#cresset

[korgi]

Some NPC portraits for my players. The character, Bhrazhier, in the second portrait died two sessions ago unfortunately.

[littlencisthings]

Little NCIS Thing #1864

Lamar Cresset

[deepfivetraveller]

King Baldwin iv x Time!traveler!reader

chapter 2

Chapter 1 | chapter 3

You get up from your bed and sit on the floor cross-legged. “System, I have the ability to by clothes from you right? Can you show me a few of the clothes available at your store?”

Sadly Miss Y/n, when I meant you can buy clothes through me, I meant you can buy the fabrics only. It showed you a plethora of fabrics, ranging from cheap cotton to colourful silk.

Now this is annoying. You might have basic skills to stitch a button and all but making an entire dress from scratch? Yeah, that’s impossible. Not to mention tailoring machines don’t even exist. Now you have no choice but to buy from traders

When you began your mission the system gave you some money as an achievement for starting the main quest, which was more than enough to rent a room at the inn. But now that you have a place to sleep for some time you should probably start thinking about how to finish that small side quest you started.

After calculating the benefits and losses of the decision you’re about to make, you snap your fingers at the thrill of discovery and lean towards the screen. “System show me the food products you have available.” Within seconds it shows you all forms of food at the online shop. You scroll down a few times and find exactly what you’re looking for. Pepper, chilli powder, chat masala and many more spices were shown and you clicked buy,buy,buy on all of them. Considering the fact that most of the spices here weren’t even discovered in this timeline you have some faith that they will blow off in the market when you sell them.

I think I know what you’re gonna do to finish the side quest miss Y/n…

Last night

“Sadly this seems to be a bad time for you and your father to set up your shop madame.” The man held a cresset lamp, which illuminated the path while his wife helped you walk across.

“Why do you say so sir?” You’re confused. He seemed a bit hesitant to say this and signs his wife to reply.

“Many people in Jerusalem have been going sick. And it’s no ordinary sickness, no, people’s legs are getting swollen, they bleed at the slightest of injuries and the gums inside their mouth become tender to the point that their teeth start to fall off. Most doctors call it ‘The Barlow's disease’ or something along those lines but most of us just call it ‘The loosener of teeth’”

Yeesh that was a gruesome description. People here have less immunity as it is and something like this ain’t gonna help them much.

“Is it really that bad?” She nods a yes. “The sick have increased to a point where the king himself has taken notice. Although he has hired physicians from other lands to cure the sick, most of the people who have the sickness don’t have the money to visit them.” She sighs in defeat.

Wait a minute…Swollen gums? Falling teeth? Barlow's disease? You’ve studies about this before in history class, it’s scurvy! It affects people with a lack of Vitamin C in their diet that is, sailors and the poor. It can be cured simply by eating food which has the vitamin. A wave of relief washes you since you definitely won't be getting it.

“I don’t think it’ll be a problem anymore madame.” You smile softly while the screen shows a pop up.

Side quest unlocked! Cure all people in Jerusalem from Scurvy.

Present

The stall for your shop was quickly set up, partially because the last owner just left the shop as it is. Within some time, all the spices were neatly displayed. By looking at other shops it was easy to decorate your own and it’s safe to say, yours was the most organised. It was extravagant, but not extravagant enough to drive the common people away.

Good job Miss Y/n! I’ll help you in whatever way I can to make the mission easy for you. I’ll try my best to get a discount on the rates in my store so you won't have to spend too much money on this!

“Thank you screen, that’ll help a lot. Honestly I’m doing it mostly for the money I’ll get after completing the side quest.” You remark while the screen giggles with its emoticon mouth. “By the way, just refer to me as Y/n. Miss Y/n feels too formal. Talk to me casually! You’re the only person that connects me to my time anyway.” You dryly chuckle, looking at the containers sadly. Even now you’re mind is not able to comprehend the fact that you’re in the past. It’s still trying to convince you, you’re in a foreign rural village.

“Excuse me.” you look at the young girl standing in front of your shop. “Do you have any pepper available?” So cute! She has such chubby cheeks too!

But immediately you notice her teeth. They look like as if they are about to fall; multiple of them. Her gums are also swollen, indicating she has the disease. So that's why her cheeks are chubby! Now you feel kinda bad for thinking its cute. “Yes we do darling how much do you want?”

“About 2 Livre (pounds) please.” She waited as you wrapped it up for her. “Do you wish to pay with your money or win it for free in a contest?” She squints her eyes. “Contest?”

With a bright smile you say “Yes a contest! This contest is an eating contest that only the people with Barlow's disease can contest in.” You show her a plate filled with oranges. “If the person is able to eat these oranges before the hourglass stops the person gets whatever they wish to buy for free! Remember, the more you want to buy, the more amount of fruit you have to eat.” You point out. At first you were a bit worried whether the girl would openly admit she has the disease since it’s considered shameful to openly admit a person is sick, but considering how her mouth was watering when she looked at the oranges, it was quite easy to determine she’d do anything for free food.

“W-Well…” She lifts her skirt a bit to show her swollen legs. “I have the sickness. Can I contest? If so, will my name be revealed for having the sickness??” Oh my god her cuteness is crushing your heart! “Oh no dear, nobody’s name shall be revealed, winner or participant. Do you want to contest?”

The girl nods vigorously as you set up the hourglass. The moment you tell her to start, she shoves all the slices of oranges into her mouth, making her choke. You panic and tell her to spit it out but she ignores your pleas and swallows them all, making her oesophagus hurt from the pressure.

You shift your demeanour and hand the pepper over to her. “C-Congrats! You won the contest! You can have this for free.”

She however is in a state of shock. To get good quality food for free is a miracle, a gift from God really. 

“Did I…really win this?”

“Yes love you did! What you ate was quite a large amount too. Well done!” It wasn’t. You calculated time and time again this morning to get the orange slices proportional to the food they were buying in such a way that anyone with weak teeth could win it. You even used the son of the man and wife you met at first as a guinea pig, by making him eat them in the name of ‘A thank you gift.’ His sickness decreased drastically and his teeth became strong sometime after the meal, which was quite startling to see since you’ve never seen anyone recover that fast.

The little girl looked at you with doe eyes. “Can I contest again?”

“No love, a person gets only one chance per day. You can come tomorrow to try!”

“I will!” She squeaks. “I loved that fruit too. It’s flavour was unlike anything i’ve eaten, being sweet and tangy at the same time.” Damn it's hard to believe she was even able to taste it after seeing the way she shoved it in her mouth. “I’ll come again tomorrow to try nice lady!”

“Spread a good word for me!” You yell as she waves goodbye. It didn’t take much time for your shop to go popular.You told about this contest to anyone who entered your shop. Many were disgusted at the fact the sick have come here but others saw this as an opportunity to get free food. The sick came to you in disguise at first but within the span of four days they didn’t even hide  their sickness anymore. People started viewing your shop as a clinic at some point, an they started lining up, some even carrying family members who’ve lost their ability to walk.

It got to the point where all of this was happening at a loss, so the best course of action was to sell the oranges to other fruit traders. It not only gave you a huge profit but also made sure the cure was spread to all corners of Jerusalem. Your oranges were rumoured to be ‘The miracle cure’ so they sold out of shops within seconds. The poor still came to you for the free ones but the rich considered it a luxury product due to its high rates at shops. Funny how these were the same people who were disgusted at your idea at first.

Within one and a half months the sick decreased drastically. Your name became popular which worried you alot since you’re probably under the radar of assassins or someone more dangerous. Your quest too was finished, and the system gave you a heep of money which was enough to buy a moderately big home. While people were being cured, your anxiety surged more and more. You were certain your life was under a threat.

One faithful day while you were instructing the new employees on how to take care of the shop, the crowd became silent. They made way for a bunch of men on horses. It was the crusaders.

Everyone including you bowed slightly as they made an announcement.

“Madame Y/n, the king has noticed your efforts on eradicating the Barlow's disease. He has decided to meet you at the royal court to thank you properly. We shall be heading there NOW.” Two guards came up to you and dragged you inside a carriage like vehicle, which was poorly made.

This wasn’t an invitation to give you rewards. The KING himself has decided you’re a witch and has demanded your presence in court, to decide how to execute you.

