#⊰ ۞ | ࿐࿔*:･ﾟ | :﹙.miss taylor anita.﹚⊱

[christiangeistdorfer]

racing driver ANITA TAYLOR, 1960s

[companion-showdown]

Which companion is most likely to wander off?

this tournament was suggested by @a-tad-bit-obsessed a little over a year ago

a penchant for wandering off is a core trait of practically every companion, but who is first out of the starting blocks even when its incredibly dangerous, who cannot stay put no matter how imperative, who can the doctor not afford to let out of their sights?

SEMIFINALS

River Song vs Ace McShane

The TARDIS vs Bernice Summerfield

QUARTERFINALS

Clara Oswald vs River Song

Sarah-Jane Smith vs Ace McShane

The TARDIS vs Adam Mitchell

Bernice Summerfield vs Dodo Chaplet

previous rounds under the cut

ROUND 4

Clara Oswald vs Mels Zucker

Amy Pond vs River Song

Sarah-Jane Smith vs Adric

Iris Wildthyme vs Ace McShane

The TARDIS vs Leela

Rose Tyler vs Adam Mitchell

Bernice Summerfield vs Romana II

Charley Pollard vs Dodo

ROUND 3

Clara Oswald vs Tegan Jovanka

Mel Bush vs Mels Zucker

Miss Evangelista vs Amy Pond

Zoe Heriot vs River Song

Sarah-Jane Smith vs Bill Potts

Donna Noble vs Adric

Iris Wildthyme vs Vislor Turlough

Dan Lewis vs Ace McShane

The TARDIS vs Thomas Brewster

Jamie McCrimmon vs Leela

Rose Tyler vs Susan Foreman

Jo Grant vs Adam Mitchell

Bernice Summerfield vs Victoria Waterfield

Romana II vs Vicki Pallister

Rory Williams vs Charley Pollard

Lucie Miller vs Dodo Chaplet

ROUND 2

Day 2

The TARDIS vs Katarina

Thomas Brewster vs John and Gillian Who

Jamie McCrimmon vs K9

Steven Taylor vs Leela

Rose Tyler vs Compassion

Graham O'Brien vs Susan Foreman

Jo Grant vs Frobisher

Helen Sinclair vs Adam Mitchell

Bernice Summerfield vs other Dave

Victoria Waterfield vs Jack Harkness

Romana II vs Polly Wright

Nyssa vs Vicki Pallister

Ruby Sunday vs Rory Williams

Harry Sullivan vs Charley Pollard

Sam Jones vs Lucie Miller

Izzy SInclair vs Dodo Chaplet

Day 1

Clara Oswald vs Mike Yates

Tegan Jovanka vs Lulubelle

Fitz Kreiner vs Mel Bush

Evelyn Smythe vs Mels Zucker

Miss Evangelista vs Peri Brown

Mickey Smith vs Amy Pond

Zoe Heriot vs The Brigadier

Handles vs River Song

Sarah-Jane Smith vs Hex Schofield

Yasmin Khan vs Bill Potts

Rose the Cat vs Donna Noble

Barbara Wright vs Adric

Iris Wildthyme vs Ben Jackson

Chang Lee vs Vislor Turlough

Dan Lewis vs Nardole

Liv Chenka vs Ace McShane

ROUND 1 (Group Stage)

Group 1:

Susan Foreman

Barbara Wright

Ian Chesterton

Vicki Pallister

Steven Taylor

Group 2:

Katarina

Sara Kingdom

Dodo Chaplet

Ben Jackson

Polly Wright

Group 3:

Jamie McCrimmon

Victoria Waterfield

Zoe Heriot

The Brigadier

Sergeant Benton

Group 4:

Liz Shaw

Mike Yates

Jo Grant

Sarah-Jane Smith

Harry Sullivan

Group 5:

Leela

K9

Romana I

Romana II

Group 6:

Adric

Nyssa

Tegan Jovanka

Vislor Turlough

Kamelion

Group 7:

Peri Brown

Mel Bush

Ace McShane

Grace Holloway

Chang Lee

Group 8:

Rose Tyler

Mickey Smith

Adam Mitchell

Jack Harkness

Martha Jones

Group 9:

Wilfred Mott

Donna Noble

River Song

Amy Pond

Rory Williams

Group 10:

Kate Stewart

Clara Oswald

Handles

Bill Potts

Nardole

Group 11:

Yasmin Khan

Graham O'Brien

Ryan Sinclair

Dan Lewis

Ruby Sunday

Group 12:

Charley Pollard

C'rizz

Evelyn Smythe

Lucie Miller

Group 13:

Liv Chenka

Helen Sinclair

Hex Schofield

Bernice Summerfield

Chris Cwej

Group 14:

Fitz Kreiner

Compassion

Anji Kapoor

Sam Jones

Group 15:

Alison Cheney

Iris Wildthyme

Izzy Sinclair

Frobisher

Group 16:

Antranak

Wolsey

Rose the Cat

Group 17:

K9 mk V

K9 Australia!K9

John and Gillian Who

Group 18:

Death's Head

Eliza

Thomas Brewster

Group 19:

Missy

The TARDIS

Rose Noble

Group 20:

Delgado!Master

Ainley!Master

Mels Zucker

Lulubelle

Group 21:

Miss Evangelista

proper Dave

other Dave

Anita

Strackman Lux

links to previous tournaments

[bitter69uk]

“Monique was the kind of character that exists only in Fellini movies: hyper-sophisticated, hyper-dramatic, hyper-hysterical. Tall, buxom and blonde, she even looked like Anita Ekberg in La Dolce Vita. She claimed to have discovered Hiram Satyricon Keller and to have lost many of her admirers to her close friend and frequent house-guest Rudolf Nureyev. She was always heartbroken but never missed a party.”

Bob Colacello reflecting on Monique Van Vooren in his book Holy Terror: Andy Warhol Close Up (1990). Belgian-American actress, dancer, cabaret chanteuse (she released the album Mink in Hi-Fi in 1958), international sex kitten and plastic surgery enthusiast Van Vooren (25 March 1927 – 25 January 2020) was born on this day 97 years ago. If you’re unfamiliar with Van Vooren, think of her as a kind of “lost Gabor sister” – or at least a kissin’ cousin. Her wayward filmography encompasses Tarzan and The She-Devil (1953), playing Queen of Skulls in Pier Paolo Pasolini’s The Decameron (1971), Andy Warhol’s Frankenstein (1973) and the Liz Taylor face lift melodrama Ash Wednesday (1973) (in which she is billed simply as “German woman”).

[bookshelvesandtealeaves]

💕 INTERNATIONAL FRIENDSHIP DAY 💕

Today is International Friendship Day and I just think it’s so sweet this exists tbh. My friends are my rock, they bring me so much joy and love and I wouldn’t be here without them.

I’ve put together a stack of books with some of my fave fictional friendships but I’ve almost definitely missed some great ones so let me know what you’d have included!

