#Gulf moon

[lezbeach]

[venus-in-pearls]

this blog is meant for the girls that might secretly be sea creatures with sharp teeth

1) view of the bayside after dark, using night mode

2) shark eye moon snail shell, occupied with a hermit crab

[cavalierzee]

Sheikh Zayed Mosque

United Arab Emirates

Unknown Photographer

[texasflycaster]

Monday Evening Sidewalk

The time for a little bit of variety is NOW! This is your Monday Sidewalk, and although it came out this morning, my mathematical minions NOW tell me I am deeply embedded in a “Sunsetter” crowd. I wish some of you GOATs had told me a little sooner — that I was interrupting your sleep cycle by getting myself up at 4am. to try and hit the morning commute crowd! There is NO morning commute crowd…

[gallusrostromegalus]

Might I inquire as to what, precisely, a Mustain't is? (Aside from a string of letters I hesitate to Google in that order.)

In October 2014 I went on a road-trip to the Driest Place In America.

I was having a rough year, very depressed from having dropped out of college for the third time. I decided a road trip was in order to re-set my brain and get a little distance. Being that it was October, and therefore all the campgrounds in the American Southwest were filled with people who have the good sense to camp in reasonable temperatures, I elected to take my parent's minivan so I could car-camp anywhere suitably isolated, and looked up some of the southwest's geographic extremes- the highest place I could drive to (Pikes Peak), the lowest place (Badwater Basin), and for fun, the Dryest Place in the continental US, which turned out to be the Pinacate Volcanic field just west of Organ Pipe Cactus National Monument. It gets rain maybe twice a century and has no standing water, despite being less than 100 miles from the gulf of California.

It's a startlingly beautiful and alien place. The ground is a deep chocolate brown to black volcanic sand, and in mid October, the rabbit brush is turning bright yellow as it shifts to autumn, the organ pipe cacti are a dark green and stand, partially concealed in the brush at exactly human height. The air is alive with birds and insects and bats at night. The stargazing is like looking into the eyes of God.

You get there by driving down a little dirt road called "El Camino Del Diablo", or "The Devil's Road".

I drove out about three hours from Glendale, AZ to get there, arriving at sunset, and felt a profound sense of peace. I stargazed, listening to the bats hunt and sing, and slept peacefully for the first time in months.

I stayed out there for three days, sketching and painting the landscape, taking strolls through this almost alien landscape, and enjoying the light and sound and total absence of human intrusion besides myself.

On the fourth night, it was a new moon, and I awoke in the middle of the night. Something was amiss, and it took me a while to realize it was because I could NOT hear the bats. I was sleeping inside the van with the rear windows rolled halfway down rather than trying to set up the tent, so I when I sat up, I looked out of the van's reflective windows to discover what at first appeared to be A Horse.

It was something between pale gray and bright white in the starlight, standing maybe a dozen feet from the van, sniffing curiously. It made sense- I was in the middle of mustang country and there was quite a bit of foliage in the area for it and it did look like a truly wild horse- lumpy where the bones were jutting out, dusty about the hooves and face.

I was instantly seized by the sort of paralytic fear Sleep paralysis is made of. I couldn't move. It wasn't quite looking at me because it couldn't quite see through the windshield into the shadowy into the shadowy interior, but I had the distinct impression that if I looked away, it would know, and get me.

I already had problems with horses. My beloved Aunt Helen's Prize mare tried to kill me on two separate occasions, and the year before I had to carry my sister-in-law backwards out of a slot canyon whilst reciting the Saint Crispin's Day Speech as loudly as possible to keep a mustang from trampling us to death.

This is approximately what it should have looked like:

Instead, it was... off. like trying to draw a horse from memory.

The waist tapered in.

The legs were slightly too long or the torso slightly too short, probably both.

The ears were Triangular.

The head wasn't quite right- Too narrow and the jaw wasn't heavy enough.

The tail was too long and arced unnaturally away from the body.

The neck arched.

The nostrils were too high and close

The mouth too long.

Whatever this is, a Mustang it Ain't.

I watched it from the back seat as it sniffed around the front of the van, curious with about the side mirrors. It moved around the van, nibbling experimentally on the front door handle. It came up to the side windows, sniffing like a dog, and it's breath didn't fog up the glass.

Finally, it came up to the rear window, which was rolled halfway down to let the fall night air in. Not even half a pane of glass and two feet of air between us, and I could clearly see it's bright blue eyes.

Horses have Elongated pupils to give them a wide field of vision, and eyes that rotate sideways in their sockets so the pupil remains parallel to the ground. Rather creepy to watch, especially the ones with blue eyes.

A real horse that was curious about the interior of the van would have come up to the window more or less sideways, and looked at me with something like this:

Instead, the damn thing walked up and faced the back window head on, staring back at me with this:

I'm not sure how long we watched each other like that, eyes locked. My eyes burned. I couldn't blink. My mouth was dry. I couldn't swallow. My throat began to ache. I couldn't make a sound. My skin began to twitch, like I was severely dehydrated. I couldn't move. My lungs burned. I couldn't move. I couldn't move. I couldn't move. I couldn't move.

Something was touching the side of my hand on the seat next to me. It's my water bottle.

The realization must have broken the terrible paralysis in the lower parts of my brain first, because by the time I consciously realized I could move again, I was already flinging my water bottle out the window at it.

The top was open, and splashed out the window at the Mustain't.

I've never heard such a scream out of an animal. Something halfway between the sound of unquenchable rage vibrating in someone's chest and the way rabbits cry out to God when the dogs catch them.

It jumped back, pivoting away from the van, snarling at the water bottle. I don't think you're supposed to be able to see All of a horse's teeth at once, no matter how angry it is.

I watched it run into the night for some distance, it's pale body visible against the black sand and the dark gray shadow of the ancient volcanic cone it was headed for.

When the blood stopped pounding in my ears, I could hear the bats again.

I debated leaving right then, but I didn't want to get out of the van with that thing in the area, nor litter by leaving the water bottle out there. I also had the awful idea that if I left now, it might somehow be able to follow me home. I ended up staying up three hours to watch the sunrise, shaking and trying to figure out if I'd woken up from a vivid dream, if my meds had stopped working, or if that had really happened. I didn't dare move until I actually felt the temperature rise, before stepping out of the van to grab the bottle. I had my camera ready- I was still using a DSLR back then- to take pictures of the hoofprints, to show how close it had gotten to the van.

No hoofprints.

Beetle tracks in the soft sand around the van, and the clear foot-and-wing prints of a bird that had hopped around then taken off. But no hoofprints.

I went over the entire campsite with the tent broom, to make sure I removed every scrap of evidence I had ever been there, including my footprints, grabbed my water bottle, and drove the three hours back back to Glendale, then decided to do seven more hours of driving to Moab, Utah just to put more than 500 miles, the state line and at least nine things that could be considered "running water" between me and the Mustain't.

-

I still have that water bottle. It has a dent in the bottom from hitting something, but that could have happened at any time. Strange thing though. I can't drink that bottle dry. I'll have it on me, drink whatever I've put in there- water, juice, iced coffee- and eventually feel like I've drunk the whole think and that it's empty. But I open it up and it's still at least a quarter full. I drink that. I get thirsty. I open it up again. ...and there's always a mouthful left.

Not sure what the side effects of drinking from a bottle cursed by a Mustain't to always have some left are, but it lives in the Emergency Breakdown Kit in my car now, just in case I meet another one.