[zaronxyz]

Scylla In Prose

Odysseus' ship sails slowly towards a large rock cove that stretches out of the water. It'd be a mountain, but the hole at the front signals that it's hollow. There's no life on it - just jagged rocks and stalagmites to serve as the hair of the lair. The inside is pitch-black, with the full moon above doing little to aid in the crews' sight.

Odysseus stands on the side of the ship with his hands on the rail looking out at the water. His silence does not stop the rowing of his crew as they inch closer to the cavern. The old boards of the ship rub against his war-torn hands, strongly reminding him of their journey thus far. Odysseus knows what lies in this lair, and the same thought runs through his mind over and over, "This is our only way home."

"Deep down..."

Eventually, the ship slows into the cave as Odysseus stands at the edge of the ship. Eurylochus' footsteps are heard behind Odysseus, but he doesn't turn his head to look. He feels a hand on his shoulder, urging him to turn his head, but he doesn't. After a short moment, Eurylochus frowns. "You're quiet today," Eurylochus states with a hint of concern in his voice.

"Deep down..."

Odysseus ignores Eurylochus for a moment. He speaks, his voice monotone, "Not much to say." There's a lot to say, in fact, but Odysseus can't - or frankly shouldn't - get the words out. A war in his head about the justification of his actions is oscillating between cowardice and strategy.

"Deep down... you hide a reason for shame..."

Eurylochus' frown deepens. He steps back, holding his hands up in a placating gesture of which he knows Odysseus can't see before letting them fall to his side. He sighs and runs his hand through his hair slowly, the salt that is sticking to his hair now sticking to his hand. "I've got a secret I can no Ionger keep," Eurylochus hesitates, his eyes darting up to Odysseus for a brief moment, "I opened the wind bag when you were asleep..."

"Leaving them feeling betrayed... breaking the bonds that you've made..."

Odysseus' eyes widen, his eyes shaking in place as he looks out at the inky blackness of the lair. His pupil goes red as he snaps his gaze back towards Eurylochus, his mouth pursed in a fine line. Before he can say anything, his eyes lose their dangerous glint, and he returns his gaze to the ocean. He can't snap. Not now.

Eurylochus' eyes sag when Odysseus stays quiet. He reaches out his hand towards him but stops mid-air. "I'm so sorry," Eurylochus pleads. When Odysseus says nothing, he shuffles back and lets his hand fall to his side yet again.

"There is no price we won't pay... we both know what it takes to survive..."

Odysseus stays silent, the dark of the cave enveloping the ship further. Eurylochus pleads one more time, his hand dropping to his side. "Please forgive me." When Odysseus stays silent, he turns around and begins walking back to the deck. "Full speed ahead!" Eurylochus shouts, his command reaching the crew's ears as they follow his orders.

"Deep down... we only care for ourselves..."

When Eurylochus is just about to leave, Odysseus' eyes snap back to him without turning his head. He speaks immediately, the red dot in his eye perfectly trained on Eurylochus back. "Eurylochus, light up six torches," his voice is firm, leaving no room for question.

"Deep down... we're lonely demons from hell..."

Eurylochus clenches his hands into fists at his sides but quickly nods and heads to the deck. As he does, his teeth grit together. Near the mast, there's a stand with twelve torches on it. Eurylochus grabs six and heads towards the cressets. He gestures for five of the crew standing on the deck to come closer over his shoulder as he lights the first torch.

The five crew members come up and stand behind Eurylochus in a line. The one at the front, named Varan, speaks up curiously. "Eurylochus? What's with the torches?" Eurylochus stays silent before handing a now lit torch behind him to Varan. "Captains orders." Without a word, Varan nods and grabs the torch from his hand and shuffles off. The rest of the crew behind him didn't ask any further questions to Eurylochus relief.

Just as he's done, something large swims under the boat. The thing must be at least double the size of the boat because the ripple causes the boat to jostle. Eurylochus' eyes widen, and he runs up the stairs to Odysseus. He sees him still standing at the edge, and he jogs to him with one of the lit torches in his left hand. "Captain! Something approaches."

The crew stops rowing at the sides as Odysseus stares blankly at the water off the side of the boat. Eurylochus runs to the front, his free hand gripping the edge. A woman's head rises from the water, her body hidden beneath the surface of the water. Her eyes are blank, her pupils are dilated, and her messy black hair runs off the back of her head into the water. Her eyes don't move even a centimeter, nor does her head. Suddenly, a low and raspy voice echoes from it, the mouth opening once for the sound to come out like a cd player. "Hello."

Slowly, the head rises from the water. The neck of the head extends and extends as the body rises, the sound of cracking bones ripping through the air. The hair is short-lived, leading straight to the neck bone of the creature known only as Scylla. The torso of the creature is no less terrifying than the he rest, as it's pale, malnourished skin reveals its whole ribcage. The torso itself is massive, far bigger than the boat itself. The start of two serpent's originating from the back reveal themselves as the creature rises. More and more eel like serpents extend from the rest of the creature's body as it rises, their yellow eyes, and blood-stained teeth on full display. By the time the creature is done rising, its limbless body is fully risen out out of the water with the lower body where the legs should be hidden, if it even has a lower body. The head that used to be the woman's face is now revealed to be the hair of another eel head. Six eels total.

Eurylochus takes a step back, his torch nearly falling out of his hand. His eyes are wide with fear as he states up at Scylla. He stands frozen in place before the creature he wasn't warned of. As the eels splay out near the front of the ship, all their eyes staring intently on each person who holds a torch, Odysseus continues to stare blankly at the water in front of him. After a split second, without turning his head, Odysseus yells out, "Row for your lives!"

The crew listens, and so does Scylla. Scylla's main head curls into a smile, another eel darting towards one of the torchbearers. "Drown in your sorrow and fears!" Scylla's eel snatches one of the torchbearers in its mouth, his blood splattering across the deck of the ship as the eel retreats with its new meal.

The crew's screams fill the air as Odysseus doesn't move, his eyes still trained on the water below him. His crew runs around, but not before another eel grabs Varan. "Choke on your blood and your tears!" Scylla taunts, the torch dropping from Varan's hand onto the deck.

Eurylochus runs backward, the torch still in his hand. He pulls the greatsword off his back but knows it will be useless. His head whips back from Scylla only to see another torchbearer get eaten. His eyes widen. He immediately drops the torch and steps back, now knowing why Odysseus told him to light six. He was sacrificing them. "Die in the blood where you bathe! Give up your honor and faith!" Scylla barks out, her eyes trained on Eurylochus.

Once Eurylochus drops his torch, another crew member runs forward and picks it up before spinning their head towards Scylla. Eurylochus steps forward, his hand outstretched to the crew member. "Drop the torch!" Just as he gets the sentence out, Scylla hits the crew member into the air with an eel head before snatching the crew member out of the air and eating them. "Bleed 'til you've run out of years!"

As one of Scylla's eel heads grabs a fifth crew member, the main one slithers out in front of Odysseus to stare into his eyes. "We both do what it takes to survive." Scylla slithers away, leaving Odysseus still frozen on the deck of the ship. The main head circles the mast before diving for another crew member and snatching them in her jaw just as the ship exits the cave.

The sun shines brightly above the blood, covering the deck of the ship. Eurylochus' eyes are wide, and his chest is heaving. The crew on row duty shared his composure. Odysseus, however, does not.

Second published prose piece! I'm still working on a few others, but I've found that this one is finished. There's still places for improvement (especially considering how good Love In Paradise is turning out... ❤️), but I can't find anything I want to improve on.

[deluxewhump]

Pride of Princes

A story in the Blackmuir Reign Verse

2: the cell

CW: imprisonment, torture mention, fantasy religious persecution, threat of execution, royal caretaker

Prev

Robb Muirdwele was a prison guard for castle Blackmuir. He was not kingsguard, nor was he a knight as he’d once naively dreamed of. But guarding the cells below the castle was an easier job than others he’d had, and he was grateful for the relative shelter the stone walls provided, and the generous meal they were given once a day, as all staff and servants inside the castle were.

