#Mariam George

[femmehysteria]

‘a land that flowed with milk and honey; in the midst as it were of the habitable world, and under a temperate clime; adorned with beautiful mountains and luxurious vallies; the rocks producing excellent waters; and no part empty of delight or profit.’

George Sandys, an English poet describing Palestine in 1615

[ourbalancedlife]

[cinemaquiles]

Filhos de Twister: duas pérolas com tornados para quem tiver coragem!

[anas-aspiration]

Rhia

Warnings: smut, masterbation, riding

Summary: You’re bored on a hot day, your friends are busy, but your mon doesn’t know that. Why not visit Carl who’s probably reading, or doing something a littleee different, won’t hurt to peak. 500 words

It was freezing. Your mom insisted you kept the air conditioner on 46 degrees, instead of turning on the fan in her room. It wasn’t cold outside, actually the complete opposite. You glanced out your window seeing your alexandria neighbors sweating and playing around with water balloons. All of your friends were busy. Well not all of them. Carl was probably reading or playing with Judith.

You climbed off of your bed, and changed into a brandy melville set, one with hearts, that you were sure he’d like. It was a little wrinkly but you didn’t have time to pay mind to that. You looked in the mirror, brushing your hair back and shifting your top around to show a little cleavage.

“Mom!” you called out from the hallway.

“Yes y/n?” she replied from the living room

You swiftly walked in to see her reading peacefully, with her granny glasses pushed slightly down her nose.

“I’m gonna go to my friends house for a little, is that okay?”

“Which friend?” she said, turning to see you.

“Mariam” you lied.

“That’s fine. Oh! Can you take this..hold on” she got up and brought out a book from the shelf “Give her mother this, and tell her it was amazing”

She handed you a copy of Animal farm by George Orwell.

“Got it! See you later”

You figured you would just stop by Mariams house after you left Carls’.

Once at his door, you knocked, in a special pattern only you two knew.

To your surprise the door opened after only a few moments.

“Oh y/n hello.” Michonne smiled.

“Hi Michonne, is Carl home..or?”

“Yeah he’s upstairs, come on in” she said cracking the door open furthur.

You walked in, breathing in the smell of pinecones that Carl and Rick carried around, which they passed onto Michonne. It was always so comforting.

You made your way up the staircase and down the hall, stepping over various things like, Judith's toys, her laundry, boxes, and laundry. You chuckled to yourself thinking about much you knew Carl hated this mess, though the rest of the house was relatively clean. You tripped over a lego truck and ended up on your knee in front of Carls room.

You quickly got back up onto your feet, realizing you forgot to take off your slides at the door, you kicked them off, then you heard something. At first you thought it was your slides hitting the floor, but then you heard it again. It was almost like..heavy breathing. Not normal heavy breathing, like erotic.

You froze for a second not knowing what to do. You weren’t sure if you were even right about what you were hearing. You leant up against the door, pressing your ear to it. You heard the noise nice and clear now.

Carl was moaning, almost whimpering. You weren’t sure what to do, obviously you hadn’t been in this situation before. You were sure he’d thought you had tons of experience after he found out you are a but older, you could tell. But you only had some.

After a few more seconds of contemplating, you looked around to see if anyone was coming then knocked on his bedroom door.

Immediately you heard rustling but you took the initiative to just open the door right away. He was sitting on his bed with a comic in hand and pillow across his lap, of course.

You turned your back to him, twisting the lock on his doorknob. “Hey Carl! What are ***you*** up too?”

He sat there looking baffled, eyeing you from head to toe. “Oh nothing.”

“Nothing?”

“Well reading” he smiled, lifting up the comic.

You gave him a suspicious look then noticed something you recognized on the floor. You picked it up and realized it was a Polaroid of you. It was slightly wrinkled and somehow worn out, which makes you think he put it to great use. In it, you were wearing a bikini and smiling in front of a lake you and Carl found and swam in.

“Aw this is such a cute picture” You grabbed his arm and squeezed as you said that.

“It-it is- um a nice picture” He blushed heavily.

Your smile turned into a smirk as your attention went back to the pillow still residing on his lap.

“What's this for?” You asked even though you knew the answer well.

“Nothing,” he said once again.

