#the reservoir
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He shouldn't be allowed to look that adorable 😍
From Instagram
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Yayyyy got my book today
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He was over 250 days into this 365-day series of photos that he hoped to sell to a museum or gallery or just share with the world on a website of YouTube channel....
If someone asked? It was about perseverance and reclamation, New York strength and universal brotherhood and the ever-trending hope and resilience-- big ticket.... It was about bearing simple witness. It was reclamation through repetition and boredom, and recovering the vital truth of hoary cliches-- chop wood, carry water / stop and smell the flowers / if you've seen one sunrise, you ain't seen nothing yet. It was about looking at something for so long that you finally saw through it-- like those trick holographic photos of Jesus the shepherd with eyes that followed you, the sheep, when you moved-- only no trick and no Jesus. Aha, you thought you were the watcher, but all along you were the watched.
-David Duchovny, The Reservoir
#txf#but not#DD#The Reservoir#quote#doing a first read#but I'm taking my time and enjoying myself#going to put all my thoughts into an “overall” post when i'm done because why not?
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Day 5: Damage
This is an entirely G-Rated 766 word drabble for the @daily-writing-challenge November words! Takes place in the universe of my current series and features Prince Renathal and the Maw Walker having a row about Vorpalia. Trigger warning: incorrect pronoun usage. Read them all here on Ao3
The quill pen snapped between Renathal’s shaking fingers, and with it the last of his patience.
"I would appreciate if you would refer to her properly,” he said, in a voice of deadly calm.
The Maw Walker, perched on the edge of the table, jumped at the sharp crack.
"It’s a sword, Renathal, not a person," she said. eyeing the broken pieces of pen still clutched in Renathal's hand.
"Regardless of her particular anatomical specificities, Vorpalia has as much personhood as I do."
"No, it doesn’t,” said the Maw Walker with quiet emphasis. “It's an inanimate object. You enchanted an object - one that could do serious damage if left to its own devices, might I add - and you left that magic on the object too long and now it’s developed a semblance of a personality. That does not make it a person."
The broken pieces of quill began to splinter in Renathal's fist.
"What, then, oh all-knowing mortal, does define personhood?"
The Maw Walker rolled her eyes delicately.
"I'm not a philosopher, Your Highness, but I suppose an actual soul?”
"And how does one acquire such a thing?" Renathal asked, still in that deceptively calm voice that throbbed with more anger than any furious yell.
"I -" The Maw Walker stopped short, cocking her head slightly. “I honestly don’t know where you’re going with this."
“From whence does your soul come?” he demanded. “How did your superiorly crafted soul come to animate your mortal flesh?"
The Maw Walker’s pale eyes flicked upward, seeing not the distant stone ceiling, but ten thousand years of memories. Renathal’s heart pounded a tense, unnecessary beat as he waited for her answer.
Finally, she sighed, and confessed, "I don't know. But I feel confident it wasn't artificially manufactured."
"But it was certainly brought into existence or manufactured by something, was it not?" contended Renathal. "What makes a soul created by magic less worthy than one wrought through some divine mystery?"
The Maw Walker slammed her hands on the table.
"Because I am looking at the person who created it!” she cried, exasperation cracking her usual sangfroid. “Unless you used some sort of soul-creating spell I don’t know about , it’s just an enchantment! You waved your hands, you said some words, your sword started talking. That is not the forge of creation, that's … a magic trick!"
"And when Denathrius created me?"
Renathal’s voice was barely a whisper, but his words made the Maw Walker's breath catch audibly.
“When my Sire waved his hands, and said some words and called on his magic to bring me into being, was that a valid enough creation for you? Am I a person or a magic trick?"
The Maw Walker‘s jaw dropped. If he wasn’t still panting with fury and pain at the reopening of this long secret wound, Renathal would have laughed. He’d never seen the Maw Walker so completely wrong footed.
Her mouth hung open, but she seemed incapable of speech. Renathal inhaled deeply through his nose, forcing air to cool his boiling anima.
"Vorpalia may not possess a traditional soul from your world's way of thinking," he continued. "But using that same definition, neither do I. If you can deign to treat me with the dignity of personhood, you can surely extend her the same courtesy."
In the silence that lingered, long and heavy, after this final pronouncement, Renathal realised he was still holding the pieces of his broken pen. He relaxed his fist and let them fall to the table, then dropped heavily into the high-backed chair.
"Renathal - " The Maw Walker hesitated, biting her tongue as if fearing the wrong words would escape. "I am … so sorry. I ... had not ever considered ... this idea from that perspective."
Her fingers twitched on the table, unsure what to do with themselves as Renathal remained silent.
"Perhaps you're right," she admitted in a rush. "And even if you're not, I ... I better understand this issue's importance. To you ... and to ... Vorpalia."
The Maw Walker swallowed hard, and Renathal knew the concession had cost her. Before he could decide what to say, however, she had reached across the table for the remnants of his pen. She held them in her hand, murmured something he didn't understand, and set the freshly repaired quill back on the table in front of him.
"I will apologise to Vorpalia the next time I see her.”
The Maw Walker smiled tentatively. It was a question, and Renathal replied with a shaky smile of his own.