But there were drawbacks. For one, it was dark and damp, and even in high summer he had a cough he could not shake. For another, there was the new prisoner. Robb now had to be on his toes at all times because of unusual visitors to the cells, including clerics and more than a few knights. Not only that, but there were the awful sounds that accompanied these visits to the new prisoner. They were torturing him, that much was clear. Robb wondered what it was he’d done to elicit such ire from men of the Tercet and knights and soldiers of the king. The prisoner never said. He never said anything to Robb, or any other of his ordinary guards. He never begged for an audience with the King, or something to write with, or tried to bribe them with desperate promises of money and favor. He cried out and screamed during the torture, of course, but that was all.

When Prince Aedric came to the cells, Robb thought this prisoner must have really done something extraordinarily offensive to House Blackmuir. He bowed his head hastily to the prince, and let him inside the cell.

“Light,” he requested, and Robb lit the cressets. When he’d provided the prince with all the light the cell was designed to provide, he stood just inside the door and watched with his hands folded in front of him dutifully, his back straight. He’d never been this close to a Blackmuir, and only seen the king once. Aedric was the eldest son and heir, with pale brown hair and sharp, straight features that made his face both unforgettable and striking. He wore a doublet of black lined in silver, Blackmuir colors, and a knife at his belt. He’d brought two soldiers with him, but instructed them to wait at the entrance door ten yards down the corridor. They did so silently.

Robb watched as the prince approached the prisoner, his fine boots making soft chuffs on the stone. The prisoner lifted his head slowly, fearful and bleary. The last visit involved a cleric again, and he’d had him beaten before they’d even exchanged words.

The prisoner stiffened at this new presence and flattened as tight as he could against the cell wall. The prince squatted to sit on his heels before him.

“Lord Barrowfen?”

So that was his name. Not that it mattered to Robb. Sometimes he knew their names, sometimes he did not. It wasn’t his job to know them, only to guard them and keep them alive.

“Are you alright?”

The prisoner lifted his head. One eye was swollen to near shut, and he had caked blood that had dried from his nose to his upper lip. He held his arms protectively over his torso, which Robb knew was likely deeply bruised, if not riddled with breaks. The knights or soldiers did the hurting. The cleric only ever watched, holding his white robes an inch off the floor so they would not be dirtied.

“Will you not answer?”

The prisoner spat in his face. Robb flinched.

Incredibly, the prince did not retaliate, but lifted his sleeve to wipe his cheek. “I would feel the same,” he said wryly. “I’m sorry you’ve been hurt. That was not on my orders, Lord Barrowfen. I want you to know that, because I’m trying to help you.”

“I’m not a lord in here,” said the prisoner. Robb strained to hear. “I belong to the gods. Not to my father’s new pretender gods. Nor yours.” The prisoner coughed and winced, giving an involuntary whimper at the pain it caused him to do so.

The prince turned. “Did you do this?”

“No, your highness,” blurted Robb. He’d forgotten the word royal. It was your royal highness for a prince, and then ‘sire’ thereafter. He licked his lips nervously. Why did the prince not know this was done by the king’s own men? Under supervision of the clerics? It didn’t matter. His job was to answer a Blackmuir’s questions.

“Who then?”

“Soldiers, sire. His Grace’s knights.”

“What about the clerics?”

“Yes, sire. They are present for it.”

The prince turned back to the prisoner. “Roan,” he said gently, almost beseechingly. “May I call you Roan, then?”

The prisoner looked at him guardedly. He blinked, something like a wince. Perhaps it hurt to shrug.

“I’m not here to hurt you. I’m going to send a healer down to you.”

The prisoner was caught off guard, if only for a moment. His look of naked hope turned to one of distrust. “One of the king’s healers?”

Robb could only see the back of the prince’s head, but he tilted it slightly at that. “I’ll come with him. I’ll watch him.”

“It won’t matter. They’re not going to stop,” said the prisoner. “They want me to recant.”

“Will you?”

The prisoner’s eyes grew bright as if wet, and he looked away toward the dark corner of his cell. “No.”

The prince moved from a squatting to sitting, letting his fine clothes contact the cell floor.

“Get us water,” he said over his shoulder. Robb turned to fetch it, wondering if it was for the prince or the prisoner. When he returned, the prince held out his arm to receive the cup without turning around. He dipped a kerchief into the water, and motioned toward the blood on the prisoner's face. Robb watched as the prisoner allowed the prince to blot the kerchief against his upper lip until the blood came off. When he was done, he offered the prisoner the rest of the water. He lifted one hand gingerly from his ribs to take it.

“But would it not be surrendering to go through with the arrangement?” the prisoner asked. Robb understood he had missed a piece of their conversation when he’d gone for the water. “Would I not still be capitulating?”

“Not to me,” said the prince, with his knees drawn up and his forearms draped over them casually, as if he were picnicking on a green hill and not sitting on the floor of the dungeons. “You can keep your gods, as far as I’m concerned. I’ll build you a shrine.”

“My gods have no need of a shrine.”

“Whatever it is they need, then. Whatever you need. You’ll have it, but we have to say the vows. I can protect you much more effectively if you are my peaceweaver.”

“Why would you protect me?”

“You’re betrothed to me. Why wouldn’t I? ”

“They won’t let me out without a recantation. They’re going to do worse, and then there will be a trial, and then they’ll kill me.”

The prince nodded. “It seems so, at the moment. Do you know how?”

“How they’ll kill me?”

There was silence before the prince spoke again.

“Treason is usually resolved with burning at the stake.”

The prisoner dropped his eyes.

“I don’t tell you that to be cruel. I’m trying to find an answer, but I think you might need to be that answer for yourself. Will you work with me?”

“I won’t accept the Tercet,” said the prisoner. His voice trembled slightly. “And I’m not afraid.”

The prince hung his head, and then brought it back up again. “Don’t do it out of fear, then. Find something else.”

In the firelight, Robb could see the prisoner’s eyes well up again. He grit his teeth and hugged his arms over his abdomen, looking over the prince’s shoulder at the wall of his cell. He was resolute. At length, the prince climbed to his feet.

“I’m still bringing a healer,” he said as he walked out of the cell. Robb shut the wooden door and fastened its iron bolt with the prisoner inside.

Next

[ramlightly]

Hello I am back with various fire-related words. I looked for a bunch of different categories, but my personal favorites are Cremain (remains of cremation), Cresset (container for heating oil), and Mags as a short form of Magma. Cenerentola, Cendrillon, and Aschenputtel are Italian, French, and German names for Cinderella that denote cinders. Hearth, Kiln, Lantern, Candelabrum, Chandelier, Sconce, Beacon, Lantern, Angithi, and Girandole are all vessels for fire, and Girandole can be a display.

And crucible! Also fun for metaphorical forging implications :) I’m sending these as asks because it would be a looong post. I also had Cannel and Candle on the list. Bitumen, Binchotan, Ogatan, and Lignite are all kinds of coal. Ash and Asher are names on their own but also short for Ashley; Char (Charcoal, Charlotte, Charles, Charlemaigne), Corrie (Coruscate), Abby (Ablaze), Molly/Mols (Immolate/Smolder), Connie (Conflagration), Burn (Berenice, also a Poe character!), Torrie (Torch) “Alkali” comes from a wort relating to ash. Anthracite is a type of coal. For general fire base words I have Smoke, Ember, Spark, Sear, Scald, Incinerate, Ignite, Scorch, Singe, Sizzle, Blaze, Incendiary, Flare, and Combust. Coal, Slag, Joss, Culm (and Smut), are all residue from fires. Pyrolysis is the process of breaking things down with fire. Some igneous (formed directly from magma) rocks include Obsidian, Pumice, Gabbro, and Tuff. Ceramics are also made by firing. Last one! Stoke and Bank pertain to tending to a fire, and Stoker is also a surname (Bram…). Scintilla and Spangle both refer to small bright things, like sparks. Finally, Collier refers to people or ships who carry coals. “Carry coals” also used to mean “bear an insult” (Romeo and Juliet, 1.i, for example) because the job was viewed as demeaning. Wooo thanks for the word yelling opportunity.

Goodness!!! These are all really fun and well though-out, thank you! I'll post this publicly for other people as well.

[uwmspeccoll]

Shakespeare Weekend

"Torment of the boot" from Two Gentlemen of Verona.

Examples of face mufflers from Merry Wives of Windsor.