[instagram]

Books pictured:

💕Delilah Green Doesn’t Care by Ashley Hereing Blake

💕Loveless by Alice Oseman

💕Radio Silence by Alice Oseman

💕Six of Crows by Leigh Bardugo

💕To Be Taught, if Fortunate by Becky Chambers

💕Eleanor Jones is Not a Murderer by Amy Doak

💕The Spider and Her Demons by sydney khoo

💕The Raven Boys by Maggie Stiefvater

💕Girls of Paper and Fire by Natasha Ngan

💕Something Wild and Wonderful by Anita Kelly

💕The Final Empire by Brandon Sanderson

💕Legendborn by Tracy Deonn

💕Written in the Stars by Alexandria Bellefleur

💕Boyfriend Material by Alexis Hall

💕The Charm Offensive by Alison Cochrun

💕Heartstopper by Alice Oseman

💕The Long Way to a Small Angry Planet by Becky Chambers

💕Her Majesty’s Royal Coven by Juno Dawson

💕The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo by Taylor Jenkins Reid

💕The Priory of the Orange Tree by Samantha Shannon

[randomestfandoms-ocs]

Once Upon A Time OC Masterlist

[ K - Z ]

Name: Alissa Thorn

Story: Dear Reader

Enchanted Forest: Priscilla Page ( Fables )

Face Claim: Kathryn Newton

Name: Angel Dearly

Story: Long Live

Enchanted Forest: Anita Dumas / Anita Radcliffe

Face Claim: Ellie Bamber

Love Interest: Roman Taylor | Roger Radclfife ( @the-witching-ash )

Angel Dearly wouldn’t say that she was unhappy with her life, but she was bored.  Instead of being a famous fashion designer in New York or Paris, she was a waitress in Storybooke, still living with her grandmother.  There were some good moments, of course: walking Perdita, baking pies, talking to the sweet music teacher who visited Granny’s every day when he finished work, but every day felt the same, and Angel spent her life feeling like something was missing, yearning for something more.  And then Emma Swan comes to town one day, and the life that Angel Dearly was so used to would never be the same again.

Name: Angel Dearly

Story: Folklore

Enchanted Forest: Anita Radcliffe

Face Claim: Ellie Bamber

Love Interest: Graham Humbert

Angel Dearly wouldn’t say that she was unhappy with her life, but she was bored.  Instead of being a famous fashion designer in New York or Paris, she was a waitress in Storybooke, still living with her grandmother.  There were some good moments, of course: walking Perdita, baking pies, talking to the Sheriff when he came for his morning coffee, but every day felt the same, and Angel spent her life feeling like something was missing, yearning for something more.  And then Emma Swan comes to town one day, and the life that Angel Dearly was so used to would never be the same again.

Name: Antonietta Caccialanza

Story: Overture

Enchanted Forest: Sugar Plum Fairy

Face Claim: Anne Hathaway

Love Interest: Graham Humbert

Name: Ariana Galanis

Story: The Girl Who Died

Enchanted Forest: Ariadne Bayern ( Bluebeard's Wife )

Face Claim: Nicola Coulghan

Name: Bradley Cushing

Story: The Game Afoot

Enchanted Forest: Sherlock Holmes

Face Claim: Freddy Carter

Name: Calleigh Sheridan

Story: Overture

Enchanted Forest: Clara Stahlbaum ( The Nutcracker )

Face Claim: Elle Fanning

Love Interest: Marius Hoffman

Name: Carmilla Rossmore

Story: Love Eternal

Enchanted Forest: Lucy Westenra

Face Claim: Meg Donnelly

Love Interest: Libby Kocsis & Will Hopkins

Name: Corrina Mills

Story: Rite Of Spring

Enchanted Forest: Persephone

Face Claim: Ana De Armas

Love Interest: probable Graham Humbert

Name: Declan Jones

Story: Bury Your Bones

Enchanted Forest: N/A

Face Claim: Thomas Doherty

Name: Dove Thorn

Story: Dear Reader

Enchanted Forest: Robin Page ( Fables )

Face Claim: Natalie Alyn Lind

Name: Eilwony

Story: Rabbit Heart

Enchanted Forest: Eilwony

Face Claim: Kiernan Shipka

Name: Emmanuel Roberts

Story: I’m Still Here

Enchanted Forest: Jim Hawkins

Face Claim: Brenton Thwaites

Name: Eve Dearly

Story: Folklore

Enchanted Forest: N/A

Face Claim: Mackenzie Foy

Name: Evelyn Thorn

Story: Dear Reader

Enchanted Forest: Hillary Page ( Fables )

Face Claim: Florence Pugh

Name: Findlay Maguire

Story: Folklore

Enchanted Forest: Fiyero Tigelaar

Face Claim: Jonathan Bailey

Love Interest: Angel Dearly

Name: Gabriel Whittaker

Story: Folklore

Enchanted Forest: Klaus White

Face Claim: Nicholas Galitzine

Love Interest: Lavender Dunbar

Name: Goldie Thistle

Story: Follow Your Heart

Enchanted Forest: Thumbelina

Face Claim: Sabrina Carpenter

[cleolinda]

Weekend links, April 28, 2024

My posts

I spent the first half of the week struggling through (well-medicated) mania and the second half currently with a sinus infection! I’m not enjoying it! Not either one! 

Reblogs of interest

Pro-Gaza protests at universities in the U.S.: a solidarity Passover seder and an accidental Pulitzer photo

Canada Agrees 200 Islands Belong to the Indigenous Haida Nation

--

The Hot Vintage Lady Polls continue to go for the throat. I felt so bad about Dorothy Dandridge that I started posting and reblogging propaganda for her, but Ava Gardner, my beloved, went through anyway. Backing her felt like a wish on a monkey’s paw ("Not like this!!"). (See all poll results here.) I tremble to think what round 5 will look like. Like, there’s a point when your girl is gonna come up against a Hepburn, you know?

Notably gone this week: Judy Garland, Julie Andrews, Lupe Vélez, Irene Papas (who took out Vivien Leigh in the previous round), Gene Tierney, Barbara Stanwyck, Lena Horne, Jean Seberg, Anita Ekberg, Angela Lansbury, and Cyd Charisse. Like I keep saying, everybody loses. Everybody but one. Round 5 will start May 1st. 

--

Hozier Watch 2024: His first U.S. #1, which he’s now playing at shows! The first U.S. #1 for an Irish artist in 34 years! What?? you cry. Did “Take Me to Church” not do that ten years ago? Well, I went and looked it up: No. That was the “Blank Space” era. Say no more. 

Speaking of Taylor Swift—Paste Magazine went IN on the new album and got threats as a result. Meanwhile, Taylor’s fans are harassing the ex-boyfriend who did nothing wrong (as opposed to the racist one) because her PR is egging them on. I’ll admit: even though I’m not a fan, I found the Paste review to be overlong and not focused enough on the actual songs, proportionally. But that post about the PR saga is everything I miss about Fandom Wank. 

(“My rival dresses to display her legs, and her shoes are of an alluring fashion”)

Meanwhile, the Watcher guys issued the best apology possible, although it was still excruciating to watch. (Background.) They will remain on YouTube while introducing the streaming service. As a Patreon member, I haven’t asked for my free subscription code yet, but I’m going to. Some fans forgave them pretty easily; others have walked away. I’m curious to see if this affects the mood of anything new they film, since a segment of the fandom got really, really ugly about it. Mostly it just felt sad all around. 

Meanwhile, in Alabama: nobody wants to measure the feral hog.

Turns out Death Note had a good reason to concoct “American” names like “Bobson Dugnutt.” Also, I somehow had two posts tagged “death note” this week and I don’t even go here.

The worst brownies ever created and what Tumblr has to say about them

“You roll up to the Wizard Battle and your opponent takes out his spellbook but it’s just one of these”

I know that Loki is not Odin’s son in actual Norse mythology, but the bredlik is amazing.

TIL that Florence and Ravenna are still feuding over Dante’s remains

Maybe haunted dolls cost extra

Chorses

Video

Branch manager

Senior branch manager

“Free serotonin from Honey the Italian greyhound”

Sola learned to show love from her humans

I have seen many of jauncydev’s videos about dog personalities, but I have never seen him commit quite this hard before

I like tie-dye videos anyway, but this one is sick as hell

The sacred videos: you are not prepared for this police sketch, and neither is this news anchor

The sacred texts

Kick his ass, baby. I got yo flower.