---

(I'm a disabled artist and make my living telling stories, please consider supporting me on Ko-Fi or Pre-order the Family Lore book on Patreon)

[literaryvein-reblogs]

some words for worldbuilding (pt. 1)

Air

billow, breath, bubble, draft, effervescence, fumes, puff, vapor

Arena

aquarium, bazaar, coliseum, field, hall, mecca, stage

Building

abbey, architecture, armory, asylum, bakery, bar, booth, cathedral, club, construction, court, department store, dock, edifice, emergency room, factory, food court, fort/fortress, framework, garrison, greasy spoon, hacienda, hangout, headquarters, hotel, inn, institute/institution, jetty, laboratory, mansion, mental hospital, monastery, mosque, museum, nursing home, office, pavilion, penitentiary, plant, prison, rampart, repository, ruins, sanctuary, shrine, skyscraper, stockade, storeroom, structure, temple, theater/theatre, treasury, warehouse, wharf

City

capital, metropolis, town, village

Furniture

altar, banister, bench, booth, bunk, cabinet, chair, couch, crib, davenport, dresser, furnishings, futon, jetty, lectern, partition, perch, platform, pulpit, rail/railing, screen, secretary, stand, wardrobe

Geographic division

area, county, desert, dynasty, kingdom, outskirts, quarter, sector, suburb, territory, tract, zone

Habitat

abode, ecosystem, environmentalist, habitat/habitation, harbor, home, land, nest, paradise, premises, refuge, settlement, tent

Habitat, human: accommodations, apartment, barracks, cabin, castle, condominium, convent, domesticity, dungeon, element, encampment, estate, grange, hacienda, home, house, housing, hut, jail, lodging, madhouse, monastery, neighborhood, old country, palace, prison, reservation, resort, sanctuary, shanty, suite, vacancy, villa

Habitat, rural: barn, burrow, conservatory, desert, farm, forest, grange, jungle, sanctuary, wilderness/wilds, wood/woods

Land

abyss, avalanche, bank, bay, bed, bluff, campus, cape, cavern, cliff, compost, cove, crevice/crevasse, dirt, downgrade, dune, elevation, estuary, expanse, field, fossil, garden, glacier, gorge, green, ground, gulf, harbor, hillock, inlet, knoll, landscape, lawn, lot, marshy, menagerie, mine, moat, mound, mountainous, nature, outlook, park, patio, pit, plateau, plaza, porch, prairie, projection, property, quagmire, ravine, ridge, savanna, shelf, soil, stack, table, trench, tundra, valley, well, wood/woods, yard

Nation

country, home, land, nationality, soil, state

Personal item

adornment, amulet, beads, best-seller, briefcase, cache, cargo, charm, contraceptive, disguise, effects, equipment, favorite, gem, glasses, handbag, jewelry, knickknack, luggage, marionette, memorabilia, necklace, novelty, object d’art, odds-on-favorite, paraphernalia, pledge, possession, pride, puppet, purse, resources, ring, souvenir, stuff, supplies, sustenance, thing/things, trappings, trifle, valuable

Planet

cosmos, Earth, galaxy, moon, planet, sphere, world

Region

capital, commonwealth, quarter, region, settlement, suburb

Room

alcove, attic, bath, bedroom, boutique, cellar, den, enclosure, foyer, gin mill, hall, lavatory, loft, outhouse, parlor, restaurant, saloon, shop, stage, store, tenement, theater/theatre, vestibule

Shape

angular, beaten, billowy, checkered, concave, conical/conic, crescent, curly, deformed, elliptical, flat, gnarled, kinky, misshapen, obtuse, round, shapeless, spiral, straight

Vehicle

camper, conveyance, motorcade, transport

Vehicle, air: aircraft, armada, blimp, dirigible, helicopter, shuttle, UFO

Vehicle, land: ambulance, bicycle, car, cherry-picker, dolly, excavator, model, traffic, truck

Vehicle, water: armada, boat, craft, fleet, sailboat, yacht

Water

abyss, aqueduct, basin, beach, blackball, brook, cape, channel, condensation, creek, deep, estuary, fountain, gulf, heading, inlet, lake, oasis, pond, promontory, reservoir, sea, spray, strait, tide, wash, wave, whirlpool

NOTE

The above are concepts classified according to subject and usage. It not only helps writers and thinkers to organize their ideas but leads them from those very ideas to the words that can best express them.

It was, in part, created to turn an idea into a specific word. By linking together the main entries that share similar concepts, the index makes possible creative semantic connections between words in our language, stimulating thought and broadening vocabulary. Writing Resources PDFs

Source ⚜ Writing Basics & Refreshers ⚜ On Vocabulary

[verecunda]

I remember, many moons ago, reading a post where someone was saying they click out of Angbang fics that have Sauron calling Melkor "my lord". I'm not trying to slag them off for it - a squick is a squick is a squick - but I remember thinking oof, couldn't be me.

Maybe it's a fandom-cultural thing? I've been in so many historical and classic lit fandoms where that phrase "my lord" is used between people who are undoubtedly close, despite their differences in rank - eg. Nelson/Hardy, Horatio/Hamlet - that an address like that, which at first glance seems to create a gulf, actually becomes imbued with a sense of poignancy and intimacy. It's a paradox that I love, and I love pairings where it features.

In Tolkien terms, I'd liken it to Sam's "Mr. Frodo". It's a reminder of the social difference that exists between them, sure, but there's also a way in which that characteristic address itself becomes a marker of the deep emotional intimacy between them.

[thepromptfoundry]

Calling all history nerds, period piece connoisseurs, and fans of time-travel plots! Decades December is coming up here at The Prompt Foundry!

This list is being posted a little earlier than usual because historical work can take some time. The list has some reference points for you to jump off from. Show off your special interest in a particular era or event, or start a wiki walk from the the Wikipedia page for each decade to learn something new!

Have fun exploring resources like @thetimelinesofslang, the Fashion History Timelines from NYSU's Fashion Institute of Technology, or the fashion plates and historical photos from blogs like @omgthatdress or @historical-fashion-polls!

If you use this list, please tag me here @thepromptfoundry, I’d love to see your writing and art!

Feel free to combine different days' prompts with each other, or combine them with other events! Use your OCs, your favorite characters from media, your own experiences, whatever tickles your fancy.

Respond to as many prompts as you want or as interest you, don’t worry about missing or skipping any. Remember, this is supposed to be fun!

If you have any questions or musings, check our FAQ, and if you don't find your answer, shoot me an ask.

Plain text list below the cut:

1) 0010s Xin dynasty in China, Caesar Augustus in Rome

2) 1900s Edwardian era, Russo-Japanese War, release of the first feature film The Great Train Robbery

3) 300s Teotihuacan flourishing in present-day Mexico, writing of the Kama Sutra

4) 1910s World War 1, the Russian Revolution

5) 1440s Late Middle Ages/Early Renaissance in Europe, the hangul writing system is introduced in Korea

6) 1920s Prohibition in the US, rise of fascism in Europe, earliest sync-sound movies

7) 0070s Roman Epire, destruction of the Second Temple in Jerusalem, eruption of Mt. Vesuvius and destruction of Pompeii

8) 1930s The Great Depression, the Declaration of the Independence of India, art deco, color film

9) 1090s The First Crusade, the Liao, Xia, and Song dynasties in various parts of China

10) 1810s The Napoleonic Wars, the Regency era in England

11) 1940s World War 2, post-war rebuilding

12) 1000s BC The Iron Age, King David of the Israelites, development of the Phoenician alphabet

13) 1950s Baby Boom, Red Scare, the Korean War, rock'n'roll, zippers and television both become commonplace

14) 1340s The Black Death in Europe, decline of the Mongol Empire

15) 1590s Late Elizabethan Era in Europe, William Shakespeare, Imjin War between Japan and Korea

16) 1960s Moon landing, hippies, mod fashion, Chinese Cultural Revolution, Stonewall, Star Trek, the Civil Rights movement

17) 1770s The American Revolution, founding of the real Illuminati

18) 1860s American Civil War era, late Edo period in Japan

19) 1970s The Sexual Revolution, disco, the first video games, end of the Vietnam War

20) 2200s Whatever the future holds!

