#Only the second book i've read this year and already a five stars read

[stargirlbryce]

Every book I read in 2025: Juniper and thorn by Ava Reid

"I almost laughed. “You would rather me eat your heart than look away in disgust?”

“Of course,” he breathed. “Every time.""

[deceptive-daydreams]

Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3 | Ch. 4 | Ch. 5 | Ch. 6 | Ch. 7 | Ch. 8 | Ch. 9 | Ch. 10 | Ch. 11 | Ch. 12 | Ch. 13 | Ch. 14 |

Smoke Signals

Chapter Twelve - The Holiday Season Begins

W/C: 8.7K

Eddie x Fem reader - Grumpy!Bartender!Eddie x Shy!Reader

"I've got my eye on you."

Say Yes To Heaven - L.D.R

A/N: Wow I think this is the longest I've gone without posting a chapter. I really hope you guys enjoy this one. I wrote it in bits and pieces and read it over several times. I would really really really love to know what you think, this one is so special and personal to me.

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Sugary apple goo.

You think back to Thanksgiving back home, a ruckus constant in the kitchen as dinner is prepared, more than enough food to feed an entire village.  Pots and pans clank together, trays create an echo as they are not-so-carefully placed atop the counter.  Dinner rolls are burned but still enjoyed with warm cinnamon butter.  The potatoes are a touch too lumpy but still desirable with notes of rosemary and an ungodly amount of garlic.  Various smells, both sweet and savory flood the house, your poor, stressed out mother churning out dish after dish, siblings all engaged in some kind of ball game out in the street just after watching the Thanksgiving Day parade.  

You tend to the green bean casserole, an easy dish that you couldn’t screw up even with your limited attention span.  Cream of Mushroom soup from a can seemed so repulsive in itself although it brought the whole dish together.  It didn’t matter that seconds prior it slumped against the green beans still in the shape of the can, nearly gelatinous.  Once stirred in and baked with crispy onions layered over the top, it was a masterpiece.  A five star dish in your book.

It would only be a matter of time before grandma showed up with her famously delicious apple pie, the crust coated in extra amounts of grainy sugar, the dish still piping hot.  And the “sugary apple goo” as you used to call it at the age of three already had your mouth watering just thinking about it, crispy apples so fresh and topped with syrupy caramelized sauce topped off with cinnamon and nutmeg, all wrapped up in a flaky, buttery crust.  

You sigh, piling the apple mixture on top of the homemade graham cracker crust.  It wasn’t clear to you just how lonely Thanksgiving morning would be without anyone around.  Sure, you had Donnie’s to look forward to this evening but until then, you were on your own, the parade quietly playing on the TV though you hadn’t been very impressed with the floats this year.  Holiday depression was kicking in, a kind you hadn’t experienced yet.  They were usually always a happy time, family surrounding you and distracting you from the lonesome thoughts you usually had.  This year it started feeling more like a ton of bricks was sitting on your chest, no one able to aid in providing you with some kind of task such as the honor of making the green bean casserole to ease the pressure.

It wasn’t like you couldn’t just make the controversially delicious dish, you had everything stashed in the pantry.  It just didn’t feel right.  It went unnoticed by you that tears were slowly sliding down your cheeks until a fat one landed on your wrist as you finished spooning the apple filling.  

Again?

In that moment you swear you looked the most pitiful you had ever looked in your entire life, tears trailing down your face silently, all alone, homesick.  You should be in your pajamas playing some kind of a board game on the coffee table in the living room, surrounded by your siblings.  Not throwing yourself a pity party while spreading apple goo.  To top it off, your hands had gotten completely covered, the sauce making your fingers undesirably sticky.  You hadn’t quite reached the point of sobs yet though you suppose if you let the goo linger on your hands any longer you would.

Some comforting folk music your grandpa used to play religiously rang through the house though you felt no such comfort.  Not as much as you’d hoped anyway.  It brought a familiar sense of his essence to you, his passing three years ago not settling right in your heart.  It only made you more homesick.

But you weren’t going to let yourself soak in salty tears and sticky apples.  No, you washed your hands in soothing warm water, the sludge sliding right off and into the metal of the sink, eyes puffy and red but void of tears for the time being.  You’d sucked them back and changed the music to something more upbeat, some Elvis that your grandpa had also engrained deeply into your brain though you hoped the faster tempo would brighten your spirits and ignite the happy memories.

Only, it landed you on the couch in a whole new sea of sobs this time as Unchained Melody lingered in the lonely room.  There was no getting a grip on the gut-wrenching, stomach-aching isolation you were feeling, sanity was long gone.  You were supposed to be trimming the dough that was meant to create the criss cross pattern for the pie, you were supposed to be enjoying your glass of wine as you sang under your breath to familiar tunes, you were supposed to be okay.  

It was you, after all, who had made the decision to move, right?  It was you who picked up your entire life and plopped it right in the middle of some unknown mountain town in search of yourself.  You feared that you were just losing yourself instead, forgetting just after a few months what it felt like to be surrounded by loved ones, forgetting how it felt to come home to a full house after a grueling shift at the local Denny’s.  You smelled of burnt coffee and dry eggs, your hair greasier than the literal grease trap, but none of that mattered the second you stepped into the coziness of the living room, all family dysfunction left at the door.

The tears wouldn’t stop though you still managed to force yourself off of the couch, wiping snot away with the back of your hand as you stared at the messy kitchen in despair.  Everything suddenly seemed so…impossible.  How were you meant to do anything while simultaneously questioning your entire existence, your entire meaning of life?

You had been in such disarray that cleaning up as you went didn’t even seem close to an option, nearly every pot and pan either set on top of the stove or thrown in the sink, whisks and spatulas scattered among the mess, and apple skins littering the floor.  Now you were taking in the aftermath, not even having the finished product to show as an excuse for the complete disaster, even the dough still rolled out on the cutting board.  You had hours left to prepare though it felt like seconds ticking by to inevitable disappointment.  

The end of the world felt like it weighed down on your shoulders yet you did what you did best each time.  You set it aside and pressed on.  It was never simple, weak hands grasping the dull knife, slicing through the dough to create uniform strips.  Motivation was running dry, the desire to grace everyone with the most delicious apple pie they’d ever tasted was out the window, you could only do what your body allowed.

And like every other time you had to pull yourself out of the gutter.  Life began to bleed back into your eyes as your creation came back to life.  Puffiness still remained throughout your face, eyes still droopy but slowly your drive kicked back into gear.  Sniffles from previous snotty tears continued but nothing felt better than laying down the last layer of dough over the apple filling, a quest conquered.  

Finishing off your cheap red wine, you reward yourself by licking off the spoon you’d used for the filling.  The kitchen still required a good scrub down but you could live with the mess a little while longer as you indulged in the sweetness.  Something well deserved.  You didn’t even want to think about the nightmare that Christmas was about to become, decorating your tree with only the company of your dreaded thoughts.  That was a scenario you were not willing to wander into, at least not until it would actually happen.  There was no sense in making yourself live through it twice, your brain longing to torture you with irrational possibilities.

Elvis’s voice continues to carry through the living room, a second glass of wine being poured in hopes of easing your homesickness, attempting to neglect thoughts of what you would usually be doing right now.  It was barely working, only leaving you feeling slightly lazy with a good layer of sadness still looming over you like a storm cloud.  There was no extinguishing the sorrows you felt for familiarity and the comfort the holidays were supposed to bring you.

