbly legs to continue your filming session. The phone was settled into its makeshift stand again, the sun finally settled, not peeking through the curtains anymore, which made the scene look especially intimate in the dimmed lights, and you were ready to absolutely ruin yourself for Lydia. After pressing the record button, you bent over your desk once again, and massaged your cheeks, squeezing and pulling to reveal your glistening sex. Having satisfied your need to tease the woman a little more, you spread your legs wider and took a toy that rested on the desk the whole time.

Teasing your wet entrance with the toy, you pleaded into the silence of your room, “Oh, please, fuck me… fuck me, mistress, please…”

By the time you finished, you were worn out – the position was rather uncomfortable, especially when you had to work with your hand from behind. You pressed the side of your face against the surface and sighed happily, “Thank you, mistress, you are so good to me.” There was a deep red mark of the edge of the desk on your knee, the wood was digging into your skin almost the whole time you were filming after you decided to move your leg higher for better access and view. The awkward scene of you grunting as you lifted yourself from the desk and padded over to your bed to stop the recording was cropped out later. 

An hour passed by, and Lydia finally answered your messages, saying that she was done with the meeting and work for the day, ready to witness you coming undone for her. 

You look absolutely ravishing, dear. Let me see how you used that toy on your pretty pussy?

are you already in bed? You asked, trying to withhold the sweet video a little longer.

No, darling. I’m taking a bath right now, she answered, arousing the urge in you to ask her if she could give you at least a glimpse of her body basking in the warm water. You didn’t ask her. 

I need you, came a text seconds later, and you couldn’t resist her anymore. 

The video went on for about 11 minutes, you didn’t know if you should have made it shorter or longer for her liking. You wondered how long it would take her, you wondered what she would use to pleasure herself and how it would feel to be with her in that moment, spreading shower gel all over her breasts and teasing her with your thigh pressed against her core. You wondered how it would feel to just settle in her lap, wrap your hands around her shoulders and hide your face in her neck, revelling in her presence.

The waiting after sending her those kinds of videos was the most tortuous one, you didn’t yet know if she liked the video or not, you didn’t know if it met her expectations, you didn’t know if it even made her wet and eager to pleasure herself. Sometimes you were afraid that she wouldn’t even bother to watch it or to reply to you ever again. Fifteen minutes later, you got a response – 1 attachment. Your heart somersaulted against your ribcage, and you hesitated for a moment before tapping on the notification, prolonging the excitement of not knowing what she sent you.

Those beautiful thighs. Oh, how much you thought about them wrapping around your head, how many times you rewatched the only video she sent you, remembering the patterns of stretch marks along her skin. She looked especially soft and rosy, her wet pubic hair neatly covered her sex, and the foam melted around her body, glistening on camera. The water was steamy and her hand rested on the rim of the bathtub – you could only assume that she was completely spent. 

i would eat you out until those gorgeous legs are shaking, you texted after a while of staring, unable to think straight.

Not before I would be done edging you for hours, she cheekily answered. And before you could think of a suitable response in the same dirty fashion, she sent her next message, Thank you, dearest. I don’t know what I did to deserve you.

A smile spread across your features, so wide it almost started to hurt. You plumped down on the bed and nuzzled your nose into the pillow, vainly seeking her scent that was never there in the first place. Contented that the woman felt about you this way, you closed your eyes and tried to imagine her. Imagine, imagine, imagine – it was the only thing you could do. In that moment, you hopelessly wanted to press yourself into her, to cling to her body and dissolve in her warmth. How much you yearned for her to give you real proximity, to caress your sides as she would bury her face in your hair and fall asleep next to you, breathing peacefully. Or she would let you lie down on her chest and listen to her calming heartbeat, holding your hand and circling your skin with her thumb. 

A couple of red heart emojis were sent Lydia’s way and you locked your phone, turned on your back and looked at the ceiling. Fulfilled and deprived at the same time.

by the way, i was given a new project today! You texted Lydia five minutes later, remembering that you forgot to share the exciting news. i’m so happy, they finally gave me the big girl stuff to do haha

That’s amazing, dear. I’m very proud of you, Lydia answered, making you blush. 

﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉

The next Monday you were on your way to Nevermore – it felt very exciting to leave the office for once to see the site of reconstruction. To your surprise, it wasn’t that long of a ride, you expected the school to be more distant from Jericho than it was. Driving along the road that was framed by thick forest made you want to pull over for a second to take a picture of towering trees, branches tranquilly swinging in the wind, the sun peaking through the leaves. However it would be a bad idea, unless you wanted to be late for the meeting more than you already were.

The building of Nevermore astonished you from the first glance. A dark fantasy, elaborate decorations and old-fashioned high ceilings. You arrived at the brink of evening – Principal Weems didn’t have time for the meeting until 5 p.m. – and the golden hour made the school look even more otherworldly. You didn’t need a tour since you had an insight on what the building was like inside, and the location of classrooms and halls didn’t really change over decades. Approaching the Principal’s office, you adjusted the collar of your shirt and fixed your hair – this was serious, you had to make a good impression on the client. 

﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉

a/n: oh, larissa... honey, you've got a big storm coming

#larissa weems x reader #larissa weems x y/n #larissa weems #principal larissa weems #gwendoline christie

[fatalism-and-villainy]

More thoughts about the dynamic I talked about here:

It’s telling that the way Abigail engages with Hannibal re: Nick Boyle’s death is very different from the way she engages with Will about it (and by extension, that the way Hannibal engages with Will about GJH’s death is very different from how he engages with Abigail about Nick Boyle’s death).

That is to say, Hannibal’s initial, outward response to Abigail killing Nick Boyle is primarily disapproval - foregrounding what she’s most trying to conceal about herself, and positioning himself as a moral authority who’s making a considerable sacrifice to protect her:

Hannibal: This isn’t self-defense, Abigail. You butchered him. Abigail: I didn’t. Hannibal: They will see what you did. And they will see you as an accessory to the crimes of your father. Abigail: I wasn’t. Hannibal: I can help you, if you ask me to. At great risk to my career and my life. You have a choice. You can tell them you were defending yourself when you gutted this man. Or we can hide the body. (1.3)

Later, he changes tack and allows that Abigail did do the right thing and that self-defense is an excusable motive:

Abigail: You’re glad I killed him. Hannibal: What would be the alternative? That he kill you? (1.3)

And:

Abigail: In the dream, I wonder how I could live with myself, knowing what I did. Hannibal: And when you’re awake? Abigail: When I’m awake, I know I can live with myself. And I know I’ll just get used to what I did. Does that make me a sociopath? Hannibal: No. It makes you a survivor. (1.4)

This change in approach is partly by design, I think - his more condemnatory initial approach impresses on Abigail the worst possible interpretation of her actions (and hints at the fact that he can see through the front she’s putting up), in order to get her to trust him, and then gradually he starts to show qualified approval and emphasize her agency to move behind her father’s influence. And his emphasis on self-defense in their conversation at the end of Potage serves as a way of deflecting Abigail’s sharp inference that he might be a serial killer. But he consistently only approves of Abigail committing murder in utilitarian terms, rather than emphasizing any satisfaction Abigail might have gotten from it.

And the person who does validate that for her is, of course, Will, when they compare notes on killing her father vs. killing Nick Boyle:

Abigail: I thought there was something wrong with me, because I didn’t feel ugly when I killed Nick Boyle. I felt good. That’s why it was so easy to lie about it. Will: Like you didn’t do anything wrong. Abigail: Feel like you’d done something wrong when you killed my dad? Will: I felt terrified. And then… I felt powerful. Abigail: It felt good. To get to end it, to stop it all. (1.12)

They’re both nodding so vigorously by the end of that exchange, just fully understanding in that moment how the other is feeling. And significantly, Hannibal doesn’t set himself up as someone with whom she can unload those feelings on, or find that kind of understanding with! Obviously he doesn’t want to go mask-off about being a serial killer immediately, but he doesn’t even drop any hints with about the appeal of murder; and meanwhile with Will, where he’s got all his “it’s beautiful, in its own way” and “killing must feel good to God” and “not flesh and blood but light and air and colour” lines. Aside from his initial intimation that she had darker motives, his approach with Abigail is mostly affirming her best qualities, suggesting she’s not like her father and that she had no choice but to kill Nick Boyle. And Will ends up being the one to affirm Abigail’s darker qualities.

And, well - my sense of why Hannibal takes this approach is that he was hoping for exactly that. He wanted Abigail to go to Will with those feelings, to be drawn to Will because he offered a potential source of a specific kind of validation and understanding that she wasn’t getting from Hannibal - and thus, for Abigail to help draw out Will’s murderous impulses in turn. Just as he used the prospect of protecting Abigail to push Will’s sense of ethics a little bit farther out. They were both the bait, for each other.

#hannibal meta #abigail hobbs #hannibal lecter #will graham #hannibal #my meta #hannibal talk #there was some group chat discussion awhile back about how hannibal intended to make the murder family happen #before his hand was forced in putting will in prison #and while i'm sure he was playing it by ear #in terms of revealing himself and pushing the others into a place where they could accept him #i do think a lot of his plan relied on using abigail to bridge the gap between will's s1 ethics and what hannibal wanted for him

[stellrn]

*~Rules are made to be broken! 

ᯓ★Name: Receptacle X (Goes by the name Stelle.) 

ᯓ★Also goes by:  Trailblazer (General) , Big sister (by Clara) , The Galactic Baseballer (Self-proclaimed) , “friend” (passive-aggressive name given by Aventurine.) 

ᯓ★Rarity:  ✦✦✦✦✦

ᯓ★Path: Adaptive. 

ᯓ★Element: Adaptive. 

ᯓ★Gender: Cis female (She/her) 

ᯓ★Physical Age: 23 

ᯓ★Actual Age: Unknown

ᯓ★Sexuality: Bisexual/Pansexual (?)

ᯓ★Ships for this character: No one in particular, everyone’s cool. (except illegal ones ofc.)

ᯓ★Race: Human (?)

ᯓ★ Current Location: Penacony 

ᯓ★Faction: Astral Express , The Nameless

ᯓ★Moral Alignment: Chaotic neutral

ᯓ★Likes: Video games , exploring , seeking interactions   , monetary gains (credits, stellar jades etc.)

ᯓ★Dislikes: Manipulative and annoying people  , The Stellaron Hunters (except Silver Wolf, she’s cool.) ,  people that pose a danger to the Astral Express (whom she considers her family) and her friends 

ᯓ★Weaknesses: Clueless about most things, easy to bait through trash cans, stellar jades, any form of monetary gains etc, a bit stupid at times. 

*~APPEARANCE.

— The female Trailblazer, Stelle, takes the resemblance of a human with gray-silvery hair. Stelle, wears a white inner shirt, a long black-sleeved jacket (rolled up), a black tight skirt, and a light blue garter on the left thigh.

Extra info about appearance: 

ᯓ★Height: 5’7’’ - 5’8’’

ᯓ★Build: Slender , curvy

ᯓ★Hair: Medium-length gray hair that stops just past her shoulders.

ᯓ★ Eye colour: Golden yellow 

*~PERSONALITY.

ᯓ★Stelle consistently upholds a composed and impartial demeanor, yet occasionally interjects with irrelevant or humorous remarks, even in the face of serious situations. It is implied through March 7th's memories that she doesn’t talk much.

ᯓ★Furthermore, Stelle demonstrates a keen inclination for exploration, actively seeking interaction with a diverse range of objects. This often results in perplexed reactions from their fellow teammates or nearby outsiders. These idiosyncratic behaviors include aimless wandering, an inclination to inspect trash cans, or even pranks like hiding in a closet in Goethe Hotel to scare the room service worker.

ᯓ★When embroiled in combat, however, Stelle’s personality undergoes a notable transformation, revealing an intense and ferocious disposition. It has been noted through her ultimate animations that Stelle seems to be colder and stoic.

*~LORE OF RECEPTACLE X. 

—> A girl who boarded the Astral Express. She chose to travel with the Astral Express to eliminate the dangers posed by the Stellaron.

