#City of a Thousand Feelings

[haveyoureadthistransbook]

City of Thousand Feelings by Anya Johanna DeNiro

goodreads

The City of a Thousand Feelings doesn't let certain people inside its walls. It's a place where emotions can become visible, but it flees the approach of a makeshift army who want to enter. Two of the trans women in this army forge a deep, complicated, and at times contentious friendship spanning thirty years. They must come to terms with not only the City's literal and figurative gatekeeping, but also other, even more sinister forces that use necromancy against them. As the narrator and her friend's lives are sundered apart, they must come to terms with what it means to not have a home, and what it means to be queer and aching for such a home. A sword and sorcery tale with emotional resonance, City of a Thousand Feelings brims with both the visceral and the allegorical, allowing the two trans women at the center of the story to claim their own space.

Mod opinion: I haven't read this book yet, but having really loved OKPsyche by the same author I reaaally want to check this one out as well.

[haveyoureadthisfantasybook]

vote yes if you have finished the entire book.

vote no if you have not finished the entire book.

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[bet-on-me-13]

City Spirits awaken.

So! City Spirts are basically God's sustained by the people in their Cities. Some are Gods born from the belief and people of a City, others are God's who Bind themselves to Cities to sustain themselves in periods of low worship.

Almost all Major Population Centers have some kind of City Spirit bound to them.

The Personification of Los Angeles who slept with Constantine was born from her City, but she was young and weak compared to other City Spirits.

Lady Gotham is an Ancient Spirit who holds immense Power, but purposefully bound herself to the new and growing city of Gotham so she could sleep for a few millenia without worrying about sustaining Worship. She has been asleep for Centuries.

Actually, most City Spirits are Asleep.

Millenia Ago, the most powerful Gods and Spirits of the Infinite Realms fled the Rule of Pariah Dark. They didn't agree with his ambitions to conquer the Living Realm, and didn't want to let him use their Power against the Living Realm either.

So they Bound themselves to newly forming Cities and put themselves into Deep Sleep to avoid his Control. They have been asleep for Millenia now, waiting for the day Pariah would be overthrown so they could return to the Infinite Realms safely.

Then they day came. A New King was Crowned.

And the Cities began to wake up.

[andr0nap-wf]

every european in the chat, walking around hollvania: this feels like home :)

[vv-ispy]

Mondstadters being extremely religious with the unshakable believe that Barbatos is always looking out for them, greeting people with "Barbatos bless you", praying to Barbatos to keep their children safe

vs

Barbatos is literally asleep

[apostacism]

maybe i should make an aeducan... it's the only way i can ever see myself restoring the anvil of the void

[synonymroll648]

headcanon that as sophie ages, she gets more and more off-put by how she still looks twenty at some age past 40. the only wrinkles she has are smile lines and a barely-there crease between her eyebrows that never leaves. no gray hairs. it doesn’t feel like there’s any physical evidence of how much stress aged her too fast.

(maybe she dyes more grays into her hair to feel better about her reflection, the more time passes by. maybe, on bad days, she contours wrinkles into her skin with makeup. maybe the bad days get more frequent as she ages outside the human lifespan. maybe.)

[kirkwallguy]

have not wanted to type more than a three paragraph tumblr post since finishing my dissertation but i suddenly need to write some crazy handers fic so we may be back

[coughloop]

.

[littleeyesofpallas]

B(IO)M(EAT) NECTAR[BMネクタール]

[pyrosomatic-metamorphosis]

(ao3)

The worst thing, Bad knows, is the way that nothing changes. 

The clouds move slow across the sky, gentle giants on an eternal trek. The waters dance with fish; the brooks burble and sing. Grass grows. Sheep eat. Grass regrows. 

On, and on, and on, and on. 

Bad breathes in, slow, and holds it. 

It’s enough to go mad over. To become enraged for. To rip everything down just so that everything can match the- the keening lack in his heart. Grass grows. Grass has always grown. There is nothing that could ever stop grass from growing. 

His hands are curled into the ground at his sides. He clutches handfuls of the wretched plant and pulls, almost gently, and doesn’t snap a single blade.

He exhales, slow, and doesn’t inhale again. What point is there? He’s alone. No one will know whether or not he needs to breathe. He’s been alone before- days that Dapper doesn’t wake up, days where the other eggs are with their other parents. Days where he falls asleep in his chair and the ghosts are left to amuse themselves. He’s been alone before. 

He’s lost before. 

There is a sob in his throat. He refuses to let it out. It chokes him, and he takes another deep breath to try to settle it. 

There’s always- he misses Skeppy. Of course he misses Skeppy. He can’t lose Skeppy, but Skeppy isn’t here.

Dapper isn’t here. Pomme isn’t here. Richarlyson. Leo. Ramon. Chayanne. Tallulah. They’re-

Bad tears the grass out of the ground. He stares at his hands, dark claws curled around torn green plant. He tries to imagine the grass is white fur instead, but he can’t find the enthusiasm. That’s okay. The anger will be back later. 

He just- he can’t feel much beyond the loss, right now. The lack. The empty, quiet island where sheep eat grass and clouds keep moving and no eggs place any signs at all. That’s not okay, but he knows that, at least, will change. That’s how grief works. The world ends, and you end with it, and while you claw yourself up from the rubble the world ends again and sends you back under, and then again, and then again, but by the third go around you know what the tremors look like. You start to predict where it hurts the most. Then the world keeps ending but the ending just becomes a part of your world, and sometimes everything shakes but you shake with it and it’s not okay but it’s better. You get so used to the shaking that sometimes you forget that your world ever ended at all. 

How long will it take for him to forget them? 

