#I really probably should finish that book

[black--sun]

He wants to snark back like it’s a preconditioned response, barely even aware he’s doing it. But he doesn’t actually have anything snappy to say back to that, and when he realizes it, he snorts instead. It’s nice being around Shiro again. It shouldn’t be, he should still be pissed, and he’s just tired instead.

Ichigo glances over, kind of surprised Shiro asked. That suggestion sounds incriminating though. He shrugs. “Haven’t thought about it. I figured I’d keep living a while and wait for it to come to me.” Plus, it won’t matter if he doesn’t make it to being old. Ichigo rolls his eyes again. “That’s not all you are, dumbass. It’s all you want people to think you are.” Some of that is probably about survival. Which is fine. Ichigo doesn’t think less of him for it. He also thinks it’s something Shiro tells himself, because if he acts like this is the only life he deserves, he won’t be disappointed when it’s all he ends up with. Except he is disappointed. He says it all the time in little ways that would be blatant if anyone bothered paying attention. And maybe its not so much that being a back alley drug dealer is all Shiro wants people to think he is, as much as it’s all he thinks people will let him be. That thought doesn’t sit well with Ichigo. “If that’s all people see when they look at you, they don’t have you figured out at all. Which is what I meant. Maybe that’s what I’ll write a book about.”

Ichigo blows out a breath “Doesn’t everyone?” he mutters. Because he’s really not immune to a hot guy saying yes even if he acts like it. 

He presses his lips then pushes out a breath and looks away, and refuses to answer directly. “What I want and what I should want aren’t the same thing anymore.” He’s not so selfish that he’d put his wants over everyone else’s best interests. He realizes that now. He messed up with Shiro, he wanted to be with him and so he threw everything else out the window. And everyone is paying for that now. He nods. It sounds like a good plan to him. It also sounds like Ichigo himself would have a hard time getting in unexpectedly and maybe that’s best.

He blows out a breath that’s so harsh it’s almost a growl. “I’m not worried about it. Why would I be worried about it or him? I’m worried about you and who’s going to be around to watch you when I’m not.” Because Shiro needs to be watched. He’s so subtly self destructive. Ichigo thinks that was a lot of words just to say Shiro's boyfriend wouldn’t have dated him if he had a problem with drug usage. “Weird or smart?” 

Ichigo finishes looking around and huffs. “What, carrying bodies around in a sports car wasn’t working for you?” As if he can talk. He’s definitely had a body or three in his trunk. The difference is his car is made for that kind of thing.

"Oh, you were bein' a smartass?" There's a heavy dose of sarcasm in his tone while he rolls his eyes. But it's good to hear that Ichigo is still thinking of his sisters in this. Ever the protector. Has to make sure his sisters are alright, had to interrupt his own life to make sure Shiro gets through this treat.

He smirks slightly about that. "What would it be about? What it's like runnin' around the streets doin' everyone else's dirty work?" He scoffs, but it's good natured. "Whatever, I'm not that hard to figure out. How to understand a back alley drug dealer for dummies." He laughs, amusing himself.

Aiming a look at Ichigo, he arches a brow and disagrees. "I always need a bunch a' guys saying yes to me. Preferably hot ones." Not that he's sleeping with his staff. He tried that exactly twice. The first time was disastrously annoying and it was not a fluke.

It is a fair question, and he wants to argue that, but Ichigo keeps going to answer the question anyway. "I wasn't asking what you think, I was asking exactly what I asked." But he got Ichigo's option anyway and it doesn't surprise him. He notes that Ichigo didn't actually say yes or no to wanting him there, though. He's talking around the answer the same way Shiro did about the shirt. "I already plan on laying low for a while. As much as I can, at least. I think I'll stay in the penthouse for a while. It's a lot safer than the mansion but it'll seem less like hiding." And he can higher some muscle to keep around easy enough, like Ichigo's suggesting, he's stubborn about it. He has always been his own muscle. He's never needed security or guards, but this is getting bigger than he can handle on his own. It's getting bigger than he thinks he warrants, but he has made himself notoriously hard to get rid of.

He doesn't know how to feel about Ichigo trying to keep him and his maybe-boyfriend situation intact. It's good of him, it's the morally right thing to do. The only real problem with it Shiro has is that it's just further proof that he and Ichigo have no chance of being together again. "I'll figure things out with him, you don't need to worry about it." Or he wont. Maybe he'll sabotage his own building relationship and blame it on all the chaos of attempted assassination. His features even out. "All my habits?" This better not turn into a lecture. "He thinks I indulge a little too much sometimes, but otherwise he tolerates it. I doubt he expected anything less from a dealer. Most people don't know I was ever clean, only you. It was always weird for me not to use the product I was sellin'."

He slides into the driver seat and starts the car, then looks over at Ichigo and snorts. "You mean boring?" He shrugs. "I needed something with more cargo space that didn't stand out so much. It's easier to clean, too. Less work for my cleaner."

[mosneakers]

Alex: [Smiles warmly] Hi Coraleye…

Coraleye: [Smiles back] Hi Alex…

Alex: Ready for one last take before we officially call it a wrap?