Types of carcans referenced in Measure for Measure.

Depiction of a bride bed.

Illustrations of "making the fig" from King Henry V.

The Illustrations of Shakespeare, and of ancient manners: with dissertations on the clowns and fools of Shakespeare by British antiquary and museum curator Francis Douce (1757-1834) was published in 1807 in two volumes by Longman, Hurst, Rees, and Orme in London. Quoting Shakespeare scholar George Steevens “if Shakespeare is worth reading, he is worth explaining,” Douce set out to collocate and clarify not only previous editorial notes on Shakespeare, but also words and customs he declared had been previously “partially and imperfectly” illustrated. His intention to write the perfect Shakespeare reference companion was shadowed at the time by his petty criticisms and curiosities, however, it was still an influential work of criticism.  

Unlike previous critical publications, Douce did not include Shakespeare's full plays within his edition, but rather cited notes primarily from Steevens's earlier editions. Douce’s writings are accompanied by woodcut engravings by British artist John Berryman (1778-1840). Berryman produced the engravings from Douce’s own collection of prints to hammer home his point of view and visually expand upon definitions including cressets, carcans, and bird-bolts in Volume One.

View more Shakespeare Weekend posts. 

-Jenna, Special Collections Graduate Intern 

[lov3-lik3-ghosts]

Another extract from my depraved!Severus x Poly!Marauders. This one’s set before the last, the masterpiece is coming along in misplaced pieces!

I hope to get it done soon enough! Enjoy for now though!!

Depravity Extract;Part One

Lupin tugged him quickly form Sirius’ weakening grip and threw Severus’ arm over his shoulders while hauling him into his side with a muscled arm wrapped securely around his waist. The fog cottoning his conception continued to lift in slight, enough that he could register his head placed into Remus’ neck and his ancestry painting the werewolves formerly pristine uniform and tan skin.

“S’rry.” He slurred and grunted through the the increase in pulsation encasing his face it caused. Lupin didn’t respond, only moving faster through the obscured passageway with his friends scuttling ahead.

Remus lugged him along him along for at least another two minutes before he felt strong enough to walk for himself, and foregoing the inane need to stick his head further into his throat, Severus pulled himself from the boy with shaky legs. Still, Remus forced him in front of himself with a grip on his hipbones that had Snape bambi-legged for a whole new reason, and muttered a refusal of letting him fall behind so gruff his brain lagged with a sense of attraction.

James stopped, the tip of his wand steadily orbing out, leaving Sirius’ to be the only source of light, before murmuring a spell under his breath that sent a minuscule fiery ball soaring into a cresset. Flames erupted in the metal plate as the three caught up, Black’s Lumos dying out with a flicker as he moved to place the stick in the back of his waistband.

[randomshinobi]

Playing with toys (rip shockwave's drone)

The son name is Cresset

Some more as well (+shockwave becoming his grandpa despite unrelated)

[hanzajesthanza]

Hii i have a question abt tlol u mihht know thr answer to. ❤️

While geralt and ciri fight their enemies on the stygga castle, geralt tells ciri several times yen wants to look at the sky. (If i temember correctly it was yen) Why?? Its so random? Does it have a hidden meaning? Does it refer to vilgefortz quote 'You Mistake Stars Reflected In A Pond For The Night Sky' ?

i can’t be certain that it’s not a reference to something elsewhere in literature, but i just interpret it as an expression of weariness and exhaustion. as geralt’s emotions are described:

He didn’t feel anger, resentment or hatred. He felt only weariness. And a huge desire to be done with all of it. (…)

as geralt learns from ciri, by a shake of her head, the rest of his company (cahir and angouleme) also did not survive. so he realizes all of his friends were lost. and that there is nothing left for them here.

‘Let’s get out of here,’ he repeated.

‘Yes,’ said Yennefer. ‘I want to see the sky.’

‘I’ll never leave you both,’ Ciri said softly. ‘Never.’

* funny mistake here - in the official english translation, it was printed that yennefer says “I want see the sky” :’)

so they go to leave:

In front of them was a stairway, a great stairway drowning in smoke, in the twinkling glow of torches and fire in iron cressets. Ciri shuddered. She had seen that stairway before. In dreams and visions.

Down below, far away, armed men were waiting.

‘I’m tired,’ she whispered.

‘Me too,’ admitted Geralt, drawing the sihill.

‘I’ve had enough of killing.’

‘Me too.’

‘Is there no other way out?’

No. There isn’t. Only this stairway. We must, girl. Yen wants to see the sky. And I want to see the sky, Yen and you.

they want to get out of stygga castle, but between them and escaping it is one final battle, for at the end of the staircase they see stefan skellen and his men, who they know they will have to kill in order to leave from here.

they are tired, they are wretched after having killed so much. the moral weight of killing is a huge theme in the witcher, and here is no exception - it’s not glorified that the heroes brandish their swords, the heroes feel the weight of them.

they don’t want to kill anymore. but they have to, in order to get out of the place where they killed.

it’s like ‘the only way out is through.’

“seeing the sky” = an end to this episode, freedom from this place of killing and death, escape from this black citadel, return to life

why the sky?

a significant reminder here is that they cannot see the sky from within stygga castle. for it had no windows (which was mentioned in chapter 2, but likely ceases to be present in the mind by the time you get to chapter 9). but essentially, it’s dark in that stone castle, hewn from rock:

The tapestry measured about five foot by seven and its tassels rested on the floor. It showed a rocky cliff over a tarn, and a castle carved into the cliff, which seemed to be part of the rock wall.

The castle didn’t have any windows through which she could see the surrounding terrain, or even the sun to try to orient herself.

(what a horrible place, as percieved by our human heliophilia!)

i think generally, darkness/light symbolism (or cave/sky symbolism… hi plato) is very ancient, even primal, even biological.

another analogy might be finishing a work shift at a retail store where you’ve been under flourescent lights for eight hours, and now want to leave this infernal place and finally see the sky above. there’s a feeling of exhaustion, horror, nausea whenever you’ve been separated from the sky for so long

[lifeofresulullah]

The Life of The Prophet Muhammad(pbuh): Before His Birth, His Birth and His Childhood

Extraordinary Events that Took Place When the Prophet was Born

The greatest event in the universe, for sure, is the birth of Prophet Mohammad, the Lord of the Universe.

This is because he is the seed of the tree of creation. If Allah had not willed his birth, there would neither be universe nor human beings now. Therefore, the door to the world of testing would not be opened. “If one looks at this great universe as if it were a book, the divine light of Prophet (pbuh) will be the ink of the pen of that book’s writer. If one considers this great universe as if it were a family tree, the divine light of Muhammad will be both its seed and fruit. If one considers the world a great living being, this divine light will be its spirit. If one considers it an enormous human being, that divine light will be its wit.” 

This is mystery to which the hadith “But for you, the dearest, I would not have created the skies (the universe)” indicates.

Moreover, Hazrat Muhammad’s prophethood is not particular to a specific community, but general and universal. Accordingly, some miraculous events would certainly occur when he honored the world with his arrival. And these events would make intelligent and sagacious people think.

During the birth of the Prophet Muhammad, the following miraculous events occurred:

A star was born at the night he was born

There were many scholars amongst Jews. They deduced from their books that the Messenger of Allah would come. They were expert in making conclusions from the movements of stars. At the night the Prophet was born, a star shone in the sky and Jewish scholars understood that the last Prophet was born.

Famous poet of the Prophet, Hassan bin Thabit describes it as follows:

“I was about eight years old. One morning a Jewish man was running crying out ‘Hey Jews!��� Jews gathered around the man saying ‘What is it? Why are you shouting?’ The man was crying out:

‘Let me give this news to you, Ahmad’s star was born tonight. Ahmad was born tonight.” 

The following is narrated by Ibn al-Sa’d regarding the issue:

“There was a Jewish man living in Mecca. In the morning after the night the Messenger of Allah was born, he went and stood in front of the people of Quraish and asked: “Was a baby boy born tonight in your tribe?” People of Quraish answered: We do not know. Upon this answer, he continued his speech: “Go, search and seek; the prophet of this community was born tonight. He has got a sign on his back.”

People of Quraish went and made a search. They came to the Jewish man and gave the news: “Abdullah had a son tonight; he has got a sign on his back.”