Sudden knocking sends you into a brief panic, unexpected guests were not in the cards for your lonesome morning that had only served to encourage your crybaby tendencies.  At the very least you got a pie out of it.

The knocking persists as you scramble up from your depressing divot on the couch, a certain urgency waving over you at the speed of the knocks.  They were rapid, quick pecks at the wood, a worrisome speed that usually constituted an emergency in the end.  

Why today, why now?

With a heavy sigh, you swing the door open, glass of half-finished wine in one hand while the other runs down your drained face.  You expect some kind of eviction notice; god knows why since you own the place.  Maybe the check hadn’t reached the mortgage company, maybe it had been intercepted in transit.  The last thing you expect on your doorstep is a wide-eyed Eddie cradling a large bowl in one arm.  His gray sweatpants swallow his legs and hang low on his hips, a sliver of his tummy on display in between his t-shirt and pants.

It’s conflicting.  Do you act concerned and start begging the questions:  Did something happen?  Who’s injured?  Or do you exhale in relief as a tiny smile tugs at the corners of his mouth even in his somewhat distressed state?  It can’t be that bad if he still finds it in himself to smile, right?

“I, uh, I need help.”  He says sheepishly.

Ever since the night of the hoedown, he’d been a new kind of shy with you.  You couldn’t lie and say you didn’t adore it because truth be told, big bad Eddie Munson who previously chewed you out for being so bashful was now getting a taste of his own medicine.  Except you had been much kinder than he initially was, though it was fun to tease him and force his face to turn a vibrant tomato red.  

“Help?”  You smirk, swirling your wine as if you were some kind of connoisseur.  “My, my, how the tables have turned.”

“Bambi.”  He groans, still maintaining focused eye contact with the wood planks of your porch.

“Eddie.”  

It’s said so softly, in a way that reduces him to a puddle, his knees could give out at any moment if you so much as looked at him a certain way which had been why he refused to catch your gaze.  He internally curses himself for automatically counting under his breath, unable to stop himself: one, two, three, one, two, three.

In an instant your face falls, he only ever counted when he was stressed from what you could gather.  It was a learning curve, navigating Eddie’s quirks.

“Hey.”  You soothe, gingerly grabbing his wrist with your free hand.  “Hey, what’s wrong?”  

His curls bounce with a shake of his head, his eyes fluttering shut.  The counting stops but he still comes across as fuzzy.  Disoriented.  

“Come inside.”  You whisper, gently tugging him through the door, your wine abandoned at the entry table in the process.  “It’s freezing out.”

Instinctually he hands you the bowl he’d been cradling close to his body with a wooden spoon sticking out.  Upon further inspection, a mountain of mashed potatoes-or should you say lumps of potatoes are piled up within the bowl.  The skins are still intact, way too many if he intended to make smooth and creamy potatoes.  They’d be much less than enjoyable in the state they were currently in.

“I fucked them up.”  He whispers.

The sight you’re met with is that of a small child in a grown man’s body, his large eyes pleading.  You’re forced to realize that today may very well be much worse for him than it is for you.  He’d warned you that he didn’t do holidays and here he was, a nervous wreck turning up on your doorstep in a panic with lumpy potatoes.  And suddenly you felt so selfish.

“That’s okay.”  You assure him, tracing a tender thumb over his bicep.  He looked so lost.  “Eddie, it’s okay.”  You repeat with a nod.

“I just, I was gonna buy something from the store, and then, I just thought–I dunno maybe I’d at least try.”  He tugs on his curls, a bit too harshly for your liking.  “I don’t know why I even tried.”  He sighs in defeat.

It’s enough to break your heart.

“Eddie.”  

Turmoil flashes in his eyes, stress apparent in the way his brows furrow and his frown lines grow deeper.  His lips are red, most likely bitten, and he can’t stop twisting one of his rings around his finger.  He looks to be as much of a wreck as you felt although the symptoms seem to be much more apparent in his appearance than yours.  Your slightly swollen eyes were nothing compared to his tousled curls, anxieties littered across his face and trembling hands unable to be subtly hidden without the crutch of sleeves.

“I, uh, I-I shouldn’t have bothered.”  He mutters, reaching for the door.

You intercept him, your hand wrapping around his elbow while you attempt to meet his eyes.  He freezes in his escape, your touch rendering him paralyzed, your fingers suddenly too determined in digging into the meat of his arm.  Not meanly.  Never meanly.  More concerned.  Concerned for the way he cowers away the second he’s offered any fraction of help.  Perhaps it’s hypocritical of you to regard him with such worry when you yourself present the same behaviors under the same circumstances and expect no such treatment.

Your expression offers a certain softness that he’s come across one too many times since you’d barged into his life and taken his heart hostage.  You’d never know you committed such a crime.  And he’d never outright tell you of the ache that sat deep in his chest that he had no clue how to satiate.  All he knew was that he could not jeopardize this.  If he could get through the holidays, if he could get to January and you were still around, then, and only then would he be convinced that he had finally lifted whatever fucked up, out-of-this-world curse that had haunted him all his life.

“It’s okay.”  Barely above a whisper, you assure him.

Eddie doesn’t remember making his way into your kitchen, he can’t recall your delicate hand pulling him along until you let go to discard his potato concoction onto the counter and he realizes he’s taken the warmth for granted in a haze of existential dread.  Like a lost puppy, he stares at your fingertips as they linger on the counter while you lean over to reach for an empty casserole dish.  The entirety of your kitchen cabinets had thrown up all over the counters, a reflection of the way his brain felt.  Scattered.  

“Potatoes are actually super complicated.”  

His ears perk up, unsure of how to conjure up a response.  Instead, he raises his eyebrows, fearful of how dumb he could make himself look with just a few syllables.  It wasn’t like him to care so deeply what others thought of him.

“That’s why I avoid them.  Instead–”  You turn around only to pull out a can of green beans and a can of cream of mushroom.  “-work smarter, not harder.”

Eddie knows he should be hanging onto every word you say and usually he would be, he knows.  Except he can’t help but tune into the melody of Blue Christmas that had been echoing off the kitchen walls from your record player across the room.

The damn record player.  And the records.

He didn’t realize how much the records still affected him.  He had his own collection now, sure.  But anything that resembled the essence of his Mama, lived safely and soundly on its dedicated shelf in his room, untouched.  It took him years to rebuild Mama’s collection.

“Sorry can we-”  He makes his way toward the record player, his face contorted nearly painfully before lifting the needle.  “I just-I can’t think.”

Your motions were paused, can opener halfway through the can of beans as your eyes meet him with questions splayed across your face.  You don’t ask them.  An understanding smile works its way across your lips and god, he doesn’t know why you’re so patient with him after he stepped into your house and suddenly had the uncontrollable urge to shut off your music.  As he strides back into the kitchen, a series of apologies haven't even left his mouth and yet-

“So…Green Bean Casserole.”  You state, fingers tapping against the tin of each can.  “And Sugary Apple Goo.”  A vague gesture toward the uncooked pie.  “Kind of a…weird duo.  Or it will be if I actually get it in the oven-”

“Sorry, what?”  

“Apple pie.  The apple pie.  At home we just call it sugary apple goo, don’t ask why it’s just–it’s just a thing we do.”  You clarify, shoving the dessert into the comforting warmth of the oven, shivering at the sensation as goosebumps begin to prick your skin.