Gold Star, You Tried: A compilation

A personal favorite: “mayhaps I TWIMST aroumd”

The origin of “By Talos this can’t be happening”

Personal tags of the week

Seasonally: cherry blossom. Also, art: an old standby, but it was really good, and also, I’m sick.

[ravenofthefandoms]

The Lucky Stag: Part 3

Word Count: 4621 (oopsies)

Pairing: Sandor Clegane x reader

Characters: Sandor Clegane, original character (Marlys), original character (mentioned) (Jeremiah Bryne), Morgan (mentioned), Lem (mentioned), Gatins (mentioned), Brotherhood without Banners, Thoros of Myr, Beric Dondarrion

Warnings: some gore (it’s Game of Thrones), some mild angst, some mild fluff

A/N: Hi :) sorry for disappearing but life has been hectic. I’ve been wanting to write again, especially after House of the Dragon. Hopefully, people still wanna see more of this. Hopefully, for a time, I’ll have more regular updates and posts. As I said a while back, there are some Podrick x reader posts I have brewing plus some ideas for House of the Dragon. This one isn’t super exciting but I’ve got some plans for the next few chapters that should get the blood pumping if you will

Tags (let me know if you would like to be removed since it’s been so long): @anita-e-taylor, @my-bitch-loki @orange-sherbxrt

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters outside of my own original characters. The others belong to George R.R. Martin. I do not own any of the gifs used. They belong to the original creators.

Part 1  Part 2  Part 3

You had been walking for ages, or what felt like it at least. Walking where, you did not know. Sandor had muttered to himself while he held you outside of the burning tavern, something about finding the men so he could tear them to bloody fucking pieces. Unfortunately, you had nothing but the singed, smoky clothes on your back and the aching hole in your chest left to your name. You knew, in reality, that it had only been a day and a half since your life had turned to ash but time no longer felt as it did before. Your eyes always felt dry, and your voice caught in your throat more often than not. Sandor could count the words you’ve spoken on his two hands.

On the first night, your friend, Marlys, was gracious enough to let you stay with her and her husband. She insisted that it was her duty as your friend, however. Another thing she tried to insist on was you sleeping in her and her husband’s bed, which he had heartily agreed to. You refused, though. Instead, you curled on the hay floor near the fireplace, Sandor sitting against the wall near your feet. 

Marlys was truly a kind woman, and you felt badly now for the way you were when you stayed there that night. You supposed that you shouldn’t, considering your grief was fresh and intense. The next morning, you and Sandor broke your fast with Marlys and her husband before they gave you enough food for a day of travel and a skin of water. Their kindness made tears well in your eyes. As you said your goodbyes, Sandor waited outside for you. 

Your childhood friend pulled you into a tight embrace. Tears spilled onto each others’ shoulders as she whispered her condolences. After a night of rest, you realized that you weren’t the only one who grieved your brother’s death, and held onto Marlys as tightly as she held onto you. “I’ll miss you, (Y/N). Promise you’ll come back someday.” You nodded in response, not trusting your voice to be steady. 

Letting go, you walked out to a patiently waiting Sandor. “Ready?” He knew what your real answer was, the same as anyone else’s would be. Your nod was good enough for him though. With one last tearful look towards probably the one place you wish you could stay, you began walking.

The first day of walking had been largely uneventful. Sandor led you with, surprisingly, gentle hands. Whether on your elbow, on the small of your back, or even holding your own in his, he never let go of you until you needed a break or it was time to set up camp. He found a clearing off the side of the path you had been traveling. With no ax, he was unable to cut any logs to build a proper fire, and instead gathered twigs and sticks from the surrounding copse of trees. As he gathered the firewood, you sat and prepared the area where the fire would blaze. Stones from a nearby stream were set in a circle to keep the flames contained. You handed it over to Sandor when he returned. He began to stack the wood, stuffing fallen leaves and tall grass into the center.

By the time you sat and made yourself as comfortable as you could on the hard ground, Sandor had the tinder smoking, then smoldering, and finally beginning to burn. As the fire slowly grew, Sandor moved to sit next to you. His eyes watched you carefully, unsure what to do or say. He had never been good with words, most of them crass and rude. He didn’t want to be crass or rude with you though. When it came to you, Sandor wanted to make you smile and laugh, to see the glimmer in your eye when you spoked animatedly, to keep you warm during the chilly nights, to-... He shook his head slightly, needing to derail this trail of thinking. As odd yet enjoyable this sensation was, there were priorities to be dealt with first. He needed to track down those sons of bitches that hurt you so and make them regret ever being born. 

“Sandor,” you murmured. He looked down and grunted. “Thank you. For everything you’ve done for me.” He suddenly found his hands, fiddling with a small twig, to be much more interesting. 

“Don’ thank me. I’ve been more trouble than not,” he muttered. A soft chuckle, more of a sigh than anything, fell from your lips and you shook your head, almost as if he had made some silly joke. Pride swelled in his heart for a moment – hearing any sort of sweet sound from you was a blessing. You didn’t respond to his words, only scooted closer to him as a chill began to creep into the air. Your shoulders grazed his, body heat warming you as much as the fire in front of you. “You should get some rest.” His eyes flicked down to you, the smallest of bitter smiles gracing your lips. 

“Aye, I should.” You looked up at him; the lack of, well, everything in your eyes made him uneasy. He knew as well as you that rest would not come easy, if at all. Your eyes returned to the flames, your gaze becoming unfocused in them. A long moment lasted before you spoke again. “I don’t know what to do anymore.” Your voice was soft, barely more than a whisper. Sandor kept his gaze fixated on your face, waiting for you to continue. “I’ve always known what needed to be done. Cook the venison, bake the bread, serve the ale, keep the tavern running, watch over my-... watch over my brother.” The last few words came out slightly strangled, as though you choked on them. “I am lost now.” 

Another long silence fell between you before Sandor reached over and took one of your hands in his own. “You’re not lost. You’re not broken neither.” Your gaze lifted to meet his own. “You’re strong. And I won’t let anything happen to you. I’ll protect you, if you let me.” You were able to offer him a small, watery smile along with a quick nod.

“Thank you, Sandor.” Your eyes returned to the flames for a moment longer before you closed them. “I want nothing more,” you said softly. Again, silence fell over the two of you, nothing to hear aside from the crackling of the fire. Sandor was unsure how long he stared into the dancing flames before your head nodded onto his shoulder and soft snores filled the air. 

The next morning, you awoke with a start, images from the past few days haunting your dreams. The sun was just beginning to climb over the horizon, though the chill of night still hung in the air. A shiver ran down your spine as your body began to wake from its slumber. Your tailbone and legs ached as you stood and made your way to the stream. The water was cold and brisk. Dipping your hands in the babbling brook made your arms break out into gooseflesh. You cupped the water in your hands, gently bringing it to your face. The freezing shock was necessary, you felt, before you began on your journey again. When you returned to the fire, Sandor’s eyes were open and sought out your approaching figure. 

He said nothing, something you were accustomed to after a few months of knowing him. Sandor would never be considered a particularly chatty man. However, sitting in silence with the large man brought you a sense of peace and calm. 

You nodded once at the question in his eyes, and he rose to his feet. There was nothing for you to gather or put away, only the still-smoldering embers of the night’s fire. Sandor kicked dirt over it, if only to ensure that the flames would stay smothered rather than springing back to life. Once again, he guided you to the path with sure steps. There was a bloodlust in his eyes as he tracked the men that he was intent on killing. It didn’t scare you, strangely enough. For once, it made you feel… protected. You couldn’t say that you remember a time when you felt protected. Your brother, gods rest his soul, was strong and protected you from men who were too handsy or too violent. There was always the silent agreement, however, that you were the one that protected your brother. You raised him, cared for him, and made sure he grew to be the man that he was beginning to be. This sensation from Sandor, it lifted a weight off of your shoulders that you had not realized was there. A shadow that had hung from you for as long as you could remember.