21) 1980s End of the Cold War and fall of the Berlin Wall, beginnings of the World Wide Web, the First Intifada in Gaza

22) 1660s Part of the Golden Age of Piracy, the English Restoration

23) 1990s Internet access becomes widespread, grunge, the Gulf War, the Troubles in Ireland, height of the AIDS crisis, Princess Dianna, first Pokemon games

24) 1230s University of Cambridge founded in England, beginnings of the Mali Empire in Africa, rein of Emperor Shijo in Japan

25) 2000s The “War On Terror”, rise of Big Tech, Y2K fashion, emo culture, cell phones become commonplace

26) 1880s Gilded Age, the first skyscrapers, electrification of cities, first household electrical appliances like fans and irons

27) 1640s Qing dynasty begins in China, the First English Civil War

28) 2010s Hipster culture, height of video streaming, YA lit boom

29) 500s Liang and Northern Wei dynasties in China, Heptarchy period in England, height of prosperity of the Mayan Empire

30) 2020s Present day!

31) 3130s Whatever the future holds!

[venus-in-pearls]

~ Beach Finds #1 ~

I went on a nighttime beach walk date with my bf a couple weeks ago, and here are a few of the interesting things I saw and collected!

1) Sea Nettle Jellyfish. These have a very painful sting described as moderate to severe! However, their sting won't kill you unless you have an allergic reaction to it

2) Seashells!

Top Row L to R : intact shark eye moon snail shell, half broken shark eye moon snail shell, intact olive snail shell

Bottom Row : scallop shells, in varying states of completeness

[ineffable-endearments]

The Crow Road by Iain Banks

I finished The Crow Road and had a little time to think about it. I'll put my thoughts under a Keep Reading in case anyone is trying to avoid spoilers.

As I speculated before, I think it's likely that The Crow Road is more related to Good Omens in philosophy than in plot. I mean, it's not that the plots necessarily have nothing in common, and we could be very surprised in the end of course, but now that I've read the whole book, its philosophical commonalities with GO are both apparent and kind of inspiring. Also, if I were a writer, I'd be more interested in dropping hints about what themes are important than telegraphing my whole plot ahead of time.

So here, I will describe the book and point out themes that I believe may reappear in Good Omens 3.

This is a long post. If you read it, make a cup of [beverage of choice].

Update on 4/20/2024: I made a second post: The Crow Road and Good Omens: Further-Out Thoughts

Below are mentions of suicide, death/murder, and sexual acts.

The Crow Road centers around a character named Prentice McHoan, a university student in Scotland who starts to sort out his complicated relationship with his complicated family as he explores the mystery of his uncle Rory's disappearance. Although the book is mostly from Prentice's perspective, the narration jumps around in time with the McHoan family. There are quite a lot of important characters to keep track of; the bare-bones summary I put below doesn't even include some of the important ones. I wanted to make the summary even shorter and simpler than this, but the truth is that this book is not short or simple, and if I made the summary any simpler, it might be downright misleading.

There are at least three major cultural aspects of The Crow Road that I am inexperienced with: the overall culture in the 1950s-1980s (I was born in 1988, so of course wasn't here for the relevant decades), the international experience of the Gulf War (again, born in 1988), and the history and culture of Scotland itself (I'm USAmerican with only reading as a source). As a result, I'm sure there are important dimensions to the book that I've missed. If someone has a different perspective taking some of these things into account, I'd love to know about it.

Also, keep in mind, there is a great deal of descriptive writing in this book. There are a lot of pages about the geography of Scotland, and about Prentice as a kid, and about Prentice's father and uncles hanging out together in their youth, and about various family incidents, and about Prentice spending time with his brothers and friends. At first, these passages seem to just make things more confusing, and in my head, I accused them of being "filler." But they definitely serve a purpose. They're a way of showing and not telling the characters' attitudes and relationships to each other. More importantly, because we get to actually live these experiences with the characters, they are what give all the plot points below their deeper emotional impacts. In other words, the everyday experiences give the plot its deeper meaning. They resonate with one of the core themes in the novel: that our experiences in life, rather than any supposed existence after death, are what matters.

The Crow Road's story is like this:

Prentice is rather directionless in life, and he seems to have trouble investing any energy in his own future as he moons over his unrequited feelings for an idealized young woman named Verity. Soon, Verity ends up in a romance with Prentice's brother, Lewis, and Prentice feels that Lewis "stole" her from him. Prentice has also become estranged from his father, Kenneth, over spirituality. Prentice believes there has to be something more after death because he feels it would be incredibly unfair if people didn't get anything other than this one life; Kenneth is not only a passionate atheist, but is offended by the notion of an afterlife.

Prentice's uncle Hamish, Kenneth's brother, has always been religious, although his religion involves a number of bizarre and offbeat ideas of his own, with inspiration from more traditional Christian notions. Prentice is not really sure about this ideology, but he's willing to talk to Hamish about it and even participates during Hamish's prayers, whereas Kenneth is openly scornful of Hamish's beliefs. Hamish interprets this as Prentice being on "his side."

Prentice has a few opportunities to go back and talk to his father, and is begged to do so by his mom, Mary, with whom his relationship is still good. Mary doesn't want either of the men to give up their inner ideas about the universe; she just wants them to agree to disagree and move on as a family. Prentice says he will visit, but he just keeps putting it off and off and off.

Prentice acquires a folder containing some of his missing uncle Rory's notes in the process of hooking up with Rory's former girlfriend, Janice Rae, who seems to have taken a shine to Prentice because he reminds her of Rory. Using the contents of the folder, Prentice wants to piece together the great literary work that Rory left unfinished, which Rory titled Crow Road; however, it becomes apparent that Rory didn't turn his concepts into anything substantial and only had a bunch of disconnected notes and ideas. He hadn't even decided whether Crow Road would be a novel, a play, or something else. The few bits of Rory's poetry for Crow Road read are bleak and depressing.

Prentice also spends a lot of time with a young woman named Ash. They've been good friends since childhood and seem to have a somewhat flirtatious dynamic now, but they aren't in a romantic relationship; mostly, they drink and hang out together. Ash tells Prentice bluntly to get his life back on track when she finds out he's failing at school, avoiding his family, and engaging in shoplifting. She is a voice of reason, and when Prentice insists to her that he's just a failure, she reminds him that actually, he's just a kid.

Prentice's efforts to figure out Rory's story or location stagnate, and he continues to fail at school and avoid his father. He then receives word that Kenneth was killed while debating faith with Hamish. In fact, Kenneth dies after a fall from a church lightning rod, which he was climbing in an act of defiance against Hamish's philosophy when it was struck by lightning; Hamish is convinced that Kenneth had incurred God's wrath. Ash is there for support when Prentice finds out about the death.

With Ash's help, Prentice returns to his hometown again to help manage Kenneth's affairs. Prentice speaks with a very shaken Hamish, who is handling Kenneth's death with extreme drama and making it all about his own feelings. Hamish tells Prentice that Kenneth was jealous that Prentice shared more in common with Hamish's faith than with Kenneth's lack of faith. However, this isn't really true, and as he contemplates his father's death, Prentice begins to internalize one of the last things Hamish reported that Kenneth had argued: "All the gods are false. Faith itself is idolatry."

As the chapters go on, Prentice is compelled by some of the meaningful items related to Rory that he discovers in his father's belongings. He gains a renewed sense of purpose trying to solve the mystery of where Rory went and what happened to him. Among the interesting items are an ancient computer disk of Rory's that Prentice can't access with any equipment he can find; Ash uses her connections in the US and Canada to find a computer expert who can finally open the files on it. This takes quite a while, since the disk has to be mailed and Ash's connection is investigating the disk only in his free time.

Prentice also discovers that his feelings for Verity have changed. He no longer feels angry with Lewis for "stealing her." At first, Prentice's narration describes this as his feelings "cooling" as a result of the trauma of losing his father, but interestingly, this soon means Prentice gets to know Verity as a sister-in-law without getting caught up in jealous romantic feelings. Verity gets along well with the family, and Prentice is actually happy to discover that she and Lewis have a baby on the way. Prentice's relationship with Lewis improves greatly as well, partly because he is no longer jealous and partly because he realizes he does not want to lose Lewis, too.