ᯓ★The Voyage Continues: Character Story 1.

“Stelle doesn’t remember much. She’s not from around here, nor did she come from elsewhere. She’s not really going anywhere— Just then, that indistinct voice whispers into her ear. That sorrowful and tender persuasion, that deceptive goading... The seeds take root. She opens her eyes, and the speaker is no longer there. But there are more and more voices, and they are getting clearer and clearer. Some give easygoing care, some calmly provide advice, some speak firm support, and some gift gentle direction… She sees the silken thread being woven to form tomorrow. A huge beast descends from infinity, Golden pupils stare down from the darkness, and she is no longer abandoned by the past. She will also set upon a long journey, and the thorns she has stepped on have become her path. The train whistles, wishing her a successful journey to the coming future...by her own will.” 

ᯓ★Silent Galaxy: Character Story 2. 

“She has arrived at the "City of Preservation." Behind the snow curtain, the wind lashes like steel blades, but the kindling burns on. Distant lands won't hear them, and the earth trembles in kind, with only the wailing crowds braving the wind. After facing foreign enemies, the Eternal Freeze, and reality's fissures, a rot begins to fester within the fort. She tries lending a helping hand, but is forsaken. Some once looked down on her and misunderstood her, but still she stood by their side and helped them find their way. More care about her and worry about her. They face their suffering, and find the cure for the distressed. Eventually, they come to her side. In the ice and snow, she is like a fire, protecting the soul of this world...Even though she must scorch herself day and night.” 

*~PERSONAL HEADCANONS. 

ᯓ★Stelle is naturally very warm, due to the Stellaron and the fraction of the power received by her from the Aeon of Preservation, Qlipoth during her battle with Cocolia (The previous Supreme Guardian of Belobog). As such, her friends, March 7th (because I also headcanon that March’s body temperature runs colder than the average human because of her being trapped in six-phased ice for a long (?) time.) and Dan Heng, (He is a Vidyadhara. Vidhyadhara=dragon-like species. Dragons are basically reptiles, and reptiles are cold-blooded animals. Also a headcanon btw hehe.) hugged close to her when setting foot upon the cold planet of Jarilo-VI. 

ᯓ★Due to the symbiosis between her and the Stellaron, the Stellaron now functions as her heart in a way. Say, if it were forcibly removed, somehow, she would die. 

ᯓ★Stelle uses the username “the-coolest-galactic-baseballer” on social media. (This may be updated.)

ᯓ★She is a synthetic human. (Basically something like Xueyi or the 2 million Herta androids present on the space station.) 

—>(CREDITS to: yourdarlingness and embracekiss on TUMBLR for the STELLE ICONS and HSR WIKI for the info~!)

#005. about me

[ladyfurbton]

Happy New Year

Image Descriptions:

1: Big Angus is a 1998 furby who is rotund. He has an orange tuft of hair on his head and an orange puff tail on his bottom. His ears are orange on the inside and red on the outside. His fur is red with a square patch of orange on his belly. His face plate and eyelids are both orange and his beak is an orangish yellow. He has brown eyes and orange feet. Ee-day is a 1998 furby with a yellow mane and hot pink ears with light blue insides. His fur is hot pink except for on his belly where it is light blue. His face plate and eyelids are light blue with a yellowish tinge on the eye lids. His eyes are a light blue colour and his beak is a orangish yellow colour. His feet are both white. The two furbys are together under a purple knitted blanket with a white border. Big Angus says "Happy new year my cupcake." Ee-day says "Happy New year baby."

2: Big Angus and Ee-day are still both under the blanket. Nester and Beaktrice are now on either side of them. Nester whom is an adopted child of Ee-day and Big Angus is a bird plushie. He has a red head with a red tuft on top of it. He has two big white eyes with black pupils looking forward. He has a yellow beak and a crest of green feathers on his chest. He has a light green body and two red wings one on each side. Nester  has two dark blue feet at the bottom of his green body. The birds tail consists of one small fat green feather, two skinny long purple feathers and two even longer red feathers. Nester is slightly bigger than a 1998 furby. Beaktrice is a bird plushie. She has a purple head with a purple tuft on top of it. She has two big white eyes with black pupils looking forward. She has a yellow beak and a crest of pink feathers on her chest. She has a light pink body and two purple wings one on each side. Beaktrice has two dark blue feet at the bottom of her green body. The birds tail consists of one small fat pink feather, two skinny long cyan feathers and two even longer purple feathers. The bird is slightly bigger than a 1998 furby. Beaktrice says "Daddies! Wake up! It's time for breakfast." Big Angus says "Oh boy! Time for my Waffles!"

3: There is a brown kitchen table. Big Angus and Beaktrice are sitting at one side of the table while Ee-day and Nester are sitting at the other side. There is a red toaster on the table. It is on its side with the toast slots facing Ee-day. Ee-day says "Hmmm the toaster doesn't appear to be working."

4: Same as image 3 except the characters are saying different things. The toaster says "I am sick and tired of cooking toast and waffles for you every day!!! You can make your own toast!!!" Big Angus says "Did the toaster just talk?"

5: Now some toast has flown out of the toaster and hit Ee-day in the eye. Ee-day says "ouch!!" Big Angus says "Oh no the toaster has gone rouge!!! How on earth am I going to have my waffles?"

6: The toast is on the floor near Ee-days foot. Ee-day says "Wait! It says here that the toaster was made in 1999! Maybe it has the Y2K bug because the year changed!" Big Angus says "Only one thing can fix it!"

7: Same as image 6. Ee-day says "A millienum furby."

8: Big Angus is on one side of the table beside Doo-moh. Doo-moh is a 1998 furby with a white mane and white ears with dark blue insides. His fur is light grey except for on his belly where it is dark blue. His face plate and eyelids are white. His eyes are a light blue colour and his beak is a orangish yellow colour. His feet are both white. He is wearing a silver sash with the words "millennium furby" in dark blue text. Ee-day is on the other side of the table. The toaster is now on the middle of the table right side up. Doo-moh says "I'm here now time for me to get that toaster and fix it!" The toaster says "you won't catch me!!"

9: Same as image 8. Doo-moh says "Oh yes I will! It's a busy time of year for us millienum furbys. Toasters are going rogue everywhere!

10: Doo-moh is now on the table behind the toaster. Doo-moh says "There caught you!! The toaster is now tame." Ee-day says "Thank you Doo-moh." Big Angus says "Now I shall eat waffles again!!" End Descriptions.

#furby #allfurby #furby fandom #safe furby #safefurby #furblr #furby 1998 #nsfr #furby community #food mention

[rphelperblog]

The Giver Book Quote Rp Meme

feel to edit or change pronouns for purposes

“The worst part of holding the memories is not the pain. It's the loneliness of it. Memories need to be shared.”

“Didn't life consist of the things you did each day?” 

“We gained control of many things. But we had to let go of others.” 

“It's the choosing that's important, isn't it?” 

“I feel sorry for anyone who is in a place where he feels strange and stupid.” 

“They can't help it. They know nothing” 

“Life here is so orderly, so predictable-so painless. It's what they've chosen.” 

“I'm going to give you the memory of a rainbow.” 

“But there was nothing left to do but continue” 

“When people have the freedom to choose, they choose wrong, every single time.” 

“It's just that... without the memories it's all meaningless.” 

“If everything's the same, then there aren't any choices! I want to wake up in the morning and decide things!” 

“memories are forever.”

“And here in this room, I re-experience the memories again and again it is how wisdom comes and how we shape our future.” 

“What if they were allowed to choose their own mate? And chose wrong?” 

“Thank you for your childhood.” 

“There was just a moment when things weren't quite the same, weren't quite as they had always been through the long friendship” 

“Of course they needed to care. It was the meaning of everything.” 

“I like the feeling of love.”

“Today is declared an unscheduled holiday.” 

'I did like the light they made. And the warmth.” 

“They have never known pain. The realization made him feel desperately lonely.” 

“If he had stayed, he would have starved in other ways.” 

“The life where nothing was ever unexpected. Or inconvenient. Or unusual. The life without colour, pain or past.” 

“If you were to be lost in the river, your memories would not be lost with you. Memories are forever.” 

“The worse part of holding the memories is not the pain. It's the loneliness of it. Memories need to be shared.” 

'I do understand that it wouldn't work very well. And that it's much better to be organized the way we are now. I can see that it was a dangerous way to live.'

“They were satisfied with their lives which had none of the vibrance his own was taking on. And he was angry at himself, that he could not change that for them.” 

“It was simply a marking of time with no meaningful changes.” 

“You may lie.” 

“Even trained for years as they all had been in precision of language, what words could you use which would give another the experience of sunshine?” 

“Frightened meant that deep, sickening feeling of something terrible about to happen.” 

"There could be love,"

“There was never any comfortable way to mention or discuss one's successes without breaking the rule against bragging, even if one didn't mean to.” 

“even though I don’t even know him. I feel sorry for anyone who is in a place where he feels strange and stupid.” 

“I knew that there had been times in the past-terrible times-when people had destroyed others in haste,in fear, and had brought about their own destruction” 

“I don't know what you mean when you say 'the whole world' or 'generations before him.'I thought there was only us. I thought there was only now.” 

“For all for children to whom we entrust the future” 

Precision of language, please!"

“He wept because he was afraid now that he could not save him. He no longer cared about himself” 

"And of course our community can't function smoothly if people don't use precise language. You could ask, 'Do you enjoy me?' The answer is 'Yes,'"

“All of it was new to him. After a life of Sameness and predictability, he was awed by the surprises that lay beyond each curve of the road.” 

"I have great honor. So will you. But you will find that that is not the same as power.” 

t to you all the memories I have within me. Memories of the past.” 

“Depth, he decided; as if one were looking into the clear water of the river, down to the bottom, where things might lurk which hadn't been discovered yet.” 

“He saw nothing except the endless ribbon of road unfolding in twisting narrow curves.” 

“Why do you and I have to hold these memories?" 

"It gives us wisdom," 

“And apples were always, always red.” 

“The life where nothing was ever unexpected. Or inconvenient. Or unusual. The life without color, pain, or past.” 

“I have great honor. So will you. But you will find that that is not the same as power.” 

“each change, painful though some of them will be, will make us a little better than we were before.” 

“If everything’s the same, then there aren’t any choices! I want to wake up in the morning and decide things!” 

“If he had stayed, he would have starved in other ways. He would have lived a life hungry for feelings, for color, for love.” 

“Birthmother was an important job, if lacking in prestige.” 

“Of course they needed to care. It was the meaning of everything. “

“But they don't want change. Life here is so orderly, so predictable-so painless. It's what they've chosen.” 

“Suddenly he was aware with certainty and joy that below, ahead, they were waiting for him; and that they were waiting, too, for the baby.” 

“It was so - oh, I wish language were more precise! The red was so beautiful!” 

“But each time a child opens a book, he pushes open the gate that separates him from Elsewhere.” 

“Our people made that choice, the choice to go to Sameness. Before my time, before the previous time, back and back and back. We relinquished color when we relinquished sunshine and did away with differences.”

“We gained control of many things. But we had to let go of others.” 

“The important thing is that another medium—stage, film, music—doesn’t obliterate a book. The movie is here now, on a big screen, with stars and costumes and a score. But the book hasn’t gone away. It has simply grown up, grown larger, and begun to glisten in a new way.” 

“life where nothing was ever unexpected. Or inconvenient. Or unusual. The life without color, pain, or past.” 

“A lot of people I know would hate that ending, but not me. I loved it. Mainly because I got to make the book happy. I decided they made it. They made it to the past. I decided the past was our world, and the future was their world. It was parallel worlds.” 

“What if they had all been instructed: You may lie?” 

“thank you for your childhood.” 

“There’s much more. There’s all that goes beyond—all that is Elsewhere—and all that goes back, and back, and back. I received all of those, when I was selected. And here in this room, all alone, I re-experience them again and again. It is how wisdom comes. And how we shape our future.”