Gently, you shook these thoughts from your head. You instead focused on the path ahead, watching and wary of your surroundings. Many hours passed, early morning turning into early afternoon. As though he was indeed a hound picking up a scent, Sandor stopped suddenly. He turned to your left. You turned as well, trying to see or hear or smell whatever it was that he was sensing. After a few moments, you could hear the sound of raucous laughing, as well as cursing. It was enough for Sandor to tug you along gently, despite his long, angry strides.

You walked just behind Sandor, the sound of laughter growing as you continued to walk closer. An ax laid next to a stump and a pile of chopped logs. From where you stood, you could see four men, all somewhat familiar, sitting around a fire. Sandor stopped, looking back at you slightly with a warning in your eyes. It was something you understood quickly. You nodded and took a step back.

That bloodlust was back in his eyes, if it ever left. He grabbed that ax and began stalking towards the group of men. By the time they realized what was happening, it was too late. Sandor swung his ax with a yell at the first man, lopping off his head with ease. It was at this moment that you turned around, hand pressed to your mouth to keep the bile down. It wasn’t that you had a sudden guilt about the silent agreement between you and Sandor to avenge your brother. In fact, you quite enjoyed the ferocity with which he swung his weapon. What made your stomach churn was the memory that it returned to you: your brother’s corpse. The grisly nature of the scene unfolding was something that you found you just could not watch. Squelching flesh as it was maimed by steel still reached your ears. Your eyes closed quickly, taking deep breaths to keep your stomach calm. As the final man whimpered in pain, you could hear Sandor speaking to him. You weren’t sure what Sandor said, his voice too soft to be carried over the wind. You did, however, hear the dying man scream at the giant before him.

All you could hear was further grumbling from Sandor. You did not open your eyes nor did you remove your hand from your mouth. The crunch of leaves and sticks stopped behind you. “It’s over now, little flower.” His hand gently came up to grab your wrist, pulling it away from your face. Your eyes opened slowly, looking up to meet Sandor’s own gaze.

“Did I scare ya?” There was something in his voice that had you shaking your head quickly.

“No, Sandor. I just… I couldn’t watch.” He nodded softly. Your hand drifted up slowly to rest on his scarred cheek. “Thank you.” Your voice was more frail than you expected or wanted it to be. “They met the ends they deserved.” 

He nodded his agreement. 

“Aye, they did. There are still more. The one who led them, with the yellow cloak. We find him, and your brother will have been avenged.” You nodded, looking up at him with a fierceness in your eyes that made his heart stutter a moment. With no more need to stay, the two of you continued back on your journey. 

Surprisingly, you did not walk as far as you thought you would have to before the sounds of men reached your ears again. It was distinctive this time, and much closer than the last group of men had been. Sandor looked down at you, nodded, and then headed towards the noise, ax ready to attack.

To both your own and Sandor’s surprise, the men you sought were standing on barrels with nooses around their necks. A handful of men, no more than ten, stood around them, and one sat above on the tree branch. Swords were partially drawn in caution, until one of the men spoke.

“Clegane.” He was a handsome man, the one who spoke. An eye patch covered his right eye, a crop of sandy hair cropped close to his head. If it weren’t for the setting you found yourself in, you would think him to be some dashing knight that you, as did many of the other girls in your village, dreamt of being swept away by. You stayed close to Sandor, however, almost hiding behind him as a child does behind their mother’s skirts.

“The fuck you doing here?” Another man asked. This one had long hair gathered into a knot atop his head and a deep red cloak hanging around his shoulders. His gaze flicked to you, seemingly amused.

Sandor pointed at the soon-to-be hanged men. “Chasing them.” His hand, still gripping yours, tensed slightly. “You?”

The second man to speak looked back at the men before responding. “Hanging them.” He seemed almost bemused in the way he spoke, as though it were just another sunny afternoon. 

“Any particular reason?” Was Sandor’s somewhat irritated response. The clipped conversation had your eyes darting between the men as they spoke. 

The first man spoke again. “They’re our men, or they were. They attacked a nearby sept and murdered the villagers. Burnt down a tavern in the next village too. Why do you want them?” His eye flicked to you, as though just realizing that the Hound was not alone. Curiosity made his head quirk to the side, his lone eye seeming to look you up and down. Not in the way you were used to men doing, but in a way that made your skin crawl. Like he was reading your body, your mind, and your soul. There was a part of you that felt sure he could hear every thought in your head.

“Same reason.” Sandor jerked his head to you. “It was her tavern they burnt. Her brother they murdered.” Your hand tensed in his, and he squeezed it gently. “She saved me.”

“Saved you? A surprise anyone would think to do that.” The second man seemed to be quite witty, or at least thought he was. There was a twinkle of mirth in his eyes that you could see, even from your distance. 

Sandor looked down at you once again before returning his gaze to the men in front of him. “Aye, it is.” A pause and he started walking towards them intently, you following behind him. “They’re ours.” Sandor said, a statement of fact rather than a request.

The first man moved forward. “It is the Brotherhood’s good name they’ve dragged through the dirt.

“Fuck your name.” Sandor’s response was instant. The two of you came to a stop in front of the men. “They’re ours. I’ve killed ya once before, Dondarrion, happy to do it again.��� In response, a man in the small crowd drew an arrow, pointing it at Sandor. You frowned and moved to the side between the archer and Sandor, releasing his hand in the process. “Drop that arrow, you bloody girl.” His eyes remained focused on the man he addressed as Dondarrion. “Tougher girls than you tried to kill me.” Sandor raised his ax, pointing it at the archer but careful of where he knew you stood next to him. A beat of silence and Sandor turned to start stalking towards the archer.

“You can have one of them.” Sandor turned back.

“Two.” It was almost incredulous how they seemed to barter over the lives of these men, who got to kill them. The two men who spoke with Sandor looked at each other. The second one nodded to the first, Dondarrion, who in turn nodded to Sandor.

They turned to the three men whose fates they so casually debated. Sandor went to the one on the farthest left, looked him up and down, and swung his ax back. It was grabbed, however, by the second man before he could bring it down. “No, no, no. We’re not butchers. We hang them.”

“Hanging? “ Sandor’s voice was annoyed. “All over in an instant. Where’s the punishment in that? Not enough after what they did to her brother. What they did to her ho-” Your hand on his arm stopped Sandor in his rant. He looked down to you, where you shook your head. There was no point in arguing. The other four you found died in pain and suffering. It was enough for you. Sandor pursed his lips and shook his head slightly. 

“They’ll die.” Was the simple answer from the red-cloaked man, whose hands rested so casually upon the pommel of his sword.

“We all bloody die, except for this one here.” Sandor looked back to Dondarrion, making your brow furrow in confusion. You turned to look at the man as well, still standing a bit behind Sandor. The man looked at you, a small, almost knowing smile upon his lips as he held your gaze. It unsettled you a bit, so you looked back and up at the men facing their deaths. “I’ll only gut one of them.” The bartering nearly made you snort with laughter, but you held it in.

“No.” Dondarrion switched his gaze from you to Sandor as he spoke. The giant man next to you turned and glared at the man.

“Chop off one hand.” This time you couldn’t help the snort of laughter, the gazes of the men around you turning upon you suddenly.