“Really? I think you were doing something…something with this picture” you smiled, leaning down to match his level.

“I’m sorry- I just, I don’t know why-“ He sighed looking genuinely apologetic, and..cute.

“No Carl it’s okay. I can help you. Let me help you.”

You were now eye to eye with him, basically speaking your words into his mouth.

He crashed his lips onto yours eagerly. His hands roamed across your ass and your waist roughly, almost like he was impatient for whatever you had planned. His lips taste like cheap lip balm, and you’re sure yours tastes like cherry gloss.

You wanted to take it slow, but that was impossible at this point, lust filled the air, so that idea got lost.

You moved your hand down to his crotch and massaged swiftly. His lips quivered against yours, being unable to kiss in rhythm. He thrusted up into your hand, making a soft and warm feeling erupt in your stomach.

You pulled away and began undressing. You both hurriedly rid of your clothes, and once completely naked, you were on top of him, with his back leaning against the bedframe.

You dragged your bare cunt against his dick, earning a low moan from him. His face, and the feelings were making you turn blush pink. You continued your motions, he grabbed your thighs as he looked into your eyes.

“You look so pretty like this” he whispered

“Thank you…have you ever done this before?” you asked, now regaining your senses.

He stayed silent for a second, “No. Is that okay?”

“That’s definitely okay.”

“What do you want me to do?” he asked

“Don’t worry baby I’ll do the work” you said grinning

You took a hold of his dick and pumped it a couple of times before lining it up with your slit.

“Are you ready?”

He nodded, and you sunk down onto him. You bit your lip to contain the moan from slipping from your lips. His eyes were shut, completely taking in the bliss.

You waited a few seconds before you started moving back and forth. He was bigger than you expected, he reached far within you, places no one else has ever reached. He began to kiss your neck surprisingly, and it just added to the sensation by ten times.

You took his lips to yours while you tried to focus a little more on his pleasure. He was already a mess, trying to keep quiet by groaning against your skin.

You began to try and see what he reacted best too. First you lifted yourself up a little and sunk back down, seeing his face twist up made you smile without even realizing. Then you rocked your hips in circles, and then bounced up and down rhythmically.

You could tell this was all too much for him, but he liked it that way. You brought his hand up to your chest, letting him massage it. He was already lost in the clouds but this basically brought him to god. You giggled lightly at his vocal expressions.

You felt that sweet euphoric feeling deep in your abdomen and sped up your movements.

“God Carl….do you like it?” you moaned

“Yes…” his eyebrows furrowed. He was just as close as you “Kiss me again”

He did not have to tell you twice. You attached your lips once again. You didn’t even have time to warn him before you came. The orgasm sent goosebumps to every inch of your skin, while you saw stars. You moaned into his mouth, just as he did. You felt him throbbing mid-orgasm before he came deep into you.

You got off of him after the pleasure wore away. Both of you huffed in the comfortable silence.

“That was amazing,” he said looking far into your eyes.

“Really?” you crawled up to his spot and placed a soft kiss against his cheek. His eyes traced your face as his hands graced your hair.

“Really.”

A/n!!

I’m too tired to even write this part aghhh! Sorry I’ve MIA. I didn’t expect this past weekend to be so crazy. I won’t go into detail but I think someone was praying on my downfall HAHAH. anyway hoped you enjoyed this. I will be posting kinktober day three tomorrow to make up and day 4-5-6 will be posted on regular schedule, Wednesday, Friday, Sunday 8:30pm Pacific time. Have a nice night or day idk hahahhhgg

[shefanispeculator]

Gwen’s paternal grandfather was Vincenzo James Stefani (the son of Antonio Angelo Stefani and Elvira Olivieri). Vincenzo was born in Italy, to a family from Vignanello, Lazio. Elvira was the daughter of Salvatore Olivieri.

Gwen’s paternal grandmother was Margaret Delores DiPaola (the daughter of Francesco “Frank” Di Paola/Dipaola and Libera/Lillie Antonia Marino). Margaret was born in Michigan, to Italian parents. Francesco, a peasant, was born, c. 1885, in Colle Sannita, Province of Benevento, Campania, and was the son of Rocco Di Paola and Maria. Libera was the daughter of George Marino and Mary.