It was a word and concept new to him.”

'I did like the light they made. And the warmth.” 

“his school lessons had been unusually” 

“Release was not the same as Loss.” 

“life where nothing was ever unexpected. Or inconvenient. Or unusual. The life without color, pain, or past.” 

“disoriented. It was our house. He had stood on a porch and taken the snapshot through a window. I recognized the fireplace and its graceful mantel. And the chandelier! We had dined each evening at seven, the family together, discussing our day—we could have” 

“No one mentioned such things; it was not a rule, but was considered rude to call attention to things that were unsettling or different about individuals.” 

“His thoughts seemed to be elsewhere, and his eyes were very troubled.”

“We relinquished color when we relinquished sunshine and did away with differences. {...} We gained control of many things. But we had to let go of others.”

“For a contributing citizen to be released from the community was a final decision, a terrible punishment, an overwhelming statement of failure.” 

“I have great honor. So will you. But you will find that that is not the same as power.” 

“The exemption from rudeness startled him. Reading it again, however, he realized that it didn't compel him to be rude; it simply allowed him the option” 

“It wasn’t a practical thing, so it became obsolete when we went to Sameness.” 

“When he spoke, a new spurt of blood drenched the coarse cloth across his chest and sleeve.” 

#open rp #open to all #open to anyone #ask meme #open meme #open to anybody #rp meme #ask prompt #roleplay meme #memes #open starter #the giver #the giver rp #lois lowry #middle grade books #young adult books #book quote meme #ya books #book quotes

[hollowwhisperings]

KH Spec: Princesses of Light as Stars, part 1/?

As of KH3, all of the original seven Princesses of Heart recognised in KH1 have [retired] except Kairi. I suspect that the Other Six were able to pass on their roles due to their respective worlds no longer being kept in Time Loops (as seen in their appearances in the mobile games & BBS being exactly as they were in KH1). comple since KHUX) & their FINALLY being able to "move on" with their lives.

Kairi's primary character arc has been one of Resistance To Change: she kept her role, unchanged for all that she was the only Light to have experienced time*. That said... it seems odd that Kairi was the ONLY princess to have lived in a world of real-time (Axel, Isa & Ienzo all aged between BBS & KH2: this confirms that Radiant Garden experiences time, even in Kairi's absence). It seems very plausible that Kairi's Grandmother preceded Kairi in the role of "Seventh Light". Whether it was an entirely familial legacy (a "secret bloodline", one might say) or Kairi's Grandmother was secretly an Immortal Princess until choosing Kairi to replace her... is Its Own Theory.

The Princesses of Heart served as Seven "Backup Generators" keeping the metaphysical lights on for the KH Universe in the absence of its "Sun", Kingdom Hearts. For Thematic Reasons & simplicity's sake, the New Princesses of Heart (dubbed "New" Princesses of Light in KH3) will henceforth be referred to as the "Seven Stars"... because that's what they ARE.

Stars in the KH setting: Paopu Fruit & Wayfinders

Stars are a consistent reference point in the KH series, sometimes in conjunction with the "One Sky (One Destiny)" arc words they're set in, but largely as symbols in their own right.

Stars are, of course, what the Paopu Fruit of Destiny Islands are shaped like: the legend that sharing Paopu Fruit with someone ties people together forever was one taught to Xehanort by [Player] and, likely through Eraqus, to Aqua & thus the Wayfinder Trio (whose star-shaped wayfinders DID, in the end, bring them back to each other). Riku and Selphie arr the first to bring up paopu fruit bringing "Romantic" Forevers: Riku very smoothly (/s) covers for his hopes of sharing one with Sora by distracting him with a competition and That Female Friend They Share with whom Heteroromanticism Can Be Achieved (rather than, say, certain silver haired dreameaters who have theme songs saying promises are for children & making an oath with sunrise-coloured rings...).

Kairi makes a star-shaped wayfinder from thalassa shells instead of helping Riku make his Dream Boat: she later "lends" this wayfinder to Sora, calling it "her Lucky Charm". In the original JP, using Kairi's token lets Sora use the [Promise Charm] Keyblade. While the ENG translation to "Oathkepper" IS a lot cooler sounding, it is Misleading: the lyrics of Chikai reference the distinction between "promises" and "oaths", specifically framed within vows of a wedding. Kairi is someone who makes Promises (her star-crossed sharing of paopu fruit with Sora, a goodbye to childhood): Oaths exist only in reference to Riku, especially when with regard to Sora.

Through Kairi & Riku, stars represent promises & oaths: childhood friendship & lifelong love. Through the Wayfinders (Kairi's but esoecially Aqua's), stars represent connection, return & reunions.

While Riku Is The Light (the story's "Sun"), Kairi is a Star: while they are the same thing, astronomically, the symbolism of "stars" differs due to that of "suns". There are many Stars, bright and gentle and distant. There is only one Sun*, blinding and personal.

The next part in this series of speculations will be on how Kairi & the Other Princesses are connected to stars.

*While Rapunzel also has sun imagery, its use in KH3 is largely in parallel with Riku: both are the metaphorical secret "suns" of their own worlds & stories, and "stars" in the context of each other's.

#kh3 spoilers #kh meta #princesses of heart #symbolism in kingdom hearts #the seven lights #riku is the light

[myillusions]

CHARACTER SHEET

Gilded Robin

Ophelia Robinette

❥ ∞ ✯ • ➳

Appearance

Ophelia “Robin” Robinette is five-foot, six inches in height, with lightly wavy ginger hair mixed with golden honey which sits at medium-length just beneath her shoulders. She often wears it either down, in a messy bun, a high ponytail or plaited.

Ophelia’s eye colour is green with brown flecks and long eyelashes. She adorns brown eyebrows and a light flutter of freckles, with soft, plump lips and smooth skin. She has a slim face with round cheeks and a defined jawline. She has two barely visible fangs due to genetics.

Ophelia flaunts with a fit, robust physique, which is curved in a slight hourglass figure. She possesses a tattoo of a lotus on her lower spine.

Whilst being in favor of her looks, Ophelia appears as more so a damsel then she’d prefer, where in reality, she is much adjacent to a lotus; beautiful, graceful and pure on the surface, but the roots are firmly planted in mud and water.

Personality

Ophelia Robinette; when first coming into contact with her, is commonly described as a compassionate and community-based yet apprehensive woman.

Though, like most, Ophelia is quite complex. She is rather sardonic and reticent, though isn’t afraid of a friendly chat. Most around Jackson would determine her as resolute.

She is sedulous and quick-witted in near all of her actions, the struggles of the apocalypse clearly weighing on her decision making. This doesn’t deter her from being sardonic, though, whilst also having her churlish moments.

❥ ∞ ✯ • ➳

“Pride; it will cost you everything and leave you with nothing.”

Priscilla Hanes

❥ ∞ ✯ • ➳

Appearance

Priscilla Hanes is five-foot, eight inches in height. She adorns curly, jet-black shoulder-length hair. She has stunning, piercing blue eyes with sharp features.

Priscilla almost constantly looks sleep-deprived and possesses a tattoo sleeve on her left arm.

Personality

Priscilla Hanes is an outgoing, assertive woman who can come off as rather churlish. She is extremely adventurous, which can cause her to often wind herself up in lamentable situations. Priscilla is exceedingly witty and not afraid to speak her mind.

After getting more accommodated with Priscilla, most find her to be extremely sympathetic and warm-hearted.

❥ ∞ ✯ • ➳

“Eye for an eye. Tooth for a tooth. Right?”

Elias Robinette

❥ ∞ ✯ • ➳

Appearance

Elias Robinette is six-foot, one inches in height with a scruffy, unkempt head of brunette hair which falls by his eyebrows. He has light green eyes and a honed jawline.

Personality

Elias Robinette is an earnest, yet vastly despairing man whom consistently makes ridiculing and satirical comments.

Many would describe Elias Robinette as a survivor.

❥ ∞ ✯ • ➳

“Hemingway said that courage was grace under pressure. He also shot himself point blank in the face.”

Joel Miller

❥ ∞ ✯ • ➳

“Maybe there’s nothing bad out there, but so far there’s always been something bad out there.”

Ellie Williams

❥ ∞ ✯ • ➳

“People are making apocalypse jokes like there’s no tomorrow… too soon?”

Tommy Miller

❥ ∞ ✯ • ➳

“Just because life stopped for you, doesn’t mean it has to stop for me.”

Maria Miller

❥ ∞ ✯ • ➳

"Be careful who you put your faith in. The only people who can betray us, are the ones we trust."

Tess Servopoulos

❥ ∞ ✯ • ➳

"It's a miracle any of us are alive."

Note: Photos are not mine! I got them all from Pinterest.

Will be updated.

#the last of us #joel miller x oc #joel miller series #joel x oc #joel and ellie #ellie williams #series #character sheet #pedro pascal #joel miller smut #no clue how to use tumblr #hbo the last of us #hbo #tlou #tlou series

[late-to-the-fandom]

An unpleasant rumour prompts a painful admission from Renathal and a promise from the Maw Walker. Rated M for non-graphic smut. Read here on Ao3 for triggers and tags

Takes place after 'Eternity', before the imprisonment of Denathrius

It was the first time since the Ember Court was instituted that the Maw Walker was not in attendance, a disappointment Renathal had accepted with what he considered supernatural good grace. What he could not forgive her were the guests she had saddled him with in her absence.

"Well, at least it's lighter up here, I suppose. But how is it still no warmer?"

The Sin'Dorei whom Renathal now knew was not a healer but a member of the Kirin Tor wrapped both gloved hands around a steaming cup of Theotar's strongest brew. He shivered elegantly, much to the appreciation of several Venthyr socialites who had taken to following the tow-headed mortal around. Renathal's legendary self-control just managed to keep his eye roll in check.

"Our Maw Walker has thoughtfully provided the Ember Court with an excessive number of candles," he told the elf patiently. "Something will inevitably catch on fire."

For some reason, the Sin'Dorei did not find this a comfort, and began expressing himself accordingly. Renathal wondered how badly it would affect their prospects against Denathrius if what caught fire this court were the elf's purple robes.

After all, more and more mortals arrived every day.  Surely, offending this one would not disrupt their entire plan? Sinfall - and the Ember Court - were stretched to capacity with a greater variety of creatures than either had ever seen. The gathered forces were preparing to move on Castle Nathria within a fortnight. Less, if the Maw Walker could wrap up her missions in the other realms.

Renathal's fingernails clicked impatiently against his teacup, and he reminded himself sternly not to feel bitter toward his champion. The Maw Walker did not belong to him exclusively, and he knew firsthand how indispensable she was to the plans of every realm. Still, he was having trouble adjusting to her increased absences. He could not stop his eyes flicking around the courtyard, compulsively seeking the purple light he knew he would not find. 

In spite of the unprecedented number of mortal beings, without the Maw Walker, the Ember Court was missing its life.

As far as Renathal was concerned, if she was not here, there was no reason to have court at all, and he wondered if enough time had yet passed to conceivably bring this session to a close. He turned with the intention of finding and asking Temel, and bumped his shins on the being behind him.

"Hey, watch it!"

"My humblest apologies," said Renathal.

He stooped to offer assistance to the creature he had knocked over but was beaten to it by a long-fingered green hand; a hand he recognised. The Maw Walker's self-appointed goblin manager and quasi-friend yanked the other creature, also a goblin, back to its feet.

"How ya doin', Ren?" cried the goblin Renathal knew - though not nearly well enough to warrant such a jarring nickname. "Meet the gang! Everyone - this here's the Venthyr Prince, Renathal."

The "gang" consisted entirely of goblins as far as Renathal could tell, their skin and hair running a spectrum of different colourful shades. He nodded politely at the scrum of small beings, and they blinked up at him in varying levels of open interest.

"This is the Prince?” cried the one Renathal had knocked over. “The guy the champion’s banging?”

Behind Renathal, the Sin'Dorei snorted unbecomingly into his cup, and several of his Venthyr admirers tutted in disapproval. The Maw Walker's goblin scowled at the catcaller and boxed its ragged ear.