Ash's connection who was looking at Rory's computer disk comes through and sends the printed contents of the files to Prentice. The files reveal to him that Rory likely knew Prentice's uncle, Fergus, murdered his wife by unbuckling her seat belt and crashing their car. Rory had written out a fictional version of events and considered using it in Crow Road. I'm not clear on exactly how certain Rory was about Fergus's crime, or whether Rory would have intentionally reported Ferg, or whether Rory even had enough proof to publicly accuse Ferg of murder, but people would likely have connected the dots in Rory's work and become suspicious of Ferg. For this reason, Prentice believes Ferg murdered Rory as well.

Prentice confronts Ferg. He doesn't get a confession and leaves Ferg's home with no concrete proof of anything; Ferg denies it all. But Prentice is soon physically assaulted in the night, and it seems Ferg was almost certainly the culprit, because he hadn't been home that same night, and he had injuries (probably from being fought off) the next day. A day or two later, Ferg's body is found unconscious in the cockpit of a plane, which crashes into the ocean. It's uncertain whether this was a suicide, but Prentice suspects it was. Rory's body is then soon recovered from the bottom of a waterway near Prentice's home, where Ferg had sunk it years ago.

As the mysteries are solved, Prentice realizes his feelings for Ash are romantic love. However, it's too late, he thinks, because Ash is about to take a job in Canada, where she may or may not stay. Prentice also hesitates to approach her because he's embarrassed about his previous behavior, venting all his angst about Verity and his father. He isn't sure she would even want to be in a relationship with him after that. But the very night before Ash leaves, she kisses Prentice on the cheek, which leads to a deeper kiss. They finally connect, have sex, and confess their mutual feelings. Ash still goes to her job in Canada, but says she'll come back when Prentice is done with his studies that summer.

The relationship's future is somewhat uncertain because something could come up while Ash is in Canada, but Prentice is hopeful. The book ends with Prentice getting ready to graduate with his grades on track as a history scholar, fully renouncing his belief in an afterlife while he acknowledges the inherent importance of our experiences in our lives now, and enjoying his time with Lewis and Verity and his other family members.

What's the point of all these hundreds of pages?

Well, look at all of the above; there's definitely more than one point. But the main point I took away is that we get this one life, with our loved ones in this world here and now, and this is where we make our meanings. There is no other meaning, but that doesn't mean there's no meaning at all. It means the meaning is here.

It's not death that gives life its meaning. It's the things we do while alive that give life its deeper meaning.

The Crow Road is described (on Wikipedia) as a Bildungsroman, a story focusing on the moral and philosophical growth and change of its main character as they transition from childhood to adulthood ("coming-of-age novel" is a similar term that is interchangeable, but more vague and not necessarily focused on morality/philosophy). And, indeed, all of the plots ultimately tie into Prentice's changed philosophy.

After his argument with Kenneth, Prentice feels childish and humiliated, and as a result, he refuses to go back home, which leads to a spiral of shame and depression. Kenneth dies and Prentice realizes it's too late to repair the relationship, which also leads him to realize it's what we do in life that matters, and that therefore, his father's argument was correct after all.

At the end of the novel, Prentice outright describes his new philosophy. However, I can't recall one specific passage where Prentice describes the process of how he changed his mind (if anyone else can remember something I missed, do let me know). There is, however, a moment when his narration indicates that Hamish seems less disturbed by his own part in the incident that led to Kenneth's death and more disturbed by the notion that his beliefs might actually be true: there might actually be an angry, vengeful God. In other words, Hamish's philosophy is selfish at its core.

My interpretation is that when his father died, Prentice realized three things: how utterly self-serving Hamish's devout faith is, how Kenneth's untimely death proves the importance of working things out now rather than in an imaginary afterlife, and how much profound meaning Kenneth had left behind despite having no faith at all. After these realizations, a determined belief in an afterlife no longer makes our lives here more profound like Prentice once thought it did.

Also, it's worth noting that this incident changes Prentice's idea of partnership, too. He loses interest in this distant, idealized woman he's been after. In love as in the rest of life, Prentice lets go of his ideals, and in doing so, he makes room for true meaning, both in a sincere familial, platonic connection with Verity and a sincere intimate, romantic connection with Ash.

But what about the sex scene?!

Yes, indeed, at the tail end of the story, Prentice and Ash have sex and admit they want to be in a relationship together. Prentice's narration describes them sleeping together and having intercourse not just once, but many times, including some slow and relaxed couplings during which they flex the muscles in their private parts to spell out "I.L.Y." and "I.L.Y.T." to each other in Morse code. This is relevant because earlier, they had been surprised and delighted to discover that they both knew Morse code; it isn't a detail that came from nowhere.

I didn't get the impression that this scene was trying to be especially titillating to the reader. It was mostly just a list of stuff the characters did together. I felt the point was that they were still anxious about being emotionally honest, a little desperate to convey their feelings without having to speak them out loud, and awkward in a way that made it obvious that their primary concern was the feelings, not the sexual performance. They cared about each other, but they weren't trying to be impressive or put on a show; contrast this with previous scenes where Prentice would act like a clown in front of Ash to diffuse his own anxiety. I've always thought that being able to have awkward sex and still enjoy it is a good sign.

Okay, so what does this all have to do with Good Omens?

Here's where I have to get especially interpretive. I'm doing my best, but of course, not everyone reading this will have the same perspective on Good Omens, the Final Fifteen especially. I believe similar themes are going to resonate between The Crow Road and Good Omens regardless of our particular interpretations of the characters' behavior and motivations, but I suppose it could hit differently for some people.

The TL;DR: I see similar themes between The Crow Road and Good Omens in:

The importance of mortal life on Earth

Meaning (or purpose) as something that we create as we live, not something that is handed to us by a supreme being

Sincere connection and love/passion (for people, causes, arts, life's work, etc) as a type of meaning/purpose

Relationships as reflections of philosophy

The dual nature of humanity

Life on Earth as the important part of existence is a core theme in Good Omens, and has been since the very beginning. We all already know Adam chose to preserve the world as it already is because he figured this out, and we all already know Aziraphale and Crowley have been shaped for the better by their experiences on Earth. But Good Omens isn't done with this theme by a long shot. I think this is the most important thematic commonality Good Omens will have with The Crow Road. Closely related is the notion that we create our meanings as we live, rather than having them handed to us. Isn't this, in a way, what Aziraphale struggles with in A Companion to Owls? He's been given this meaning, this identity, that doesn't fit him. But does he have anything else to be? Not yet.

Partnerships as a parallel to the characters' philosophical development also resonates as a commonality that The Crow Road may have with Good Omens. Prentice's obsession with Verity goes away when he starts to embrace the importance of life on Earth and makes room for his sincere relationship with Ash. Note their names: "Verity" is truth, an ideal Prentice's father instills in him; "Ashley" means "dweller in the ash tree meadow" in Anglo-Saxon, according to Wikipedia, and "ash" is one of the things people return to after death. Prentice literally trades his high ideals for life on Earth. We see in Aziraphale a similar tug-o'-war between Heaven's distant ideals and Crowley's Earthly pleasures, so I can see a similar process potentially playing out for him.

I don't particularly recall a ton of thematic exploration of free will in The Crow Road. However, there is a glimmer of something there: Prentice feels excessively controlled by Kenneth's desire to pass down his beliefs, and part of the reason Prentice is so resistant to change is simply his frustration with feeling censored and not being taken seriously. As the reader, I do get the feeling that while Prentice is immature, Kenneth made major mistakes in handling their conflict, too. And Kenneth's mistakes come from trying to dictate Prentice's thoughts. There is likely some crossover with Good Omens in the sense that I'm pretty sure both stories are going to take the position that people need to be allowed to make mistakes, and to do things that one perceives as mistakes, without getting written off as "stupid" or "bad" or otherwise "unworthy."