Gwen’s maternal grandfather was William Patrick Flynn (the son of Roger/Robert Patrick Flynn and Gertrude Lucille Waugh). William was born in Texas. Roger was the son of John Aloysius Flynn, who was born in Flintshire, Wales, of Irish descent, with roots in County Mayo; and of Catherine E. Burke, who was also of Irish ancestry. Gertrude was the daughter of William H. Waugh and Sarah/Sallie Corneilla/Cornelia Abraham.

Gwen’s maternal grandmother was Anna/Ann Lorraine Hamilton (the daughter of Raymond George Hamilton and Gladys Adeline/Adleon Colbert). Anna was born in Wisconsin. Raymond was the son of Charles Sumner Hamilton and Mariam Mae Smith. Gladys was the daughter of Fred George Colbert, whose father was English, from Haslingden, Lancashire; and of Anna Sophia Gilseth, whose own parents were Norwegian, from Gilset farm and Bordal farm, both in Storen, Sør-Trøndelag, respectively.

[kitchen-light]

The journal of The Asian American Writers’ Workshop (AAWW) "The Margins" has published excerpts from "We Call to the Eye & the Night: Love Poems by Writers of Arab Heritage", edited by Hala Alyan and Zeina Hashem Beck (Persea Books, February 2023).

The special publication, titled Love Poems by Poets of Palestinian Heritage, includes poems by Mariam Barghouti, Hala Alyan, Ahmad Almallah, Farah Chamma, Hind Shoufani, Naomi Shihab Nye, Tariq Luthun, Zeina Azzam, Hajer Almsoleh, Carolina Ebeid, Nathalie Handal, Fady Joudah, Rewa Zeinati, Noor Hindi, George Abraham and Amanda Ghazale Aziz.

You can read all the poems here

[gorbalsvampire]

𝖃𝕴𝕴𝕴 𝕿𝖆𝖑𝖊𝖘 𝖋𝖗𝖔𝖒 𝕱𝖊𝖚𝖉𝖆𝖑 𝕭𝖔𝖍𝖊𝖒𝖎𝖆

𝔦𝔫𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔪𝔦𝔰𝔰𝔦𝔬𝔫

Our story breathes for a week, due to player availability - we wanted everyone to be present for the pursuit of Octavio, and then there'll be a space for Theodericus to be excused for a while. We knew this was coming, and the character has a built-in exit strategy, but it's still an arse when Real Life Writes The Plot to this extent.

As such, we took the opportunity for some side stories. A little Touchstone time for Marsillius, and an exploration of Mariam's past and How She Learned Protean Anyway. Nothing transformative could possibly occur here, right?

Many people have remarked on the resemblance Marsillius bears to both Octavio the Prophet and Gesa, the Archbishop of St. Vitus' and de facto spiritual leader of Prague's Christian community. He's lived in the monastery of St. Lawrence all his life, and the circumstances of his birth have never been made clear. It was high time he addressed that.

As such, he consulted the monastery's archives, particularly Garinol's journals, in which the first mention of "the boy" was found in 1157 - and then confronted Garinol directly, trying to wheedle the truth out of his sire. Garinol had sworn to Marsillius' mother never to tell the story... but he could tell him about the story, about the particular sins that concerned him, prompted by Marsillius' confession that he was poisoned by the mortal sin of envy.

Enough was revealed that Marsillius visited the convent at St. George's next, to ask if they had given solace to a woman in distress, in say... the autumn of 1157. Most of the sisters did not remember, but there is of course one nun who was sent to them long enough ago that she might remember the gossip from the day...

Alzbeta did remember. When she first joined the convent, there was still hushed talk of Sister Anezka, who had renounced her vows when she was found to be with child, and disappeared - at around the same time that Deacon Gesa was abruptly withdrawn from serving at St. George's, and instead joined St. Vitus', beginning his slow rise to power...

While @gwenynen-bach decided how angry Marsillius was, we flashed back to the past - a couple of years after Mariam's Embrace, after she'd been presented to Prince Rudolf. Her sire Josef was encouraging her to come out of the tunnels and learn about other Cainites. and her elder brood-sibling Othelio had a suggestion.