"What, like it's a secret?" continued the goblin unabashed. "No one in the inn talks about anything else!”

Saving everyone involved from further embarrassment, Renathal offered the brash being a gracious smile. 

"I am aware of those particular rumours, yes, but I fear they are highly sensationalised.”

He spoke as though this was a distasteful topic he had to bear with nobly. In reality, Renathal derived a small frisson of pleasure every time he heard it mentioned. His affair with the Maw Walker was secret by necessity - just the thought of what Denathrius would do with the information made him shudder - but if their upcoming raid was successful…if the Sire was safely out of the way...

“Eh, don’t worry about it." The Maw Walker's goblin bumped Renathal's leg in another gesture of familiarity he was not sure was merited. “There's always rumours like that about our champion, wherever she goes."

Renathal nodded absently, still considering pleasant post-Nathrian possibilities. Then he frowned as the goblin's words caught up to him.

“What do you mean?”

“Huh?”

“What sort of rumours follow her around?"

“Oh, ya know."

When Renathal’s expression made it clear he did not, the goblin waved a hand as if the explanation hung obviously in the air.

"That’s she hookin’ up with this or that head of whatever city or land or order. Hazard of the trade. Spend enough time rubbin’ shoulders with world leaders, people are bound to talk.”

“So … she is typically close with the leaders of the different worlds she assists?” asked Renathal as casually as he could manage around the sudden churning in his stomach.

“Oh, for sure!” confirmed the goblin. “And here in the Shadowlands too. It‘s not just you. There’s a rumour like that in every realm. Really, it don’t mean nothin’.”

Renathal lifted his cup to his lips and downed its scalding contents in one, wishing, uncharacteristically, it contained something stronger than tea. While most of the Venthyr - and their Master himself - were considerably fond of anima wine, Renathal had never been one to overindulge in alcohol. Usually, he preferred to be in control of himself at all times. Just now, however, he thought he could use assistance in taking the edge off his growing consternation.

Obviously, Renathal knew he was not the Maw Walker's only sexual partner. But he had assumed he was her only current one.

Wracking his brain for the reason he had believed this so unassailably, Renathal was only distantly aware of the goblin's grating voice. Surely the Maw Walker had said something to allow him to form this conclusion? But ... except for a few ambiguous remarks - most made while in the throes of ecstasy - he could not remember her ever confirming this assumption explicitly.

A sudden lingering silence distracted Renathal from his unhappy reverie. The goblin was blinking expectantly, clearly anticipating some sort of response. Renathal gave a mysterious tilt of his head that might have meant anything or nothing at all, and the goblin launched into another long-winded babble that Renathal, once more, ignored.

Probably, the idea that he was special to the Maw Walker had sprung from the fact that she most certainly was to him. His mortal Nightborne lover was like nothing he had ever encountered, and their relationship - whatever it was - was wholly different than anything he had experienced before. It was comforting and titillating, safe and sensational all at once. Never had one being offered the answer to his every need, both open and unvoiced. The idea that he might not be as singular to her distressed Renathal greatly, and he ground his fangs as the goblin again butchered his name.

"So whattaya say, Ren? You in?"

"No," said Renathal shortly, without any idea what he was declining. "And I am afraid I must insist on a more respectful form of address in future. Do excuse me."

And he strode off in search of Temel, and an end to this torturous court.

The announcement that the Ember Court was abruptly adjourned was not a popular one. The courtyard was full of the disgruntled mutterings of Venthyr and mortals alike as they abandoned their cups and plates and reluctantly retreated into the depths of Sinfall. Renathal could not bring himself to care. At the moment, his mind was entirely consumed with the implications of this new and unpleasant rumour.

It bothered him. And it bothered him that it bothered him.

Because it was not true, first of all, those salacious sorts of rumours never were. Except, Renathal was forced to admit, the ones about himself and the Maw Walker. And if those rumours were accurate, who was to say others were not?

Renathal grappled with this discomfiting idea as he glided through the nearly silent courtyard, assisting the dredgers and Venthyr staff in the after-court tidying up. He had not participated in such menial chores since the early days of the rebellion, but he did not relish returning to his rooms with only his thoughts for company. Not to mention, he needed something to do with his hands besides wringing the neck of the unwitting goblin that had inspired this unnecessary stress.

Stalking between the refreshment tables, Renathal set himself to the task of gathering up the used dishes with haughty distaste. Why were most mortals such heathens? he wondered savagely, piling dirty plates onto a tray. Why did they insist on inflicting such wanton mess on the other realms of reality? And why could they not write their rumours down on paper like civilised beings, so he could find this one and burn it and end his pointless torment?

Because even if it was true, thought Renathal, carelessly dropping cups onto the tray, it did not matter. The Maw Walker was perfectly within her rights to have as many lovers as she wanted. Neither of them had drawn up formal terms for their affair, and exclusivity was not a concept in Venthyr romance, anyway. The Master had always nipped that sort of thing quickly in the bud, and Renathal was reminded why with each furious step he took.

Jealousy. It was a feeling he knew all too well. Like the ground had fallen from under him and he had nowhere safe to stand. That gut twisting, soul burning, merciless ache of realising he was not good enough to have what he wanted, that someone else had it instead. Besides curiousity, it was his greatest prevailing vice. And in spite of the Sire's extensive efforts, the Dark Prince had never learned to overcome it.

The memories of that most hated of lessons sprang unbidden into his mind, and Renathal tripped on the uneven stone, nearly dropping his overladen tray. Fortunately, a nearby dredger quickly divested him of his burden, leaving Renathal to wrap shadows hastily around himself and escape to the privacy of his rooms.

His temper had not improved hours later when the Maw Walker finally deigned to arrive.

She swept into Renathal’s chamber with an enervated groan, and a faint shimmer of her fading purple shield that, for once, failed to cheer him. Renathal refused to stand as she entered, and only hummed in response to her greeting. He knew better than to think this would go unnoticed, but he was long past pretending he was anything but morose.

Except the Maw Walker only raised an eyebrow at him as she crossed the room heavily and collapsed onto the chaise.

"What's happened now?" she asked in weary bemusement.

She was not looking at Renathal as she spoke, but down at her own hands, tugging off her heavy gloves. She stretched her fingers as if relieving a cramp, then rubbed the back of her neck and rotated it slowly to each side. Renathal watched the Maw Walker soothe her own aches in growing petulance. He wondered - with a particularly vicious pang of jealousy - if it was work that had exhausted her or someone else.

"Nothing of importance," he answered moodily.

Which was technically true. As much as the rumour plagued him, Renathal grudgingly conceded it did not quite compare to the trials burdening the rest of the Shadowlands. But his half-hearted rapprochement did not fool the Maw Walker for a moment.

"Did court not go smoothly?" she asked, with a hint of amusement. She drew one foot onto the chaise and unlaced her knotted boot. "I did warn Temel who the problem guests were, who to keep away from whom, all that, but ... I had a feeling there might be chaos."

"Then why did you not make a point of attending?" snapped Renathal.

The Maw Walker dropped her shoe.

"What happened?" she asked again, more seriously this time. She reached down to fetch her boot where it had fallen under the chaise, but at least she was looking at him now.

"It ... was nothing. Truly," admitted Renathal, inspecting the table in front of him to avoid her blank stare. He had spent the intervening hours wondering how to casually broach the subject, but had still not determined the best, most inoffensive course. "Just ... more rumours to contend with," he finally ventured.

"What? About us? I thought you would be used to those by now."

Renathal said nothing. His claw-like nails tapped a brittle rhythm against the stone tabletop. He could simply present the story as a joke, something entirely unworrisome to him. They would have a laugh about the rumour's ridiculousness, and the whole thing would be forgotten.

Unless, of course, it turned out to be true.

Renathal had not decided what it would mean for them if it was. If the Maw Walker did not consider him particularly special ... if he was simply one of many, her preferred distraction while in Revendreth ... It would hurt, that much was certain; jealousy was already eating a hole in his stomach lining at the mere possibility. But would it change anything between them? Would he want her less?

The Maw Walker sighed, and Renathal was surprised at the annoyance in the sound. He glanced up just in time to see her roll her eyes, as she dragged her other boot up the chaise.

"Could we please just ... skip this part tonight?" she asked, struggling to untangle her knotted laces. "Clearly, something is weighing on your mind that I cannot fathom, and I'd prefer to just have it out so I can deal with it and go to bed because I've been stuck in the Maw for a day at least and Bastion before that and I've the most awful headache."

Her obvious irritation, and her reluctance to acknowledge his own, sparked a bitter friction in Renathal that fanned his ire into true flame.

"So, you do not have an arrangement like this in Bastion, then?" 

"An arrangement like what?"

In spite of the venom in his voice, the Maw Walker still refused Renathal her full attention. Clearly, she considered the removal of her shoe to be the more important task.

"An arrangement like ours?" Renathal began, but was interrupted by a satisfied "Ha!" as the Maw Walker succeeded in undoing the knot and fumbled the boot from her foot. The last of Renathal's self-control splintered. "An arrangement that finds you the consort of various leaders throughout the Shadowlands?"

The Maw Walker dropped her shoe again. This time, she left it where it fell. 

"Excuse me?"

"That is the rumour I was told," Renathal explained to the table. He could not quite bring himself to look at her now he had said the words aloud.

"You were given a rumour," repeated the Maw Walker slowly and carefully, "that I am the consort of various Shadowlands leaders, and you are asking me if that is true?"

There was no inflection to her words at all. She might have been reciting out of a rather dull textbook. Renathal heard the familiar shift of the velvet chaise as the Maw Walker leaned back against it.

After a moment's pause, she said, "Well, of course," and Renathal's heart stopped beating. He lifted his gaze to hers and found her pale eyes sparkling. "It's part of my strategy for brokering peace and cooperation between the realms. Seduce a significant leader in each, ensure they properly support the Horde."

In spite of the Maw Walker's best efforts, her mask had cracked before her first sentence ended, and by the time she had finished her whole speech, laughter was bubbling around each word.

"Actually, Drakka's my favourite," she choked between giggles. "But you run a close second."

Renathal would usually go to great lengths to make the Maw Walker laugh this richly. Now, the sound stung him like a breath of icy wind. The words were obviously meant in jest, but hearing her say them out loud was tantamount to a nightmare. He endured the noise for several painful moments, until the Maw Walker caught sight of his face.

"It's a joke ... I'm joking," she said. When Renathal maintained his stony silence, she added, "Please acknowledge that you understand I am joking."

"Perhaps just this once," said Renathal stiffly, "you might answer a question directly instead of deflecting with a joke."

The Maw Walker blinked. Her face reverted to its usual cool composure. She rose from the chaise, not bothering to replace her shoes, and padded gingerly across the roughhewn stone, around the table to Renathal's chair. Without a word, she swung her leg across his and deposited herself in his lap. She took his face gingerly in both hands, finding his eyes and holding them intently.

"No, Renathal. The answer to your question is no. Ours is my only arrangement of any kind I have. In the Shadowlands or anywhere else. And actually, it's been ..." Her eyes flicked briefly upwards. "Hundreds of years since I last had an arrangement like this with anyone. No matter what rumours the Ember Court might enjoy, I ... don't do this very much."

Renathal watched her face as she spoke, the slight twist of her lips, the faint tinge in her cheeks; earnestness leaked through her flat dispassion, and he knew the Maw Walker was telling the truth. His heart resumed its affected beat, and he exhaled gently.

"Why is that?"

"Ren, I'm so busy, I barely have time for you."

This shortening of his name sounded very different from the Maw Walker than it had from her goblin acquaintance. It was familiar, comforting. It eased some of the tension from Renathal's limbs, and he relaxed more fully underneath her.

"And," she continued, resting her hands against his chest, "I have always been very ... choosy about who I spend my free time with."

Renathal's mouth twitched in the ghost of a smile. He let his hands frame the Maw Walker's waist, holding her more securely to him.

"And ... why did you choose me?" he asked archly.