Read next drabble | Visit the Masterpost
#prince renathal#renathal fanfiction#renathal x reader#renathal x maw walker#renathal x oc#revendreth#the maw walker#vorpalia#venthyr#shadowlands#wow fanfiction#world of warcraft#tw:incorrect pronouns#the reservoir#light & shadows#daily writing challenge
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Coffee + New Book + By David Duchovny
Looks like a spectacular day ahead 💙
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Team Reservoir is proud to announce that our first issue is now live! Visit https://thereservoir.info/
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Budapest's Gellért Hill's Huge Water Reservoir. One of the most spectacular and popular facilities of the Budapest Waterworks, the vast space contains 106 columns.
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Budapest: Insight Into Gellért Hill’s Huge Water Reservoir
Photography by Zsolt Szigetváry
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the guys in reservoir dogs: *wear suits*
me: chainsaw man reference
#drawings#csm#chainsaw man#hayakawa family#aki hayakawa#denji#power#reservoir dogs#film#movies#fanart#art#artists on tumblr
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He is a bit more halfway through the shooting (Malice)
He is looking forward to filming in Greece (never been there).
He said it's a long time to be away from home.
Shooting Malice and doing the podcast was a bit more than he thought it would be. But he'll figure it out.
He and the band will have a listening session of the 15 demos tomorrow.
He confirms that the podcast will launch next month. Btw it's not his idea, his agent suggested it during the strike.
BFD will be released in June.
He is writing a script, he would love to act in it, looking for a director. If the movie isn't doable, he could novelize it.
He loves the X-Files.
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pls I’m crying what the fuck is this
hausofdecline on ig
#steve buscemi#boardwalk empire#nucky thompson#reservoir dogs#mr pink#fargo#ghost world#the wedding singer#the big lebowski#the king of staten island#con air#airheads#hotel transylvania#the sopranos#tony blundetto
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Day 4: Children
This is an entirely G-Rated 587 word drabble for the @daily-writing-challenge November words! Takes place in the universe of my current series and features Revendreth’s first snowfall courtesy of the Maw Walker. Read them all here on Ao3
"What's this?"
The Curator held out a hand to catch one of the swiftly falling specks. The little white fractal stayed cold on her palm for a moment before dissolving into water.
"It is snow," said the Accuser hovering attentively at her elbow. "I suppose our resident magus has conjured it." She frowned pointedly at the Maw Walker who waved from the far end of the terrace overlooking the cliff.
“Oh! I know about snow - I think ..." the Curator hesitated, cocking her head in absent thought. As Revendreth's archivist for as long as time, she knew about a great many things she had never seen in person. When she knew anything at all, anymore.
The Curator watched with lively interest as the snow continued to fall, thick and fast, rapidly obscuring the dark stone of the refreshments area. She bent down to stroke the white blanket now covering her shoes.
"What happens when it covers everything?"she asked her soulbind.
The Accuser rolled her beady eyes, shaking the invasive substance from the folds of her tidy dress.
"It will accumulate dirt and grime like a grotesque amalgamation, then melt, leaving everything slick and dangerous and dirty. " The Accuser now leveled her unsettling gaze at the Dark Prince sitting beside the Maw Walker, looking annoying cheerful. "Why the Prince allows the Maw Walker to create such mess, I'll never - "
She broke off as cold suddenly surged through her toes where a handful of snow had been dumped onto her thin-soled slippers. She revolved slowly to face her soulbind.
The Curator, white powder still clinging to her hands, let out a brief Ha of laughter.
"Oh, that is immensely satisfying!"
"And immensely childish," the Accuser said mulishly, shaking the wretched substance from her shoes before it could melt.
"Yes, that too," agreed the Curator unabashed. "Come, Harriet, you try."
She stooped to gather more snow, patting it into a clumsy sphere with bare hands, and offering it to her soulbind.
The Accuser crossed her arms firmly in front of her.
"Absolutely not. I will not debase myself with childish antics."
"Really?" the Curator tilted her head, snowflakes drifting from her wispy grey hair. "What if I do this?" And she tossed the loosely packed snow into the Accuser's face.
Her aim was haphazard, the shot half dissipating before it reached its target. But the Accuser was still forced to double over and claw the cloying powder from her eyes and nose.
“You are a Harvester!” She coughed, spitting more snow from her mouth. “This behaviour is nothing short of - ACH”
The Curator had shoved the next handful of snow down the back of the Accuser’s dress. The Accuser shot up, dancing furiously in place as she struggled in vain to rid her skin of the freezing wet.
The Curator gave another short, shocked laugh, as if surprised she could make such a sound.
“And what about now?” she asked expectantly.
The Accuser faced her soulbind, and her eyes burned with a fire to melt the swiftly forming snowbanks.
"Now ... it is war."
-
“What did I say?” The Maw Walker gasped between laughs. Her words were barely intelligible over the Accuser’s high battle cries and the Curator’s delighted shrieks. “Snow reduces everyone to children.”
“I must remember… never to doubt you,” Renathal stammered, wiping tears of mirth from his eyes, the better to watch the two lovers chase each other across the courtyard, snow hitting everything foolish enough to get in their way.
Read next drabble | Visit the Masterpost
#renathal#world of warcraft#fan fiction#venthyr#shadowlands#wow#renathal/oc#renathal x maw walker#the curator#the accuser#revendreth#ember court#Sinfall#wow fanfiction#the reservoir#light & shadows#daily writing challenge
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was nobody going to tell me about these
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