It did involve them sneaking out of the city through a water-gate, and making their way into the woods to the north; an almost trackless depth in which Mariam was somewhat overwhelmed. When they reached the clearing with its standing stone that sat between three steads, she became very overwhelmed.

The Cainite sitting on the stone was unlike any she'd ever seen, or heard. Immense and wild, hairy and tusked, almost her height and broader still; a kilt, a ragged shirt, and chainmail clearly torn from three different dead men.

This was Erik! Erik McDonoughue, of Clan Gangrel! Nomad, vagabond, wanderer: elder at large, who'd tramped across half of Christendom in his long centuries of unlife. He had a lot of stories to tell, and Mariam was spellbound - she'd never been more than a mile from Prague, she'd met someone who'd from Buda-Pesthe once, and here was - what even is a Scotsman? Where is Orkney, exactly?

In the course of his yarn, she learned of the powers of the Gangrel - sight at night, talons to rend even Cainite flesh, and sleep in the bosom of the earth. Erik offered to teach her the first of these! She would have to hunt, though: to hunt, to kill, and to drain a predator of the woods of its vitae, to bring her Beast closer to that of a wild thing.

This she did. Erik she also did. Not something she would normally consider, but the sheer rush of new experiences sort of... carried her along.

On the walk back into Prague, Othelio confided this was why he'd wanted her to meet Erik. He's different. He's rootless, masterless and solitary; he walks the Road of the Beast; but he's old. He's survived despite cleaving to a path that's far, far removed from the Humanity, Heaven and Kings that reign over civilised Cainite society within the walls.

We return to the present. A decision has been made. Marsillius was furious. As such, he made his way to the Bishop's Manse and, in a series of fine rolls, performed the full Garrett Special (I am old, and therefore I think of Thief and not Assassin's Creed as the locus of stealth-action-historical-fantasy-stuff).

As such, he came to the Archbishop's very boudoir. Sumptuous velvets, leatherbound books, and a gold-plated crucifix facing the bed, that it might be the first thing its owner sees on sitting up each morning. And then, Marsillius did something genuinely malicious.

Aura of Decay.

All that velvet? Ragged and rotten. Those carpets, with which his footfalls had been deadened? Slick with black mould. That crucifix? Rusted to powder in his hand. The Archbishop? Awakened coughing and wheezing, in a sudden cold sweat, and there at the foot of his bed the thing he'd dreaded most: his misbegotten bastard son, come back to remind him of his sin.

Gesa did not quite confess. But he denied nothing, and he named Anezka. That was enough. Marsillius told him the greatest thing of all: that he would outlive his false and recreant father by centuries, that he was the Way, the Truth, the Light -

Gesa knew of what he spoke. The race of Caine. The damned. Neither was a godly soul.

And that, for tonight, was the end of our vampire story.

[mortirolo]

tagged by like 3 different people this month to share ten songs I've been listening to lately!

№1 - welcome to my island - caroline polachek, charlie xcx, george daniel

№2 - meteorite - banks

№3 - can't let you go - lp giobbi, little jet

№4 - blue racecar - sassy 009

№5 - mon cheri - sofi tukker, amadou & mariam

№6 - purified by the fire - yves tumor

№7 - love vibration - essel

№8 - I <3 u so - cassius, spedup trends

№9 - over me - cabu, gabby nacua

№10 - 6am - channel tres

tagging: @bichettes @cryingforcrocodiles @donttelltheelff @cinnamoncowboy @spacegirlsgang @no-pucks-given @scorchedhearth @lullabiestoparalyze @lovelynikol16 and anybody else who wants to do it!

[venicepearl]

Mariam, was a Georgian queen and regent. She was the daughter of John-Senekerim Artsruni, an Armenian king of Vaspurakan, and the first consort of the king George I of Georgia. As a dowager queen of Georgia, she ruled as regent for her underage son, Bagrat IV, from 1027 to 1037, and was involved in diplomacy with the Byzantine Empire.

[rotationalsymmetry]

Hey so that reminds me. I have this book — Abolition. Feminism. Now. By Angela Y Davis, Gina Dent, Erica R Meiners, and Beth E Richie, copyright 2022 so very recent — that I have yet to crack open and could use some gentle encouragement to actually read.