"What, you want me to list everything about you I find attractive?"

"I would enjoy that very much, yes."

The Maw Walker laughed again, and this time Renathal could appreciate the sound, not to mention the way she rocked pleasantly against him. 

"I worry what it would do to your ego," she said wryly.

Renathal caught her chin in one hand and stared, a wordless request in his glowing amber gaze. The Maw Walker's smile faded as her own eyes traveled his face, studying each part of it as though admiring an intricate painting.

"I don't usually ... indulge myself like this," she said, more thoughtfully. "But ... I've never met anyone like you." She traced his jaw fondly with the back of her fingers. "You are ... an extremely rare find, Renathal, and ... very hard to resist."

Renathal could not be bothered to walk the short distance to the nearby chamber where he slept. He simply stood, clutching the Maw Walker tightly to him and melted though the shadows to his bed, anima expenditure be damned. But he did not know a magic to remove their layers as quickly, and the intensity with which he craved her skin made his fingers rough and clumsy. Fortunately, the Maw Walker was well up to the task. All sign of her earlier fatigue gone, her hands flew over his buttons, forgoing further witty flirtation in favour of stretching up to find his lips as each part of him was freed. Renathal abandoned his attempts to help for the pleasure of watching her undress him. And when she guided him back to the bed, he could summon no argument.

The Maw Walker followed him slowly, eyes drinking in the sight of his bare body as if she had never seen it before.

“What are you looking at?” he asked, his voice thick and low. Much like the Maw Walker’s own as she replied, "You." Her warm hands followed the outline of his jutting ribs, stroked longingly over his chest, his shoulders, traced the muscles of his arms, before she found her tongue again. "You are ... beautiful, Renathal."

Venthyr did not blush. They lacked the ability. So it must be the glow of lust-filled anima burning behind his eyes that made Renathal's face feel flushed and feverish. He knew he was nothing compared to Denathrius, but she was not comparing him to Denathrius. She never had. His Master had no place here. The Maw Walker had chosen him.

Her words still rang like a bell in his ears as she slid down his body, determined to leave no part of Renathal untouched or unattended. He wanted to hear her say those words again, but her mouth was engaged in a different form of praise, rendering him helpless to do anything but receive. He could feel the reverence in her lips and tongue, and he would not interrupt the Maw Walker's worship for anything in reality.

When she finally crawled back up to find Renathal's face, her eyes glittered with a dark, fervent light.

“You ... are ... perfect,” she murmured between full, heated kisses, and it was lucky Renathal had no actual need for air because he could not remember how to breathe as she mounted him.

The Maw Walker maintained a steady stream of accolades, decreasing in coherence as she increased her speed. And, for once, Renathal was more than content to lay back and allow her the lead. He let her praise wash over him, let her guide his hands where she wanted them, let her set the pace she needed as she rode him to completion. He had never imagined how good it could feel to be so thoroughly used and enjoyed. But as blissful as it was to watch the Maw Walker take what she desired from him, what only his body could give her, Renathal's own need was a furious hunger, and to sate it required domination.

When she collapsed against his chest with a final, frenetic cry, Renathal gripped her legs and rolled with her, trapping her underneath him. He angled himself until he found that deep resistance that made the Maw Walker's voice break, and lost his mind in her feel and her sound until he could think of nothing else. His lips curled as they formed her name again and again, relishing his release, and she echoed back his own name in equally radiant delight.

The last of his ill mood had evaporated when Renathal fell back against the bed. He let his eyes drift closed, exhausted and spent - more from the day's worries than anything strenuous in their sex - and was surprised to feel the Maw Walker's head settle against his chest. Her forehead rubbed rhythmically across his skin, and it was a moment before he understood she was shaking her head.

“I cannot believe you really thought I was fucking every being in the Shadowlands!"

Her words were muffled, but scandalised, and Renathal supposed she had a right. Now his tension was properly eased, it felt ridiculous to have given the rumour any credence.

"Well, to be fair," he said, wrapping his arms around her. "There are certain other rumours about you that are true."

Vibrations tingled his skin. The Maw Walker shook in his arms. She was laughing, and, at last, Renathal could join her; a self-deprecating chuckle filled with as much relief as amusement.

“I had no idea you were the jealous type,” she continued as her mirth ebbed. “Surely that's not allowed in a Harvester?"

"It is more of a vice than an actual sin, but Denathrius does ... did frown on it. Which is why these sorts of affairs are not permitted."

The answer escaped Renathal before he could think twice about it. He was slightly stunned by his own confession, and the Maw Walker, too, lifted her head in surprise.

"What do you mean?"

Renathal wet his lips, then repeated the words he knew by rote.

"Jealousy may be merely a vice, but it opens the gates to sins of a much greater degree. And relationships, particularly of an exclusive sort, are a field ripe with jealousy."

"So ... Denathrius forbid them?" the Maw Walker asked, cocking her head curiously.

"Not precisely. But he ensured they did not last long."

"How?"

Now that it was she pressing him for a history he was reluctant to relay, Renathal had a bit more sympathy for the Maw Walker's usual reticence. He wondered if she also felt this bulky obstruction in her throat, as though the painful memories were both stuck and fighting for freedom. But, if Renathal wanted more answers from her, he supposed he had to lead by example. Not to mention, he owed her an explanation for his earlier ill-temper.

"It was rare such a thing should happen, but ... if the Master thought I - or any harvester was at risk of becoming attached to another Venthyr, he made it a point to ... take that Venthyr for himself." Renathal's grip on the Maw Walker tightened convulsively. "Not exclusively, you understand. I - that is the Harvester in question would be invited to ... participate. But when someone is enjoying Denathrius, no one else can hope to compare. During the act or ... ever again."

As he spoke, long-forgotten faces swam across Renathal's field of vision. The promising Venthyr male with the beautiful smile of which he had been so desperately fond, the female in the Chalice district with the red hair and quick wit. And older souls he had not thought of in epochs, whose features he no could no longer recall. All he remembered was the way each had gazed in rapture at Denathrius' more satisfactory form, the ecstasy the Master bestowed on them that Renathal never could. He wondered once again, as he used to often, what became of them after Denathrius tired of teaching the Prince his lesson. Renathal had never asked. He was not sure he could bear the answer.

The hateful memories dissipated as though chased away by the Maw Walker squirming against him. She struggled to extricate herself from Renathal's claws and propped her head on her arm.

"Denathrius seduced anyone a Harvester cared about to keep them apart?"

"He taught a lesson in humility," Renathal clarified half-heartedly. "If a Harvester could not share willingly with the Lord of the realm, clearly they were an easy victim for jealousy and the many sins it births."

"Do you really believe that?"

The question lacked any obvious inflection, but Renathal still could not meet the Maw Walker's eye. He stared just over her shoulder.

"I never had a reason not to believe it, before Denathrius showed his true colours. Now ... I concede it may have been the Master's way of ensuring no alliances were formed that did not center around himself."

"Did he ever try that on the Accuser and the Curator?" asked the Maw Walker, a smile in her voice. And even Renathal's mouth twitched slightly at the thought.

"As far as I know, they are the only two Venthyr ever to successfully keep their love a secret. The Accuser is young, but the Curator knew of this lesson. They hid themselves from Denathrius to avoid it..."

He trailed away, unwilling to speak his sudden, disturbing thought: if Denathrius had known and simply never cared. If the only Venthyr he inflicted this lesson upon was Renathal himself.

"Did Denathrius try this on you?" asked the Maw Walker, gently combing back his hair.

"Many times," Renathal confirmed darkly. "The Master was ... tireless in his attempt to rid me of this particular vice. Though, his efforts were never successful. Recently, in the last few thousand years or so, I have taking to avoiding intimate contact of any kind. I appreciated Denathrius' attempts to reform me, but ... I did not enjoy this particular lesson."

Above him, the Maw Walker shifted, angling herself more fully over his face.

"Renathal," she said, but the way she pronounced his name was strange. Her lips twitched, and a muscle worked in her cheek, and Renathal realised with a jolt she was fighting back a smile. "I do not make promises, as a rule. They're too easy to accidentally break. But I feel very safe in promising you will never have to worry about that with me."

Renathal did his best to match her irrepressible humour.

"Oh, one never knows, Denathrius can be quite charming. If you had arrived at a different time in Revendreth's history, you might have found it hard to-"

The Maw Walker pressed two fingers to his lips, effectively ending his nervous prattle.

"Very. Safe."

She replaced her fingers with her mouth, a solemn seal on her promise, then withdrew just enough to meet Renathal's eyes as she continued, her voice now free of mirth.

"You don't have to share me with anyone, Renathal. I am just yours. For as long as you want me ... as long as I'm here ... I'm yours."

Her words echoed in Renathal's head like a song, ringing in his anima, vibrating his very bones. No one had ever belonged just to him. Every single being Renathal had ever cared for, ever known at all, had belonged to Denathrius first and foremost. 

In one frantically pulsing heartbeat, Renathal pinned the Maw Walker back against the bed. His long hair framed her startled face as he loomed over her.

"Say that again."

The command was a growl, throbbing with power, and the Maw Walker arched underneath him. She reached for his face to pull him closer to her.

"I'm yours," she whispered against his lips.

The words wrung an almost tortured moan from Renathal, and the Maw Walker whimpered as he positioned himself against her.

"Again."

"I'm yours," and it ended in a cry as he thrust forward.

"Again. Say it again," Renathal demanded, claiming her in time with her increasingly desperate replies.

"I'm yours, Renathal, I'm all yours. Just yours."

It was a sensation of power he had never before experienced. Even his medallion could not compare. To be the best one, the only one, the one chosen over everyone else ... If it truly was a sin, Renathal no longer cared. Whatever reasons his Sire had for keeping this from him were wrong. He had never been more perfectly at peace with reality and his place within it than he did now, joined to the one being that was utterly, singularly his.

Desire, unbridled and possessive, blazed a path through his veins to his core, spurring Renathal to a speed that made the Maw Walker's eyes roll back. But he would not allow her to retreat into herself, not this time. He wanted to watch her climax, wanted to go there with her. She was his, and he would have all of her.

Renathal called her name, and the urgency in it demanded the Maw Walker's full attention.

"Look at me, dearest. Look at me."

It was an unbroachable command. Her face contorted as she fought to obey, did her best to keep her eyes on his. Renathal found her hand and pressed it over her head, his fingers twining with hers; such a gentle counterpoint to the intensity with which he took her. The dueling sensations drew a glorious moan from the Maw Walker beneath him. Adoration shone in her obediently open eyes, a light so bright it burned, and Renathal had never relished any sort of pain but this he would break himself on. The evidence, unassailable, that the Maw Walker was his. Just his. No matter what happened in Nathria, Denathrius would never have her. 

“Stay here," Renathal murmured into her hair, when he had collapsed against her for the second time. "Tonight," he amended, though it was not what he meant.

The Maw Walker shifted slightly underneath him, mouth searching for his ear. And he wondered if she could somehow read his thoughts as she whispered, "I'm not going anywhere."

Read Part 18: Perfect: A Maw Walker Perspective | Visit the Masterpost

#prince renathal #renathal x maw walker #renathal x reader #renathal fanfiction #renathal x oc #revendreth #venthyr #shadowlands #wow fanfiction #world of warcraft #the ember court #the maw walker #my writing #vices and vows #light & shadows #smut #non-graphic smut #established relationship

[profeyandere]

𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐀𝐌 𝐂. ─── ☾ 𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐊 𝐀𝐓 𝐌𝐄

Masterlist || Pride and Prejudice Masterlist || Wattpad

Word Count: 3k

Pairing: William Collins x Reader

Warning: None

English is not my native language, so I apologize for any mistake and if you can help me improve it, I will greatly appreciate it. I hope you enjoy it :D

From a young age, you were instilled, and instructed, to be able to maintain eye contact with everyone with whom you had a heated discussion, regardless of the specific topic that had started that conversation, simply to be able to provoke your interlocutors a sense of attention and education that your actions did not precede you at all because, although you had been born under the roof of a wealthy and comfortable family of important merchants, as much as they had tried to teach you to be the perfect lady they expected you to be, you had not helped much to your various governesses to make the job easier; you had known young people who were calm and were able to remain submissive to any instruction, but you were always different in that area of ​​life.