Coraleye: I guess so! Alex: So how’s life treating you now? You adjusting okay?

Coraleye: Oh… well it's been a whirlwind, to say the least, heh. But I’m finding my footing again. Finally finishing up school. Just barely keeping my head above water some days, but yeah, I’m getting by. Trying to find my new normal.

Alex: [Nods thoughtfully] I want to talk about that a little bit. You’ve had to deal with the aftermath of everything that happened on election night. Do you remember when Cam and I came out to visit you in Brindleton Bay?

Coraleye: Mhm. I sure do. You interviewed some girls I went to school with.

Alex: So, Mackenzie, Briella, Logan… I’m not sure how much you’re aware of, especially with how quickly the media coverage was shut down after election night. But I’ve gotta ask—have you reached out to Coraleye at all since then? Offered any kind of support?

Logan: [Quickly glances at Mackenzie] I’m not sure if we got the chance to reach out yet, have we? Mackenzie:[Feigning innocence] She hasn't filled us in completely, but we’ve heard bits and pieces... Briella: We heard about her and her boyfriend. They broke up, right? [Big grin] Life has a cruel way of teaching us lessons!

Mackenzie presses her lips together, appearing to hold back a laugh, but finally cracks as a sharp cackle spills out.

Mackenzie: Oh my mod, Briella, stop! You can't say that! I just love you. So sorry about her, she's so crazy. Anyways, yeah. We wish her the best. I hope it all works out for her, I really do.

Cam: Well, I think that will probably do it for now, thank you ladies. Alex: Cam's right, thank you for your time. We'll be in touch. Have a happy Harvestfest.

Several weeks later, Britechester-

Alex: Cam and I try not to get too involved with work matters, but I'll be honest, that interview was upsetting. I wonder if they'd still be snickering if they saw what you've been through in these past few months.

Coraleye: Nah, they're the least of my worries. Pretty sure I got the last laugh when it comes to them. [Mischievous grin]

Alex: I'm in awe of your optimism, Coraleye. After all this, you’re really not bitter? I mean, look at Tycho—he lied, tried to erase your memories. And you still take the high road?

Coraleye: Oh no, please don’t get me wrong, Alex! I definitely went through—and sometimes still go through—my naughty phase, from time to time. Alex: [Leans in] You have my attention... Coraleye: Maybe it was for revenge, or a way to cope, or maybe deep down I was just really lonely and had a void to fill. Either way, it got me through some dark times. Perhaps you should book a follow-up interview with Briella, ask her if she found my panties in her boyfriend's room yet. [Waves at camera, winks, and mouths, ‘Hey, Pierce!’] Alex shakes his head amusedly and softly chuckles.

Alex: Damn! You really don't mess around. I'm guessing this doubles as punishment for Tycho as well?

Coraleye: Nope. Actually, his punishment is even better. I'm giving him exactly what he wants. After this documentary is over with, I'm erasing all of our shared memories together. He wanted to mess with my mind so badly, I'll do it for him. Alex: And how do you do that?

Coraleye: Through a spell, of course. You didn't forget that I'm a spellcaster, did you? I'll put the memories in an amulet and give it to our sage of untamed magic. They'll perform a ritual to destroy the memories. Alex: Wow. Remind me to never break your heart... Coraleye: [Smiles] Oh, I will. Alex: [Sighs] Well... Last question we're asking everyone else: Is there any question that you have, after all of this, that still haunts you?

Coraleye: [Tilts head, as she pauses to think] Hmm… I’ve still got to write that paper on my ten-year plan, and somehow I feel even more lost than before. I guess it’s time to start figuring that out now.

[crimsonwolf715]

Adjusting

(Part 4 of Adventures of the Batfamily)

Jason’s making toast after patrol, so around midnight. He grabs a butterknife and starts poking at the butter while waiting for his toast to finish. Once his toast is done, he pulls it out and starts putting butter on it. Someone grabs his shoulder, startling Jason. He has the knife at their throat in an instant on reflex. Dick looks surprised and concerned, his hand still on Jason’s shoulder. 

Jason lowers the knife and sighs. “Don’t sneak up on me.” 

He grabs the toast and heads upstairs without another word. He eats the toast while gathering clothes so he can shower. After showering, Jason starts reading. He looks up at the clock after reading for a while. Three in the morning and he’s nowhere near tired. 

Sometimes I wish that I was willing to get medicated for my terrible insomnia.  

“Jason!” Jason hears Bruce cry out, like he’s in pain. 

He reacts before he even has time to think about it. He drops his book and rushes to Bruce’s room, pushing the door fully open. Bruce is still in bed, shaking like a leaf. Jason walks over and Bruce opens his eyes. 

“Jason?” Bruce asks. 

“Hey,” Jason says hesitantly. 

“My baby.” Bruce pulls him into a rib crushing hug. 

What the actual hell is happening right now?  

“You okay, Bruce?” Jason asks. 

“Yes. You’re back, I’m fine,” Bruce says slowly, then lets Jason go. 

