#Lenora Hope

[pier-carlo-universe]

"La casa sulla scogliera" di Riley Sager. Misteri e segreti di una villa isolata: un thriller avvincente che intreccia passato e presente. Recensione di Alessandria today

"La casa sulla scogliera", di Riley Sager, è un thriller intenso e ricco di colpi di scena che tiene il lettore con il fiato sospeso fino all'ultima pagina.

“La casa sulla scogliera”, di Riley Sager, è un thriller intenso e ricco di colpi di scena che tiene il lettore con il fiato sospeso fino all’ultima pagina. La trama ruota attorno a un misterioso massacro avvenuto nel 1929 presso la dimora chiamata Hope’s End, situata su una scogliera battuta dal vento sulla costa del Maine. La giovane Lenora Hope, diciassettenne all’epoca, è sempre stata…

[staud]

LAST NIGHT ON EARTH Green Day | bradnate for lenora 🪷 @mutantmanifesto song pulled from this mixtape

[myokk]

“Class, today we’re going to repot the baby mandrakes because they’re getting a bit too big for their current homes! Aren’t they cute?”

[sconesfortea]

Countdown to the 60th anniversary rewatch | 3.03: Gridlock

[runninguplenorahills]

Max in my clothes ❤️❤️

[i just found this in my drafts and realized that I still wanted to post it🫣]

[detective-and-dreamer]

Dealer's choice for Ockham, if you'd like? <3

[I've put some notes on this one! The tags would've been a mile long otherwise.]

23. a kiss influenced by alcohol/other substances (the substance in question being neathbow fuckery)

It wasn't the worst party Emory had ever been dragged to; they didn't even mind that Lenora had wandered off partway through the evening. Nocturnal artists often wanted to hear hunting stories, though he was sure they wished he'd speak of it a bit more poetically. When they tired of it, they were happy to leave him to stand near the wall with a glass of wine. The decor, however, was a bit of an issue - not something they would normally care much about, but the skeleton someone had set up as a centerpiece made no fucking sense. It was made up of three, no, four different zee-beasts cobbled together into a completely implausible monstrosity. He glared at the place where a fin didn't even attempt to connect properly to the frame. Artistic liberty was one thing, but they thought it should at least look like the creator had given a damn.

...If this was what they were focused on, they needed to make this their last drink. Gods forbid he start trying to fix the thing. Before they could give it any further consideration, though, they were interrupted by Lenora's sudden return. She was accompanied by a redhead in a deep green dress and...a wave of flirtatious joy?

"Je vais vous présenter - " whatever that meant, it was directed solely to the person beside her - "Emory, dear, this is Ockham; I fear I've essentially been holding her captive for language practise instead of making introductions to anyone else." She gestured to them, and they noted her gaze was far less sharp than usual. "This is my friend, Captain Emory Hayes."

"Nice to meet you." Ockham held out her (Emory would have guessed something neutral, but who were they to argue?) hand. He felt a hint of curiosity and wondered what Lenora had been saying about him.

This wasn't a state of mind that should have been possible without physical contact or conscious will. The only exception they had ever encountered was Parabolan influence of some kind. Yet Ockham's own eyes seemed normal, and she bore no other obvious signs of possession; just the opposite, in fact. There were flickers of reptilian instinct, now that he could pick up on such things, but they felt buried in the way a person's thoughts normally would when they weren't in full control of themselves.

Was there a polite way to ask are you from a different realm, and if so, how the fuck did you get here? Probably not. Between the nearly palpable emotional aura and the apocyanic haze encroaching on his vision, Emory could barely even think of a normal introduction.

And so, before his mind could catch up with his actions, he brought Ockham's hand up for a kiss rather than the handshake he had planned. They felt the shallow, fleeting memories skin held; the touches of others, the brush of fabric. Lenora raised an eyebrow, and he knew he was never going to hear the end of her teasing once they were alone. Somehow they doubted an explanation would help. Teratomancy made me do it? Technically, this is your fault? No, it would only encourage her.

"...It's nice to meet you, too." he said, resigning himself to his fate.

- I wanted to explore what viric would do to Emory. What I decided is that it brings on a version of the "half-dreaming" mental state he enters for teratomancy, thus making him more emotionally perceptive/receptive. They were able to catch themselves before slipping into an actual trance, though, especially since there wasn't a completely overwhelming amount of input.

- They can, in fact, tell what Ockham should look like! Sort of, anyway. It's not the same as what you'd see through cosmogone lenses. Rather than a vivid, current appearance, they're getting an impression from hishertheir own memories. Since Ockham's been in stasis for so long, though, there's probably not a lot of discernible difference. Maybe some of the details are hazy or slightly off, since you can't really conjure up a perfect image of yourself without looking? If someone else who knew was nearby, it would probably help. I'm also not sure exactly what he would remember once he'd left hishertheir presence and the effect was no longer there.

- I don't see any reason why he shouldn't be able to pick up some memories from skin - it is an organ, after all. I think it probably doesn't hold information for quite as long, though. Also, most of it is just things like "this area was touched by someone recently and this is how they felt about it" or "the pain of getting a scrape that has since healed."

- Nora knows multiple languages. I don't, unfortunately, otherwise I would have given them more dialogue together instead of having her switch back halfway through a sentence so she could include Emory. She was thrilled to have an excuse to practice, though. Also, Ockham could probably get a two for one deal here if heshethey tried; she's pretty easy to get kisses from.