“We gave you two out of the three, out of respect of the lady’s loss. That’s generous.” His eye held a bit of warning for Sandor, telling him not to push his luck. Sandor sighed and looked down at you. You nodded and he turned back to Dondarrion. 

“Bunch of nances,” he grumbled. Sandor threw his ax to the ground in annoyance before looking up at the men. “There was a time I would’ve killed all seven of you just to gut these three.” Your brow quirked at his statement but you paid it no further mind.

“You’re getting old, Clegane. Or maybe your lady love has just made you soft.” Again with the mirthful look from the red-cloaked man, whose eyes roamed you freely. His gaze, though holding no malice, roamed over you with far less intensity and far more interest in the decolletage visible from the top of your gown. This was the gaze you were used to from men, and did not unsettle you like the other man’s did.

Sandor’s eyes turned to a deadly glare at the man before turning back to the men soon to be killed. “Well, he’s not.” His foot moved to the barrel that the first man stood on and kicked it from underneath his feet. He dropped suddenly and a sickening crunch was heard as he struggled against the noose. Sandor moved to the next one, turning back to you first with a question in his eyes. Your eyes leveled with his before flitting to the man in the middle.

“Did you kill my brother? With your own sword? The man you hung from a tree with the deer he had killed.” Your steely gaze leveled on the man, a pathetic whimper leaving his mouth. Violently, he shook his head, muttering what you believed to be lies. You had no proof save the the cloak around his neck. The cloak was not something you recognized, but the pins holding it together were. Those were the pins you had bought your brother for his sixteenth nameday. Your hand reached up, grasping the pins gently as you looked at them before you ripped them off. You put your bootclad foot on the edge of the barrel, leveling to meet his eyes once again.

“Mistress, please, I’ll give you anything.” The final words barely escaped his lips before you pushed the barrel over and the air was stolen from his lungs. With this man, there was no snap, only the strained gasp as his throat quickly began to become crushed against the rope. You kept your gaze upon the thrashing man’s face, watching with a deepset frown as his eyes seemed to bulge from his face and the color drained from his face to only be replaced by a blue hue. Dondarrion, who had sidled up next to you, quickly kicked over the barrel of the last man, who also choked. As soon as the third man began his suffering, you stepped back. The two men who Sandor seemed to know watched with varying expressions as Sandor looked at the middle man’s feet. The red-cloaked one seem bemused as Sandor removed the man’s boots and compared them to his own feet, while the other seemed intrigued.

“Got anything to eat?” Sandor finally asked once he pulled the new boots onto his feet. The men nodded and began walking to where they had set up camp. It wasn’t far, but far enough from the road where the deadmen hanged that you could no longer hear the creaking of the rope as their limp bodies swayed in the breeze.

A few men had stayed behind, assumingly to cook the game they had hunted and keep the fires stoked. You sat next to Sandor on a log, your knees drawn close to your chest. A leg of rabbit was in your hand but your gaze stayed on the lapping waves of the lake next to you. Two men sat on the log to your right and the man called Dondarrion on the left. The red-cloaked man soon joined you, a skin of something in his hands. “Enjoying yourself?” 

Sandor examined the rabbit bone, cleaning it of its meat. “I prefer chicken.” A small smile graced your lips before you took another bite from the leg.

“Would you like to introduce us to your friend, Clegane? It is the proper thing to do.” The red-cloaked man passed the skin to Sandor, who took a swig of it before handing it to you. You took it, the burn of alcohol bringing a slight relief to you.

“Not really,” he replied. You nudged him with your elbow, though this was only met with a grumble from the man. “(Y/N), that is Beric Dondarrion, leader of this… whatever it is. And that bald cunt with the topknot is Thoros of Myr. This is (Y/N).”

They both nodded to you, which you returned. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance, my lady.” 

You snorted and shook your head. “I’m no lady, Ser. But I thank ye, for the food. And the justice.” Though you spoke of it, it didn’t really feel as though justice had been served. Those men were dead, but so was your brother. You wondered if the dull ache in your heart would ever leave, or even lessen at all. The men seemed to be able to see the dull look in your eyes. Sandor’s hand gripped your knee gently, tossing the rabbit bone into the flames. Your eyes met his, and a small smile lifted the corners of your lips. He nodded and turned back to Thoros and Beric, though his hand didn’t leave you. The aforementioned men shared a look, noticing this surprisingly sweet gesture of comfort from the Hound. 

Beric nodded at your words before returning his attention to Sandor once again. “You ought to join us.” You listened as Sandor snorted, responding to Beric. At this point, you tuned yourself out of the conversation, the only thing anchoring you to reality was Sandor’s hand on your leg. You finished the rest of the rabbit leg that had been given to you earlier, tossing the bone into the fire. 

Your eyes lingered over the water, lapping at the muddy shores. The image of the strangled man kept flashing in your mind, but you steeled yourself against it. He suffered, hopefully more than your brother did. This was not enough, but it had to be. You would make it so. 

The men continued to speak, Sandor’s thumb rubbing soft and slow circles against your knee. He stood, giving one reassuring pat to your leg before he walked to the edge of the lake and began to fiddle with his pants. You averted your eyes quickly, attempting to keep a soft blush from your cheeks as your eyes found the first thing that wasn’t Sandor. Unfortunately, that thing was the amused gaze of Thoros of Myr. Suddenly, something he said registered in your brain. “You’ve brought him back? Not healed him, but… how?” The man who called himself a priest chuckled into his drink. 

“I prayed.” Beric pulled up his shirt to show you many scars, many of which should have killed him. “Six times, isn’t it?” Beric nodded to Thoros’ question. “I just got lucky. Or he did, I suppose.” Beric dropped his shirt as Sandor returned from relieving himself.

They continued their conversation, though you only payed half a mind to it. The fact that Beric had died six times but was still standing before you, very much alive, was incredible. They continued to talk about fighting, cold winds, and mysterious creatures that sounded like tales that the old women in the village would tell you as a child. “It’s not too late, Clegane.” This was the last thing Beric said to Sandor, silently awaiting an answer to his proposition. Sandor gave a soft sigh, staring at Beric before looking down at you.

His gaze held yours for a long moment, longer than you’ve had before. A soft emotion that you couldn’t quite place entranced you. “Well, what do ya say, lass? Ever been to the North?” You shook your head slightly. “Would ya like to?” A brief moment of clarity washed over you. You accepted Sandor’s offer of protection. You thought that, once your brother’s killers were caught, he would see it as a job done. Or maybe he would simply refuse to bring you, a woman, on what was doubtlessly a dangerous adventure. It seemed that this was not the case. How it seemed, at least to you, was that Sandor was intent on staying with you. And this thought made your heart feel a little brighter than it had before, and a smile painted your mouth. A real smile, one that reminded Sandor of the smiles you would offer him back in the tavern. The smile that always made his heart skip a beat, despite that particular sensation frightening him.

“Aye, I think I would like to see the North. It’s not like there’s much left for me in the Riverlands.” Beric nodded his head to you while Thoros raised his skin and took another drink. Sandor offered you a small, secret smile before taking your fingers in his hand as discreetly as he could. It wasn’t discreet at all, but thankfully, neither Thoros nor Beric felt the need to say anything.

[riaaanna]

(not paywalled but I pasted it here anyway)

Fifty years on from Queen’s debut album, Brian May reckons the band would still be rocking the world if ­ Freddie Mercury were still with us.

And the guitar legend reveals he still “misses the butterflies” he would feel while watching the flamboyant frontman ­strut his stuff on stage.

“Freddie was a fantastic mate and a great brother,” he says. “I liked it when he broke the rules, what he said to the ­audience and the risk he took.