Jason notices Tim in the doorway. “You handled that better than Dick did the first time he saw it.” 

“I feel like my brain shut off,” Jason says. 

“That may be why you reacted better, but you still did,” Tim replies with a shrug. “You need anything, Bruce?” 

“No, I’m okay. You two should go back to sleep,” Bruce answers. 

“Come on. We can talk in the hallway.” 

Jason walks outside with Tim. 

“Is he okay?” Jason asks. 

Tim shrugs. “He has nightmares. Some are about your death, others are about other traumatic things that have happened. He’s got PTSD, so it’s not surprising. He’ll be okay if you don’t go running. I try to get there within a reasonable time, but it’s not necessary to run. Unless he’s yelling, he won’t wake up before you get there.” 

Jason nods. “You sure are calm about this.” 

“Yeah, I’ve been dealing with this since I started as Robin. He used to wake up and think that I was you. Usually, that didn’t end well. Since Dick came back into his life and Damian showed up, it hasn’t been so bad. It doesn’t happen as frequently. Alfred will take care of it sometimes.” 

“Speaking of the murder baby, where is he?”

“He’s at Jon’s house,” Tim answers. “Bruce lets him go over for sleepovers as long as Superman isn’t there that night.” 

“Beef with Superman?” 

“Kinda. Supes isn’t really great to the kids in his life. Kon and Jon. Bruce just doesn’t want to give Damian an opportunity to kill Superman.” 

“Huh, probably not a bad call.” 

“I think I’m gonna go back to bed though,” Tim says. “I’ve got therapy and if I seem too tired, I’ll get grilled about my sleeping habits again.” 

“ ‘Night, Tim,” Jason says. 

“Goodnight, Jason. Try not to think about that too much. He’s fine.” 

Jason watches Tim walk back to his room, then walks back to his own room. He picks his phone up to check the time and notices that Dick texted him, but chooses to ignore it for the moment. 

I’ll respond to him later, once I’ve gotten some sleep.  

He climbs into bed and stays awake thinking about the events of the last hour for another hour before he falls asleep. 

Later that day around 4:30 pm

Dick walks into the cafe and looks around. His eyes fall on Barbara and he smiles. He walks over and pulls the chair around so he can sit directly next to her. 

“Hey,” she says. 

He leans his head against her and she pats his shoulder. 

“What happened?” she asks. 

“I… I triggered Jason’s trauma and he’s been avoiding me since,” Dick answers. 

“How long has it been?” 

“I visited last night for dinner and it happened then.” 

“Maybe try going to talk to him once we’re done here.” 

“But can’t I just stay with you?” 

“No. I’m doing girl’s night with Stephanie and some others.” 

“Damn it.” 

Barbara starts running her hand through Dick’s hair. He allows himself to stay like that for a couple minutes, then sits up. 

“I don’t want to ruin the mood of our date anymore.” 

“Well, I’m always willing to listen and give wonderful advice.” 

Dick sighs. “What would I do without you?” 

“Melt. Like the Wicked Witch.” 

The two laugh, then get to talking about their lives and Dick’s job in Blüdhaven. Dick looks at his watch after a while. 

“Ah, I gotta go. I’m expected at dinner in like an hour and I have to talk to Jason. Do you want me to get you another drink before I leave?” 

“Yes, please. I want one for the road.” 

After getting Barbara another drink, the two kiss then head their separate ways. 

Tim walks out of the therapy office and Stephanie’s waiting. 

“Hey,” Stephanie says. 

“Hey,” Tim echoes, then yawns. 

“Long night?” 

“Long morning. I’ll be glad for coffee.” 

The two start walking towards their usual coffee shop. 

“Which person?” Stephanie asks. 

“Bruce,” Tim answers. “I talked to Jason for a bit, but Bruce woke me up.” 

They walk in silence for a bit, focusing more on the road than conversation. Once they get to the coffee shop and order, they take a seat. 

“So how was therapy?” 

“It was therapy. I can tell with one hundred percent certainty, Bruce and the others could benefit from it.” 

Stephanie nods. The barista calls out Tim’s name, so the two go and get their coffees. They chat for a while about school, work, and all the other little things. Tim’s grateful to have Stephanie to talk to about all the craziness in his life. 

“So, how’s everyone been dealing with Jason being back? He’s been back for like a month and a half, right?” 

Tim nods. 

“Everyone’s taking it as well as they can. Damian acts like he may have met him before with how casual he is with Jason. I’m not really sure what’s going on there. Dick’s been doing surprisingly well considering he decked Jason the first time he saw him after he found out. Bruce seems hesitantly thrilled. Like he’s worried if he acts too excited, that Jason will disappear again. Alfred’s pretty normal considering everything. Seems a little happier when Jason shows up to meals, but is otherwise normal. I’m dealing with it fine. I dealt with all the ‘he tried to kill me’ stuff pretty quickly considering everyone’s attempted it. It’d be weirder if I got a new brother, and he didn’t try to kill me.” 