Bad leans forwards, slowly, until he slumps into a miserable little puddle of limbs. He presses his cheek into the cool grass and when the sob rises up again he bites it back with teeth. The sun is blocked by a sombrero, now fallen awkwardly over his face, that Foolish had cheerfully placed on his head hours before. Bad doesn’t know why Foolish had put it there- except he does, and he’d seen it in the in the slightest tremor of Foolish’s smile, and so he’d kept it on. 

He can’t see them, but he can hear them laughing. Mouse, Jaiden, and Foolish, just around the corner. There have been so many people ‘just around the corner’ today. They’re so loud. They’re not the right type of loud. He feels guilty for the way that they’re comforting him, that he’s taking up their time, and then he feels angry that he feels guilty because he remembers the cage, and he knows what he really means to them, and-

They’re still here. The eggs are gone, and they’re still here. 

Forever isn’t here. 

Forever hasn’t given him a gift basket yet. 

…

…It doesn’t work. It’s a close thing, though- there’s a flicker of irritation at the thought of Forever’s awful, handsome face. Not anger, not nearly enough emotion to fill the void that is Bad’s heart, but maybe it could be. He’ll try again tomorrow. Isn’t that fun? Isn’t that something? There’s so much emotion he can’t feel any of it at all. 

Maybe it’s a bad dream. There were no remains. There was just Dapper’s top hat, and Pomme’s beret. No shell, no dead eggs. No eggs. It’s driving him mad, the maybe-yes maybe-no nature of his children’s fate.

He thinks, maybe, that tomorrow he will build a drill. 

Today, the world is dark beneath the sombrero, and the grass is scratchy and full of small twigs. Foolish laughs once, too loud. Automatically, Bad pushes himself up, because he knows Foolish, and knows how long he’s been away from the group, and he feels sick. He fumbles for his warpstone and- Foolish’s head pops around the corner- Bad freezes. Too late. 

Foolish looks at him, grin bright and neverending. Bad looks back. He can’t bring himself to say anything- he drops the sombrero at their feet. 

Foolish’s smile fades. Bad activates his warpstone again and, though the particles, he sees Foolish give him a sharp, left-handed salute. Bad can’t bite back his little laugh; Foolish knows him, too.

And then Foolish is gone. The world is purple. Then the world ends, once again, in Bad’s home. All of Dapper’s machines have stopped. Echoing noise to almost-echoing silence. Ah. Right. None of the island’s machines are working correctly. Bad will have to make a smaller drill. But he will build his drill, and he will dig, and he will find his son. 

“Dapper?” he calls, his voice cracking. The sound echoes. Only the animals answer back- they’re the only thing that stops the base from being completely silent. Grass grows. Sheep eat. Grass regrows. There’s so many animals here. What good company. It occurs to Bad, suddenly, that they’re good company. Dapper is gone, and his animals are still here, and Bad- 

He won’t kill Dapper’s pets. He is suddenly holding his scythe and he won’t hurt his son’s pets because he can’t trade them for his son and there’s a special sort of heartache to the fact that his son left behind instructions to machines that don’t work and so many animals that can’t keep Bad company the way Dapper kept him company and Bad- 

He’s holding his scythe. He’s holding the Sunshine Protector. He tries to take a breath but it comes out stuttery and he bites his tongue and. Dapper was-is always so sweet. He made Bonnie to keep Bad company, and Bad is always haunted by little ghosts but now most of all he is haunted by the love of his son. 

“Where are you?” His voice cracks on the third word. He stumbles to Dapper’s room and doesn’t think about the fact that they never got to build one for Pomme.  

The hole in his heart could swallow an island. 

Please don’t take- 

The scythe gets left outside. Bad can’t bear to look at it. Protector. There is a secure door in front of him that keeps nothing secure because now there is nothing to protect and Bad- 

-my sunshine away. 

He falls to his knees next to the empty bed. He chokes out, “I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you, Dapper.”

When the sob rises again, he lets it.

[lesbianpegbar]

i thought this was gonna be a kinda poorly written but fun gay romance. why did i just read a 200 page war epic about the inevitable and horrific downfall of a kingdom and a man who thought himself untouchable

[randomwriteronline]

What's an identity but a lie?

(points at Velika) I've had enough of this dude

[fluentisonus]

nausicaa title sequence my Beloved

[dent-de-leon]

Cognouza....

A single ward of the city vanished before their whole world ended, but they don't escape. There was never an escape. Wracked by a psychic storm across the astral sea, every single person's identity obliterated, erased, consumed. The people are gone, but the city is so alive, born of countless starving dreams and minds. And not just alive, but hungry. Feeding on everything it can, every lost, wounded soul. The arrogant philosophers--and every single person they took with them--imprisoned in a hell of their own making. They worshipped dreams, and now they can never wake.

And a thousand years later, those captive minds are screaming still. Ravenously hungry, desperate to break free or else drag others down into their eternal dream. And somewhere a little tiefling is born, his fate touched soul forever bound to the last remnants of a city that the gods themselves felled. Doomed to die over and over, his soul torn apart and painstakingly pieced back together. All the joy and love born of a single fragment that became whole.

A tiefling whose selfless sacrifice finally sets the last Aeorans free, hundreds of glowing lights drifting off in the Astral Sea, a chorus of voices crying, "Thank you, thank you," over and over. And in this place that the gods struck down, the heart of this ancient, rotting cadaver, new life begins to grow. For the first time in a millennia. A divine intervention from the gods, here in the ruins of Aeor. Eyes opening for the first time in the longest time. One last lost soul that gets to go home--

[menstits]

Still thinking about the anon from yesterday and the more i think about it the more mad i get like you're insane for calling kaeya mid i hope you blow up. Bitching in the tags ft arguments my smart sexy boyfriend brought up yesterday while we were talking about this so credit where credit is due