“I am sure if he was here today we would still be doing it and the mothership would still be steaming around the world, because he lived for music and lived for the band – it was his family.”

Bandmates Brian, Freddie, Roger Taylor and John Deacon put out their self-titled first LP on July 13, 1973, on EMI in the UK and Elektra Records in the US.

Rolling Stone magazine hailed it as a “superb” debut – even though it only reached No 32 in the charts.

And it set wheels in motion that would see Queen become one of the greatest rock groups of all time with over 300 million in records sold worldwide.

Five decades on –and 32 years after frontman Freddie’s death from AIDS aged just 45 in 1991 – Brian says his memories of his old friend have not faded.

“He was very shy but also very social. He lived to the max every second of the day,” says the 75-year-old. “He is so enduring because he was an eccentric genius.

“He was not a people pleaser. Some may have found him rude but he achieved what he wanted and knew what he was doing.

“I think there was a period where he felt we might disapprove of his sexuality, and the rest of the world might disapprove.

“I know he struggled with it, but he plucked up the courage to be what he wanted to be. He opened up his heart and he gave it everything he had. He was proud of himself as a musician above all else.

“If you look back at the history of rock ‘n’ roll, is Little Richard a man trying to hide the fact he’s gay? No. He screamed his passion. Freddie belongs to that genre.”

Drummer Roger, 73, adds: “Freddie is still around, he is part of our make-up. If he was still around I don’t know if we would be still working but I would hope so. That was part of Freddie’s raison d’etre. I mean what else would we do?”

The remaining original band members have gone on performing with American Idol singer Adam Lambert, 41, providing the vocals since 2011.

But it was with Freddie at the helm that they built their extraordinary legacy.

Inducted into the Grammy Hall of Fame, the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame and the UK Music Hall of Fame, Queen also hold two Brit Awards for Outstanding Contribution to Music.

While the band collected the first one at a 1990 ceremony, the second was presented to Freddie posthumously in 1992.

Despite his band’s success, Brian, married to former EastEnders star Anita Dobson, admits he still suffers impostor syndrome when he thinks about all the music legends Queen have outlived in their phenomenal career.

He says: “I think about young kids who came up behind me. George Michael was kind of a kid to me, like a younger brother.

“And to think he has gone – and people like David Bowie. It is frightening.

“I sometimes think, ‘Why am I still here?’ and ‘What am I meant to be doing?’ But this is what I am meant to be doing. The core of me is still there.

“It is still the same old me inside. I do what I do because it is what I do. I don’t need the money. I don’t need the fame, as I have had quite a lot of that.

“I just want to think my work gets heard and gets to people’s hearts.”

[dankusner]

OBIT — Robert L. Ross

Professor, academic scholar, Dallas Voice writer Robert Ross dies at 70

Robert L. Ross built a prodigious career studying and teaching the English language.

As a journalist, author and lecturer, he was an apostle for the literary world.

On May 25, Ross died at the Oak Lawn home he shared with his loving wife and best friend, Anita, and their two cats, Furphy and Duffy.

Ross was 70.

In the early part of April 2005, he was diagnosed with an advanced case of lung cancer.

Ross remained a busy freelance writer for the Life+Style section of Dallas Voice.

His final assignment, an interview with modern dance visionary Desmond Richardson, ran in the May 5th edition.

Raised on the coastal town of Florence, Ore., and the son of a logger, Ross’ appreciation for the written word was shaped by a high school English teacher.

His first crack at professional writing was during a summer break for the county newspaper in Siuslaw Ore.

At the University of Oregon, he earned a bachelor of arts degree in English.

Escaping the chill of the Pacific Northwest, Ross fell in love with North Texas’ blistering heat while earning a masters in English at Texas Christian University in 1964 and a doctorate in English, at the University of Texas at Arlington in 1978.

Over the years, he helped shape others who pursued language arts — teaching composition and literature at Southern Methodist University, Clemson University in South Carolina, Pan American University in Edinburg, Texas and Texas Christian University in Fort Worth.

Ross was an academic globetrotter: a guest professor who taught postcolonial literature at the Australian Defence Force Academy in Canberra, Australia, Essen University in Essen, Germany and the University of Calgary in Calgary, Canada.

He also lectured at universities in Slovakia, the Czech Republic, Austria and Slovenia.

Publishing an extensive number of essays that appeared in academic books and journals, Ross also wrote and/or edited five books: “Colonial and Postcolonial Fiction, An Anthology,” (Taylor & Francis, 1999), “Australia, A Traveler’s Literary Companion,” (Whereabouts Press, 1998), “Border Lines, Contemporary Poems in English,” (Copp Clark, 1995), “International Literature in English: Essays on the Major Writers,” (Garland Publishing, 1991), “Australian Literary Criticism: 1945-1988” (Garland Publishing, 1989).

Helping build a worldwide network of literary and cultural enthusiasts, Ross was the first president of the American Association of Australian Literary Studies and the founding editor of Antipodes, the organization’s journal.

With such sterling reputation, Ross was a rare and supremely qualified Life+Style contributor.

He began a prolific freelancing career at Dallas Voice in May 2000 and took on a myriad of assignments.

While his forte was covering fine arts (theater, literature, photography, documentaries and anything connected to European or exotic cultures), Ross especially enjoyed profiling GLBT North Texans who exposed him to new adventures: leather aficionados, transgender activists, a lesbian auto mechanic and a proudly corpulent dancer who performs during half-time shows at professional basketball games.

Regardless of age or stripe, Ross touched many lives.

In December 2004, twentysomething reclusive author J.T LeRoy — a former teenage sex-worker and arguably the J.D. Salinger of the 21st century — sent a letter to the Dallas Voice offices praising Ross’ review of the novella “Harold’s End.”

LeRoy said he was struck by Ross’ gorgeous and insightful prose.

Always polite, erudite and extremely dignified, Robert Ross was an asset to Dallas Voice.

We will miss him very much.

— Daniel A. Kusner

[natromanxoff]

Daily Mirror - April 22, 1992

Credits to Roberto Macchi.

RICK SKY’S THE LIMIT WITH THE STARS AT THE FREDDIE MERCURY TRIBUTE

THE SHOW WILL GO ON

QUEEN are to reign again… but under a new name.

Remaining members Brian May, Roger Taylor and John Deacon last night revealed they want to continue working together.

Drummer Roger confirmed after the tribute to Freddie Mercury: “There are projects in the pipeline, but we won’t be called Queen.

“It wouldn’t be right to use the name without Freddie.”

Guitarist Brian added: “Queen died with Freddie, but there is the rest of us. We’ve already proved we work very well together and there’s no reason why we can’t do so again.”

He admitted lying about Freddie having AIDS last year.

“We felt no guilt about protecting Freddie,” he said. “We told everyone the group wouldn’t tour again because we didn’t feel like it, but in reality Freddie was too ill."

Brian said the star-studded gig at Wembley Stadium was very important to the band.

“It was our way of saying goodbye to Freddie. We needed to lay him to rest in our own minds so that we can move on," he said.

• QUEEN are to release THREE new albums, including one recorded in Switzerland before Freddie's death. There will also be a Live At Wembley '86 album and a five CD box set featuring rare and unheard songs from their long chart career.

[Photo caption: BRIAN May gave Lisa Stansfield (pictured arriving at the gig) a hug after her version of I Want To Break Free, and told the Lancashire lass: "You were marvellous." Bob Geldof (pictured balow with Paula Yates) paid Freddie a real floral tribute — by wearing a yellow and green sunflower patterned suit.]