“Well, at least everyone’s adjusting. Barbara was worried you guys wouldn’t be able to adjust properly.” 

“Probably something Dick said then. He’s… He’s got a lot of guilt when it comes to Jason, so it isn’t helping. Speaking of which, are you gonna be able to come over for dinner?” 

“No, I’ve got girl’s night,” Stephanie answers. 

“Oh, that’s right. I forgot that was today,” Tim replies. 

Stephanie laughs. “I’ll come help mediate family dinner tomorrow.” 

Tim sighs. “No need to mediate. It’ll just be us kids outside of Dick tomorrow.” 

Stephanie raises an eyebrow. “Okay, maybe you will need to mediate. That may turn into a thing.” 

Stephanie nods. “I need to go though. I have to get home, get ready, and then get to the place. So much traveling.” 

“I can drive you if you want,” Tim says. 

“Nah, it’s okay,” Stephanie replies, “but you behave yourself.” 

“No promises.” 

The two hug, then head in opposite directions back home. 

Dick knocks on Jason’s bedroom door. “Hey, Jason?” 

Jason looks up. “Yeah?” 

“Can I talk to you?” 

“Why couldn’t you?” 

“I thought you were angry with me.” 

“About last night?” 

Dick nods. 

“No. I’m not mad about that, Dickhead. I trigger my own trauma and I know what triggers me. Come here.” 

Dick walks into the room and sits down next to Jason. 

“You’re stupid, I hope you know that,” Jason says. 

“Only sometimes,” Dick replies. “I brought you cookies.” 

“Wow, you felt really guilty. You never used to do this kind of shit unless you felt horrible.” 

Dick sighs and looks at his hands, which are placed in his lap. “I wanted to apologize.” 

“For? I just said that I even trigger my trauma sometimes.” 

“I know it looks like I just like our other siblings better because I treat them differently than I treated you, but that isn’t the case.” 

Jason leans back, putting his weight on his hands. “Yeah, it does feel like that. I begged you to spend time with me and you refused. Damian barely has to ask for you to come driving thirty minutes to take him anywhere. You’ve shown up for Tim whenever he’s asked. I watched you guys for so long and you never once denied them unless you absolutely had to.” 

“I know, but what happened with you is why I spend so much time with them. You left this gaping hole in my life and I hated the way that everything happened. Yeah, I originally spent so much time with them out of guilt, but I love them. I lost so much and while Bruce fixed some of that, it didn’t fix the rest of it. I’m sorry that things happened the way they did.” 

Jason moves his arms so he drops onto his bed. “We’re screwed up, aren’t we?” 

“Yeah.” 

Dick puts the box of cookies on the nightstand. 

“Eh. I forgive you, I guess,” Jason says. 

“Thanks,” Dick replies. “I promise that I’ll do better now.” 

“You’d better. I’m not begging you to do shit with me.” 

Dick nods. The two sit in comfortable silence for a while. Jason keeps poking Dick, which he ignores entirely. Dick’s phone dings, so he picks it up. 

“Alfred wants to know what we want for dinner,” Dick says. 

“Umm… I don’t care as long as I don’t have to cook it,” Jason says. 

“I’m gonna tell him that you’re indecisive.” 

“Well, he’ll take that at face value so I don’t care. Can you do something for me?” 

Dick turns back to look at Jason. “That depends on what it is.” 

“Can you hold me accountable? I know I don’t completely agree with you guys, but just make sure that I don’t go overboard.” 

“So you’re asking me for help on hero work?” 

Jason nods. 

“I’ll do it. You just have to promise me that if I say you’re going overboard, that you take a good look at what you’re doing. If you can’t, then my judgment overrules however you feel about it.” 

“You got it, boss.” 

Dick’s phone dings again, so he looks at it. 

Tim: We’re having pizza. Tell Jason thank you.  

“Not really sure why, but Tim told me to tell you that he’s thankful,” Dick says. 

“We’re having pizza then,” Jason replies. 

Tim: Also, come down. We’re setting the table for dinner and Bruce got back.  

“Come on. We’re setting the table and annoying our father by saying hello all at the same time.” 

Dick and Jason head downstairs where Tim and Damian are setting the table. 

“Hey, Dami. When did you get back?” Dick asks, ruffling his hair. 

“This afternoon,” Damian answers. 

“How did I miss you?” 

“How did you miss me?” Damian asks, not looking at Dick as he keeps setting out napkins.

Dick shrugs. 

“I was in my room with my animals and you went straight into Todd’s room when you came in.” 

“That tracks.” 

Once the pizza gets there, everyone settles down at the table to eat. The first ten minutes are mostly in silence. Finally, Bruce breaks the silence. 

“How was everyone’s day?” Bruce asks.

“Mine was fine,” Jason answers. “I just stayed at home all day.” 

“Fine,” Tim answers with a shrug. “Stephanie’s doing well too.” 

“I just had a date, so not a lot to report,” Dick answers. 

“You know what? I do have something,” Jason says. “Dick’s so dramatic. I forgot to respond to his text and he thought I was angry with him.” 