The Jewish man went and saw the seal of prophethood. And he cried out as if he had lost his mind:

“Prophethood is not with Israelites anymore. The people of Quraish will be bestowed with such a great fame that it will be heard everywhere from east to west.” 

The sky was celebrating the birth of the Great Prophet with cressets of stars shining brightly.

Fourteen towers of Kisra’s Palace in the city of Madayin fell down

It was the night the Lord of the Universe was born. The clock struck the hour he was born.

The city of Madayin, which was in a deep sleep, woke up with a terrible crackling noise. The scene was terrifying and hectic. Fourteen towers of the Sovereignty Palace, which were so firm, had crackled and fallen down.

Kisra, who spent the night in fear, called religious leaders of the country for a meeting as soon as the morning broke. They would discuss about what happened that night in the meeting.

Kisra sat in his throne with his crown on. No sooner had they started the meeting than a man on horseback, running at a full gallop brought a letter. In the letter, it was written that the fires which had been burning brightly for thousands of years in Istahrabad died out.

This news added to Kisra’s fear and excitement.

At that time, Iran’s head qadi (judge), Mubezan, took the floor and told them a dream he had: “I saw that hundreds of roaring camels, with rearing Arabian horses before them, swam across the River Tigris and spread into the lands of Iran.”

Kisra found this dream of honest, knowledgeable and just Mubezan very meaningful. He grew nervous to the utmost. He wanted to solve this puzzle. He asked Mubezan, whose knowledge and wisdom he trusted: “Then, what does it mean?”

The head qadi’s answer was short and yet succinct: “It means that something very important will happen on the Arabian side.”

Upon this, Kisra wrote a letter to Numan bin Munzir, the governer of Hira. In the letter, he said ‘If there is anyone from the scholars there who are knowledgeable enough to answer my questions, send him here right away!”

Having received the letter, Numan understood the seriousness of the issue and sent a scholar named Abdul-Masih bin Amr to Madayin right away.

The ruler gave audience to the scholar right away. After telling the scholar what happened, Kisra asked him to explain them.

Abdul-Masih told him that he could not give information to Kisra about what happened and he added: “My uncle Satih, who lives near Damascus, has got enough knowledge to answer them.”

Upon this, Kisra assigned Abdul Masih to go and get information about the events from Satih.

Famous prognosticator of Damascus, Satih, was a freak of nature, his body being boneless and having almost no organs, his face being on his chest, and he was very old. He would lie on his back all the time. When he was called to a place, they would fold him like a packet. The news of the unknown and unseen he said was true and he was very popular with people of the time.

Abdul Masih covering a long, hard way, he arrived in his uncle Satih’s. Satih was living the last days of his life. He was suffering severely from a serious illness. The severity of the illness left him no strength to speak and he could neither salute him nor speak.

However, when Abdul Masih told him what happened, he suddenly changed. Satih, who was in throes of death in his bed, opened his eyes and started to cry out in excitement as if he was at the door of life and not of the grave: “O Abdul Masih! Divine revelation will be read more. The owner of the baton has been sent as a prophet. The Valley of Samawa had been flooded. The fire of the Persians has died out. And Damascus is not Damascus anymore for Satih. Keep in mind that the Unique Judge who can rule the time willed this and He tied up the both ends of the rope of prophethood.” He took a deep breath and added: “As many as the number of the towers that fell down, Rulers will come out from the Sasanids and then the promise will be realized.” 

Those words were the last words Satih spoke; as if he had waited to put this truth into words before dying. As soon as he finished speaking, he closed his eyes and submitted his soul to Allah.

Famous prognosticator Satih heralded the birth of The Last Prophet clearly with those words.

This event, which nothing like it was ever seen before, indicated that the sovereignty of Persia which was writhing in four dark beliefs of Mazdaism would be swept away by the undying light which the prominent person who was born that night brought with himself. As a matter of fact; history witnessed it and what Satih foresaw occurred: the State of Persia was included into the lands of Islam by the Prophet’s army is Qadisiyya, after the sovereignty of fourteen rulers which lasted for 67 years.

Most of the idols, which covered the Qaaba with darkness and filthiness, broke and fell down

The idolaters of Quraish had covered the Qaaba with darkness of idols, which once was the place where Allah’s oneness had become an honored symbol for the first time. However, these idols which were clinched with lead, could not stand before the greatness of the birth of Great Prophet, the representative of the creed of Tawhid (Allah’s Oneness) and fell down.

This had an important meaning: The person who was just born would sweep away the idolatry as the duty assigned to him required. The creed of Tawhid, so pure and blissful, would bloom in peoples’ hearts.

The world witnessed it. The Honorable Prophet set the Qaaba free from those lifeless idols and also replaced the idols in hearts by the faith of Islam.

Enormous fire of Zoroastrians which had been burning for thousands of years in Istihrabad suddenly died out

Zoroastrians regarded that fire as their god. Upon the birth of the Prophet, that enormous fire died out like a simple fire killed by flood from the ocean.

That is to say; the person who was just born would sweep away Zoroastrianism, like Idolatry, too in a short time and would light up the earth with the cresset of Tawhid.

The famous Lake of Sawa (Tabariyya), which was deemed holy, dried up all of a sudden

It also indicated that the person who was just born would prohibit glorifying the things which Allah does not allow.

A divine light, which lit up the east and the west as if they had been a small room, was observed at the time of his birth

It meant that the religion which would be conveyed by the person who was just born would embrace the east and the west and would train and educate one fifth of humankind affectionately.

The Valley of Samawa disappeared under the floods

It was the night The Great Prophet was born.

Floods covered the Valley of Samawa and the city of Samawa. The people of the city sought refuge by climbing up the hills and mountains in horror. Then they wrote a letter to Kisra, explaining the situation, and asked for food and drink from him.

Stars fell down from the sky

Stars fell down from the sky like the leaves in autumn at the night the Prophet was born. 

That event indicated that the devil and the jinn would not be able to take information from the sky anymore. “As The Messenger was born with revelation, of course it was necessary to hinder prognosticators and the jinn who gave superficial information mixed with lies so that they would not mix doubts into revelation. Yes, prognostication was very wide-spread before the prophet. After the Quran was sent, it gave an end to them. Moreover, many prognosticators became believers, because they could not find their informants from the jinn anymore”. 

Of course, it was not coincidental that those events which had not been seen before occurred at the time the Prophet was born. They occurred with the will of the Eternal Might and heralded the world about the birth of the Last Prophet, Hazrat Muhammad (pbuh).

[ekaarts]

RWBY fanfiction recommendation

On the anniversary of her mother's death, 12-year-old Ruby Rose is distraught that she can't visit her grave due to the recent mass of grimm population in the area. However, she decides she's good enough of a fighter to make the trip.

As it turns out, she's not.

Yang can't accept the truth, that her sister is now gone. No one could make her believe Ruby is no longer out there, not even Qrow, who only found her battered cloac, blood in disturbing amounts, and a broken Cresset Rose.

Meanwhile, in Vale, a certain criminal by the name of Roman Torchwick was convinced by his partner in crime to take in an ingured child. The child not remembering who she is was just another twist for their week. Though the biggest twist for him is how much he may end up caring for a random stray.

The story is in really early stages as of now. When writing this, we're on chapter 6, and we just had a few chapters for setting up for the future.

The archive warnings only include graphic depictions of violence and major character deaths, but in the tags you can also find suicide attempts, so I guess the story is about to take a darker turn in the future.

But it also changes Weiss' and Blake's backstories as well. So far, Blake's is more prominent, but I adore Weiss' so much that I actually want to use the base idea in a fanfiction I may potentially write.

Uhm, once again, I LOVE the trope of Ruby joining Torchwick, so any recommendations are welcome.

Lines that live in my head rent free, for better or worse:

“Now could you two explain to me why you’re pretending to be the parents of this young girl?”

“Doctor I have no idea what you’re saying! How could you think that two loving parents such as ourselves could be fakes?”

“Don’t give me that Roman Torchwick. Even out here we know of someone like you.”

After about 2 hours of Roman finding rose petals in the strangest places the girls returned home with a few bags of clothes.