Suffice it to say that the human characters in Good Omens will also certainly play into these themes, but it's hard to write about them when we don't know much about them except that one of them is almost certainly the reincarnation of Jesus. This also makes me suspect perhaps the human cast will be 100% entirely all-new, or mostly new, symbolic of how Aziraphale and Crowley have immersed themselves in the ever-evolving, ever-changing world of life on Earth. Alternatively, if we encounter human characters again from Season 1 or 2, perhaps the ways they've grown and changed will be highlighted. For example, even in real-world time, Adam and Warlock have already, as of the time I'm writing this, gone through at least one entire life stage (from 11 in 2019 to 16 in 2024). They'll be legal adults in a couple of years, and if there's a significant time skip, they could be much older. If characters from Season 1 do reappear and themes from The Crow Road are prominent, I would expect either some key scenes highlighting contrasts and changes from their younger selves or for stagnation and growth to be a central part of their plot.

The more I write, the more I just interpret everything in circles. Hopefully this post has at least given you a decent idea of what The Crow Road is like and how it may relate to Good Omens.

I'll end this post with a quotation that feels relevant:

Telling us straight or through his stories, my father taught us that there was, generally, a fire at the core of things, and that change was the only constant, and that we – like everybody else – were both the most important people in the universe, and utterly without significance, depending, and that individuals mattered before their institutions, and that people were people, much the same everywhere, and when they appeared to do things that were stupid or evil, often you hadn’t been told the whole story, but that sometimes people did behave badly, usually because some idea had taken hold of them and given them an excuse to regard other people as expendable (or bad), and that was part of who we were too, as a species, and it wasn’t always possible to know that you were right and they were wrong, but the important thing was to keep trying to find out, and always to face the truth. Because truth mattered. Iain Banks, The Crow Road

[mystical-one]

I know we've already discussed the band as a sitcom to the moon and back but good god. They all move into a comically pink house together. We find out the sweet fawnlike guy who's seriously invested in saving the dolphins is an ex-butcher who accidentally hits a deer on the road and feels the best way to deal with it is eating the deer. The drummer gets fed up and declares in the most left-field decision in history that he's going to work on an oil rig in the gulf of mexico. Garth as a concept

[bengiyo]

Hi, i'm a newish bl drama watcher from thailand that just started watching thai bls. i'm a bit ashamed to say that for a long time as a gay man living here i've been avoiding bl shows like the plague cuz of both the fandom reputation and of misconception from my yaoi era which i leave far behind. i'm just want to ask how did you got into watching thai bls and what were you preconception before you got into it.

Welcome to the Tumblr side of BL fandom. I'd actually like to also hear more of your experience with yaoi and BL as a gay person growing up in Thailand if you're willing to share.

For me, I'm a Black American from the Gulf Coast (the South). I grew up in a Catholic city and spent my entire adolescence in the closet. Despite having a sense of who I was as early as 8 years old, I kept most of that to myself. Because I didn't talk about it much with people, I found out most information about queer media and queerness from the internet.

I entered BL via queer cinema. I think the first explicitly gay character that I remember from TV was Marco from Degrassi: The Next Generation. There were probably others, and definitely more subtle expressions, but when I think about the oldest gay character I remember and connect to, it's Marco. I don't like counting things like shipping Shawn and Corey on Boy Meets World or Tai and Matt on Digimon for oldest gay characters. Sailor Moon can't even count because we got a censored version of it in America.

I got access to satellite television away from observing eyes around age 16 and started watching content on Logo back when they aired gay content regularly. I watched basically whatever I could late at night. It's how I saw movies like Get Real (1998), Beautiful Thing (1996), and Bent (1997). It's also how I saw Queer as Folk (2000-2005) Noah's Arc (2005-06).

After hitting adulthood I mostly got lost in video games and standard American TV for a while, but I did basically show up to any Gay Event in TV. I appreciate that Stef and Lena from The Fosters (2013-2018) were some of the only TV lesbians to survive the horror of 2016.

I watched a bunch of movies in this time, many of which appear on the Queer Cinema Syllabus I made for a hypothetical Westerner new to BL and queer cinema, which @wen-kexing-apologist has decided to try to complete.

I got into Thai BL in 2018 accidentally. I started seeing gifsets of Kongpob telling Arthit he'll make him his wife passing around Tumblr and was basically like, "Right, what's all this then?"

I had watched a few Thai gay films, mostly notably Love of Siam (2007), Bangkok Love Story (2007), How to Win at Checkers Every Time (2015), and The Blue Hour (2015), but this was the first time I was seeing a long series made available so easily from any Asian country.

From there I got into Make It Right (2016-17) and Love Sick the series (2014). Once I realized that yaoi had moved beyond manga and a few anime adaptations, I went looking for a lot more. I basically haven't left since I started in about 2016 with SOTUS.

There's my basic entry into the genre. I don't think I was as worried about fandom and worries at the time because so much of being a fan of queer cinema was a mostly-private experience for me for so long. I didn't realize that BL fans active in the space would predominantly be women or queers figuring themselves out. It took a while to adjust to that, and also to adjust my expectations of the kinds of queer stories BL distributors were willing to fund.

That being said, I tend to agree with @absolutebl that BL has a useful role in normalization for non-queer audiences who encounter it. I like cheering BL when it does things I think work really well, and also deriding it when I think it does things that are offensive to help nudge the genre and offer my perspective as a gay man.

I like the place we're at right now where there's way too much to watch for any person with other hobbies and responsibilities because it means that people can pick and choose what's to their tastes.

More often than not, I'm probably most-invested in something airing from Japan because of my melancholy nature, but there's so much variety these days that it's okay if you don't like everything. I certainly don't!

I'm glad you joined us on Tumblr and look forward to your thoughts!

[yaut-jaknowit]

"You had my curiosity... but now you have my attention..."

Prompt Idea?

Bring Forth Bountiful Lands

Pairings: Gawtin (Female Yautja) x Reader

Word Count: 3815

Summary: Deep in the forest, both you and Gawtin travel. She is in search of her weapons and ship to escape earth forever. Never to return. The two of you come upon a military base. Newly birthed mother and recently injured, surely she can't mean to face that place?! Gawtin doesn't back down.

Author Note: So, I took this in and used it for a part 3 for Gawtin and Reader's origin story. It's an amazing prompt! I just got stuck on where to use it and decided there was a great place!

Part 0.5 | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 (you're here) | Part 4

Masterlist

Ao3

Each left step brought forth a burning sensation. Your teeth grinded against one another while you pressed on. You had to or else… You suspected the alien would leave you behind. One of her hands was already full with the green glob of a child who was promptly asleep. Yet, with some sort of debt hanging in the air, you didn’t know what she may do to help. A chance you didn’t want to take. So, you pushed on despite the pain, limping along the forest you know so well.

Gawtin’s foot falls paused and forced you to stop as well. Her hand raised and signaled for you to stay quiet and still. You slowed your heaving breaths the best you could and fought through the pain surging inside of you. She scanned the air around her thoroughly, head turning.

Then, her hand dropped. Her footsteps began once more. You stumbled forward and had to lock your left knee to prevent yourself from collapsing. Yet, you persevered and forced yourself to shadow behind her towering form.

This went on for miles upon miles. The half moon risen to its halfway point in its pathing. It offered just enough light to see the ground ahead of you, missing any potholes or fallen trees.

The tears that once decorated your face had long dried up, leaving behind a sticky, crusty mess. If you had the energy or even a will, you would’ve wiped away the tears. Yet, it was pointless at this stage. Even the pain this far into the trek had began to numb, being pushed to the back burner for you to worry about at a later time.

There was no energy left to even speak to her, ask her what the plan was. At this point, all you knew was she hunted down by the government, gave birth to her child, then is heading back to a facility you didn’t even know existed this close to your cabin. There was also the fact she was an alien and attempting to steal back her ship and weapons. Here you were, stuck in the middle because you saved her from meeting a terrible end.

How naïve you are.

A fallen log caught your bad leg while you attempted to step over it. Your hands came out caught most of your weight before you could face plant into the ground.

Though you had caught yourself, you laid there on the ground, thinking about your life’s decisions. Nearly regretting coming up here for peace for only chaos to meet you in the end.

Green feet entered your vision. You turned your head to look up at the creature. She stared down at you, a disappointed expression in her eyes. A sigh left your chapped lips before you hoisted yourself back up to your feet in a careful manner.