“Apple goo.”  He repeats.  A raised brow disappearing beyond his messy bangs.

Eddie almost forgets the reason why he’d been in such disarray, almost forgets why he even bothered knocking on your door in the first place, only remembers the fact that he was in a panicked state.

“Yeah.”  You sigh.

You busy yourself with slopping the now drained green beans into a nearby glass bowl.  Your blotchy skin and puffy eyes catch in the stream of sunlight, the kitchen window betraying you as it showcases your true state.  Avoiding those large brown eyes is the best you can do, the theory that if you can’t see him he can’t see you dumbly being put to use no matter how aware you are that it makes no sense.  Maybe if you act “okay enough”, he’ll chalk it up to the common cold, placing the responsibility for your rudolph-like nose on the yearly infection.

What you fail to realize is that by this point, he’s become too familiar with your teary eyes and sad worry lines that only seemed prominent in your times of distress.  Times that he had regretfully been the cause of previously.  Words can’t escape his practically sewn-shut-mouth, all sounds dying long before forming on his tongue.  It’s impossible to create comfort when he himself has trouble doing so for himself.  How could he possibly offer such comfort to someone who deserved kinder words from someone of a higher regard?

“Here, dump this in and mix.”  You instruct, forcing a can of cream of mushroom and a wooden spoon in his hands, yanking him out of his mind.

There’s no room for protest, not that he even intended to.  Not when you’re standing there with the ghost of tear tracks down your cheeks.  Not when you’re this kind.  Not when you’re you.  

“Okay.”  He mutters, a disgusting sound filling his ears from the lumpy soup falling into the bowl.

“After that, pour it in here.”  You place a ceramic casserole dish to his right, the dish nearly too large to fit on the cluttered counter though you’re too occupied with tidying up other parts of the kitchen to bother.

“Got it.”

Eddie Munson absolutely hates Thanksgiving.  But he doesn’t mind it so much when you’re rustling around behind him, a silent conversation hanging in the air that neither of you are alone in your holiday sorrows, whatever they may be.

You don’t ask why he continues counting under his breath behind you or why his hands are shaking.

And he doesn’t ask why tears linger in your eyes or why you pause to regain your composure after dropping a pan a bit too loudly for your liking, your lip wobbling.

Because the collective understanding is that neither of you is okay.  And maybe that’s okay.

–

“Careful, the bottom is–”

“Shit!”

“-hot.”

A ringed hand waves around in an effort to rid it of the burning sensation caused by the bottom of the piping hot casserole dish.  Eddie releases a series of curses, the side of the dish pushed against his chest as he balances it between his body and his single arm protected by one of your generously donated dish rags.  Your wide eyes caution him in his balancing act, a perfectly crafted green bean casserole at risk due to his negligence as he had taken the liberty of knocking on the door.

“What the fuck, how can fuckin’ beans be so goddamn hot?”  Brown eyes nearly roll into the back of his head, his fingertips more than likely singed an angry red.

It’s no laughing matter, not according to the scowl that makes its way across his handsome features but you can’t stop the pull of your lips from forming a large grin, giggles caught in the back of your throat.  His irritation disappears just as quickly as it came, harsh edges blurring into softness at the sight of your puffed out cheeks, inflated due to the humor just dying to crawl out of your mouth.

“Oh, shut up.”  A nudge of his shoulder against yours has you shaking your head, laughter finally escaping your perfectly glossed lips.

He could write paragraphs about them if it didn’t seem so creepy and stalkerish.  So he allowed himself the tiniest of glances, only hoping to paint the full picture in his head ever since you’d quickly puckered your lips in front of your mirror at home to complete your finishing touches while he viewed from the porch where he waited in his black button up and nicest pair of jeans.  He’d never been so jealous over a tube of lipgloss.  In fact, he’d never in his life been jealous of a tube of lipgloss and he never felt like more of a loser than in that moment.

“I told you.”  You mutter, an endearing side eye delivered right into his line of sight.  It was something almost child-like, something innocent and not at all like what he’d ever really been on the receiving end of.  Maybe because there was a certain flirtiness you were hinting at although he was no expert and had no right to assume.

“I told you.”  He mumbles back with a higher pitch, mocking you.

You turn toward him, a comeback on the tip of your tongue when his own tongue interrupts with a taunt, peeking out between his lips swiftly, his nose scrunching up meanly before his full attention is back on the door as it creaks open.  And then, a quick wink that only you yourself were a witness to, only creating a stir in your brain as you decipher that no one else would be able to confirm the action.

“Hey!”  Donnie greets, arms flung up in excitement as she ushers you into her welcoming home, smells infiltrating your nose, sweet and savory galore.

Before either you or Eddie can even get a simple “hello” in, she’s talking your ear off, something about who all is already in the living room, how far along the turkey is, where the bathroom is, all while guiding you into the spacious dining room.  She must have set out her fine china, the gorgeous dishes set all around the table lined with champagne colored silver on the edges of the plates.  Two tables had been pushed together, creating enough space for the large number of guests expected.  In the center sat an exquisite arrangement of various orange-hued flowers and some greenery.  

The house was comforting; not too large and not too small, a two story dream that no doubt had acres of backyard.  The Christmas tree had already been set up and decorated, the branches and lights hinting at you from the other room where men roared with laughter, a football game blaring from the TV that contrasted with the familiar voice of Frank Sinatra coming from the stereo.  Combined turkey and Santa decorations adorned the interior everywhere you glanced, surfaces that would usually be empty year around were occupied with tacky little figurines that were more endearing than anything.  Plastic garland traced the rails of the stairs, littered in fake plastic cranberries, the front room being far more grand than your entire home as you inspected it through the archway of the dining room.

Suddenly your nerves were simmering down, a familiar feeling nestling into the bottom of your chest as your shoulders fell from their tensed position, your fingers letting up on their grip on the pie tin you clutched so desperately.  Women squealed from the kitchen, a series of “oh my god”s erupting into the rest of the house, some kind of juicy gossip initiating several gasps as well as some laughter.  Your homesickness began to lie dormant, warmth overtaking you as Donnie went on and on about her family members, which ones to avoid sitting next to at all costs and warning you of the aunties that would corner you and beg for details on your love life.

“Just pretend I’m calling you and run as fast as you can in the other direction.”  She advises.  “And if that doesn’t work, tell ‘em you had too much wine and that it’s making a reappearance.  They’ll scatter like flies.”

You laugh along, taking mental notes as she grabs the pie from you, complimenting the smell as she sets it among several other desserts, a whole table dedicated only to sweets.  When she goes to grab the green bean casserole from Eddie, you can’t help but pause and watch as his doe eyes trace his surroundings, a clearly unfamiliar environment to him.  There’s uncertainty dripping from his demeanor, his single finger tapping against the dish:  One, two, three.  One, two, three.  One, two, three.

“Green bean casserole-Eddie, do you know how many green bean casserole we’ve got?  Like you all read each other’s mind, I swear.”  Donnie jokes.

“It’s-um, it’s hot.”  He cautions her.

Sauntering toward the main table, Donnie proudly sets it on top of a place mat to protect the wood from the heat.  Eddie doesn’t budge, seemingly glued to the carpet, his hands still lingering in the air like he had still been holding the dish.