And here you are, presumably on tumblr to be entertained, edified, and/or have your brain put through a blender for a few minutes. So let’s have a poll.

[Image descriptions:

Book cover (title and authors as above, abstract background in orange, reddish, and violet tones.)

Back cover. Purple background. Orange and white text reads: “An urgent, vital contribution to the indivisible projects of abolition and feminism, from leading scholar-activists Angela Y David, Gina Dent, Erica R Meiners, and Beth E Richie. As a politic and a practice, abolition increasingly shapes our political moment — halting the construction of new jails and propelling movements to divest from policing. Yet erased from this landscape are not only the central histories of feminist — usually queer, anti capitalist, grassroots, and women of color-led — organizing that continue to cultivate abolition but also a recognition of the stark reality: abolition is our best response to endemic forms of state and interpersonal gender and sexual violence. Amplifying the analysis and the theories of change generated from vibrant community-based organizing, Abolition. Feminism. Now. traces necessary historical genealogies, key internationalist leanings, and everyday practices to grow our collective and flourishing present and futures.

Table of contents. Includes: preface, introduction, part 1 abolition. Part 2 feminism. Part 3 now. Epilogue. Appendices: intimate partner violence and state violence power and control wheel. Incite!-critical resistance statement on gender violence and the prison industrial complex. Reformist reforms vs abolitionist steps to end imprisonment. Further resources. Notes. Image permissions. Index.

list of other books in the abolitionist papers series, edited by Naomi Murakawa, namely: Change Everything: Radical Capitalism and the Case for Abolition by Ruth Wilson Gilmore; Rehearsals for Living by Robyn Maynard and Leanne Betasamosake Simpson; and We Do This ‘Til We Free Us: Abolitionist Organizing and Transformative Justice by Mariame Kaba

Replicated image in the book of a pamphlet cover created by Jeff George and distributed by Survived and Punished (an organization that advocated for incarcerated survivors of abuse.) There is a large line drawing of a scale out of balance with a man in a business suit, large stacks of money, and sky scrapers on the heavy end and a small group of protesters holding a sign saying “free all survivors” on the other end. Large handwritten text says “no good prosecutors now or ever” and smaller stencil-like text says “how the Manhattan district attorney hoards money, perpetuated abuse of survivors, and gags their advocates.”

End image descriptions.]

[kissingcullens]

Because the President and Vice President are using this moment to push the George Floyd Justice in Policing Act, remember that it is a police spending bill.

Here, a piece from Associated Press, March 2021:

“Movement for Black Lives opposes George Floyd Justice in Policing Act”

Derecka Purnell Op-Ed, 2021:

“The George Floyd Act wouldn't have saved George Floyd’s life. That says it all.”

And a piece by Mariame Kaba and Andrea J. Ritchie, Sept 2022:

“Why We Don’t Say “Reform the Police.”

And one I always return to from 2014:

[paratoxicalfeeling]

fave books of 2023

(not necessarily published this year & no rereads)

Short Stories:

The Six Deaths of the Saint by Alix E. Harrow

The Lottery by Shirley Jackson

Literary Fiction:

Hamnet by Maggie O'Farrell

The Ice Palace by Tarjei Vesaas

The Silence of the Girls by Pat Barker

Lincoln in the Bardo by George Saunders

We Spread by Iain Reid

The Waves by Virginia Woolf

Yellowface by R.F. Kuang

Pure Colour by Sheila Heti

The World of Yesterday by Stefan Zweig

And Every Morning the Way Home Gets Longer and Longer by Fredrik Backman

Fantasy & Horror:

The Once and Future Witches by Alix E. Harrow

Silver in the Wood by Emily Tesh

Thornhedge by T. Kingfisher

Legends & Lattes by Travis Baldree

All that Consumes Us by Erica Waters

Bloom by Delilah S. Dawson

Graphic Novels:

The Garlic duology by Bree Paulsen

Heartstopper Vol. 5 by Alice Oseman

Children's & Picture Books:

The Frog and Toad series by Arnold Lobel

The Brambly Hedge series by Jill Barklem

Snow & Rose by Emily Winfield Martin

Leina and the Lord of Toadstools by Myriam Dahman et al.