[Photo caption: ROYAL TREATMENT: Roger with Debbie Leng and Brian with Anita Dobson]

Tears from sad mum

FREDDIE'S mother Jer watched the tribute to her son with tears in her eyes. She got Freddie started on his musical career. Freddie once admitted: "If it wasn't for my mother I wouldn't have been a musician. She made sure I studied the piano.”

The late singer's ex-girlfriend, Mary Austin, who inherited a large part of his multi-million pound estate, also watched the proceedings, with Brian May's girlfriend, ex-EastEnders star Anita Dobson, and Roger Taylor's girlfriend Debbie Leng.

• LIZA Minnelli was one of Freddie's idols. But it was touch and go whether she would make the big event.

Said a source: "She came despite a lot of other commitments. She was marvellous." Dazzling Liza certainty perked up moody Guns N’ Roses singer Axl Rose at the post-gig party. The outrageous star gave up sulking at a comer table and joined Liza in a bop to the Stones’ Brown Sugar.

• GUNS N’ Roses' behaviour left concert organisers fuming. The bad-boy rockers refused to rehearse with the other stars or even stay at the same hotel.

A source close to Guns N’ Roses said: "The band were worried about security. If they appeared cold towards other stars it was because, frankly, they were in awe of some of the other big names."

• MILLIONS of fans almost missed the last part of the Freddie tribute. Council officials had imposed a strict 10pm curfew on the concert and were about to pull the plug when it ran over time. Fans would have missed the last four songs, including the all-star finale. But quick-thinking BBC producers persuaded them to let it continue.

[alliwanttodoiscollectpoetry]

Right on Schedule

Poems will fly Friday.

- Jane Taylor

Tomorrow, the poems will leave their nests, their

burrows, their hidey-holes behind the sheds.

You may hear flapping of paper in the crepuscular

hours of morning as they assemble their letters

into words, words into lines, lines into stanzas.

They like to get off early. Others, the late risers,

avoid the heat of the day, departing their notebooks

in after-dinner hours, swooping with bats above trees.

Be alert. Rise early, retire late, or you will miss them.

If page 49 is gone, wait a day, then return after dark.

Anita Skeen

[rattlinbog]

Books Read in 2022

January

The Red-Haired Girl from the Bog: The Landscape of Celtic Myth and Spirit by Patricia Monaghan 

The Unpassing by Chia-Chia Lin

North and South by Elizabeth Gaskell

The Hakawati by Rabih Alameddine 

February

The Final Girl Support Group by Grady Hendrix

The Beauty and the Terror: The Italian Renaissance and the Rise of the West by Catherine Fletcher

The Desolations of Devil’s Acre (Miss Peregrine’s Peculiar Children #6) by Ransom Riggs 

Eifelhelm by Michael Flynn 

The Time Traveler’s Guide to Elizabethan England by Ian Mortimer 

March

The Wives of Henry VIII by Antonia Fraser

The Salt Path by Raynor Winn

The Watchmaker of Filigree Street by Natasha Pulley (reread)

The Lost Future of Pepperharrow by Natasha Pulley

April

The Parted Earth by Anjani Enjeti 

Homeland Elegies by Ayad Akhtar 

Once There Were Wolves by Charlotte McConaghy 

The Last Blue by Isla Morley 

Lone Stars by Justin Deabler 

All the Young Men: A Memoir of Love, AIDS, and Chosen Family in the American South by Ruth Coker Burns

I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings by Maya Angelou

May

The Vanishing Half by Brit Bennett

If Beale Street Could Talk by James Baldwin

Klara and the Sun by Kazuo Ishiguro 

Station Eleven by Emily St. John Mandel (reread)

As Long as Grass Grows: The Indigenous Fight for Environmental Justice, from Colonization to Standing Rock by Dina Gilio-Whitaker 

LaRose by Louise Erdrich

A History of Native American Land Rights in Upstate New York by Cindy Amrhein 

June

Four Treasures of the Sky by Jenny Tinghui Zhang

Member of the Family: My Story of Charles Manson, Life Inside His Cult, and the Darkness That Ended the Sixties by Dianne Lake and Deborah Herman

These Silent Woods by Kimi Cunningham Grant

Darkwater: Voices from Within the Veil by W.E.B. Dubois 

Take My Hand by Dolen Perkins-Valdez 

A Marvelous Light by Freya Marske 

Catch and Kill: Lies, Spies, and a Conspiracy to Protect Predators by Ronan Farrow

July

No Exit by Taylor Adams

The Wanderers by Meg Howrey 

A Tall History of Sugar by Curdella Forbes

Peach Blossom Spring by Melissa Fu

Calypso by David Sedaris

My Antonia by Willa Cather 

The First English Actresses: Women and Drama 1660-1700 by Elizabeth Howe

English Animals by Laura Kaye

Their Eyes Were Watching God by Zora Neale Hurston

August

An American Marriage by Tayari Jones

The Sea Around Us by Rachel Carson

Exhalation: Stories by Ted Chiang 

The Ice Cream Queen of Orchard Street by Susan Jane Gilman (reread)

The Latecomers by Helen Klein Ross 

Unlikely Animals by Annie Hartnett

The Book of Longings by Sue Monk Kidd

September

The Island of Missing Trees by Elif Shafak 

The Invention of Wings by Sue Monk Kidd

Country Roots: The Origins of Country Music by Douglas B. Green

Drive Your Plow Over the Bones of the Dead by Olga Tokarczuk

Golden Gates: The Housing Crisis and a Reckoning for the American Dream by Conor Dougherty

Sexing the Cherry by Jeanette Winterson (reread)

J.M. Barrie and the Lost Boys: The Real Story Behind Peter Pan by Andrew Birkin

The Lost Ones by Anita Frank

October

A History of Wild Places by Shea Ernshaw

When No One is Watching by Alyssa Cole

The Corn Maiden and Other Nightmares by Joyce Carol Oates

The Reddening by Adam Nevill

My Heart is a Chainsaw by Stephen Graham Jones

November

It Happened in the Smokies... A Mountaineer’s Memories of Happenings in the Smoky Mountains in Pre-Park Days by Gladys Trentham Russell

Pastoral Song: A Farmer’s Journey by James Rebanks 

Jesus Land by Julia Scheeres 

I Was Told There’d be Cake: Essays by Sloane Crosley

The Postmistress by Sarah Blake

The Thousand Crimes of Ming Tsu by Tom Lin

December

Floating Coast: An Environmental History of the Bering Strait by Bathsheba Demuth

Disappearing Earth by Julia Phillips

Four Lost Cities: A Secret History of the Urban Age by Annalee Newitz

The Bloody Chamber and Other Stories by Angela Carter (reread)

The Tenant of Wildfell Hall by Anne Bronte (reread)

Mrs. Death Misses Death by Salena Godden

Moon of the Crusted Snow by Waubgeshig Rice

[charmingwillow]

WIP WEDNESDAY ✨ Inspiration

For this week's WIP prompt from @hellcheeranniversaryweek, here is a shortlist of some random things that have helped spawn my wip:

1. Songs: Ivy, Taylor Swift; The Wind, Cat Stevens; All Eyes, Heart; Night Changes, One Direction; Wild Heart, Stevie Nicks

2. My own high school experiences in the early 2000's. The boys there were so shitty! But also, my undiagnosed ADHD and inability to pass a fucking math class. Seriously, I was direly close to repeating senior year because I very nearly did not have enough credits. Finally passed Algebra I at the end of junior year, and finished out with geometry in senior year. Calculus? Don't know her. What I'm saying is, I see you Eddie, I know your pain.

3. "Write me of hope and love, and hearts that endured." -Emily Dickinson

4. My goblin DM of a fiancé.

5. My sham of a stellar body image, as inherited from my mother. Thanks, mom 👍

6. Almost Famous (2000 movie). Anita and the soundtrack helped form Eddie's backstory.

7. A random quote from The Young Victoria: "I know what it's like to be alone inside your head, without ever showing your true feelings."