“Also Red you don’t have to call me Mr.Torchwick, Roman is fine”

“Okay, Roman…Gah! That feels weird” She stuck her tongue out as she finished her sentence which caused Neo to smile a bit.

[lilacwatchguard]

Pumpkin Soup For The Soul

If this looks familiar it's because it's on my ao3 under the same name by Lexitennant2 :)

Relationships: Alex x Sebastian (Stardew Valley) Warnings: 18+, light sexual content, light angst, past child abuse (hinted at), internalized homophobia (but Alex is just working through what his father projected on him and he's actually pretty accepting of who he is)

Summary: Alex has been thinking about Sebastian for a while now, and one perfect night leads to more than Alex could have dreamed of.

Word Count: 3,378

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

There’s a heaviness on his chest that’s making it hard to breathe. He sits up, trying to knock-off the invisible pressure on his chest but it's still there, even as he pats at his chest. He finds nothing there, nothing that should be constricting his airways, It must be the air in the mines that’s causing his lungs to shrivel like dehydrated mushrooms. No matter if he breathes through his mouth or his nose there’s just not enough air getting through.

He makes one last attempt at taking in a deep breath - his lungs expand pitifully - before he pushes himself off the stone floor. There are torches up ahead, and he needs to get to the light so he can reorientate himself. Figure out how the fuck he got here.

Alex stumbles to his feet and leans against the cave wall to steady himself. He brushes dust and who knows what else from his palms onto his jeans and walks slowly towards the torches. Alex can see his breath the closer he gets to the lights. He doesn’t feel cold, which is a little worrisome, but he has bigger problems to deal with.

He picks up one of the torches from its metal cresset and holds it aloft in front of him as he continues forward.

It shows how far gone he is that he even knows what a cresset is. 

He walks for what feels like ages, the stone floor changing to dirt and back to stone again, his footsteps echoing around him. He climbs down a ladder with one hand and jumps when he has a few rungs left. He lands with little noise but some dust and dirt kicks up under his feet and he wheezes.

There’s a sound from further up ahead and Alex cautiously creeps forwards. His light catches on a cloaked figure who whirls around to face him, rather dramatically, Alex notices.

“There he is, the liar,” the cloaked figure says, her voice shrill. She pushes her hood off and Alex looks at Abigail in confusion.

“Liar?” he wheezes out, the pressure expanding from his chest to his throat. It feels like he’s being suffocated.

“We all know why you’re here Alex, just admit it. You’re here only for your sinful needs. What would your poor father say, seeing you lusting after a boy?” Abigail asks, a mocking tone to her shrillness as she starts to circle him.

“I don’t, that’s not…” he trails off, his throat suddenly dry. At least the pressure is gone from his throat. It’s as if whatever’s keeping him from breathing properly is adjusting itself.

“Lie to him Alex, make your dad proud instead of being his forever disappointment,” Abigail says harshly as she points over Alex’s shoulder.

He doesn’t want to look. He knows who's going to be behind him. 

“Lie to him!” she shrieks and he’s spun around by an invisible force.

He sees a silhouette in the darkness of the cave. He knows the shape of the hair, the slightly shorter and thin physique of the man in front of him.

Alex wakes up with a sharp gasp.

He all but flings himself forward, hitting something angular. A few things happen at once. He hears a hissing screech as Pumpkin, the farmer's black cat, catapults herself off his chest in surprise. There’s a soft ‘ouch’ from behind him, and then he’s falling, his arms pinwheeling. 

Two arms wrap around his waist and pull him back up.

He struggles but whoever’s got him in their grip is strong and has their arms locked tightly around Alex’s waist.

“Alex calm down, you’re ok,” a voice coos in his ear and his body starts to relax without him having any conscious thought about it.

Sebastian, his mind supplies him with the name of the man holding him.

He slumps, like a puppet with its strings cut. He rests back against Sebastian’s chest and tilts his head back so it rests against the other man's shoulder. 

“What happened?” he wheezes out, aware of the fact he can now breathe properly.

Damn fucking cat .

Sebastian moves one of his up from Alex’s waist and up to his chest so he can rub soothing circles on his chest. Alex melts further into Sebastian’s hold, the adrenaline spent and making him tired.

“You were having a nightmare. Maybe back to back horror movies on your first night playing Solarion Chronicles was too much.” 

Alex scoffs. 

“I’m not a wuss,” he snarls out.

The hand on his chest pauses and his breath stutters, making the hand start up again.

“I didn’t say that,” Sebastian says and Alex feels foolish.

“I was um- I was in the mines and it was really hard to breathe, I guess I have Pumpkin to thank for that,” Alex says, narrowing his eyes to where he can see two pin-pricks of yellow on the floor. 

He’s always been a dog person and this incident has just solidified that stance.

The glow of the tv lights up the room enough that he can see Pumpkin’s tail twitch as she settles next to her owner who is sleeping on the blow up mattress on the floor. The farmer is curled up against Abigail and Sam’s spread out like a starfish. Pumpkin settles by the farmer's hip which has Alex scoffing. Of course she would only try to suffocate him and not the farmer. 

“There was a slime and an evil Abigail,” he sighs, not mentioning what exactly evil Abigail was trying to get him to confess.

“Evil Abigail sounds very threatening,” Sebastian says.

Alex can’t help but try to pick at Sebastian’s words, trying to find any hint of condescension or teasing, but there’s nothing. He bites the inside of his cheek and tilts his head up so he can see more of Sebastian’s sharp jaw.

It’s an awkward angle but he doesn’t want to move out of Sebastian’s warm embrace. The blue glow of the tv mixed with the red from Sebastian’s computer is enough light that Alex can make out Sebastian’s face. The color’s mixing also means that if Alex is blushing right now, Sebastian shouldn’t be able to tell.

“Sorry if I woke you,” Alex says, wondering what time it is. 

Sebastian shakes his head, his hair shifting and tickling Alex’s face making him scrunch his nose.

“Nah man, I wasn’t really sleeping anyways,” he says, a soft smile on his face.

It slowly comes to him how he’s ended up here. The other three had gone to bed around 1 but Alex hadn’t wanted to go to bed yet and Sebastian was down for another movie. They’d moved to the bed, shoulder to shoulder against the mountain of pillows Sebastian had stacked against the headboard. He must have fallen asleep at some point and the nightmare had taken that as an invitation to visit. 

Sam lets out an earth shattering snore and Alex jumps slightly.

Sebastian chuckles and pats him on the chest before his hand slides down to join his other around Alex’s waist. He gives a gentle squeeze and then nudges at Alex’s cheek with his own.

“How about we get out of here? The fresh air will help.” 

Alex swallows and nods, sitting up and scooching off the bed as quietly and carefully as he can. They tip-toe out of Sebastian’s room, Alex following Sebastian’s steps as he knows the creaks in his floorboards better than Alex.

When they’re in the hall Alex has a brief flashback to being in the mines but then Sebastian reaches back and grabs his hand. He inhales in relief and lets Sebastian drag him to the entryway where they quickly get on their shoes and outerwear.

“Fuck it’s cold,” Alex says as soon as they’re outside and by the garage of the Barnes household. His hands are shoved as deep as they’ll go into his red zip-up. It’s fleece-lined, unlike his usual green letterman jacket, but it’s still not the most suitable jacket he should be wearing in single digit weather.

He’s got shit circulation too and no snow boots, but the cold does help him shake off the nightmare even if now he’s stuck in a new hell.

Sebastian appears unbothered, but then again he’s in a slightly warmer jacket and Alex had felt how warm he was when they’d been on the bed together. Sebastian was a yobadamn furnace. 

Sebastian presses his shoulder up against Alex’s arm and frowns up at him.

“No shit, you’re dressed like it’s still fall,” he says, his eyes looking at Alex’s jacket like it’s personally offended him. 

“Hey, it’s not that bad. I just need to be warm enough for the walk here,” Alex says, leaving out how he leaves his house in a run and slows down to a jog when he’s closer to Sebastian’s so he’s not out of breath. 

Sebastian snorts and unwinds the big wooly black scarf from around his neck. He steps in front of Alex and wraps it around his neck, making sure it won’t fall off his shoulders but not tight enough to choke him.