“You okay?”  You mouth to him, looking up into his worried eyes, only hoping to soothe the crease in between his eyebrows.

He nods though you suspect he’s being a bit dishonest.  

“Oh, c’mon Eddie!  You know I’m just pullin’ your leg.”  Donnie reassures, a heavy hand falling against his shoulder.  “Shoot, I have to go check on the oven.  Yell for me if you need anything, both of you, okay?”  

“Sure.”  You mumble.  “Thank you.”

“There’s a fully stocked bar right over there, help yourselves.”  She calls as she backs herself up toward the kitchen.  “But don’t go too crazy.”  She sends a knowing glance, recalling both of your tendencies to take on more than you can handle.

“Why don’t we get some air?”  You suggest, unable to comprehend exactly just what was happening in Eddie’s mind although you knew enough to understand that he was miles outside of his comfort zone.

“No, no.  I’m good.”  A cleared throat doesn’t reassure you enough but you let it go for the time being.  Prying wasn’t going to help.  “”M gonna get a beer.”  He murmurs, chain jingling from his belt as he makes his way toward what you can only assume is the kitchen where Donnie had just disappeared to.

As pathetic as it seemed, you weren’t going to allow yourself to wander around alone, vulnerable to various conversations trapping you in small talk with strangers: an absolute nightmare.  Timidly, you follow behind Eddie at a safe distance, holding your breath as you take in the new room full of busy women and many glasses of wine.  The smell of gravy heavily lingers, a tinge of the sourly sweet alcohol peeking through as you release your breath and inhale finally.  

And then-they were all over him.  Sweet older women, ranging from around fifty plus years, all doting on him, cooing at him while complimenting how tall he is and his handsome features.  It only forces you to lean your hip against the counter and take in the most captivating scene you’d ever witnessed.  His cheeks redden, his entire face matching shortly after as he nods in response, small “thank you”s sneaking past his lips with a sheepish grin threatening to spread across his face, dimples prominent.  It’s clear he doesn’t know what to do with the attention, has no recognition of the power he currently holds.

“Is this one yours?!”  One woman shrieks, taking your hands in her bony ones.

“Oh-”

“You’re so lucky, he’s such a looker!”  Another chimes in.

“We’re not-”

“You better hope he holds onto all that hair throughout the years.”  A third nods.

Eddie’s face has never been redder, crimson painting his usually pale skin, a beer pinched in between his fingers as he avoids every single eye in the room.  You can only imagine the look on your own face, maybe slightly mortified with a hint of pink pulling at your cheeks due to the unnecessary attention.

“Alright, alright.”  Donnie interjects.  “Enough, you’re gonna scare ‘em away before they’ve even had a bite to eat!”  She waves her hands around, dramatics on full display as she shoos them away like pigeons.

“Thank you.”  You whisper, eyes large and surprised.

“Run, run.”  Donnie displays wide eyes, gently shoving you both out of the kitchen.

–

Throughout the evening, you kept Eddie in your peripheral.  Sure, he was grown and fully capable of taking care of himself but it didn’t worry you any less when holidays weren’t necessarily his favorite thing.  Anxieties lurked in the back of your mind the second he started counting earlier, never once fading away no matter how hard you tried to convince yourself that he was fine, now bantering back and forth with Sam.

“That Steve kid really can’t dance.”  Nathan laughs, pulling you back into the initial conversation you were having, perched on the couch with a glass of wine set in front of you on the coffee table courtesy of Donnie’s excellent hosting skills.

“Well that’s why he excused himself off the dancefloor.”  You softly smile, earning another hearty laugh from the man.

“Hey, but Eddie’s no better.”  He jokes, taking a swig of his beer.  “Looked like a damn giraffe stumbling over his own legs.”

“I wasn’t very coordinated either!”  You defend.  “We were a hot mess.”  You bury your face in your hands.

“Yeah, I bet Eddie thought you were hot.”

The recliner adjacent to you creaks beneath Jett as he makes himself comfortable, slouching with a beer in his hand.

“Whoa.”  Nathan leans forward, ready to reprimand him.  “What-”

“That’s okay.”  You speak softly, your hand covering the older man’s as an act of keeping the peace, something you did best.  Several seconds of contemplation and a glance across the room toward Eddie change your mind.  

“Actually-it’s not.”  You turn your body toward Jett, a man–child before your eyes that refused to even look at you after his comment.  Your hands shake and your cheeks heat with embarrassment, chalking your sudden confidence up to the glass and a half of wine you indulged in.  

“What?”  Jett furrows his brows, examining his beer far too aggressively as a means to avoid you.

“It’s not okay.”  You whisper, a wimpy excuse of a defense.

“What’s gotten into you, boy?”  Nathan scolds through gritted teeth.

Jett’s nearly-black eyes resemble something opposite in comparison to the warmth in those across the room currently harboring a twinkle in an engaged conversation.  The boy is unable to get a word in as you quietly begin to address him.

“Look, I’m sorry if I did something wrong.”  You regret the tremble in your tone, confrontation was well out of your comfort zone, especially with someone who had been so hostile for no reason.  It wasn’t in your DNA to be the “bad guy” even when it would benefit your wellbeing.

Something in your words softens Jett’s eyes, pulls a piece of him back into reality.  You weren’t terrorizing him and he couldn’t seem to grasp that ever since that night you had argued with Eddie behind the bar.  And you hadn’t spoken a word out of line but you weren’t clueless.  Clearly he had an agenda against you and Eddie, it never left your mind since Eddie mentioned that Jett got all over-protective suddenly that night and took it out on him.  But what could you do when all he did was puff out his chest rather than have a decent conversation?  His frayed emotions were not your responsibility, you owed him nothing if he was going to insist on acting like a toddler in adult situations.  You suppose some of it could be due to his lack of years behind yourself and Eddie, Jett still a teenager, almost twenty whereas you had been in your twenties for a few years now.  It wasn’t an excuse, just your brain attempting to work out his logic.

“You didn’t–you didn’t do anything wrong.”  He sighs, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees.

You don’t offer any words.  Only an expectant look.  Expecting of some kind of explanation as to why he’d been acting so cruel.  And as if the universe decided you didn’t live in enough anguish with your homesickness that morning paired with the current unwanted confrontation, Eddie’s eyes met yours for a brief moment before darting away, a deep sigh and suddenly slouching shoulders clearly indicating some kind of defeat before he quietly stepped out of the room.

“Can we get into this another time?”

You don’t wait for a response, excusing yourself to slip out of the room and follow the trail of cold out the front door, the chill seeping into your bones as your cradle your arms close to yourself.  The porch is spacious, something you hadn’t taken notice of earlier when arriving.  To your left, Eddie sits on a wooden bench with the family name “Scott” carved into it.  A cigarette takes its place between his fingers, his lighter flickering while he lets out a frustrated groan.  He places the stick between his lips and cups the flame to hide it from the wind, finally succeeding in lighting it, puffs of smoke escaping through the corners of his mouth.

“I’m not fragile, Bambi.  Stop following me around.”  He mutters, pulling the cigarette from his lips.  There’s no malice detected in his words, just something lacking hope as he stares straight ahead.

Carefully, you sit at the very edge of the bench, your skirt a tad too short to allow you to fully sit back due to the cold surface.  You catch a wave of his warmth as he rests his arm on his thigh.  It hurts, how far away he feels even being inches from you; his mind might as well be on Jupiter.  A momentary glance over at you causes him to sigh deeply, his head dipping down while he shakes it in disappointment.