Before you had the chance to fully return to your feet, a hand gulfed the back of your neck and logged up into the air. You flew for a second before landing harshly on a muscular shoulder, draped over it like a sack of potatoes. All the air in your lungs was forced out. You sucked in air and scrambled to get back onto the ground. Gawtin didn’t let you and placed a massive hand on the back of your thighs, effectively keeping you pinned.

“You are slow. Stay still,” her voice demanded complete obedience from you. You gulped and stopped moving, afraid of making the deadly alien mad. That was the last thing you wanted to do.  You squeaked out an ‘okay’, barely above a breath, and let the giant carry you.

The sway of each step was nearly lulling you to sleep. You couldn’t truly recall the last time you slept properly. The passing out the last two times didn’t count. Yet, the pain that continued to throb in your legs prevented you from getting any shut eye. You kept an eye on your surroundings behind her though as she walked. Not that the creature needed your help. Clearly, she was irritated by the fact she has to carry you since you can’t walk properly.

It wasn’t long after that she came to a stop again. You tried to use her back as leverage to see why. The angle didn’t allow you permission though. A huff left your nose. All you could do was just hang there and continuously be at her mercy.

Gawtin kneels down and allows you to softly slide off of her shoulder and return to the ground. Once on your feet, you look up at her then at the surrounding area. This wasn’t your property anymore. You return your gaze to the alien, mouth opening to speak. Her hand slaps over your mouth and prevented any sounds from escaping. Even a gasp that clawed at your throat.

Her massive head shook side to side. You rapidly nodded, understanding speaking was a no-go. Just follow and listen to her.

The hand released its hold on you. Gawtin returned to her full height and peered into the direction she was heading in. A finger pointed in the same direction. Your brows furrowed for a moment until you realized that’s the same way she was taking you. Another nod.

After getting your understanding, she started to stalk through the foliage, mindfully placing her feet. You attempted to shadow her each move, to watch out for any branches or leaves. It was hard to due to the size difference and the fact your thigh was begging for mercy, for a break. Not that you could get one.

Yet, somehow, someway, you made it.

She paused again and ducked behind a bush. You were quick to follow her lead and knelt down besides her, thankful for the weight off of your thigh. Questions clawed at your throat but you brushed them off, knowing you couldn’t. Not when you hear voices in the distance. Your entire body tightens up, eyes flickering up to the green alien.

All she does is ignore your presence and peeks over the bush. You struggle to do the same thing but finally see it.

A military base. In the middle of the forest, miles away from your property and cabin. There were people patrolling the area outside of the concrete walls that lined the base. Guns in their hands already. It seemed like they were already on high alert. Possibly from Gawtin’s escape. This must be where she escaped from.

Death and fear hung over your head like a heavy vale. Her wounds weren’t healed from before. Not with the most of two days to give them time to. It’s not either of you were in the best position to march straight into their base and take back her stuff.

Your thoughts came to a halt. What in the world were you thinking?! Like you could do a sliver of harm to any of these soldiers. You were an artist!

But, then, there’s Gawtin. Your gaze returns to the bulky form of the alien. If she can survive getting shot at, hunted down, and then give birth all in the span of a day, she’s clearly powerful. What can she take though? A military base? The soldiers within? It’s not like you can be of any help.

There are no weapons on her nearly bare body. Just the primitive looking material around her waist to cover herself up. All she had to bare was the claws on her hands and the deadly looking fangs that made up her face. Besides that, it was like bring a knife to a gun fight.

Carefully, you inched closer to her until you were next to her. “Is-“ A hand slapped over your mouth. A fierce look made you tremble in your spot. The purple of her eyes blazing with a demand for silence. Silence that you offered completely, understanding if you spoke, death could meet you the next second.

All you wanted to know if this is worth going in there and possibly dying. Was she willing to abandon her child to go retrieve some items? You looked at her like she was crazy before pressing your lips tightly together. It was pointless to argue with her when her mind was set on whatever was important enough to risk her life and safety. You see that clear as the day that awaking’s around you. So, you kept silent.

Her hand slipped off of your mouth with one last pointed look from the creature. Gawtin peered over the bush once more and scanned the area. You hunkered back down on the ground, mindful of your injured leg.

The concrete wall that surrounded the place looked ten feet tall, preventing anyone from breaching the perimeter. Except, there was a creature at least eight feet tall next to you. She could easily scale the wall and get inside. She could probably do a lot of damage before they down her.

Purple eyes drifted down to you and narrowed on your knelt form. Your heart began to race under the gaze of a predator. She stepped closer to you before leaning down and forcing her face into your space. You swallowed hard, afraid to move.

Whatever she was looking for, she must have found it before passing the child over to you. You took a sharp breath in and peer down at the bundle of joy held out towards you. More questions pulled at your tongue. You?! Of course, there was no other option besides yourself.

Timidly, you took the sleeping infant into your arms and snapped your gaze up at her. A question blazed in your eyes so brightly she understood without a word spoken. She nodded then glanced back at the base. With her hands, she motioned towards you then pointed at the ground. Stay here. You dipped your head. That, you could understand.

Wait, that meant… your brows pushed together. She was going to face the base by herself?! Weaponless, injured, recently gave birth. Fear entered your veins. Realization dawned on you.

The infant in your arms felt ten times heavier than before. All the possible outcomes pooled in your mind, swirling around like a whirlpool. If she were to die, then that would leave you with her child. A child you had no clue how to take care or raise. This wasn’t a human baby. This was an alien baby.

Your bottom lip was gnawed on as you were desperate to speak. Those voices you could hear only solidified the danger you were in. So, you kept quiet and observed.

The group of patrolling soldiers passed without issue. Then, Gawtin was sprinting across the open space. She was gone faster than you could even say her name. Her body moved gracefully despite her eight and some off numbers height. Before you knew it, she bounded up and over the wall. Gone from sight.

A silence engulfed you. A terrifying, dreadful silence that the forest produced.

That might have been the last time you would see Gawtin. You’ve only known her for a day and you were already worried sick. Not only about the fact you might have to care for her child if she died. But, the fact she might die by going head first into a military base. She seemed so smart! Why was she doing something so stupid?!

A whine nearly broke the stillness of the air before you caught it. You shifted on your tired, sore feet and hissed when pain shot through your leg. It was going to be a long day until Gawtin’s fate was revealed.

You sat down completely on the ground, legs out in front of you, and leaned against a tree. The child was still asleep. Was this normal? It’s been asleep for a while by the looks of it. Since it had quieted down after its birth, you haven’t heard much of a peep from it. You held it securely in one arm and used a finger to feel at its neck.

When a pulse point was found, strong and steady, relief flooded through you. It was alive. There was no cause for alarm now.

The blankets were pulled tighter on it’s tiny body, to fight off the cool elements of a fall morning. Even for yourself, it was brisk. The coat around your waist was a reminder you could fend off the cold. Yet, all that movement could alert any of the passing guards on your position. Plus, you didn’t want the infant to leave your arms. It was best if it stayed stilled without waking it up.

Every three minutes, a pair of guards would pass by you. Each time, your heart thundered in your ears. Was this the moment they somehow spot you through the foliage? That got you thinking. What would they do to you if they found you here? Especially with an alien child. Would they just kill you and take the child? You couldn’t stop your body from shuttering.

Why did you go out that night?! All of this could’ve been avoided. You wouldn’t be in a mess too far deep for you to deal with. Your head smacked against the bark of the tree.

Guilt hit you. But… without you, Gawtin could’ve died or been brought back to this place. Then, they would’ve gotten ahold of her and her infant. God, you were a terrible person for practically wishing that onto her. You sighed, shoulder sagging as you looked at the sky through the trees.

The sun rose through the sky, slowly passing onwards in the blue sky. With just the bag on your back and an infant in your arms, you didn’t have anything to pass the time. The last thing you wanted to do was move alert any of the guards to your position.

As the time continued mindlessly, you grew more and more worried about the fact their was no sign of Gawtin. One thing you counted as a good sign was there was no noise coming from the base. You suspected a loud alarm would sound if they found her. Since that hadn’t happened yet, you prayed for that to be a good sign. But hours have passed since you last heard from her.