[whollyjoly]

Moonlight - Lenora

what word do you use to describe the color of the ethereal nature of a moonbeam? a pale white-blue, an almost-silver, a color that is both of these and none of these? i may not have the words, but its what i think of when i think of you. something that can shift ever so slightly depending on the angle you tilt your head, that can turn the most mundane of objects into an otherworldly sight, that can create magic with whatever it touches. you walk along an old dirt road at night, you think you see nothing but mud and dull grass...but wait, out of the corner of your eye, you see the hue of the petals of a daisy glowing in the moonlight 🌕

Happiest of (slightly belated) birthdays to @mutantmanifesto!! ✨

This is a little late, but I hope you enjoy the vibes!! I realized that I didn't assign you a color during the positivity ask game (which I am so sorry for!), so I wanted to write a little something that made me think of you 🥰 I don't think I could give you a reason why this is what popped into my head, but once it did there wasn't anything else for you that felt right!

You are such an amazing human - I love swapping fic recs with you, I love seeing your beautiful art, and I just love seeing your name anytime it pops up! So thank you, thank you, for being an amazing member of this community and for just people a cool person 💕

(IMPORTANT photo cred: the middle drawing was down by none other than the amazing lenora themself!! its their pfp in the server, and i couldnt not use it with how beautiful it is! post can be found here)

other photo sources: x x x x x x x x

[norbiegrafton]

closed starter for @lencra

"lenora!" norbert's voice was strong and clear as he called out to her, tinged equally with both excitement and annoyance. he wasn't annoyed to see her, never would be - that was the source of his excitement. no, he was happy to see her, but utterly miffed that he'd had to climb so many damnable stairs to do it.

"very good to see you. yes. very good." it seemed an odd to exchange such meaningless pleasantries with one he had known as long as lenora, but he still managed to push them out anyway, to be polite. of course, in the process, he had quite forgotten he was not addressing his old friend, but a queen.

"i've just been to the battlements," he informed her. "fine craftsmanship, but my knees are ruined from getting all the way up there. i've no idea how you stand it."

[paintingformike]

apart from mlevens trying to claim the van scene as el’s genuine feelings for mike, one thing that also gets on my nerves is the way they make it seem like all of mleven’s relationship issues in s4 were resolved because mike and el had stellar “communication”....as if the second love interest didn’t do 90% of the work for them 😭 PUT SOME RESPECT ON WILL’S NAME!

[manic-pixie-aquarius]

Special Interest going so hard i'm making fanart again

(WIP) I'm still learning how to make digital art but I had the idea of drawing El as a cheerleader❤️ kinda inspired by Sandy from Grease

[writtenbylenora]

don’t know who needs to hear this, but trying to smush your hopes down won’t make you less hopeful but it WILL make it so you can’t enjoy the good parts of hope and feel only the bad parts

[seasaltcosmos]

designing future!artemisia (or technically not her but shhhhh) was WILD

[gcuienveres]

who: @lencra where: the kings landing guest chambers of lady lenora lefford the morning of her wedding to prince jaehaerys of house targaryen.

they had been ten and thirteen the day she had first seen the words upon a perfect piece of parchment; in perfect calligraphy. the governess of golden tooth, charged with the education of the three daughters of house lefford had been extended the responsibility of handling the lessons of the lady of casterly rock as she came to visit. guinevere remembered blinking upon realising how much taller lenora had somehow grown over the space of some short months. of all the girls, it was she who appeared the most like her aunt; it were obvious to see when they stood side by side.

i fear a cage, within one of the two verses that had been written as part of the poetry they had been expected to study within the hour. i fear a cage. guinevere had not an inkling as to why those specific words had struck something within her heart, emerald hues looking up across the table at the ten year old features of lenora lefford. she avoided her gaze now, reflected back at her in the mirror as she clasped a necklace of diamonds and emeralds around her neck.

there was so much movement happening outside. an entire household readying to accompany them in a procession. guinevere herself would soon be leaving, wishing to allow the lefford siblings some time to themselves. to think of their mother, their father, who was not here this day.

somehow, the lines of time blurred, and she thought only of that single line once again. i fear a cage. what if the cage was better than the outside world? what if there were more than one cage, and in their desperation to escape one, they had stumbled into another? "you will write to me if you need help." her voice was low, looking at her own hands holding the heavy necklace around the neck of her kin. how badly she did not want to clasp it into place.

it felt as though, the moment she had clasped the necklace around the neck of the new bride to be that day, she had trapped lenora in the cage. whatever cage it was; glittering gold, or ablaze and dragonglass. she knew not of the discourse between the lefford siblings regarding the nature of the green prince: and yet, guinevere knew there was a reason why the lion king had not given his own blood to him. something about this morning felt as though they were dressed for mourning, rather than dressing to celebrate historic union.

one which lessens the tensions between the dragons and the lions. one in which one of their own could look over what lannister coin was funding within the crownlands, and the bankers and merchants of kings landing specifically. "or if you simply wish to talk." guinevere was not good at talking, at keeping up with lines of communication and friendships. they distanced and fizzled, at no fault of the other. she had grown to love minisa tarth, and now she barely thought of the woman. she had grown to like lucrezia redwyne. she had intended on writing to her. she did not - she never could.

"i will reply. i promise."

[couldfight]

a starter for @clericism !

jane stands in front of the mirror, fixing the witches hat onto their head. face is painted green, hair backcombed into some kind of frizzy mess, but she smiles as she looks at herself. ever since finding out about halloween, she's loved it. finding a new costume every year brings joy, & even though everything has changed & they're no longer in hawkins, they won't let that stop them.

knocking on her brother's door, she waits outside for him to reply. ❝ are you almost ready, will ? ❞

[runninguplenorahills]

a little wip with a big fat gay heart over it to not give too much away 🕺

[detective-and-dreamer]

reunited and it feels...not very good, to be honest (picrew here)