The Moomin series by Tove Jansson

Faeries of the Faultlines by Iris Compiet

Poetry:

Memorial: A Version of Homer's Iliad by Alice Oswald

Brand New Ancients by Kae Tempest

Non-Fiction:

It's Not About the Burqa edited by Mariam Khan

The End of Marriage by Emilia Roig

BFFs: The Radical Potential of Female Friendship by Anahit Behrooz

The Diary of a Young Girl by Anne Frank

[annlillyjose]

Dairy Whiskey – Update 01

[image description: a hanging branch of orange flowers against a blurry background of leaves. in the center, a white serif font reads, “dairy whiskey – update 01”. / end id]

hello there! it’s been several months since my dairy whiskey intro (which you can find here) and since then, i’ve written about 20k words. yep.

writing has been going fairly well for me even though it depends greatly on my mental health, and i’m really happy with all the progress so far. this is my first ever properly pantsed novel, because up until now, i felt the need to outline because it was said to be more structured and helpful, but when i let go of that pressure and tuned in to my instincts, it’s been working like magic. it’s been such a rewarding process. i am thrilled!

i have written way too much to include in one update, so i’ll be splitting it up into two. cutting out the intro/ramble here. let’s move on to the good stuff!

excerpts and taglist under the cut.

disclaimer: this is an original work of fiction. plagiarism of any kind will not be tolerated.

TWs: this novel deals with themes of childhood and religious trauma, sexual, emotional, and substance abuse, mental health issues, self-harm, abortion, etc. so please be kind on yourself and read ahead only if you feel comfortable

there were way too many good excerpts that i wanted to share, but i also didn’t want to spoil the book and cram everything into an update, so please excuse me while i struggle to make any sense.

chapter three – my brother in plague

in this chapter, ephron convinced dinah to smoke with him and when dinah reluctantly gives into her addiction after struggling with her memories and trauma for a long time. when they smoke in the plantation, ephron asks questions that upsets dinah and she storms back into the house. later, she takes a walk to the waterfall with austin, where they share tender moments that leave dinah confused about their relationship dynamics.

now moving on to the excerpts. here’s the opening paragraph.

In the first week following his return, I stole three unopened packets of cigarettes from Ephron. I’d found them all in his backpack, along with unwashed underwear, beverage shop bills, and several strips of Cetrizine. But today, there was nothing in his backpack – not a single cigarette – so I fished for a packet of Lights in his chest of drawers. That’s when I found it – father’s wedding ring, with the name Mariam inscribed in calligraphic font, wrapped in a children’s handkerchief with blue teddy bears and yellow flowers.

here’s a scene dinah remembers from the past, crucial to the novel, but it’s only briefly mentioned in this chapter.

Soon after mother left, Ephron began to drink openly. That night, after my impulsive swigs from father’s cupboard, he poured me a small peg of Black Label. He’d said, “See, Dinah. Here’s how the pain goes away. Here’s how you’ll forget. And me, too.”

this is followed by a long stretch of past trauma and dinah contemplating whether or not to smoke with ephron, while he smokes two cigarettes in the room they are in. eventually, she agrees to go and they smoke in the landholding.

later, when austin comes home to give dinah a new sim card as she had requested, they decide to go on a walk. on the way out, ephron confronts austin, acting up to be a “good brother” but it angers dinah and they have another fight. fast-forward to their walk and their time at the waterfall.

We took the walking route through Thresiyamma George’s plantation. Austin said it opened to the best view of the river. The best place to be with your emotions. Earthworms wiggled out of the soil. Millipedes and slugs leeched their way up our ankles, the tips of our toes dyed in cocoa colours. Mosquitos bred their wiggly larvae in the black plastic cups for latex collection. Newly spun webs of spiders glistened where small droplets of rainwater bejewelled them.

We walked mostly in silence. My feelings were tangled in themselves, strangling every partially alive piece left in me. The hem of his grey pants looked tie-dyed from the mud. Banana leaves and coconut trees stood scattered, drenched in the previous night’s wash.

let’s just say they have a fun time after this (but austin asks about ephron and dinah avoids the convo because, well, she doesn’t want to talk about him). they go back home after some time. back home, ephron apologises to dinah and it ends up triggering her (quite ideal).