“And dammit!”  Eddie snaps, face twitching in aggravation.  “I don’t have a jacket for you this time.  Learn how to dress for the cold.”  He gestures to your posture, your arms wrapped around your middle in an attempt to savor any warmth, and your jaw clenched shut as a means to keep your teeth from chattering though you can’t seem to contain the shivers nearly rattling your bones.

“I don’t need one.”

He scoffs, disbelief evident in his movements, a fidgeting hand reaching up to scratch the barely-there stubble at his jaw.  

“I don’t!”  You lie.

You were never one to willingly be dishonest but a little white lie in this case didn’t seem like the end of the world.  Not when Eddie’s fragile state of mind seemed to gnaw away at him.  You wouldn’t leave him out for the wolves to feed on him; wolves being his never ending thoughts that always without fail, won him over and forced him to crawl back into his comfort zone of isolation.  You suppose you weren’t so innocent either, always succumbing to the very same habits.

“Go back inside.”  A flick of his cigarette ash towards the ground ignites in the thin layer of snow barely coating the porch before extinguishing.

You can’t help the furrow in your brows, staring at him as if to figure him out, attempting to glance into his large coffee colored irises, to no avail.  His shiny eyes dodge your attempts, the windows of his soul closed off, even from you.  Not that you were immediately entitled, though you figure with each trauma he had shared with you, he’d at least be able to look you in the eye.

“Come with me.”  You chirp.  “We’ll taste all the wines.  C’mon, and then we’ll be nice and hungry.  Drunk eating is the best.”  You extend a hand out toward him, your freshly painted nails perfectly imperfect in his peripheral.

“I’m not in the mood, Bambi.”

His gravelly voice has a certain effect on you, one you find not appropriate to dissect right now.  He lifts the cigarette back up to his lips, the chance to take one more drag stolen from him as you pluck it from his fingers, tossing it into the snow without regret, stomping your foot on it for good measure.

“Well, get in the mood.  Let’s go.”  

Boldly, you tug at his arm, unable to move him by yourself, you know.  But he willingly melts into your touch, allowing you to pull him up despite his protesting frown.  Though he follows you to stand, he doesn’t budge much further than that as you try to drag him back into the cozy warmth of the house.  The rounded tip of his nose glows red, the threat of a cold only pushing you to tug on his sleeve with no success in ushering him inside.

“I think ‘m just gonna head home.  You think someone else could give you a ride back?”  The question is hesitant, no longer wanting to participate in the festivities but still concerned for your well-being, especially if you were going to continue to drink.  

Your track record with alcohol wasn’t exactly great and he’d never forgive himself if something happened and he wasn’t there just because the sight of you talking to Jett had left a bad taste in his mouth.  But he couldn’t stand it any longer, watching you act so graceful all the time, especially to someone you didn’t particularly like, and then having to pretend that a simple kiss on the cheek didn’t absolutely wreck him.  A kiss that you hadn’t since mentioned, and he wasn’t going to humiliate himself by insinuating that you wanted him in that way.  No one wanted him in that way.

“What?”  You breathe, face shifting into a sadness Eddie wanted to kick himself for.  “No, you can’t go–”

“I’m sure Jett is ready and willing to entertain you.”

Low blow.  He could always count on himself to deliver a low blow at the worst of times.

Eddie knew now that you had a distaste for Jett, he knew that.  And yet he was stupid enough to continue using Jett as ammo against you for no reason other than his own insecurity.  If he continued to push you away then it wouldn’t hurt so bad when you realized he was scum of the earth.  Trailer trash.  A nobody.  That’s what he kept telling himself.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”  You fume, crossing your arms.

“I don’t know, Bambi.  You tell me cause I can’t figure you out.”

The use of his nickname for you stitched together with words of anguish only further confused you.  You couldn’t seem to win.

“Can’t–can’t figure me out?!”  You widen your eyes at him, only hoping to convey how ridiculous of a statement it is.  “Can’t figure me out.  What about you?!  You’re the one no one can figure out!”  

You’re on the verge of whining, begging in a sense.  Pleading with the most stubborn man in the world and god only knows what you’ll do if he doesn’t stand down.

“Maybe there’s a reason for that.”  He states simply, monotone.  It makes you want to yank your hair out by the roots and offer it to him, asking him if it’s enough.  If it’s enough to shut up the voices in his head.

“Yeah?  Because you don’t wanna let people in?!”  Uncharacteristically, you jab a finger into his chest, frustration making itself known across your face and you only know because his eyes ever so slightly soften.  “Eddie, all you do is give me mixed signals!  How many times do I have to tell you I want nothing to do with Jett?!  What do I have to do to get that through your thick fucking head?!”  He tries to get a word in but you don’t give him an opportunity.  “No, seriously!  I need an instruction manual or something because I’m trying!  I have been trying-”

“-I didn’t ask you to!”  He finally interrupts, sorrow filling his eyes.

With a deep breath, you calm your heaving chest.  It’s apparent you’re no longer cold, your skin hot from working yourself up.  Steam may as well be coming from your ears though it wasn’t your intention to get so irritated with him.  

“I wanted to.  I want to.”  Your voice comes out softer, a gentler approach to his sudden internal conflict.

“No.”

Turning away, he doesn’t quite move to leave but there’s no mistaking the fact that he’s trying to shut you out.  He’s trying to escape like some kind of feral animal but you refuse to give in.  You refuse to let him.  

“Yes.  Eddie–look at me!”  You demand with a small pull of his arm.

“No.”

He goes to turn his body even further away from you but the firm hold you have on his bicep stops him.  He keeps his gaze on the floorboards below, his nose twitching and eyes burning with the threat of tears.  You only know because you’re all too familiar with the mandatory frown that comes with holding them back.

“Stop doing that.  Please.”  You beg.

“I can’t be here right now–”

“What makes you think I can?”

He’s silent.  The world instantly feels so quiet, tiny snow flurries fluttering around you, making you feel as if you’re the only two people on Earth.  Echoes of the celebrating and hollering inside are faint although they don’t do much to pop the bubble you find yourselves in.  Then he breaks the silence, daring to plead with you this time.

“Bambi, please.”  He croaks.

Your initial thought is, please what?  You’d been pleading with him back and forth for god knows how many minutes straight and here he was doing it right back to you.  And for what?  It wasn’t a good enough plea, not for you.  You weren’t ready to let it go, if you even knew what “it” was.

“No, you’re coming inside and you don’t have to associate with me if you don’t want to but you’re coming inside.”

Your demand only seems to irritate him, his brows knitting together while he pinches the bridge of his nose in between his fingers.  If he was agitated then you were about to become enraged.  And that is not something you wanted.  You never wanted to display that kind of emotion toward him but he was practically pulling it out of you and you had to fight against it.  No one had ever been able to pull such a reaction out of you, not ever.  Even if you had gotten pretty close, you swallowed it down and hid it.

“Why?!”  Eddie seethes.

His outburst takes you back, though with the aggravation boiling within you, you were able to contain any reaction he was seeking, if any.  That wasn’t the case for long though as you then launch yourself into another tantrum after staring for a second too long at his snarled lip.

“Because believe it or not, I care, Eddie!”  You practically wail, your voice becoming hoarse.  “If you leave I’m coming with you because I’m not leaving you alone.  Not on Thanksgiving.”  Your head shakes in denial.