Alex has had enough breathing troubles for the rest of his life. He used to be prone to seasonal asthma when he was a kid and had grown out of it when he’d hit his teens, but having Pumpkin’s weight on his chest for so long had made his chest ache in an old familiar way. 

He absentmindedly rubbed at his chest and stopped when Sebastian’s hands covered his.

“Sorry I didn’t get Pumpkin off you, I really didn’t realize she was hurting you,” he says.

Alex clears his throat and tries to shrug and appear nonchalant.

“It’s fine Seb,” he says.

They’re silent for a short while and then Sebastian says something quietly.

Alex cocks his head, unsure what the shorter male had said. 

“Can you repeat that Seb?” he asks, taking a small step back when Sebastian suddenly takes one forward. They keep this pattern up until Alex’s back is pressing against the garage door and Sebastian is chest to chest with him.

“Um buddy?” he chuckles awkwardly, feeling his face heat up. Sebastian looks up at him and his brain shudders to a halt.

Fuck Sebastian is gorgeous.

He has long eyelashes like a chick. Haley had once told Alex she was jealous of Sebastian’s eyelashes. His brown eyes are a dark chocolate brown but there’s little flecks of lighter brown swirled in that Alex can now see with how close they are. And when did they get that close? 

He becomes aware of the hands on his shoulders as Sebastian leans up towards him.

He must be on tip-toes Alex thinks and shivers at the thought and not because of the cold wind that rushes by.

“Can I try something?” Sebastian asks, his gaze almost imperceptibly flicking down to Alex’s lips and then back up to Alex’s eyes. 

“Oh,” Alex lets out, because he recognizes that look. His palms feel sweaty as he pulls them out of his pockets so they settle on Sebastian’s hips. 

The nightmare comes crashing back and he swallows back the nausea that comes with it. 

He hates how his father still has this hold on him, even years after he’s last had contact with that man. That man had drilled into him how real men should act. That men liking other men were abominations and Alex needed to like only girls. 

Alex feels too raw from the nightmare and its implications so he lets himself be impulsive. He tugs at Sebastian’s hips and relishes the surprised noise Sebastian makes as he loses his balance.

Sebastian’s upper lip is jagged from biting at it in a nervous habit, but his lower lip is plush and soft. Alex is already hooked.

He licks at Sebastian’s lips, asking an unspoken question, and Sebastian opens his mouth slightly to let Alex in.  

Sebastian tastes faintly of cigarettes but mostly faint peppermint toothpaste and something artificially sweet, like Joja Cola.

Alex feels something stir in his chest, because he knows Sebastian has a bad habit of still eating or drinking after he’s brushed his teeth for the night. He’s known Sebastian long enough now that the information usually reserved for Sam and Abigail is now his.

He feels heady with this information and digs his fingers into Sebastian’s hips as Sebastian rests all his weight against Alex’s torso. He falls back against the garage and tilts his head so he can use the leverage to kiss Sebastian better. 

“That’s it pretty boy,” Sebastian pants against his lips when they take a break to breathe.

Alex’s eyes widen and his eyes find Sebastian’s in the moonlight.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous,” Sebastian growls out, his hands soft as they cradle Alex’s face, a stark contrast compared to how rough he sounds. 

Alex’s hands leave Sebastian’s hips to travel up to his sides and then settle around to his back so he can draw the smaller man against him.

Sebastian nuzzles his nose against Alex’s and hums with satisfaction.

“I’m not pretty,” Alex says softly, finding the words.

Men aren’t pretty. Only homos say that kinda shit. 

Alex freezes and wants to give into the urge to hit himself. He hasn’t thought this way in ages. He’d broken away from that line of thinking since he came of the age where he no longer wanted to make his father proud. It was around the time he first saw his father hit his mother. 

He’d had years to grow, to mature, to realize it was ok to like girls and boys. That he could look at men and want them, and not feel like crawling out of his skin in shame. 

Sebastian can tell how tense Alex is and he pulls away, making Alex angrier with himself. There he goes spoiling the fucking mood.

But Sebastian doesn’t go that far, just enough so he can look at Alex.

“What’s wrong? Was it what I said?” He asks.

Alex knocks his forehead against Sebastian’s, trying to reassure him but quite possibly giving him a concussion instead with how hard he does it.

“Shit sorry,” he hisses through his teeth, giving a tender kiss against Sebastian’s forehead. 

“I’m not used to being called that,” he says, looking everywhere but at Sebastian.

“I’ve told you about my father…” he trails off.

Everyone in Pelican Town knew about Alex’s father. It was hard not to, what with how tiny the town was and how angry Alex’s grandmother had been when Alex had run away for the first time.

He was told once by Haley that Mayor Lewis had to go to his grandparents house because of how loud Evelyn had been yelling at Alex’s father, after his mother had driven the hour from Zuzu city to pick him up.

But the actual details he sparsely spoke out loud. 

Sebastian, though, was slowly catching up with Haley in how much information they knew about the damage Alex’s father had done.

“He’s not here,” Sebastian says softly, leaning up again and kissing Alex again.

“I can stop calling you pretty, or gorgeous or anything else you don’t like but only if you don’t like it. Not what he wouldn’t like,” Sebastian says firmly.

Alex swallows a sudden lump in his throat and lets his hand trail down to Sebastian’s ass, giving it an appreciative squeeze.

“You’re mine now baby,” Sebastian says, nipping at Alex’s lip. Alex raises an eyebrow, face flushing with how much that idea thrills him.

“Oh really now?” he teases.

Sebastian grins, allowing his canines to shine.

“Yeah pretty baby, you’re mine and I’m yours.”

His grin falters slightly and Alex looks at him worried.

“Right? I don’t want to jump too far ahead but I don’t do one time deals. Especially with hot guys who have their dick pressing into my legs,” Sebastian pointedly nudges Alex’s crotch with his thigh and Alex groans. Fuck he hadn’t realized that just kissing Sebastian has started to get him hard.

“I’ve been wanting this for a while,” Alex confesses quietly, “you’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

Sebastian smiles. 

Alex has never seen this smile before. It lights up Sebastian’s entire face and makes his eyes crinkle because of how wide it is. 

They continue kissing, tasting each other and relishing in this new contact they are allowed of each other now.

“I wish the others weren’t here,” Sebastian whines, rubbing his crotch against Alex’s, one of his hands clutching the back of Alex’s neck, playing with the hairs there, while the other one tightens its grip on Alex’s bicep. 

“We gotta stop,” Alex pants out, the hand still on Sebastian’s ass faltering with his squeezes as the pleasure from their cocks rubbing together through their jeans becomes too much. The hand he has entangled in Sebastian’s hair tightens and tries to gently yank Sebastian away from his throat, where his lips have started leaving marks. The scarf that was so carefully wound around Alex’s neck is hanging on by one shoulder because of how careless Sebastian had become to reach his goal.

“I’m not coming in my pants,” he hisses out as Sebastian resists his pull and sucks harder on a high point on Alex’s neck.

Sebastian finally let’s go with a pop that makes Alex’s dick twitch in his pants.

Alex can’t stop staring at him.

His eyes are at half-mast, his lips pouting and reddened by all the kissing. His cheeks are flushed and his eyelashes keep fluttering as he tries to keep his eyes open. Sebastian licks his lips and Alex is mesmerized by how wet they look now, just glistening in the moonlight.

Alex isn’t a poet but he could write sonnets about Sebastian’s lips.

“That’d be terrible,” Sebastian says, his voice hoarse. “To have you coming in your pants because of me,” he says, pulling his crotch away from Alex’s just enough so his palm can press against Alex’s cock. 

He has a gleam in his eyes that Alex hopes he sees again but they really can’t right now.

“Sam’s going to wake up soon, he swapped shifts with one of his co-workers,” Alex says, bringing a hand around Sebastian’s wrist. He means to pull Sebastian’s hand away but he just keeps a light hold on his wrist instead.

“Motherfucker,” Sebastian says with such anger that it startles a laugh out of Alex.

“He hates getting up early and the one time he freaking does is now ,” Sebastian pouts and Alex can’t help but kiss at those puckered lips. 

“Come on, let’s go back to your bed. If anyone asks I’ll say there was no room for me on the air mattress.”

Sebastian’s eyes clear, his eyes now half closed out of tiredness and not arousal as he pulls away from Alex.