“I am your brother, Dinah,” he pleaded. “No.” I shook my head. “No, you’re not.” I ran to the back door and got into the house through it. I locked myself in the room and crawled under the bed. With my knees plastered to my chest and my hands wound around them like coils, I cried until the tears wouldn’t come anymore. Rain began to pour and every other noise was drowned in the sound of water on the asbestos.

In this loudness, I fell asleep.

vignette three – a time to kill, a time to tear down

this is my vignette (but is long enough to be a chapter oops) on mariam – the mother who leaves before the story begins. it details why she left and for whom/what. i’ve shared a few excerpts from this chapter during nano 2022, so here‘a one excerpt from it.

In the afternoons, Mariam leaned out of the balcony in her cotton saree loosely draped around her body. The sun, now at an obtuse angle from the east, shed light on her face, illuminated her collarbones and the peak of her nose. Rivulets of sweat ran down the frame of her face. Cheeks flushed with the heat; skin cinnamoned under daylight. Her long, black hair in a low, messy bun smelled like coconut oil and dead flowers. Loose strands hung behind her ears, with baby hair sticking to the sweat on her cheeks. The rolls of her stomach and the gap between her thighs dampened under the heat. Downturned eyes with fierce, coal irises searched for something far off in the distance; much farther out of her reach. The kajal on her waterline dammed the tears that formed in this loneliness.

that’s it for today, but i’ll be back real soon with the next update because i’ve got a really fun chapter to share, so be on the lookout for that. i hope you enjoyed reading my novel excerpts today. please send me all the writer energy you can so that i can finish this baby off real soon and (maybe) start working on something new (oopsies)

– ann.

general taglist (ask to be +/-)

@shaonharryandpannisim @heartfullkings @vnsmiles @dallonwrites @wannabeauthorzofija @sienna-writes @violetpeso @flip-phones @rowansghost @ambidextrousarcher @duckiewrites @writing-with-l @magic-is-something-we-create @femmeniism @frozenstillicide @wizardfromthesea @rose-bookblood @coffeeandcalligraphy @rodentwrites

[legallybrunettedotcom]

hi matea how r u doing! i've seen u reading the game of thrones books on storygraph & u've inspired me to try them out, so in exchange i'll give u my personal very long fantasy series, robin hobb's realm of the elderlings! i'm only at book 6/16 rn but i'm really enjoying it so far, she takes an interesting approach to magic & fate & it's slow but very engrossing & charming writing, maybe u'll enjoy it too💚

hii mariam! i'm alright, hope you're good as well, or as much as one can be! <3 ngl i borderline stalk your storygraph, literally always finding something interesting and adding it to my to-read pile. and omg 16 books? will definitely be getting my hands on that, always looking to get a bit more into fantasy. and seeing as i will probably not be witnessing george rr martin finishing asoiaf in my lifetime, this sounds perfect. thank you sm for the recommendation!

[dear-indies]

Good afternoon, my good dudeberry. I was hoping you would please be able to suggest a few female south asian faceclaims with a sort of punkish or rocker vibe? Early twenties if possible! As always, thank you!

Are older but are worth a mention!

Ritu Arya (1988) Indian - in The Umbrella Academy.

Linnea Berthelsen (1993) Indian - in Stranger Things.

Sophia Taylor Ali (1995) Pakistani / Sicilian Italian, Danish, Norwegian, German - in Uncharted.

Shikhee D’iordna (?) Bangladeshi.

and then:

Krutika / themermaidscale on IG (1998) Indian.

Megan Suri (1999) Indian - in Poker Face.

Tanya Ravichandran / taanyaar on IG (2001) Indian.

Mariam George / themariamgeorge on IG (2001) Indian.

Not a woman but Bilal Baig (1995) who is Pakistani, genderfluid and non-binary (they/them) deserves a mention because I love them so much!

[poettier]

SQUARESPACE - Everything To Sell Anything (Director's Cut) from Ian Pons Jewell on Vimeo.