Against your own will, a single tear trails down your cheek and the moment you feel it, you’re rapidly wiping it away, hoping he never even saw it when you knew damn well his umber eyes followed it all the way down your face.  He only pulls his gaze away.

“I’m leaving.  You’re staying here.”  He decides, regret etched into his features.

In a final attempt to escape your grasp, he succeeds, feeling your fingertips linger for one last second before drifting away as he turns and makes his way down the porch steps, wood protesting beneath him.  The noise is the only proof you have that he’s actually leaving, that he actually feels he’s not worthy enough to stay.  

You refuse to give up so easily.

Your feet are already on a mission, nearly sprinting down the stairs even with the threat of slipping on the minimal amount of ice beginning to freeze over.  Eddie pays no mind to the fast paced footsteps crunching against the gravel behind him, making his way over to Sugar with his head hung low.  Your heart is racing, not just because you suddenly decided to sprint a few yards but because a healthy dose of dopamine has started coursing throughout your body, a good amount of anxiety accompanying it but not deferring you any longer.

Eddie makes it to Sugar, his hand reaching for the door only for it to be forced shut with a self-manicured hand.  If he didn’t know who the hand belonged to he’d be chewing the owner out for daring to touch his beloved truck.  Instead he rolls his eyes and turns as he prepares to reprimand you in a much more gentle manner than he would anyone else.

Except he doesn’t even have the chance when your lips are suddenly pressed to the corner of his mouth, your body pushing him against Sugar.  His hands freeze mid air, his eyes wide open.  Your hands are resting on his chest and–he can’t breathe.  You pull away, inches from him and he can’t breathe, he can’t speak, he can’t move.  As far as he’s concerned he isn’t even human anymore.  

“Stay.”  You whisper, your breath fanning over slightly chapped lips.

His lips won’t stop tingling, he can’t grasp the concept of what just occurred.  He refuses to even touch you for fear that you might disappear right before him.  Hell, he’s not even sure he’s allowed to.

It’s difficult to gauge his reaction, his heavy breath lingering with the smell of his cigarette that would probably gross you out had it been anyone else but for some reason, because it’s him, you don’t mind very much.  You must smell strongly of wine which isn’t always pleasant so you figure you’re even.

“Please stay.”   You repeat, nudging your nose into his.

It’s like he’s in a trance, his eyelids becoming lazy and his body relaxing when you reach up to trace your thumb ever so slightly over his jaw.  His forehead rests against yours, his eyes squeezing shut, and you can hear a gulp in his throat.  With his eyes still shut, he nods and before you can process it, he launches himself into your arms in a tight embrace, wrapping himself around you, his face buried in your neck.  A wetness catches against your skin catches your attention, Eddie’s body heaving slightly and you just know.

You know that the tear stains on your skin mean more to him than you could ever imagine.

Slowly, your fingers tangle in his hair, threading into the curls at the nape of his neck to lightly scratch his scalp soothingly.  The way he grips onto you tighter, his body shaking, only confirms that physical touch and affection was not a luxury he was allowed in his lifetime.  If he let you, you’d spend thousands of hours holding him, even in the cold.  Whatever he needed.

But the snow flurries began to grow larger and the wind started to pick up.  And you’d be damned if you allowed yourself and Eddie to catch a nasty cold when you could be doing the same thing inside next to the fire.  Though, as you thought about it, Eddie would probably shy away from your touch in front of everyone.  And that didn’t anger you in the way it normally would.  Because you couldn’t blame him, someone so touch starved that he began to sob the second he was willingly kissed and told he was wanted, for shying away from showers of physical affection in front of peers that only know him to be big, bad, Eddie Munson.  It would be too much of a change and you weren’t willing to force that upon him.

So as the cold grew more unforgiving, you continued to hold him.  He would be the one to decide when he felt he wanted to part from you.  And if you both got sick, so be it.  A stupid cold would be worth the price if you were able to provide him the touch he went so long without and so badly craved, even if he didn’t quite know it at first.

Eddie parted from you far sooner than anticipated.  His cheeks were rosy, his rounded nose matching, endearingly so.  His eyelashes were dotted with a few lingering tears, his eyes rimmed with red but sadness was absent from his features.  Instead there was a fondness dripping from his expression and though he parted from the embrace to gaze down at you, he still clung to you like his life depended on it. 

“Can I–can I kiss you?”  He whispers shakily.

You want to laugh, only because he’s acting as if you didn’t kiss him in the first place.  But you bury it deep down and only let a smile blossom.  

“Please.”  You whisper back.

This time, you’re more than happy to beg.  

Hesitantly, his shaky hand cups your jaw, the warmth from his skin more than welcome as he gently slots his lips against yours.  He’s slow with it, taking his time.  As you move in rhythm with him, you encourage him, moving his arms to circle your waist, pressing yourself closer and letting your hands travel up his chest to lock behind his neck.  

“I can’t stop.”  He laughs quietly, continuously pecking your lips like he can’t get enough.

“Don’t.”  You giggle into his mouth.

Teeth clash against teeth and though he hasn’t quite graduated to using tongue yet, you have the urge to introduce him.  Before you can pass your tongue along his plump bottom lip, he curses under his breath as he pulls away, only causing worry to spread across your face.

“You’re freezing.”  His hands rub up and down your arms to somewhat heat you up and only then do you realize your face feels completely numb.

“No, I’m fine.”  You protest against your better judgment.  It wasn’t exactly fitting to be in tights while one of the first snow falls of the year ensued.

“You’ll be a popsicle in like three seconds.”

Eddie softly smiles, reaching for your hand and tugging you with him toward the house.  A whine escapes you, a pathetic whimper but you manage to shuffle yourself along with him.  Before entering the realm of reality beyond the front door, Eddie turns to you, stars in his eyes, something glimmering.

“How’s my nose?  Snotty?”  He grins, wiping his nose with the back of his hand.

~end~

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[piles-of-numbers]

hi, I wrote / doodled my aroace journey for pride

id below the keep reading

ID: A series of 10 images featuring a handwritten story and doodles along the way. They read as follows:

Growing up, I believed my life would follow a certain path. (Doodle: footpath with grass around it). It was the path of all my favorite books, shows, movies, etc. Doodle of a row of five triangular flags along a path. The first is labeled "meet a guy," the second is labeled "we develop some witty banter," the third is labeled "He confesses his love for me," the fourth is labeled "???", and the fifth and final one is labeled "Profit."

That path was in my mind during most interactions with my guy friends. Doodle of a stick figure posed with hand on face, considering another stick figure. Next to the stick figure is a list: nice (check), funny (check), smart (check), likes me??. These candidates became my crushes. I waited for a confession. Sometimes, my friends would suggest I take initiative. Doodle of the same stick figure in a thoughtful pose, along with two more stick figures. One says "You should ask him out!" The other says "Yeah!". But something about the idea felt off.

I told myself I wanted to focus on school instead. (Doodle of a paper with an A on it, two books titled Math and Biology. In truth, the idea of dating didn't really excite me. I thought that there was nothing wrong with being single. Thought it wouldn't be the end of the world if I just kept to myself. But all those stories taught me about what happened to those kinds of sentiments. Doodle of a stick figure, hands on stick hips, saying "I'm better off alone!". Below that is words written in the Spongebob timeskip card, "Two Days Later....". Then there are two stick figures holding hands and looking at each other, saying "I'm only complete now that I've found you."