8. Daydreaming. Losing yourself to your thoughts and exploring worlds and all the what-ifs, and how inspiring it can be. But also, being a creative person in school with undiagnosed ADHD and everyone having the wrong idea of you.

9. My religious uncle calling romance books pornography lmao

10. The classic creative writing exercise of rewriting a fairytale, usually from a different perspective. I immediately thought of Sleeping Beauty. Chrissy would think it's sad Briar Rose didn't get to choose her prince, that she'd miss out on the magic of having a crush...

[aspiringpolymath]

Mid Year Reading Check In

I compiled this at the end of June, so it's not up to the minute accurate, but a good indication of how my reading year has gone so far. I tweaked the questions a bit to suit my reading style. If anyone sees this and wants to answer them PLEASE tag me so I can see what you are reading!

Mid Year Book Check In Questions:

Did you set a reading challenge; if so, how’s it going? (AKA How many books have you read?)

Best book(s) you’ve read so far?

Best sequel or book in a series you've read so far?

New release you haven't read yet, but want to?

Most anticipated release for the second half of the year?

Biggest disappointment?

Biggest surprise?

Favorite new author? (Debut or new to you)

Newest favorite character (for whatever reason)?

Book that made you cry or saddest book you’ve read?

Book that made you happy?

Favorite review you've written this year? (Can be glowing or a takedown)

Favorite cover for a book you've read this year?

What books are your priority to read by the end of the year?

Answers:

According to GR, I’ve read 239 books (tho I prefer ‘title’ since some are pretty short. I read a mix of novels, novellas, shorts and manga/comics.) My GR goal is 365, so I’m ahead of schedule!

Bests

Manga - Restart After . . . duology by Cocomi

Graphic novel - Mamo by Sass Milledge (ff ya)

Non LGBTQ+ romance book - The Very Secret Society of Irregular Witches by Sangu Mandanna (still casually queer)

Short book - Bisclavret by K.L. Noone

Standalone mm romance book (there are not a lot of these, lol) - We Could Be So Good by Cat Sebastian (I didn’t want it to be over, so I really took my time.)

3. Three way tie between The Missing Page by Cat Sebastian, Malibu by Emmy Sanders, and Out of the Wild Night by Marina Vivancos. Oh, and Muscle Cub by Slade James!

4. Loads, but I still haven’t read The Secret Lives of Country Gentlemen by KJ Charles and I really need to get on that.

5. I’m looking forward to the next volume of Our Not-So-Lonely Planet Travel Guide by Mone Sorai. Oh, and Gentle Chaos by Tyler Gaga (ghosthoney on IG and TikTok)

6. I was most recently disappointed by How To Say I Do by Tal Bauer - not hugely, just wasn’t what I was hoping for.

7. I was really pleasantly surprised by Show Me How to Trust by Ray Celar. I didn’t have high hopes after book 2, but this one really took the time it needed to with the characters. Not a perfect book, but really lovely.

8. I’ve read a couple of short things by her in the past, but this year Crystal Lacy has become a new go-to author.

9. Sal from The Demon’s Mate by Delaney Rain, and maybe Collin from Off-Ice Behavior by Hannah Henry.

10. Some I’ve already mentioned made me cry, but I Felt a Funeral, in My Brain by Will Walton made me cry no fewer than five times. It’s a weird prose poem YA book about grief and generational addiction, I thought it was so well done. A book that made me cry mostly happy tears was Keep Me by HJ Welch.

11. The audiobook of Heartbreak Boys by Simon James Green made me legitimately lol.

12. Well, the one that has gotten the most likes on GR is my 1 star of The Right Wrong Number by Katie Warren, but I did like my pithy review for So These Rude Grumpy Arrogant Jerks Fall In Love and It’s Gross by TJ Land. https://www.goodreads.com/review/show/5353619286

13. The Roger Crenshaw books by Taylor Titmouse have amazing covers, and illustrations inside, too.

Also, Haunt, Heart, Havoc by Freydís Moon has a super striking cover.

14. I’d like to get back to In Memoriam by Alice Winn. I started it, but there were holds and I knew it was going to get very sad. Oh, and this probably should have been listed above, but I also want to get to Something Wild and Wonderful by Anita Kelly soon.

[puzzlebean]

Quarterly Media Wrap Up - January, February & March 2023

Movies, Documentaries & TV Shows:

The Bastard Son & the Devil Himself ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ Taylor Tomlinson: Look At You ⭐️⭐️⭐️ Pamela: a Love Story ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ Miss Americana ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ Warrior Nun ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ Lulli (2021) ⭐️⭐️⭐️ Q-Force ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ Enola Holmes 2 ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ Wendell & Wild ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ Supercrooks ⭐️⭐️⭐️ Daleks' Invasion Earth: 2150 A.D. ⭐️⭐️⭐️ Schuldig ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ Ant-Man ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ Ant-Man and the Wasp: Quantumania ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Series In Progress:

La Legge Di Lidia Poet Titans Death in Paradise Lewis Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries

Books:*

Currently reading:

Legends & Lattes - Travis Baldtree The Red Tent - Anita Diamant Choosing a Jewish Life - Anita Diamant Jodendom: Een heldere inleiding by Lou Evers & Jansje Stodel Top Marks for Murder by Robin Stevens

Read:

Cinderella is Dead - Kalynn Bayron ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Did Not Finish:

Law's Strangest Cases - Peter Seddon

*Books read for university are not listed here.

Podcasts:

This Week in Fandom History ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ The Advice Hotline ⭐️⭐️⭐️

Music Highlights:

star tripping - Kevin Atwater ceilings - Lizzy McAlpine Changes - Joy Oladokun Lavender Haze - Taylor Swift July - Noah Cyrus complex - Katie Gregson-MacLeod Body Better - Maisie Peters A TV Show Called Earth - Philip Labes Handmedowns - Áine Deane Cherry - FLETCHER ft. Hayley Kiyoko Love Of Your Life - RAYE Escapism - RAYE, 070 Shake You're On Your Own Kid - Taylor Swift 17 - Jade Bird Closer to You - Sammy Rae & The Friends if you called me today, i would come back tomorrow - Áine Deane She - Jelly Roll Don't Save Me - HAIM Better Version - FLETCHER Girl Of My Dreams - FLETCHER Serial Heartbreaker - FLETCHER Nothing - Catie Turner Champagne Problems - Taylor Swift

[randomestfandoms-ocs]

Angel Dearly ✤ Long Live

Angel Dearly wouldn’t say that she was unhappy with her life, but she was bored.  Instead of being a famous fashion designer in New York or Paris, she was a waitress in Storybooke, still living with her grandmother.  There were some good moments, of course: walking Perdita, baking pies, talking to the sweet music teacher who visited Granny’s every day when he finished work, but every day felt the same, and Angel spent her life feeling like something was missing, yearning for something more.  And then Emma Swan comes to town one day, and the life that Angel Dearly was so used to would never be the same again.

Fandom: OUAT

Enchanted Forest: Anita Dumas (Anita Radcliffe)

Face Claim: Ellie Bamber

Love Interest: Roman Taylor | Roger Radcliffe (@the-witching-ash)

Theme song: Seven, Taylor Swift

Pinterest: x

Playlist: tbd

( format / layout insp )

Tag List: @airwolf92 – want to be added?

*this is specifically a crossover with @the-witching-ash's Roman Taylor & Anastasia Dearly, theoretically she has a solo verse shipped with Graham but I only care about the crossover