“And what if they don’t accept that answer?” he asks quietly, his eyes searching Alex’s and the brunette frowns, wondering what he said that would make Sebastian withdraw.

They had just talked about this not being a one time thing right? Alex hadn’t hallucinated that in a haze of lust had he?

But then Alex thinks back on what he just said, how it could be misinterpreted. Especially with how new this friendship was, how new this next step was. 

“If you want to tell them you can,” Alex says slowly, a shiver going down his spine as the cold comes back now that he’s not surrounded by Sebastian’s warmth.

“I just didn’t think you’d want to have that conversation at 6 in the morning,” he says.

He can see Sebastian physically relax at his words.

“Come on, despite what this town thinks I don’t play games,” Alex says confidently, pulling Sebastian into his arms again. He tucks Sebastian’s head into the crook of his neck and rests his chin on Sebastian’s silky black hair.

“This town is good with its gossip,” Sebastian mumbles into his neck.

Yeah this town really is, Alex thinks, but looking out at the first snow of Winter starting to sprinkle from the sky, and Sebastian’s warm body cradled close to his well…he’ll brave any nightmares or fears for this. A chance at a happy ending.

[bforbetterthanyou]

Edward Hall, in his “Chronicle”, describes how on the evening of Shrove Tuesday at York Place, Cardinal Wolsey, the King and ambassadors enjoyed a supper followed by a pageant in the great chamber, which was richly decorated with arras and torches. At the end of the chamber was a castle with towers decorated with banners, one showing three “rent hartes” (torn hearts), another showing “a ladies hand gripyng a mans harte” and the third showing “a ladies hand turnyng a mannes hart” upside down. One of the towers had a cresset burning and in the castle were musicians, hidden from sight, and eight ladies visible in the towers. These ladies, dressed in white satin, were Beauty, Honour, Perseverance, Kindness, Constance, Bounty, Mercy and Pity, the virtues held high in chivalric tradition. The King’s sister, Mary Tudor Queen of France, played Beauty, the Countess of Devonshire played Honour, Jane Parker (later Boleyn) played Constancy, Mary Boleyn played Kindness and Anne Boleyn played Perseverance. Hall describes how each lady had her name (or virtue) embroidered on her dress in gold, and how they wore cauls and gold Milan bonnets decorated with jewels.

Hall goes on to describe how these women, or virtues or graces, were guarded by eight women dressed as Indian women who were named “Danger, Disdain, Gelousie, Vnkyndenes, Scorne, Malebouche, Straitngenes” or Danger, Disdain, Jealousy, Unkindness, Scorn, Malebouche (evil tongue/mouth or Sharp Tongue) and Strangeness, which Eric Ives takes to mean “Off-handedness”. Suddenly, eight lords dressed in cloth of gold caps and blue satin cloaks entered the chamber “led by one all in crimosin sattin with burnyng flames of gold, called Ardent Desire”. These men were named “Amorus, Noblenes, Youth, Attendance, Loyaltie, Pleasure, Gentlenes, and Libertie” and the kyng was chief of this compaignie”. Ardent Desire then asked the ladies, the virtues, to come down from their towers, but Scorn and Disdain told him that “they would holde the place”, so the men attacked the castle throwing dates, oranges “and other fruites made for pleasure” at it. The ladies defended the castle with rose water and “comfittes” or sweetmeats and although Lady Scorn and her company tried to defend themselves with “boows and balles”, they were forced to flee and the lords took the “ladies of honor as prisoners by the handes” and led them out of the castle to dance. The lords and ladies then unmasked themselves and went on to enjoy a rich banquet with those who had watched the Château Vert pageant.

—Claire Ridgeway talking about the Château Vert pageant on 4 March 1522*, On This Day in Tudor History

*Ridgeway dates the pageant to 1 March, but most other sources date it to 4 March. I think the confusion comes from mixing up the more general Shrovetide celebrations and Shrove Tuesday. Shrovetide (the name for the entirety of the Shrove celebrations) began on 1 March, whereas the Château Vert pageant happened on Shrove Tuesday which was 4 March.

[faerunsbest]

Zevlor is definitely the type of husband to buy the lavender le cresset set and find a matching mixer solely because his partner said it was a pretty color

He would decorate the kitchen around it. The whole damn kitchen because while he doesn't care too much about appearances, he loves how excited tav gets to see the place looks with a little pomp and frill.

The whole place is just him doing his best to make tav happy about coming home.

He does like a good knife set though, sharpens them himself.

[reasoningdaily]

Trump found guilty: Stock markets slide, read investor reaction

https://www.reuters.com/legal/view-jury-finds-trump-guilty-all-counts-hush-money-trial-2024-05-30/

NEW YORK, May 30 (Reuters) - Donald Trump became the first U.S. president to be convicted of a crime on Thursday when a New York jury found him guilty of falsifying documents to cover up a payment to silence a porn star ahead of the 2016 election.

After deliberations over two days, the 12-member jury announced it had found Trump guilty on all 34 counts he faced. Unanimity was required for any verdict.

The verdict, which came back after the close of the U.S. stock market, plunges the United States into unexplored territory ahead of the Nov. 5 presidential election, when Trump, the Republican candidate, will try to win the White House back from Democratic President Joe Biden.

Shares in Trump Media & Technology Group (DJT.O), opens new tab

, parent of the former president's social media site Truth Social, fell 14% after the verdict.

TOM HAYES, CHAIRMAN, GREAT HILL CAPITAL, NEW YORK

“I think the next step will likely be an appeal. And if he appeals that would get pushed out past the election. So ultimately, the risk is that the rest of the world views this as a political prisoner, which undermines our legal and economic system."

"If the world starts to view it that the last bastion of democracy, free markets, fair legal system, is perceived to be tainted, you could start to see a shift in capital flows. We’ve been a major beneficiary of equity flows and demand for our Treasuries.”

BILL STRAZZULLO, CHIEF MARKETS STRATEGIST, BELL CURVE TRADING, BOSTON

“What I think ... is that the biggest threat to the economy, markets and democracy is Trump. He gets more and more unhinged every day and the fact that he’s convicted on all counts, I assume, will resonate with some people.

"The election will more than likely be a close election because we have a divided country. He has done everything he can to circumvent these various charges. For the American people, there’s no excuse. He’s a convicted felon. Period. End of story. If this is the guy you want in the White House, shame on you and shame on us as a country . . . The fact that today is a serious blow to his reelection chances is a big deal.”

JACK ABLIN, CHIEF INVESTMENT OFFICER, CRESSET CAPITAL, CHICAGO

“I don’t think there will be a lot of impact.”

“The market will just digest it and move on.”

“We likely know most of (Trump and Biden's) thoughts on economic policy and other crucial questions. Certainly, both seem to agree on running large deficits.”

Ablin said that even looking past the November election date, market volatility – as reflected in options pricing – remains low.

KEITH LERNER, CO-CHIEF INVESTMENT OFFICER, TRUIST ADVISORY SERVICES, ATLANTA

“There was a lot of uncertainty about the election before this. This adds to some of the uncertainty going forward, but in the interim is probably not going to be a significant market mover, and the market right now is relatively flat reacting to this news.”

JAMIE COX, MANAGING PARTNER, HARRIS FINANCIAL, RICHMOND, VIRGINIA

“I don’t know if it has any effect on markets necessarily. But it certainly has an effect on the recently-IPOed DJT. It’s market-moving news for that. The market has already discounted a guilty conviction in the hush money case because it was widely believed to be more of a side show. I think it would have been much more news for the market had he been not convicted. But at this particular moment, markets have been down all week for other reasons, specifically about inflation. That’s what markets is concerned with and not the theater of the trial of a former president.”

PETER CARDILLO, CHIEF MARKET ECONOMIST, SPARTAN CAPITAL SECURITIES, NEW YORK

“I don’t think it means much to the markets, what matters tomorrow is the PCE report. As we get closer to the election it could make a difference.”

“What does this mean going forward? We’ll have to wait and see if the Republicans even nominate him. Now that (Trump has) been found guilty there’s a good possibility that they’ll have a change of heart.”

“But regarding tomorrow, PCE will dominate the market action.”

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Compiled by the Global Finance & Markets Breaking News team