So, being the star student I was, I decided that I was just staving off the inevitable and decided to skip to that part where I found someone I liked. My sophomore year, the stars seemed to align: I turned 16, the age of most teenage protagonists, I heard through a friend that a guy would have asked be to Jr. Prom if I hadn't already expressed I was busy that day, and said guy got me a small gift for my birthday. So, with encouragement from my friends, I decided to strongly hint (but not outright say) that I liked him. And so, a week after my 16th birthday, he asked me out, to which I responded with a super confident "sure?"

We went on two dates before I ended it. He didn't do anything wrong, but something on my end felt wrong. I wouldn't say that I was repulsed, that seems to strong of a word. But the situation seemed forced. I decided I must not be mature enough, that I would date when I got to college. Towards the end of high school, I discovered the actual definition of asexuality. A doodle of the stick figure wondering Wait... sexual attraction? What is that? That's real? Cue about 3.5 years of questioning: how to prove a negative? maybe I am just anxious? No "right person" yet? I don't hate the idea of sex? Other people are exaggerating?

Fun thing about the anxiety question, I started taking anxiety medication during my last semester of college. With my mind a little more ordered, it all became clearer: I'm ace. The stick figure now waves an ace flag. With that sorted out, I was ready to move along in life when... the stick figure is handed a paper by a little brain and asks "oh? what is this?" The happy little brain smiles as the paper reveals the words HAVE I FELT ROMANTIC ATTRACTION???* The asterisk leads to the smaller note "also gender???"

Of course I had. Right? There was the aforementioned guy in high school, and in early college I thought about pursuing two guys. But I realized something: I always thought I had to like somebody. The butterflies I had in high school were less about the guy, and more... Doodle of two butterflies having a conversation. "Omg he likes us" "Mission accomplished" "Wait now we have to go on a date." "Ahhhh? what do we even do?"

What even is romance? I don't know. It's different for each person. Like a lot of people, I crave a connection founded on trust, shared interests, inside jokes, etc. Doodle of two stick figures, there are squiggly lines between them, a connection. But I think something about that connection, maybe its very essence, is just different. Two stick figures with different squiggly lines between them. I remembered thing how I've always wanted to skip the whole "head over heels" part of the relationship, and go right to being an old married couple. So, I'm aro. At first, I had a mini crisis. Doodle of the stick figuring sitting on the floor with tears, holding the aro flag. A sad brain pats the stick figure in support.

But that crisis ended when I stopped treating this revelation as a path being blocked... Doodle of a path leading to an archway, the archway is boarded off.... and more like a bunch of new paths I hadn't really considered opening up. Doodle of the archway path no longer blocked off, surrounded by a bunch of other archways.

Honestly, the first path isn't even gone, it just looks a little different. Doodle of the archway path looking the same as before, but the archway is a rainbow in the colors of the queerplatonic flag: yellow, pink, white, grey, black. The pathway has pebbles of those colors. I'm thankful for all the stories and comics people have shared related to the aroace spectrum. I shudder to think what my life would look like if I hadn't found these words, what paths I may have forced myself to walk. So now, it's my turn. Happy pride 2023, especially to my aros, my aces, aroaces, my aspecs, and to everyone still figuring things out. Doodle of a stick figure holding an ace flag and an aro flag.

End ID.

[kikuism]

mid-year book wrapup!

i've read 24 books so far. i'm reading much slower than i was last year and that's fine with me, i feel like i can actually remember each book i read this year much better.

1) best book i've read so far:

the best books i've read so far are definitely poor things and the library at mount char. for poor things, i totally wasn't expecting to even read very much at all after giving the intro a quick skim....and before i knew it i'd read half the book in one go. it was such a wonderful surprise. i couldn't put it down if i tried. very clever and outrageously funny—biggest surprise of the year for me and i'm very pleased; i'd go so far as to say it's one of my new favorites.

the library at mount char gripped me from start to finish, an andrenaline fueled absurd ride that's tons of fun and which you need to go into blind—reading this deep in the throes of a cold only enhanced the experience. i love a fucked up story!

2) best sequel i've read so far:

i haven't read any sequels so far!

3) new release i haven't read yet but want to:

there are many! here are some—

4) most anticipated release for the second half of the year:

5) biggest disappointment:

ok i am exaggerating a little in regards to the last one but let me explain—

before the coffee gets cold: the biggest disappointment for sure. i wasn't expecting it to be a new fave or anything but i was sure i was going to find this charming and heartbreaking the way so many others did but i just couldn't care for it. i found the execution awkward and clunky which really affected my immersion. it was just so painfully meh.

the secret book of flora lea: didn't go into this with any sort of expectations tbh but considering the subject matter and setting i thought it was going to be at least a little better than it actually was. alas the WW2 englad setting wasn't enough to save this. like it actually makes me mad how stupid and silly the dialogue got toward the end, and don't even talk about the coincidences that wrapped everything up, how convenient *throws refrigerator across the room* at least the descriptions were quite beautiful

the heart's invisible furies: ok now this i admit i went into with some raised expectations bc 1) the goodreads rating, so many people can't be wrong surely? and more importantly 2) this is an epic historical coming of age story set in ireland like hello it was made for me? if anyone was supposed to love this it was me if any book was supposed to be my favorite read of the year it was supposed to be this one but alas. i refuse to repeat the paragraphs i wrote for my goodreads review but my problem was that the balance between comedy and tragedy was handled poorly. any emotional scene was quickly and bizarrely undercut with some poor attempt at humor that made the experience so jarring. and the comedy was so cartoonish that it almost felt satirical but no i was supposed to take all that seriously? and 600 pages of cyril misunderstanding conversations got real tiring after a while it had me gritting and grinding my teeth. this isn't to say there was nothing good about it—i enjoyed the depiction of ireland in the 50s as a complete and complex society filled with all sorts of people just trying to live their lives under the rule of the church. there were one or two moments that made me tear up, and i actually quite enjoyed the first bit with cyril's mother. but ultimately i had way more complaints than praises. this just proves to me that a really good multigenerational story is a feat only few can accomplish (the dutch house ann patchett you will always be famous). sometimes i feel crazy scrolling through all the five star reviews for this book like am i delusional?? did i miss something?? but i stand by my thoughts. and i will say that's a killer title!

6) biggest surprise:

i said it already but poor things! especially since i was adamant on watching the movie blind. but it was available on libby which surprised me a lot bc i expected a huge waiting list at the time, so i borrowed it just for fun and told myself i was just going to read the introduction. it ended up becoming one of my top reads of the year.

and okay fine, the will of the many—i am grudgingly impressed how i couldn't stop reading it, since it's received a stupid amount of hype and it's written by a white man hgkshfhd it was a matter of pride for me

7) favorite new author:

i haven't felt that way about any of the authors i've read so far tbh!

8) newest favorite character:

i don't have one hgkshfj for some reason it's really really really hard for me to have a new favorite Book character. usually what happens is that i like a character and find them engaging (like bella from poor things, or danny and maeve from the dutch house) but to reach Favorite status is a feat that only few books manage. the only series in the last few years that has managed to do that is the locked tomb, what a strong cast of characters wow! it's such a skill to pull off.

9) a book that made me cry:

none of the books i've read so far have made me cry!