Although you were able to remain to look into the eyes of the same person for several minutes, even hours, you had learned that the different deviations that the rest made were due to the discomfort that you caused by your actions because, returning to the same thing previously mentioned, you were never able to keep your hands to yourself and your vocabulary to scratch, getting friends and associates in such a strange way that not even your parents wanted to correct that defect of yours that was so useful to them.

You were kind to everyone around you, forming fairly consistent relationships in a matter of seconds, but it was your expressive and surprising displays of affection that caused some of the assorted adults you had met to mistake your status at first. After all, they did not expect a young lady of your age and with the power of your parents had to jovially embrace all the ladies and almost mockingly shake hands with every gentleman you saw at the most important social gatherings and it was just that which caused you to become close friends with one of the daughters of the Bennet family.

Sixteen-year-old Elizabeth was introduced to the society shortly after her older sister, Jane, and when you made eye contact with this young lady, you could not help but be fascinated by her candy-coloured eyes, which sparkled even brighter in the sheer amount of light around her, and although your parents tried to stop you, they couldn't help but end up meeting Elizabeth and, by domino effect, meeting her parents and her older sister, who was very excited to see that you had taken an interest in his second oldest daughter and that you were beyond fascinated to strike up a friendship with her.

Time passed and although the Bennet family thought that your happy personality came mainly from the party, the illusion of the dances and some detail about the social gathering in which you met, their surprise was greater when they saw that your closeness and trust towards them was normal in you, reaching the point of treating them as if they were your lifelong friends or your own family; the three youngest daughters had the most fun with you thanks to your constant games with them and the natural way you had of preparing them for their family's most important dances and dinners, while Elizabeth and Jane preferred to walk with you through around the house to get tired enough to have a rational conversation with you.

And that had continued to this day.

"Kitty, Lydia, stay still," you ordered as you ran after both of you through one of the rooms in the Bennet house, even climbing onto some of the furniture and almost tripping over the length of your dress.

"I can't find my corset!" Catherine exclaimed, making you roll your eyes for a moment before walking out of her room with her sister following behind her.

The fact that the gallant party orchestrated by Mr. Bingley was going to be celebrated had encouraged you and, for obvious reasons, you had come to the Bennet home intending to dress their youngest daughters since they only longed for the perfection found when you told them what clothes to wear and how they should arrange their hair; being a couple of years older than Jane had taken its toll and they looked to you for much more advice than to their biological sister or her mother.

"We'll get your corset, Kitty!" You shouted as you left the room in a hurry in search of the other two who had left.

You could see how quickly they went down the stairs, stopping for a moment in front of the street door before heading to one of the rooms of the house, making you snort for a moment when you saw the extra effort that dressing those two young girls would entail. Of course, the light banging on the main door stopped you and made you open the door out of politeness to prevent the newcomer from staying in the street waiting for a servant to attend to him; you were aware that, with the noise caused by the screams of the little ones and the mother, along with the talks between the various household workers, no one would be able to hear sounds as soft as the ones the man was making to the other side.

"Hello, welcome to the Bennet house!" You greeted happily while showing a big smile full of joy. "I'm sorry I can't stop to talk with you but I'm very busy," you excused yourself before looking towards the door that was ajar and that allowed you to see the two sisters laughing. "Catherine and Lydia Bennet, stay there or I swear I won't see you!" You exclaimed angrily, before smiling at the stranger again. "I don't know which of the Bennets have you come to visit, but the daughters are dressing in their respective rooms and the parents are in the library of the house,” you explained quickly. "It has been a pleasure meeting you, even if I don't know his name, but I can say that his eyes are beautiful, so I doubt that we ever met because I'm sure he wouldn't forget those pearls that you have," you flattered, noticing how the man seemed to stay speechless. "If he excuses me."

William Collins was speechless before your first meeting and it was not for less.

He had returned from his short walk in the afternoons, as was usual for him, around the house in which he had settled during that week intending to look for a fiancee among his cousins ​​and, although at first, he could catalogue all of them as some of the most beautiful he had ever seen and met in his life, he had not been able to point to one of them as his future wife because, as he had observed in all of them, they did not seem to be interested in him and they did not he intended to live in a marriage where interest in the other did not exist. Attention in relationships was very important to him, regardless of what type they were, and he was not prepared to live with a person who could make fun of him or would not take him into account for future decisions in married life.

Of course, you seemed to pay attention to him from the start with your surprise introduction, your angry exclamations towards his cousins ​​and your slight flirtation by mentioning those compliments about his eyes, almost making him feel for a moment like a lady should feel about the attentions of a gentlemen toward them, and for a moment he thought that you had behaved that way in the rush you seemed to be in to attend to the two young women, he had found his surmise growing more and more intense just by seeing the smile on the face of Mrs. Bennet and listening to her husband's short laugh; there was something about you they had no intention of telling him and he was more than willing to find out what he was.

Of course, he was looking forward to seeing you at the party in Netherfield, and it was not too difficult to do so.

You showed up shortly after the Bennets at the party and, although it was true that it was normal to see you completely alone in those types of gatherings, your greetings introduced you to all the guests and you did not need the presence of your parents to attract attention, not in a ridiculous way but in a more friendly and pleasant way; many knew that it was difficult to deal with several of the guests due to the lack of knowledge they had about them, but you had a calming effect on those concerns and many dared to deal with others even with ignorance.

"Lizzie!" You exclaimed when you had finally seen the girl after looking impatiently for her all over the huge house. "Jesus, dear, this house is huge."

"You got lost, right?" She asked, taking as an affirmative answer to her question that you only shrugged while your cheeks turned a strongly reddish tone. "You're hopeless."

"It must have had some defect, I guess," you joked, looking to your left at the man you had talked to that afternoon. "But if it is el ojazos"

"Excuse me, ojazos?" He repeated in a confused way while he tried to repeat the word, stumbling for a moment before the lacked knowledge of it for the language in which you were speaking. "My ignorance seems to have presented itself. What exactly does that expression mean?"

"Miss (Y / S) sometimes uses the Spanish language to refer to certain attributes that represent her known to her," Elizabeth explained.

"But I only use that language in case I can't find its equivalent in English," you mentioned as you smiled at the man. "Lizzy, are you going to introduce us?"

Elizabeth made your respective introductions as formally as possible, noting with amusement the intense look you were giving her cousin as he grew shyer at the attention you were so disinterestedly offering him, making her almost laugh at how he seemed to avoid your attention at all costs and seemed to be engrossed in the conversation even if he was not looking at you; despite the fact that anyone would have been annoyed by that, in reality, you also found it as funny as Lizzy, mainly because you loved seeing the reaction of others when seeing your eyes on them.

But, even if he was too intimidated to look you directly, he was quite comfortable with your presence because, even though you were just a friend of his cousin and it was true that you were the daughter of one of the most important merchants from all over the country, he had been surprised to see the cheerfulness and naturalness with which you spoke to everyone and about all the guests there were; you introduced him to the hosts of the evening, with it also Mr. Darcy, and some of the most important people he could ever meet in his life, you also talked in between about some of those present, your respective homes and about the action of Lady Catherine de Bourgh towards him and the help that had been given him by that wealthy and powerful woman.

You found the way he talked about her charming, although you also found the way he did it funny; If it weren't for the fact that you knew Lady Catherine and you knew that she was older, after all, she would be Mrs. Bennet's age, you could even consider that he was madly in love with her because of the many times he had mentioned her during your talk.

At some point during the evening at the house in Netherfield, you found yourself on the side of the ballroom next to the clergyman, barely able to understand the story he was telling you, which, although it seemed interesting to you because of how he had made you see it in at the beginning, you had lost the thread with the passing of the minutes when you had the music hovering around you, the footsteps on the floor of the room and the innumerable talks that surrounded you; you were used to parties, but your hearing was everywhere and you hated the fact that you couldn't hear your interlocutor.

"Mr. Collins," you called, watching his new tirade stop and noticeably tense, "Can we continue our conversation somewhere more private? I can't understand him with such a fuss."

The named, who seemed to listen to you, nodded slightly before making a gesture and allowing you to take the lead to guide him to the place that seemed right to you; you were aware that the fact of seeing two adults together, of different genders and without being married, was something strange and that it gave a lot to talk about, although you did not care that people thought nonsense just to see you interact with the cousin of the Bennets who, curious to see you leading their relative towards the doors that led to the back garden of the house, could not help but exchange with each other looks of happiness that made them laugh afterwards.

They couldn't believe that you had found any appeal in his bland, awkward cousin.

To your good luck, and without having to stray too far from the main building, you managed to get far enough away from the guests to be able to continue talking about what was on your mind without fear of other people listening or the fear of not knowing what respond to the other for not having understood what he was commenting on.

"Someday I would like to visit your garden," you mentioned as you gently tilted your head to try to meet his gaze. "I have heard that it is perfectly cared for and that you take care of all the care that the plants require, even if they are very different from each other."

"Of course," said Collins, gently nodding his head in assent, "as soon as I get back to Hunsford, I'll let you know you can visit whenever you want with your parents."

Even though you had heard him give a thousand rants during the night, you had noticed that being in private, completely alone with another person with no one else around, caused a state of shyness to beset him entirely and prevented him from talking to you in the same way he had done it before; he didn't even look like the same man and that worried you.

Mr. Collins had avoided your gaze all night and now was no exception, but it was the sight of your little hand in front of their eyes that turned them away from the huge rosebush to you and your little smile that showed an invitation that never came to understand at first.

"You want to dance? You haven't asked me for any," you spoke bravely, surprising him again by your proposal. "I'm not asking you to marry me, it's just a dance."

"I'm afraid to mention that I'm not able to hear the music from here," he confessed with some embarrassment, seeing how your hand hesitated for a moment before taking his with strength and security.

"We don't need music to have a good time."

With shame and clumsiness, he tried to follow the same steps in which a waltz was performed that you were not sure you had danced before because, although you had learned various dances from different countries, you swore that this one was not among those that you already knew, and you swore that the stomps were not included in the dances; he was clumsy in the dance and you did not have to be a genius to notice it, but the one that tried to convince you that it was not like that through continuous apologies and excuses that you did not believe just caused you to try to calm him down.

You noticed in his shoulders and his posture that he was not entirely sure what he was doing and that he had no idea how to dance whatever he was trying to interpret.

"William."

That call made him stop suddenly since no one, very few people, at some point had called him by his first name.

"Yes?" He said back.

"Why don't you look at me?" Asked. "I don't think I'm so ugly as not to deserve that you delight me with a single look from you."

You noticed how he tensed even more and slowly removed his hands from yours and your waist, this time surprising you.

"I'm not best suited for a ball and I'm afraid you'll get the wrong idea of ​​me because of it," he confessed, making you stifle a sound of tenderness at how adorable you had almost seemed. "I apologize for any inconvenience I may have caused you."

“Is that the reason why you have avoided looking at me all night?" You questioned, raising an eyebrow. "Perhaps I have been too impulsive with you and you need more time to get used to this side of a woman."

"It's possible," he murmured, making you smile slightly.

You couldn't blame him for it, you were someone very outgoing and you hadn't taken into account that he wasn't.

"We can fix both things," you spoke, drawing his attention to how you stood up on one foot to take off each of your shoes, being helped by him holding you carefully so that you didn't fall onto the wet, cold grass on which you placed your feet covered by your fine white stocking. "We already have a solution to the dance, you guide the piece and I follow you, but at least allow me to delight myself with your silver and brilliant night gaze."

When Elizabeth came looking for you, mainly because she hadn't been able to find you at Mr. Blingley's house, she was surprised to finally see you in the gardens in the company of her cousin, the two of you revelling in a ball at which there was nothing but tranquillity and serenity thanks to your idea of ​​putting yourself on his cousin's shoes to prevent you from ending up in pain at the end of the evening, while your faces full of happiness and joy complimented you and made that moment something magical for both of you.