“It’s more complicated than that and you know it,” Dick replies, pointing his fork at Jason. 

“Don’t threaten your brother with your fork,” Bruce says. 

Dick puts his fork down, but still glares at Jason. Jason’s smiling. 

“This argument is stupid,” Damian says. “You already knew that Grayson was sensitive, it’s not new for him.” 

“I don’t know whether to be offended or not.” 

“Damian’s just being honest,” Tim replies with a shrug. 

“You guys are so mean,” Dick says, not serious at all. 

He smiles as he watches Jason and Tim bicker about something while Damian’s conversing with Bruce. They’ll get through this, all of them.

[insidepicnic]

Had a dream I read a book where the main character needed a book to unlock something (I assume her powers) and after the first half of her getting the book, the rest of the book was having other varieties characters telling her TO READ THE BOOK.

Then the books ended. Five hundred pages of a book telling the main character to read a book.

I was gobsmacked. And angry. So I went to see reviews and learned sinistered coded and sister coded book review lexicon.

So I learned more from the reviews than the book. And that was my dream.

I guess I need to finish reading a book, but idk which one.

[benevolenterrancy]

Scholarly peak is catching up on recent literature

[corvidcall]

i very rarely get a sense of satisfaction from completing tasks. ive heard people say this is an ADHD thing, but idk. personally i think i might just be bad at being alive

[dancedance-resolution]

i started a supercorp portrait of a lady on fire au like three years ago. i'm never going to finish it, but the writing style is pretty cool, so i want to share it. so um enjoy the prologue and a bit of chapter one?

---

Prologue. Bonnelles, France. 1786.

“First, my contours,” Kara said, her voice soft and level. She looked out upon the dozen or so young women, their eyes darting back and forth from their papers to Kara herself. “The outline,” she continued. The increasingly swift sound of scratching charcoal prompted Kara to further instruct, “Not too fast. Take time to look at me.” She paused. “See how my arms are placed.”

At that moment, Kara saw the painting.

She swallowed and took in a breath; she schooled her expression before letting out the air with a pathetically soft “My hands.” Her students’ gaze followed her verbal direction, now observing as Kara’s fingers curled with remembrance. Their own hands now began to sketch the slope of hers—the slope that had once coaxed breathy moans from a lover, the slope that had once created that very painting in all of its hollow longing.

Kara felt her heart rate accelerating, and her attempts at calming deep breaths only made her shoulders shake unsteadily. “Who brought that painting out?” Her eyes darted around, landing on each possible offender, as she tensed her core and adopted a stern countenance.

Every student dutifully turned to look at the work.

It was an especially young girl who finally lifted her hand. “I brought it. From the stock room. Should I have not?”

Kara’s “no” felt like a brick, its weight threatening to pry tears from her reddening eyes. So Kara took another swallow, a handful of blinks, a few more steadying breaths.

“Did you paint it?” the girl asked innocently. Nia, her name was? She stared at Kara, oblivious to the flood of sound overwhelming Kara’s mind and echoing in the cavern of her heart.

“Yes,” Kara uttered softly, the word barely audible as they fell from her lips. “A long time ago.”

Nia’s head snapped back to examine the painting once more. It stood on an old but sturdy easel, tattooed and scarred but still standing. The artwork itself was brooding, with a white sun bleeding into a dark vignette. Heavy clumps of clouds occupied the sky and caged some of the sun’s rays, so the fire burning behind the woman was bright enough in comparison to create a dragging shadow of her figure. The flames crawled up the back of her windswept dress, bringing sharp tension to an otherwise lulling, melancholy landscape.

“What’s the title?”

The sound of the sea began to swell in Kara’s head. Her lips trembled. Her body unwittingly swayed slightly. “Portrait of a Lady on Fire.”

---

Chapter I. The island of Brittany, France, and the surrounding sea. 1779.

Kara squinted into the distance, her face scrunching up a bit as she desperately tried to shield her eyes from the harsh glare of the sun on the water. For all its gorgeous teals and sparkling peaks, it certainly did make her wish for one of those brimmed hats the rowers were all wearing. With every one of their paced paddles, the cork-like little canoe bobbed haphazardly. Kara rather felt as if she were in the wine glass of a thoroughly drunken Marie Antoinette.

At least she wasn’t prone to seasickness.

She still felt quite unsteady, though, being thrown about and forced to pathetically grab onto the boat’s low walls. She leaned forward, trying to regain her balance and ground herself despite the absence of ground.

The wooden pallet holding her canvas was, apparently, as unstable as she was, and the next thing Kara knew, it had been lurched off of the boat like vomit from a drunkard. Kara watched helplessly as it thrashed among the choppy waves, the sea carrying it a few feet from the boat.

The chief rower met her desperate look with exhausted resignation; he ceased his paddling as Kara shed her overcoat and placed a precarious foot on the edge of the canoe.

With a strained creak from the boat’s wood, she jumped into the water, dress billowing behind her. Her first gasp for air upon emerging from the water was audible; she could feel the effort in her throat. Her arms moved in laborious little arcs as she slowly made her way towards the floating pallet and finally made a desperate reach for it. Kara’s fingers grasped onto a wooden board, and she pulled herself up onto it with a grunt.