Director: Ian Pons Jewell DOP: Mauro Chiarello Producer: Jon Adams Production Designer: Robin Brown Production Designer: Tristan Mur Lead Wardrobe Stylist: Ameena Kara Callender Gimbal Operator: Florian Hatwagner Casting Coordinator/DA: Emm Le Chat Service: Radioaktive x Metro VFX: Black Kite Studios

Service: Radioaktive (UA) Executive Producer: Sasha Bevka Producer: Tanya Sokolova 1st AD: Aleksei Smoliar Production Manager: Yulia Sotnikova Art Director: David Kharaishvili VFX Supervisor: Denis Reva Wardrobe Stylist: Kostia Goncharuk MUA: Dasha Taivas Production Coordinator: Olga Avrahova Production Assistant: Anna Refel Stills Photographer: Artem Nadyozhin DIT: Dmitry Samus 1st AC: Vlad Dobrik Playback Op: Sergey Rupos Service: Metro (GE) Executive Producer: Sandro Gabilaia Head of Production: Maiko Gurabanidze Line Producer: Masho Tevdorashvili Unit Production Manager: Tamar Tvaradze 2nd AD: Sopo Parjiani Production Manager: Tato Pantsulaia Gaffer: Misha Ramishvili Rigging Gaffer: Giorgi Marsagishvili Key Grip: Shalva Leluashvili Production Coordinator: Pikria Kikodze Unit Manager: Merabo Rostomashvili Set Manager: Koka Chkaidze Transportation Manager: Davit Peradze Transportation Coordinator: Davit Maghlakelidze Location Manager: Achi Kevlishvili Location Manager Assistant: Natia Chomakhidze Casting Director: Tina Khizanishvili Casting Assistant: Beka Khachidze Production Assistant: Nini Iashvili Production Assistant: Mariam Gugushvili ProductionAssistant: Irakli Kakabadze Chaperone: Marisha Jincharadze

VFX: Black Kite Studios VFX Supervisor: Adams Croker VFX assist: Guillaume Weiss VFX assist: George Brunt VFX assist: Dan Sanders Colourist: Tom Mangham VFX Supervisor: Denis Reva VFX Producer : Tamara Mennell

Music and sound design Supervising Sound Editor: Lawrence Kendrick Sound Design and Mix: Will Cohen, Lawrence Kendrick, Joe Wilkinson, Jim Stewart, Adam Smyth Music Composition “Everything”: Joe Wilkinson Music Composition “Time": Adam Hare Music Composition “Future": Jim Cornick Audio Producer: Laura-Leigh Smith Music Research: Jon Rust

Talents LA Podcast Host: Michael Delgado Voice Over: Candace Camille Reporter: Nicola Lambo Motivational Speaker: Micah Bijon Talents Spain Doula Guide: Rachel Lascar Mom: Neema Lahon Farmer: José Luis Matienzo Frasquet Boulder Instructor: Roqueta Navarro Xavier Robot: Mireia Ruiz Callado Boat Guide: Aniez Atlas Manicurist: Antony Jaime Perez Pilot Student: Irene Aguilar Plane Instructor: Motokazu Kawamara

Talents UA Writer: Eugeniy Skisov Biker: Maria Jeniffer Writer Assistant: Oles Dmytrenko Talents GE Cafe Girl: Mariam Sanogo Lobby Suit: Salome Chitaia Tarot Reader: Ana Meskhi Cafe Dusk Fan: Ana Gogiashvili Dad: Gigi Loria Chef: Dato Bekoshvili Cafe Guy: Preston Zein Finishing Tutor: Tamar Khurtsilava Wine Man: Tengo Avalishvili Astronaut: David Chokuri Flotation Tank Guy: Ituka Bright Lobby Suit: Vika Kalandia Lobby Suit: Giorgi Chigogidze Lobby Suit: Goga Khapava Lobby Suit: Chy Vic Lobby Suit: Irma Lapiashvili Book Signing Fan: Gegham Book Signing Fan: Ana Taladvanze Book Signing Fan: Nino Gachechiladze Book Signing Fan: Kanji Sakemi Book Signing Fan: Preshels Tudebi Cameraman: Giorgi Shetsiruli Boulder Pusher: Indira Reyes Boulder Pusher: Ana Zubashvili Boulder Pusher: Jack Hubbell Boulder Pusher: Mohamed Keshta Tourist: Milan Lee Tourist: Nuca Dopadze Tourist: Nadejda Tsoi Tourist: Alexander Tsoi Tourist: Shbi Kbngwa Lenel Richy