#william collins #william #collins #william collins x reader #william collins x you #william collins x oc #reader #you #oc #tom hollander #william collins imagine #tom hollander imagine #pride and prejudice #pride and prejudice 2005

[lucienmemento]

DREAM

I open my eyes and am met with the sight of metal stacked on metal, reaching far above my height. There are many paths between the stacks of metal, which seemed to be the remains of mechanical creations. I pick a path and start walking down it, determined to solve this labyrinth.

I am alone in this labyrinth, not even the sound of another creature. My breath sounds impossibly loud, and I feel my heart picking up speed. I am alone, or at least I think I am. I pick up the pace, walking at a brisk pace. Better to find the centre and be done with it.

I walk through the labyrinth, suddenly feeling eyes on me. Whose eyes? I don’t see any other creatures. I don’t see anything except stacks of metal. How long have I been here? Who even am I? I quicken my pace to a jog, determined to reach the centre.

RELOAD

As I walk through an archway made from twisted metal, I see the landscape ahead of me change. Gone are the rows of stacked metal. Instead, I now find myself in a massive cave. Lush green vegetation is growing as far as I see, and there is an almost blinding light. I can’t tell where the light originates from.

I am not alone, I have been joined by a dear friend. They are my companion through this beautiful cave, we stop and admire the different flora and fauna we can see. While we walk, I hear my friend’s footsteps change. I glance at them and see that they are no longer the dear friend they were before. Their body has begun to morph and shift, and their face is melting into something unrecognizable.

Seeing my companion change from the familiar friend, I turn and run. I hear footsteps following me, and refuse to stop and look behind. Who knows what would happen if I did. Who knows what this being would do to me. Was this the same entity that was watching me in the labyrinth? Whatever it is, I am frightened. This being had already observed me, and now it seemed it was hunting me.

The footsteps sound fainter, like I was pulling ahead. Once I could barely hear them, I glanced behind me. The being still followed, but was a way behind me. Spotting an opportunity to hide, I find a crack in the wall to hide in where I won’t be visible when the being goes past. I tuck myself in, and duck behind some vegetation. The footsteps go past me, almost close enough to touch. They keep going until I can no longer hear the footsteps. It didn’t see my hiding spot. I was safe, for now.

RELOAD

One moment I was hiding, I blinked and when my eyes opened again, they were met with a new landscape. Gone was the green cave, the bright light that came from everywhere and nowhere. I had shifted. I look around at the landscape around me, it was in contrast with the cave I had just left. The plateau was barren and littered with dead trees and bushes. It was obvious that some sort of disease plagues the land.

I am alone, but longing. Longing for a companion, someone with whom I can share this journey. I feel restless, and shift my form until I find one I am comfortable in. I choose the face of someone’s dearest friend, hoping it will put them at ease enough to accompany me for a while.

In my longing, I wander aimlessly through this barren wasteland. I wonder what happened to the land, and whether anyone was alive out there. Can I find a companion still?

While wandering, I notice a pop of colour among the dead browns. An oasis, somehow alive among the dead and diseased. The trees loom over me, covered in an array of brilliant red and yellow flowers. How did these trees survive the disease that killed the rest of the life here? I stop for a break to ponder my questions by a nearby pond. My reflection is never still, never consistent. My face shifts between different dear ones. I sigh and once again wish for a companion.

While staring at my shifting reflection, I watch it split into two different reflections. Each reflection continues to shift in sync with the other, faces flashing by twice as fast as before. Am I truly alone?

WAKE UP

#electric sheep #solo ttrpg #dream journal #dream journal ttrpg #writing

[denimbex1986]

'...Andrew Scott (Fleabag, All of Us Strangers) leads this iteration as Tom Ripley, a duplicitous con man whom we first meet masquerading as a debt collector who, barely scraping by, in 1960s New York.

As in previous versions of the story, Tom needs little convincing when a wealthy man wants to pay him to travel to Italy and convince his rich and spoiled dilettante son Dickie Greenleaf (Johnny Flynn) to return to the US.

Tom is instantly enamoured by Dickie's life — consisting of lazily adding haphazard brushstrokes to mediocre paintings and relaxing on his Amalfi coast-moored boat with his girlfriend Marge Sherwood (Dakota Fanning), who is trying and failing to write an Eat, Pray, Love-style book. Which is to say, "they do nothing".

Tom's desperation to cling to the life his proximity to Dickie affords him results in murder, deceit and fraud...

Ripley...subtracts key elements from the classic movie starring Matt Damon, Jude Law and Gwyneth Paltrow. And it confines itself to telling the story of only the first of the five Patricia Highsmith novels that comprise the Ripley series. (Perhaps because Zaillian doesn't plan for this limited series to remain limited? Not that we have any indication of this, beyond the fact the show was named after the series as opposed to its first book, The Talented Mr Ripley.)

The reason Ripley is so long despite its comparatively thin narrative is because it leans painstakingly into the conventions of the psychological thriller genre, drawing out the minutiae of Tom's every movement and experience — partly to create an intoxicating visual world, but mostly to foster a sense of unease.

In this way, something that would seem simple and mundane in another context, like the sound of an elevator ascending, becomes anxiety-inducing.

It's incredibly effective at building glorious tension...

As is Zaillian's decision to tell this story in black and white...

There are moments when Zaillian's decision feels so fitting. For one, it lends a beady quality to Scott's eyes, which helps emphasise that this version of Tom is less morally grey. He's older (Scott is 47), beaten down from a life of poverty, visibly slimy and set in his scheming ways. (Yet somehow still attractive, because Scott is out here giving Hot Priest in everything he does.)

And in Zaillian's monochrome world, the use of light can be equal-parts transfixing and anxiety inducing — whether it's dancing on the fur of a watchful cat or flashing across the eyes of a suspicious taxi driver...

...in Ripley, things start off dark and stay dark.

Colour is lacking in more than just the literal sense, too. While Fanning is perfectly suspicious as Marge, and Flynn makes for a brilliant choice as the charismatic Dickie, there's something missing in the chemistry of their relationship. Tom and Dickie's friendship doesn't feel genuine, either — Flynn isn't carefree enough and Scott isn't youthfully exuberant enough for it to be entirely plausible after the orchestration of their meeting is revealed.

And, somehow, all three characters are less rounded than they have been in previous versions of this story...

Maybe that's because Scott's version of Tom has even less to lose than the Tom Ripleys that came before him. Maybe it's because Ripley is trying to be cerebral and show, rather than tell, absolutely everything — from the chore that is mopping up blood, to what happens when you accidentally leave key evidence at a crime scene and have to double back for it.

That could also go some way to explaining the repeated visual parallels drawn between the Italian painter/murderer Caravaggio and Tom throughout the series, which was Zaillian's addition to the story...

Surprisingly, there are several moments of hilarity in Ripley; there are even darkly humorous moments in the wake of cold-blooded murders.

But each of these gags pale in comparison to the highly satisfying ending — which happens to be less wrenching than that of the 1999 film, and more exciting than the book.'

#Andrew Scott #Steven Zaillian #Dakota Fanning #Marge Sherwood #Johnny Flynn #Dickie Greenleaf #Caravaggio #Fleabag #All of Us Strangers #Patricia Highsmith #The Talented Mr Ripley #Jude Law #Matt Damon #Gwyneth Paltrow #Netflix

[evahorspool]

Christiane F. 1981 film review

“I want to try it... just once.” 

“that's what they all say.” 

Christiane F. is based on the true lived experiences of Christiane F. from her childhood in Berlin during the 70s. The film covers harrowing themes of heavy drug addiction and prostitution. We follow Christiane down her descent into heroin addiction and self-destruction. We see how desperately she wants to fit in with the group she met at Sound Discotheque whom themselves were deep into Heroin use, and how far she would go to be noticed by a boy named Detlev “I only wanted to know what you feel like.” It shows how impressionable she is due to her shocking age of 13-14 during the film. The soundtrack consists of an array of songs from David Bowie. Bowie himself even being featured in a mesmerising concert scene, where he and Christiane acknowledged each other for a moment during the concert. This scene felt like one of the last somewhat light moments before Christiane's first experience with heroin in the parking lot of the concert. This film really impressed me as the subject of drug use was not romanticised at all giving a very stark depiction of addiction, it shows the raw moments of withdrawal and how they would sell themselves just to get another shot that only may last them a few hours before they need another. They also lose close friends to overdoses from the same drugs they are pining for. The youngest in the film being Babsi at the age of 14. With how dark the subject matter of this film is, the cinematography really reflects this as it begins with bright neon colours and colourful makeup. As the film progresses and they dive deeper into drug addiction, the colour seems to be dimmed into being bleak and lifeless mirroring Christiane's situation. I believe everyone should watch this at least once in their life as the perspective it shows can be life changing and is truly unforgettable. 

[icarus-does-fall]

Should I give this mini series? A name? I feel like it needs a name

Chapter Two

Times anew

For years the twins shared the ways of the old gods, trying to spread light and religion through their words and peace; each in their own way. Mary was out preaching in the city center one afternoon during the harvest festival she ran into a small crowd of people, or partially one person it seemed getting into a small heated argument with her brother Michael over the gods and religion. With a sigh she stepped forward and tried to reign in the conversation.

Politely she tried to smooth things over but she seemed to only make things worse. After that short encounter she pulled Michael off to the side and tried talking to him once again about how to interact with whom he tries to share the religion of the gods with. As always Mary was the one who kept the peace, with her brother and those that he interacted with. With a slight tug Michael pulled himself free from Mary's grasp, huffing as he did while straightening out his robes.

After a slight timeout on Michales part eventually the twins began to preach again, this time Michael not leaving his sisters side. As the two went on their own ways, so did the group they had met only moments before, and the group to all those that saw or ever interacted with, it certainly was an odd bunch. After their short encounter with Michael they all dispersed into the gardens that surrounded the city centre, only soon to reunite as the sun hit mid-day for the festival's activities.

For the rest of the day, and into the end of the week there were shouts of joy and laughter all around from all walks of people. There were activities of all types that ranged from things like pumpkin throwing to ribbon dancing, making tea and three legged races.

The crowds of people swarmed the streets more than ever and life, the energy was more prominent than it had been in weeks, letting the twins be able to reach more people than they possibly ever had yet constantly keeping an eye on the strange group they had run into earlier in the week. There was something there that had sparked and drew the two sides together, like a coin constantly spinning or magnet chasing after its match.

There was something in the works of the old gods and the rogue ones that these people were in the paths of and it wasn't something that either party could stop.

The group that the twins had met consisted of a goat satyr who was covered in piercings with curved horns and had a bubbling anger behind his eyes. The satyr was the one who Michael had gotten into an argument with, he was aggressive and wasn't one to listen to anything to do with religion.

Another that could be seen was an orc looking figure with short tusks poking up from her bottom jaw with long dreads. She was one of the most scared of the people in the group yet also had the kindest of eyes.

There was also a pink dragonborn, one of the most eye-catching yet quiet people that had ever been in the city centre. WIth the pink colours and the aristocratic outfits she was one of the few that seemed too fancy even for the fancy people that were there yet her personality said anything but that.

A wolf folk (?) was also a part of the group, with dark fur and a scarred face from a past long not mentioned and a braid down one side. He dresses much like Mr.Darcy would with a personality to match in the protective sense

A royal guard was also travelling with them, a tiefling that had stark white hair and shimmered like the stars with every movement.

Another tiefling that was in the group was almost the polar opposite of the other, she was dark in colour and instead of shimmering like the stars was the very embodiment of them.

A standout folk in the group not only based on his height which was possibly over 6 feet but also because of his clothing, he had an overly large hat to match an pirate like outfit while being an aquatic folk, seemingly whale based.

Finally in that oddity of groups there was a harpy yet her wings were prosthetics and every bit of her was covered in assortments of colours and patches with inventor goggles trying to keep her overly messy hair in check.