---

The incessant wind upon the sea was certainly not helping Kara. Dripping wet, she wrapped herself up in her overcoat in a pitiful plea for warmth. She held the edges of the garment up to her lips, the sensation of the dry fabric bringing her some comfort as she closed her eyes and left herself to the mercy of the mighty sea.

But the interminable rocking of the feeble boat wouldn’t allow her any rest.

Kara wasn’t very religious, not anymore. Yet, the sight of the cliffs and coast of Brittany moved her to relieved prayer.

---

The sun had already begun to set as Kara trekked up the sandy coast. Her legs ached with every stumbling, unsure step—maybe she was a bit seasick after all—and her hands were tired of having to grip her full skirt to keep it out of her way.

She paused on the rocks, taking a moment to manually wring some of the water out of her skirt. She filled her lungs with an arduous breath before slinging the rope holding the pallet over her shoulder. Next came the fabric sling, which housed her trunk of personal items—she positioned it on her back with careful poise.

The journey up the cliffs and towards the trees was exhausting. Kara’s skirt required repositioning every few seconds, the rope was digging into her shoulder, and the pallet and trunk slammed into her back with each wobbling step. By the time she reached the straight path up to the residence, her breaths were heavy and pained, and the sun was nearly fully hidden beneath the horizon.

A soft light emanated from the windows above the mansion’s door, helping Kara feel a bit more secure as she knocked. A short blonde woman answered her summon and introduced herself with a flat “I’m Eve.” She opened the door a bit wider and gestured with her body for Kara to come in.

Eve held a small candle as she guided Kara up the stairs, the sounds of their shoes echoing through the grand yet starkly undecorated hallway. The walls of the stairwell were cement bricks, and the wrought iron bannister was rather plain and geometric.

They came to a stop in front of a similarly void room, bare save a few heavy curtains and a daybed. The raised panels along these walls matched the white-painted wood of the window frames, and they gave the chamber some elegant character.

While Eve entered the comparatively less intimidating room, Kara stayed back a moment, taking in the shafts of muted blue light from the windows and the contrasting warm glow of leaping flames from the central fireplace.

Eve crouched down to poke at the fire as Kara set down her belongings. “It was a reception room,” Eve explained. “Though I’ve never seen it used.”

The fire crackled pleasantly. “Have you been here long?” Kara inquired.

“Three years,” Eve answered, directing her attention back to the fire.

Kara peeled off her overcoat and draped it along the wainscoting. “Do you like it here?”

“Yes,” Eve said simply as she stood up. She turned to Kara, meeting her eyes now as her hands smoothed over her skirt. “I’ll let you get dry.” And with a nod, she was on her way.

Kara watched her every step.

Once the door closed, she hastily began removing her overskirt. It fell to the dark herringbone floor with an unglamorous thud.

---

There was no method or grace to the way Kara wrapped her hand around the rusting crowbar, but with a few jerks, she’d managed to successfully pry the top off of the pallet.

After setting down the wood cover, Kara extended her hand, letting it fall clumsily onto the slick canvas in front of her. It was still wet, and her hand’s small circular movement caused moisture to pool at her fingertips, as if her touch had beckoned the water. So her hand withdrew, and Kara slid the canvas out from its container. Her eyes danced over the surface as she considered how to dry it, holding it in front of herself like the Communion host of an evening Mass.

---

Kara decided to accompany her drying canvas, which was now positioned next to the fireplace. Stripped naked, she sat in front of the fire and pulled her legs towards herself—she was vulnerable, sitting there bare and in a new environment, and the action made her feel a bit more small, compact, and safe.

Kara set down her candle so she could light her tobacco pipe with the flames. Her large, smoky exhales grounded her, in a way, with the familiar sight and smell acting as a sort of sedative. And she stared forward, expression blank but unmistakably worn.

---

Kara walked barefoot along the cement floor, making her way through the hall and to the pantry room wrapped in nothing but her robe-like smock.

[bigcats-birds-and-books]

Books of 2024: August Wrap-Up.

Hey, would you look at that, it's suddenly September! Rude and uncalled for. This month, I did a lot of knitting (two sets of gloves and two hats! gearing up for holiday season), and a LOT of writing (finished the first 16k draft of a scene, who???), and read uh. Some. I didn't finish a ton of books, but I did make it through what felt like a ton of pages.

Two-thirds of this month's reading were post-apocalyptic-community-oriented, on purpose, to feed into my current writing project, and that worked really well--either I'm very good at choosing books that match the vibe I need, or my ADHD brain is good at making connections, OR a little bit of column A, a little bit of column B. Photos and/or reviews linked below:

GHOST STATION (pages-out stand-in book pictured above, because I checked it out from the library after canceling my paperback pre-order, which was a good call) - ★★ This was very bad. Bad science, stupid incompetent characters, JUST enough neat worldbuilding to make it FRUSTRATING that this missed so hard. I'm bummed because I wanted to read DEAD SILENCE by this author, too, but I don't trust her now :(

ALWAYS COMING HOME - ★★★★½ Loved this!! Dense and chewy, and it required a lot of patience, but it was very rewarding and I'm really glad I read it. My absolute favorite passage was about scrub oaks, but I posted a few other highlights and tagged them as "le guin posting," if you're interested! If you like Le Guin and/or utopias and better futures and/or huge books that push what it means to Be A Novel, check this out for sure.