Once the sun had passed the halfway mark in the sky, you had to move. Sitting in the same spot for the last few hours made your butt numb. The throbbing in your leg had dulled to a low irritation that you could push to the back of your mind. Thankfully. When you go to move, the pain surged forward, to the front of your brain. You gritted your teeth pushed yourself off of the ground.

The tree served as a barrier from the base. You shook off the tingling in your legs and butt, relief flooding you. You peeked around the trunk to find no one in sight. Carefully with your injured thigh, you hobbled away from the foliage used as a blind. It may not be smart to move but you needed to. The cramps in your legs were only getting worse. You were going to go crazy if you kept staring at the empty forest for a moment longer.

The swaddled infant in your arms squirmed. You stopped in your tracks, head snapping down to find bright light blue eyes staring into yours. One of its tiny grubby hands reached out towards your face and grasped at the air. The fearful expression that painted your features melted away at the adorable sight in your arms. It may look ugly with its alien face but it was a kind of ugly that was cute.

It gave a squeak and used both arms to reach for your face. When it couldn’t, a louder squeal passed it’s strange, nubby mandibles.

Your entire body tensed. That was alarmingly loud. Your eyes darted over to the area past the tree line.

Two soldiers. Both of their heads faced your direction.

That’s when you felt your heart drop to the floor, at your feet. It worsened when both of them began to walk towards the two of you. Fear drove you to stumble backwards. Your heel caught on an uneven part of the ground. A yelp escaped your chapped lips when your butt landed harshly on the unforgiving ground. Pain zipped up your leg. The throbbing became a forefront of your mind again. You gasped at the agony once more and nearly just gave up.

You steeled your nerves and clambered to your unsteady feet. That’s when you saw the soldiers had their guns raised. It felt like your heart was about beat out of your chest and land in your hands.

Only a moment passed before you spun on your heel and beelined away from them. There was no chance for you to run on your bad leg. The best you could offer was a half-jog, half-limp your way further into the forest. It wasn’t the greatest feeling on your injured leg with each left step that sent scolding pain up the limb.

Distance was gain though.

Until you heard the crunching of pine needles under boots gaining on you.

“There!” a gruff voice called out. You pressed the bundle closer to your chest and tried to quicken your speed.

Tears pooled on the corner of your eyes. The pain amounted even pass your limits. Adrenaline may fill your veins but even it couldn’t over shadow the agony that made up your left thigh. You panted heavily and pushed through the worst of it, fighting the forest and your body.

A thundering bang pierced the tension. Your legs gave out. You barely saved the infant on your elbows and felt the skin tear off.

Seconds passed until you were spun around. Now, on your back and staring up at the two imposing soldiers peering down at you. You began to cry and held the fussy infant firmly. “Don’t kill me!” you begged for your life and turned on your side, to shield the bundle away from their prying eyes.

A burning muzzle pressed against your shoulder. The barrel still hot. “What do you have?! Why are you out here?!” the same voice from before demanded and shoved the gun harder into you.

You gave a pathetic cry and rapidly shook your head to deny any wrong doing. “Nothing! I just got lost,” you lied straight through your teeth. It was a pathetic excuse, horrible. Yet, it was all your poor mind could make up in the moment. You grasped the blankets tighter, white knuckling the fabric.

One of them reaches out and grasps the blanket and gives a firm tug. You don’t relent.

No words were spoken to Gawtin but you weren’t going to let er child get taken away. It’s not like you thought this situation was going to happen.

One of your legs shot out and met the shin of the soldier fighting you. The man grunted and darkened his glare through his mask. Your breath hitched.

Before you had a chance to react, a fist met with the side of your face. Your head knocked against the ground, putting you into a daze. But, your arms didn’t even loosen a fraction. You groaned and blinked through your blurry vision.

The barrel found its way to your temple and left an indent. “Tell us. Why are you here?” a different voice grounded out. The gun was a fatal reminder of what would happen if you didn’t give up, didn’t give in to their demands. You painfully steeled your nerves again, teeth gritted, then turned your head to look at them.

One side of your lips curled up into a snarl. The fear inside of you was still ablaze but you couldn’t let them take the infant. “I got lost,” you repeated again, voice trembling despite your horrible excuse of a sneer. You knew it wouldn’t frighten any of them, but you had to stall and give yourself time to possible escape.

Click. The gun was loaded.

“Try that again or else you’ll met the business end again.” Confusion washed over you for a split second before a boot came down on your right leg. There was a sickening crunch that met your ears.

Screams surged past your lips as pain flooded your system. You began to pant, heavily sucking in all the available air in the area. It wasn’t enough. You felt like you were slowly suffocating, loosing the necessary oxygen needed for your brain to function. You writhe on the ground, barely paying attention to what was in your arms.

An ear shattering bellow pulled you from the depths of your agony. The ground underneath you shook with tremendous force. You blinked the majority of the tears away. Only to find a moss green blob landing a few feet away.

“Contact-ack!” Before the man could raise his weapon in defense, an arrow pierced his chest. The deadly tip thrusted through the other side of his ribcage. It was still firmly logged inside of him.

Gun fire only last two seconds. Then, silence filled the air. One broken by your heavily sobs and painful breaths.

The fall of two bodies didn’t even faze you. You curled up into a ball of agony and protection. Your entire body shuttered and trembled. The pain and adrenaline running its course through your form. All you knew though was you had to protect the child who was crying up a storm.

Hands gripped your shoulder and leg, prying your curled form open. You reopened your eyes to find the mother towering over your form, cradling and soothing her baby.

Relief surged inside of you.

Gawtin, a slightly bloody mess, was back. Adorned in primitive looking armor. She looked deadlier than before.

You laid flat on the ground. It hurt to move. There was something terribly wrong with your leg. You didn’t even need to look at it to know that the soldier had snapped it. Then, there was a new burning sensation crawling up your other thigh. As if you had been shot. Again. You gave pitiful whimper, eyes sliding shut.

An unknown amount of time past as you suffered on the ground before something was placed in your lap. You didn’t even have the energy to open your eyes. Whatever happened, happens. Death was either going to greet or Gawtin may save your life.

“You had my curiosity. Now, you have my attention,” her words were muffled in your ear. You grunted, the only intelligent answer you could give.

Arms curled under the backs of your knees and your shoulder blades. The ground left you. One of your eyelids cracked open. Gawtin held you in her arms while her baby was cradled on your stomach. You gave a hum before the pain and exhaustion swallowed you whole.

[porcelainseashore]

Summer Solstice - Beach Episode by Night

Commissioned art by @medeaft

Author's Note: My “drabble” (inspired by a music ask) for the lovely @beach-episode-by-night event. A heartfelt thank you to @mortifying-macaroni and @alibellerosetta whom I dedicate this piece to. Your encouragement made it possible.

Along the I-10 highway to Tucson, Wynter takes a detour toward the coastline on impulse, chasing the memory of a bygone summer’s day.

Content Warnings: Suicidal thoughts, references to murder, wraith, pre-canon, weird uncle/niece relationship, blame it on the Giovanni.

How long has it been?

The chime sounded as she left the car door open with her keys in the ignition, monotonous, comforting yet cajoling her to do something about it. It didn’t matter; hers was the lone automobile on the desolate street. If someone wanted this piece of junk, they’d earn the right by swiping it off her hands behind her back.

In the tepid late October air, Wynter had taken a detour off the I-10 toward the Gulf Coast on a whim, with the windows rolled down because the air conditioner wasn’t working—it never did. Closer to the basin, the smell of brine from the Atlantic hit her tenfold. She had been swimming in her thoughts, her reflexes on autopilot, as if she remembered the route by heart. That was the question, what did she remember? Why had she come here, when she had spent the last two decades running off and reinventing herself, just like her estranged sire, Violetta, taught her to?