After the week of harvest festivities was over this group of oddities regrouped and began to head back to mingle in a quieter space as with all the noises and miniscule fights they all had started to get overwhelmed and needed a break from the outside world.

They made their walk back to the harbour where their ship was awaiting, as they entered it was quickly filled with a homely feel and a warm light that was just like being wrapped in a warm blanket. There were rooms upon rooms that were ever changing and that were always appearing to suit the needs of those that were there within the ship.

On the complete other side of town the twins had found a temporary residence in a cathedral that was retaken from the rogue gods back to the power of old gods. At the cathedral the twins took the chance to talk about their day and those that they met, and those that they hoped they would meet again to further talks about the old gods.

By the time the moon was high in the sky the two, and those in the ship finally managed to drift off to sleep and dreamt of day black as night with flames running rampant across the ground, blood seeming into the ground and flashes of blurred faces running and fighting the monsters that lucked in the growing shadows.

When daybreak broke and the sun arose, every person awoke in a slight panic unsure if what they had dreamed, unable to shake a feeling of dread that followed only the faintest of memories and feelings that remained from their sleep. No one was sure what it meant but everyone was certain that they didn't want to see it come true.

#dnd #oc story #ocs #angst #short story #fluff #a sinners salvation

[ladyfurbton]

Furbtober 2023

Day 5: Magic

Wizzy does a magic trick with Nester by pulling a coin out of his ear.

Image Descriptions:

1: Wizzy is a 1998 furby with a black tail and tuft of hair on his head. He has black ears. His fur is black except for on his belly where it is purple. His face plate and eyelids are black. His eyes are blue and his beak is a orangish yellow colour. His feet are both black. Wizzy is wearing a cone shaped hat on his head which is purple with yellow stars. He is wearing a cloak that is purple with yellow stars and has a red string tying it up. Beaktrice is a bird plushie. She has a purple head with a purple tuft on top of it. She has two big white eyes with black pupils looking forward. She has a yellow beak and a crest of pink feathers on her chest. She has a light pink body and two purple wings one on each side. Beaktrice has two dark blue feet at the bottom of her green body. The birds tail consists of one small fat pink feather, two skinny long cyan feathers and two even longer purple feathers. The bird is slightly bigger than a 1998 furby. Big Angus is a 1998 furby who is rotund. He has an orange tuft of hair on his head and an orange puff tail on his bottom. His ears are orange on the inside and red on the outside. His fur is red with a square patch of orange on his belly. His face plate and eyelids are both orange and his beak is an orangish yellow. He has brown eyes and orange feet. Big Angus is eating a pink icecream on a stick. Ee-day is a 1998 furby with a yellow mane and hot pink ears with light blue insides. His fur is hot pink except for on his belly where it is light blue. His face plate and eyelids are light blue with a yellowish tinge on the eye lids. His eyes are a light blue colour and his beak is a orangish yellow colour. His feet are both white. He is wearing a sparkly purple hat with a diamond and purple feather on it. Nester whom is an adopted child of Ee-day and Big Angus is a bird plushie. He has a red head with a red tuft on top of it. He has two big white eyes with black pupils looking forward. He has a yellow beak and a crest of green feathers on his chest. He has a light green body and two red wings one on each side. Nester  has two dark blue feet at the bottom of his green body. The birds tail consists of one small fat green feather, two skinny long purple feathers and two even longer red feathers. Nester is slightly bigger than a 1998 furby. Wizzy is pulling a small golden coin out if Nesters ear as Ee-day, Beaktrice and Big Angus watch behind them.

2: This is prompts for Furbtober. At the top is "Furbtober" written in white pixelated text. The background is black with a blue border. There are prompts for each day written below in white text. The prompts are as followed: 1. Moth 2. Poison 3. Clown 4. Zodiac/stars 5. Magic 6. Hot chocolate 7. Shrek 8. Retro 9. Oddbody 10. Autumn flowers 11. Horns 12. Witchy 13. Sewing/stitches 14. Long furby 15. Crow 16. Pizza 17. Moon 18. Vintage 19. Angel 20. Demon 21. Candy 22. Ghost 23. Cat 24.monster 25. Feather 26. Scarecrow 27. Goth 28. Vampire 29. Corn 30. Fire 31. Jack O Lantern. At the bottom the hash tags are written in blue text they say "Furbtober" and "Furbtober2023". There are two user names mentioned in pink below the hash tags they say "a_silly_of_furbys" and "cozyfurbcafe" There are three furbys pictured on the bottom. The first furby is a buddy who is in a polaroid photo. "Kevin" is written in pink text on the bottom of the photo. Kevin is a light grey furby buddy with a light pink belly. On his grey fur are black dots. He has light orange feet and a tail and tuff of hair which which is light pink. The inside of his ears are pink. He has blue eyes. Next to the photo of Kevin is s drawing of a black 1998 furby wearing a blue hat that is shaped like a witches hat. The hat has a pink band and pink crystals on it. There is another furby next to the hat wearing furby. The furby  is a l grey furby buddy with a white belly. They have a white mane. The inside of their ears are pink. They have brown eyes. The furby has white dolls arms and legs. End Descriptions

#furby #allfurby #furby fandom #safe furby #safefurby #furblr #furby 1998 #furby community #furbtober2023 #furbtober

[areadersquoteslibrary]

"Since Cheselden's blind person became famous (about whom the original report is given in the Philosophical Transactions, Vol. 35) the case has often been repeated and each time it has been confirmed that these people who acquired the use of their eyes late in life indeed see light, colours, and figures immediately after the operation, but still have no objective intuition of objects, for their understanding must first learn to apply its causal law to the unfamiliar data and their alterations. When for the first time Cheselden's blind person glanced into his room with various objects in it, he distinguished nothing, but had only a total impression, of a totality consisting of a single piece: he took it to be a smooth, multi-coloured surface. It did not occur to him to recognize separate things placed behind one another at various distances. For such blind persons, for whom sight has been restored, touch, to which things are already familiar, must first make these things familiar to sight, as if presenting and introducing these things. At the beginning they have absolutely no judgement about distance, but they grasp at everything. When one such blind person with restored sight saw his house from outside, he could not believe that all the big rooms could be in that little thing. Another was elated when, some weeks after the operation, he made the discovery that a copper engraving on the wall represented all sorts of objects. In the Morgenblatt of 23 October 1817, there is a report of a person born blind who received sight in his seventeenth year of life. He had first to learn intelligent intuition,b for he did not recognize by sight any objects previously familiar to him by touch, and thus he took goats to be humans, etc. His sense of touch had first to make the sense of sight familiar with each individual object. Then he also had absolutely no judgement of the distance of objects he saw, but grasped for all of them. – Franz, in his book, The eye: a treatise on the art of preserving this organ in healthy condition, and of improving the sight (London: Churchill, 1839), says, pp. 34–6: ‘A definite idea of distance, as well as of form and size, is only obtained by sight and touch, and by reflecting on the impressions made on both senses; but for this purpose we must take into account the muscular motion and voluntary locomotion of the individual. – Caspar Hauser, in a detailed account of his own experience in this respect states, that upon his first liberation from confinement, whenever he looked through the window upon external objects, such as the street, garden etc., it appeared to him as if there were a shutter quite close to his eye, and covered with confused colours of all kinds, in which he could recognize or distinguish nothing singly. He says farther, that he did not convince himself till after some time during his walks out of doors, that what had at first appeared to him as a shutter of various colours, as well as many other objects, were in reality very different things; and that at length the shutter disappeared, and he saw and recognized all things in their just proportions. Persons born blind who obtain their sight by an operation in later years only, sometimes imagine that all objects touch their eyes, and lie so near to them that they are afraid of stumbling against them; sometimes they leap toward the moon, supposing that they can lay hold of it; at other times they run after the clouds moving along the sky, in order to catch them, or commit other such extravagancies…Since ideas are gained by reflection upon sensation, it is further necessary in all cases, in order that an accurate idea of objects may be formed from the sense of sight, that the powers of the mind should be unimpaired, and undisturbed in their exercise."

- Arthur Schopenhauer, 'On the Fourfold Root of the Principle of Sufficient Reason'

#quotes #philosophy #books #reading #literature #amreading #schopenhauer #arthur schopenhauer #blindness #sight #perception #eyesight #eyes #vision #philosophy of perception #mind #impairment #vision impairment #blind #philosophy quotes

[claude-12]

Jas sum kral toothpick habanos cigars versus Jas Sum Kral Redknight cigars

Jas Sum Kral cigars with its four distinct blends in various sizes have gained world-wide attention from spiraling growth in customer demands for these cigars. 

Jas sum kral toothpick habanos cigar has a box-pressed Torpedo shape, while Jas Sum Kral Redknight Cigar has a unique Robusto shape. Both cigars come in 20-count boxes and there are also limited edition boxes as well that can be bought online.

Both of them use a double-banded Habano wrapper and binders imported from Nicaragua to make them stand out from other cigars available on the market today. The two cigars have different vitolas.

Jas Sum Kral Toothpick 2.0 Habano Cigars:

Jas Sum Kral Toothpick 2.0 is one of the best cigars in the market, it has a very good flavor and aroma, it is made by one of the best cigar companies in the world, the tobacco blend used is from Ecuadorian Habano and Dominican Pelo de Oro, these two tobaccos give you this awesome cigar with an excellent draw, a great burn and an even smoke distribution. It is a medium to full bodied cigar that delivers on all aspects of smoking experience. This cigar has a beautiful dark brown color wrapper with some visible veins that are neither soft or hard, it comes in 3 different vitolas like Robusto (4 1/2 x 52), Toro (6 x 50) and Churchill (7 x 48).

The Jas Sum Kral Toothpick 2.0 is a great cigar that is full of flavor and has a great price tag to match. This cigar has an Ecuadorian Habano wrapper, Dominican binder and fillers of Nicaraguan, Dominican and Mexican tobaccos. The Jas Sum Kral Toothpick 2.0 Robusto comes in six different sizes including the Robusto (5 1/2 x 52), Churchill (7 x 48), Toro (6 1/4 x 52), Torpedo (6 1/4 x 50), Double Torpedo (7 1/2 x 60) and Grande (7 3/4 x 60).

Jas Sum Kral Red Knight Robusto cigar

Jas Sum Kral Red Knight Robusto cigar is a consistent performer that matches best with Ecuadrian and aged Nicaraguan fillers. The robusto cigar contains a full flavour abundant with pepper, spice, cedar coupled with blends of coffee and caramel. The red knight is loved by every cigar smoker for its rich complexity.

The Jas Sum Kral Toothpick 2.0 Robusto Habano Cigar is a great cigar with a lot of flavor and complexity. This cigar has notes of earth, wood and spice with a creamy finish. The flavor is balanced overall on this cigar and I found it to be very enjoyable. It has been my go-to cigar since I started smoking cigars and I would definitely recommend it to anyone who likes strong cigars. This cigar is a medium-bodied cigar with a smooth and creamy taste. It has a hint of spice on the palate, which keeps the smoker interested throughout its smoke time. The wrapper is light brown in colour with no veins or seams, while it has a smooth feel on the tongue and lips.

Jas Sum Kral Toothpick 2.0 Robusto Maduro Cigar is a dark and oily cigar featuring a soft Indonsian binder and a blend of Nicaraguan long-fillers. Its full flavour smoke has built numerous fans for whom this Jas Sum Kral has become an ultimate smoke. Among all the Jas Sum Kral cigars, this five inch 50 RG robusto cigar overflows with layers of earth, chocolate, a mix of spice and a pinch of cocoa to work as an icing on the cake.

Jas Sum Kral Red Knight Toro

Jas Sum Kral Red Knight Toro Cigar is an epitome of luxury with a full flavoured body that delivers blends of spice, pepper, cedar, caramel and coffee. The Nicaraguan jas sum kral cigars can be the best cigar gift set this season for its full and hearty flavours. This toro size is admired by the aficionados for its spicy yet dark and smooth taste palate.

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