ARCHANGELS OF FUNK - ★★★½ So. I didn't realize that this was attached to a few other novels she's already written. And I read it cold (oops). Goodreads informed me that it was Book #2 of Cinnamon Jones, and review-diving indicated that REDWOOD AND WILDFIRE is also implicated in its worldbuilding, but that didn't stop me because I can't read. I would like to revisit this one after I've read those other two, I think, but!: The community and vibes and Making Art At The End Of The World were all immaculate, and the character names made me feel vindicated in some of my own naming conventions (seriously: there's an Indigo in this, and a Game-Boy, and Hawk, I can't make this shit up).

Under the Cut: A Note About ~*★Stars★*~

Historically, I have been Very Bad™ about assigning things Star Ratings, because it's so Vibes Heavy for me and therefore Contingent Upon my Whims. I am refining this as I figure out my wrap up posts (epiphany of this month: I don't like that stars are Odd, because that makes three the midpoint and things are rarely so truly mid for me)(I have hacked my way around this with a ½). Here is, generally, how I conceptualize stars:

★ - This was Bad. I would actively recommend that you do NOT read this one, no redeeming qualities whatsoever, not worth the slog. Save Yourself, It's Too Late For Me. Book goes in the garbage (donate bin).

★★ - This was Not Good. I would not recommend it, but it wasn't a total waste or wash--something in here held my interest/kept my attention/sparked some joy. I will not be rereading this ever. Save Yourself (Or Join Me In Suffering, That Seems Like A Cool Bonding Activity).

★★★ - This was Good/Fine/Okay/Meh. I don't care about this enough to recommend it one way or another. Perfectly serviceable book, held my interest, I probably enjoyed myself (or at least didn't actively loathe the reading). I don't have especially strong feelings. You probably don't need to save yourself from this one--if it sounds like your jam, give it a shot! Just didn't resonate with me particularly powerfully. I probably won't reread this unless I'm after something in particular.

★★★½ - I liked this! I'll probably recommend it if I know it matches someone's vibes or specific requests, but I didn't commit to a star rating on Goodreads. More likely to reread, but not guaranteed.

★★★★ - I really enjoyed this!! I would recommend it (sometimes with caveats about content warnings or such--I tend to like weird fucked up funny shit, and I don't have many hard readerly NO's). Not a perfect book for me by any means, but Very Good. This is something I would reread! Join me!!

★★★★★ - I LOVED THE SHIT OUT OF THIS, IT REWIRED MY BRAIN, WILL RECOMMEND TO ANYONE AND EVERYONE AT THE SLIGHTEST PROVOCATION (content warning caveats still apply--see 4-star disclaimer). Excellent book, I'll reread it regularly, I'll buy copies for all my friends, I'll try to convince all of Booklr to read it, PLEASE join me!!

[khufiya-khaufnak-antariksh]

So earlier today I introduced some of my WIPs to some new people, and I realised that many people might not be familiar with those two WIPs.

Kriya Petri: fantasy (with body horror & dystopian elements). Setting: A country called Fillor on a planet called Thuluke. In Fillor, to bind yourself to the one you love, you require a trinamate potion to seal the bond. 'Trinamate' is marriage (though that is a rather crude translation of the word). But to get a trinamate potion legally, the couple needs to be… acceptable. A man and a woman who plan to have at least one child. Yes, it's been 1000 years since the global apocalypse, but 'sufficient reproduction' is still a concern among the Filore people (plus it's a moral virtue for the Divine Monarchy, who reside on the cloudlands, with an iron grip on the institutes of Fillor). A potioneer wants to elope with their lover, but the pair is, let's just say, not acceptable. So what are they to do? The potioneer brews a trinamate potion on their own, finding the closely guarded methods & ingredients for the potion through who-knows-who, bunch of shady people. The potion explodes. The potioneer knows the punishment for something like this. They'll be condemned to Kaewoe (so will their lover, if anyone finds out), a realm so deep below the ground that it's close to the core of the planet. Kaewoe, where the mind & body are destroyed by the horribly high concentration of magic. Kaewoe, the names & lives & loves of all who enter it, all slowly turned to unknowledge. Good thing stealing identities is absurdly easy in Fillor! The potioneer wipes all memory of their crimes & love (or else the Thought magicians would know), flees to the city of Naebo. Their name is now Kriya Petri,

.