Instead of answering, she faced away from the wind, lashes downturned and fluttering, as she cupped her hand over her mouth, lighting up a cigarette and ignoring the faint protests of her Beast. The wind was still as violent as she’d left it. Heeled boots crunched into gravel, which finally opened out to soft mounds of sand. She wasn’t in a hurry; she had time to kill, even with her battered, old Honda that was on its last legs. 

The Prince could wait. 

What was a couple of USB sticks that he desired good for? They lay stuffed and suffocated in her worn-down satchel—one she’d found while rummaging through the trash—with its straps chewed and frayed at the ends. Maybe just enough for emergency repairs and a meal or two, if she was lucky.

From afar, she could make out the salt-stripped cafes, gaudy tiki bars with their balding straw roofs, and a row of little wooden clapboard houses, paint-chipped and peeling, along the boardwalk. Weather-beaten “For sale” and “We’re closed!” signs hung awkwardly from the establishments, some on their last nail, swaying to and fro, creaking in the breeze. Her gaze trailed over the tired beach chairs, deflated pool toys, and broken surfboards. A smattering of them had found their way across the divide, acting like driftwood in the sea.

The sound of children’s giggles and bare feet pattering on the floorboards echoed in the distance. She gripped her bag tight, but did not look back. Her shoes were sinking into the wet sand now, and the air carried warm moisture which settled beneath the layer of clothes onto her skin. Her very own form of sweat.

The moon illuminated her path, but at the edge of the ocean, she was at a loss for what to do. Why was she here? What had called her? How—

“Wynter,” it whispered, balmy in the zephyr. “Why don’t you come out to play?”

She shielded her eyes, as though blinded by the brilliant sun, peering out into the vast space before her. And there he was, clear as day, in his light blue shorts and a roseate burn creeping through his tanned back, wading toward her in the water. Earlier, she had been sulking under the beach umbrella while her mother flipped through a magazine and her father chatted jovially with other men over rounds of drinks at the bar.

The wind was howling. Fine, white sand swirled in the current. She didn’t like how hot it got under her feet. Everything hurt. But for Lucien, she would bear through it all. His smile ached as she splashed into the water, salt clinging to her lips and foam gathering in the tendrils of her hair. She took a deep breath and dived, dipping under the waves of the high tide. A strong pair of arms entangled around her waist as she was drawn out of the sea, and she wriggled to break free of their grasp while her uncle chuckled. And soon, she was laughing too.

“My very own mermaid,” he murmured. 

Wynter bared her teeth and hissed, “But I will drown you and taste your flesh.”

He touched her chin, smiling sadly. “Well, it would be worth it, to me.”

She didn’t think anything of it then, bounding out of Lucien’s embrace and paddling through the waters. That day, under the cloudless sky and the sun’s rays glittering beyond the horizon, she felt how magnificent it was to be alive. Glancing over at Lucien, she paused, meeting his eyes, shifting azure blue, watching the droplets trickle down his brow. The waves crashed on shore. Seagulls crooned overhead. Time whiled away in silence. Their eyes searching for a morsel they could hold on to. Years of an unspoken bond buried in a look. He believed in it then, how pure and indescribable it was. And the curve of his mouth reflected hers.

For all the trials he would be put through, he’d gladly suffer, even if there was no end in sight. She waded closer to him, the water now reaching waist-high. But it was murky. Her cigarette butt had gone out, leaving traces of the woody scent of dark tobacco in the air, but even that too was fading. Instead of the heat of the sun beating down her back, she encountered the cool, umbral glow of the moon, iridescent on her bloodless skin. She wanted it to burn her alive.

Her Beast recoiled at the mere thought of seeing the light of day, but Wynter entertained it for a moment longer, savoring the fear, the way the light extinguished in someone’s eyes before they expired.

“Let me drown with you,” she prayed, the flicker of an unearthly sheen present in her eyes.

In her peripheral vision, a shadow flitted between the steel scaffolding of the once-grandiose pier, now in a state of irreversible decay, rusting to the elements. She remembered standing there as a child, sick from cotton candy, and the noise of the fairground rides flooding her ears. A postcard marred with heavy creases—one of the many within the bundle she had stashed in her glove compartment. She held it out in front of the pier, shutting one eye and squinting, then doing the same with the other. 

Every year, she received a blank card, the address scribbled in handwriting she didn’t recognize. Regardless of whether she stayed at a temporary residence or relied on throwaway collection points dotted across the country, they arrived without fail. “Wish you were here’s” by the ghost of a loved one on perpetual vacation. Places she had been to. Places she had dreamed of. This time, a picturesque painting of the old pier at dawn. 

It could have been a trap, but she found it strangely comforting, knowing she had a place to come back to, observing the swell and receding waves until she would be nothing more than ashes floating on the surface at the break of day. Kindred talked about death as if it were so final, but to her, death was only the beginning. A concrete structure on the pier groaned, loosening from its bolt before collapsing into the sea. The sound and vibrations were tremendous, but Wynter didn’t flinch.

How long could she drag this out? How much more could she keep on going?

For a while, she had been aware of a presence watching her, but made no sign to acknowledge its existence. It was tempting to seek it out, as was the habit of being a hunter, but she decided otherwise. The Shroud was thin here. Mortals had long since abandoned this place. Yet some remained. 

There was a deep rooted tingle in her spine. She had overstayed her welcome; she should leave, but not before—

The postcard slipped from her fingers, drifting in the stream until she lost sight of it. A featherlight kiss on the nape of her neck. She shuddered again and closed her eyes. When they opened, she checked the time on her cracked iPhone screen. 

Without a word, she followed her tracks back to her awaiting car, the chime still ringing incessantly. She hopped in and drove off, leaving whatever had happened that day behind. 

The Prince of Tucson couldn’t wait any longer.

Dividers by @diableriedoll

[talonabraxas]

Medusa by: Clark Ashton Smith (1893-1961)

As drear and barren as the glooms of Death, It lies, a windless land of livid dawns, Nude to a desolate firmament, with hills That seem the gibbous bones of the mummied Earth, And plains whose hollow Face is rivelled deep With gullies twisting like a serpent's track. The leprous touch of Death is on its stones, Where, for his token visible, the Head Is throned upon a heap of monstrous rocks Rough-mounded like some shattered pyramid In a thwartly cloven hill-ravine, that seems The unhealing scar of huge Tellurian wars. Her lethal beauty crowned with twining snakes That mingle with her hair, the Gorgon reigns. Her eyes are clouds wherein black lightnings lurk, Yet, even as men that seek the glance of Life, The gazers come, where, coiled and serpent-swift, Those levins wait. As round an altar-base Her victims lie, distorted, blackened forms Of postured horror smitten into stone— Time caught in meshes of Eternity— Drawn back from dust and ruin of the years, And given to all the future of the world. The land is claimed of Death: the daylight comes Half-strangled in the changing webs of cloud That unseen spiders of bewildered winds Weave and unweave across the lurid sun In upper air. Below, no zephyr comes To break with life the circling spell of doom. Long vapor-serpents twist about the moon, And in the windy murkness of the sky The guttering stars are wild as candle-flames That near the socket. Thus the land shall be, And Death shall wait, throned in Medusa's eyes, Till in the irremeable webs of night The sun is snared, and the corroded moon A dust upon the gulfs, and all the stars Rotted and fallen like rivets from the sky, Letting the darkness down upon all things. Those levins wait. As round an altar-base Her victims lie, distorted, blackened forms Of postured horror smitten into stone— Time caught in meshes of Eternity— Drawn back from dust and ruin of the years, And given to all the future of the world. The land is claimed of Death: the daylight comes Half-strangled in the changing webs of cloud That unseen spiders of bewildered winds Weave and unweave across the lurid sun In upper air. Below, no zephyr comes To break with life the circling spell of doom. Long vapor-serpents twist about the moon, And in the windy murkness of the sky The guttering stars are wild as candle-flames That near the socket. Thus the land shall be, And Death shall wait, throned in Medusa's eyes, Till in the irremeable webs of night The sun is snared, and the corroded moon A dust upon the gulfs, and all the stars Rotted and fallen like rivets from the sky, Letting the darkness down upon all things.

Medusa 'Agol' Talon Abraxas