Welcome To The Real World: scifi, fantasy, surrealism, horror, tragedy

This one's in very early stages Inspired by Frankenstein Setting: The Great South Asian Rip in Reality, where physics (time & space both) is just completely twisted. The year is sometime in the 2070s. Sometimes it's the 2040s outside the Rip. Depends when/where you step out. Moh-maya, reality's very fabric & everything that keeps up the illusions that comprise reality, are very malleable in here. Main character: Kabir aka Moksh. A closeted Indian trans man who lives a double life, perhaps even a triple life. One in which he's a cis woman & a regular bright STEM student (STEM studies also include study of moh-maya). Another in which he's just some guy with good friends (the most authentic of his lives), where he goes by the name Kabir & uses moh-maya to present as his true self. If only temporarily. (it's painful, mentally & physically, whenever he has to revert to the female form). The third is some mad scientist bullshit, he's going by the name of Moksh among his fellow mad scientists & his main project is a moh-maya Frankenstein's monster that others can share their consciousness with, such that they can experience shape-shifting more easily & go where they physically aren't, do things they physically can't. Let's simply call it the 'entity'. Due to many reasons, creating this entity is pretty illegal. Hence the new name & collaboration with fellow shady people. the plot, put shortly: he starts doing vigilante justice w/the entity & then goes far & gets more & more consumed w/work & things go verrrrrrryyyyyy wrong despite starting with (dubious but) good intentions.

in this second one i neglected to mention the fact that you, as the reader, get front row tickets to the main character's spiral into madness & justifying murders thru the entity + the entity is a whole person & has opinions + a whole lot of other stuff, I DID mention that this WIP is in very early stages but holy fuck i could go on & on about it (just not in a way that can be packaged in a structured & sensible introduction)

[gatheryepens]

…

[13eyond13]

have you thought of watching the tv adaptation of iwtv?

I keep seeing posts about it on my "for you" page, and for some reason it just doesn't look like something I'd actually get into, but maybe I should give it a shot sometime before judging too much. What do you think, have you seen it?

[llycaons]

I had to go back to audiobooks...they're just so much faster. I'm already 2 hours into this 17-hour novel (it's spinning silver). I will read physical books too but I'm just no longer able to sit or lay down for long periods of time to get reading done, I have to move around

[pierrotwrites-hc]

🎭 Can you envision your OC in an alternate universe? What au would you choose and what role would they be in that world?

For Luca!

I love this question, because whenever you're writing a deeply traumatized character you start to wonder who they'd be if they hadn't gone through all this awful formative shit.

I've sketched a conversation that takes place much, much later in the series between people who knew Luca before he was taken by the Commissioner and those who only met him after. This was a useful exercise for me because I was able to identify three attributes of Luca as a child that were lost, submerged, or perverted due to his conditioning: chattiness, bossiness, and a desire to please. Luca was one of those endlessly curious kids who never shuts up, the kind who's always asking "why?" and only conks out once they've run out of steam. He could also be a bossy little shit, always making "helpful" suggestions about how a process or activity might be improved. And he was motivated by a deep, driving need to make other people happy. Especially adults, and especially those in positions of power.

The Luca we meet in TGB is about as far from chatty as it is possible for someone to be, but I've enjoyed giving him opportunities to revive his curiosity. His relationships with Asher and particularly Doran have revived some of his bossiness, too. And while he still wants so much to please, he has become more critical about the worthiness of those who have power over him.

The alternative universe I imagine for Luca is one in which he was never taken by the Commissioner. While I expect he still would have suffered at the hands of the occupiers, he would've had his brothers for protection. He would not have undergone the additional trauma of losing his language and cultural identity, or been forcibly transplanted into a culture where he was treated as a hated enemy. And he wouldn't have suffered years of brainwashing that sought to strip him of his personhood.

I've always seen Luca as a Bard, and in this AU his Bard characteristics would be much stronger and clearer, and uncomplicated by the silencing and disempowerment he endured in his TGB backstory. He would be much closer to the chatty, bossy kid he was in Kel. He wouldn't have to find his voice, because it would never have been taken away from him. As a result, he would've become the leader he's meant to be much sooner, and with a lot less mental anguish.

I do think that Luca in any universe would need to overcome his people-pleasing. This is just an innate part of him, and learning to value his own happiness would probably still be a crucial aspect of his growth and development.

Having written this, and looking back on the prompt, I'm now wondering whether I could take Luca even further afield from the TGBverse and drop him in, say, a coffeeshop AU. I can see him as a sweet but anxiety-prone barista whose therapist recommended he get a job where he had to interact with people in order to coax him out of his shell. I imagine him as a burnt-out former dance prodigy now taking classes at the local college and trying to figure out what he wants to do with the rest of his life.

Enter a tall, red-headed customer with a crush...

[jesterwaves]

my experience with percy jackson is kinda funny in hindsight because reading the first book for the first time i was like 'no way...thalia mentioned!!!!'

[dyketennant]

i think next semester is finally going to be the one that gives me a heart attack and kills me 💞

[sureuncertainty]

hopefully it's just tonight but i haven't written at all in the last couple of days and i tried again tonight and it didn't work AGAIN i just can't get myself to write idk sometimes i really feel like the sequel to silence agenda is literally never ever going to actually get written and there's no point in even trying