10) a book that made me happy:

probably poor things! it's not exactly a feel good cozy book but i had such a a good time with it and i laughed a lot

11) what book(s) do you need to read by the end of the year?

reached the image limit but here are some books i would like to read by the end of the year:

the lion women of tehran

the fifth season

a sorceress comes to call

the night ends with fire

intermezzo

the infernal devices (don't @ me i've been in a situationship with these books since high school....i still haven't read them but everyone says the love triangle in them is off the walls and after watching challengers it made me really want to experience another real love triangle so maybe....maybe this is the year i'll finally pick up clockwork angel)

i tag @schech @matchas @sailermoon @silouvertongues and anyone else who wants to share what they've been reading!

[burningdarkfire]

books i read in jan 2025

[these are casual reviews - ask for more info or my goodreads!!] 

amazing start to the reading year - lots of audiobooks, nonfiction, two DNFs (which i consider positive bc i love not wasting my time), and THREE five stars!!

the yiddish policemen's union - michael chabon ★★★★★ (alt history)

very dense and with definite weaknesses but sometimes the journey is just the journey and you already know that you're never, ever going to stop thinking about a book. i wouldn't easily recommend this to anyone but wow did it ever make me feel several things deep and profound

[REREAD] iron widow - xiran jay zhou ★★★★★ (sci fi fantasy)

bumped this up to 5* because it only gets more fun when you know what to expect (which is a LOT of damn fun!!)

delicious in dungeon vol. 13 - ryoko kui ★★★★★ (fantasy manga)

solid finish and i got so emotional seeing all the characters at the end of their journey 🥹 i love a story that is so crystal clear in its themes and its intent!!

lake of souls - ann leckie ★★★★☆ (sci fi short story collection)

great collection. i enjoyed several of the original stories and the stories set in the imperial radch universe, but i really loved the ones from the raven tower universe!

the message - ta-nehisi coates ★★★★☆ (nonfiction essays)

definitely understand why coates comes so highly recommended as a nonfiction author! he writes personably and with conviction, and i enjoyed every essay

tadek and the princess - alexandra rowland ★★★★☆ (fantasy novella)

tadek was one of my favourite characters from the original novel so i was very happy about this! he's so cute 🥹

into thin air - john krakauer ★★★★☆ (survival memoir)

the strength and beauty of this book is the author's personal narration, which definitely stirred my feelings

ghost of - diana khoi nguyen ★★★☆☆ (poetry collection)

fascinating on the form level but forgettable on the word level

the woman in me - britney spears ★★★☆☆ (memoir)

fine 🤷‍♂️ touching at points and i'm glad she got to tell her story butit definitely feels like it has a lot of spin

slow dance - rainbow rowell ★★☆☆☆ (romance)

this is one of the BEST setups for a second chance romance that i've ever read but unfortunately it was totally fumbled. every single thread is dropped about 70% in for a HEA that doesn't feel deserved at all

[DNF] the year of magical thinking - joan didion ★★★☆☆ (memoir)

it's always a little weird to read about a minor celebrity blowing up a very human, very everyday experience that most people go through without the audience

[DNF] running close to the wind - alexandra rowland ★★☆☆☆ (fantasy)

more of a comedy than fantasy or romance and unfortunately the primary bit is the main character, who is annoying as hell and simply not for me!

[the-helena-files]

🕯️Recent Reads🕯️

I planned to do this one after the year ended, but I feel my memory slipping away already so here it is. There will be no major spoilers.

🎭 If we were Villains by M.L. Rio

I really liked the characters in this one, I wish we could have seen more of their dynamic before shit hits the fan, but then the structure wouldn't make sense. Didn't blew my mind when I first read, but few books ever do, what matters is that everytime I revisit it in my mind, I remember how good the story was. Solid four stars.

🐦‍🔥 The Poppy War by R.F. Kuang

One of the most daring fantasy books I've ever read. The main character is so fun to follow and the politics are well written, part two left a sour taste in my mouth but in a good way, there was a small part where I thought this was going in a bad direction, but thank god this never happened and the ending was FIRE. Five stars.

🪲 The Metamorphosis by Franz Kafka

I have finally read this one, and it didn't disappoint me. Very doomed, very pessimistic but not in an edgy way, there's an uncomfortable normality to it. Five stars, no notes.

🫙 The Bell Jar by Sylvia Plath

I feel two very distinctive ways about this book. One is the horribly relatable way Plath writes about being depressed as a young woman. The knowledge of having your entire life ahead of you but everything feels like a waste of time is soul crushing. The other is that I got distracted by the protagonist's fatphobia throughout the entire book, like, she shits on fat people every goddamn opportunity, my god. Three stars, I wish it was more.

⚓ House of Salt and Sorrows by Erin A. Craig

This one was a pleasant surprise. As a YA retelling of s fairytale, I didn't have a lot of expectations, but I found myself enjoying it a lot, and my biggest worry, the love interest, proved himself to be not terrible, and that's more that I can ask of a YA fantasy. Three stars.

🦕 Our Hideous Progeny by C.E. McGill

So, it took me four months to finish this one, because it was an ebook and the only times I opened it up was when I was out of home. It's beautifully written though, and I would probably have finished it sooner if I had the Dinosaur flavour of Autism. Four stars.

🪨 The Fifth Season by N.K. Jemisin

So, while I was reading it, I was waiting for the moment the story would actually "start", cause I went halfway through it and nothing happened, so it was a bit underwhelming, but after I finished it, I couldn't take this book out of my mind. The worldbuilding and the magic system are so fresh and nothing like any other fantasy book, I'll take a while to pick up the second one, but God please don't let anything bad happen to Tonkee, she's my favorite. Four stars.

Luckily I only DNFed one book this past two months, and it was Five Broken Blades by Mai Corland. I posted about it already on my blog, but I thought it was immature and a bit edgy, and around 100 pages I wasn't curious about the story anymore.

So, that's the reason I rarely rate a book lower than 3 stars, it's because when a book is going bad for me, I just call it quit, and I don't feel it's fair to rate a book I didn't finish. So yeah.

[tm-trx]

currents.26[2024]

[listening]

"December 32 days" cover / Onew on Song Stealer

"Glorious Day" / Kim Jae Joong

"My One" / B.D.U.

[loving]

The last five minutes of episode 22, Follow Your Heart. I should have seen it coming, but I did not. Can't wait to see the fallout.

[reading]

The AO3 July/August DDoS Attacks: Behind the Scenes - A quick read, and an interesting look at the timeline of what happened last year.

Idol Minds and Idol Moves by KT Salvo - the first two books in a m/m contemporary romance trilogy - One thing I loved about these books is how different the two main characters feel. I have read too many m/m romances where the two leads were almost interchangeable. The third book is out in August and I've already preordered.

[watching]

Bridgerton s3, pt 2 {finished: 4 stars for the full season} - I wish they'd either aired the full season at once or week to week. That break in the middle did it no favors. But the second half was satisfying and fun to watch.

Deep Night {finished: 3.5 stars} - A rare college BL that spends most of its time off campus. I loved that. The club and its staff/patrons all felt lived in and fleshed out. Having the second pairing love triangle end in a throuple was fantastic, but the fact that we only saw the very beginning of that relationship makes me wish we had a second season coming. Or at least, some future fic.

Follow Your Heart, ep 1-22 - I have loved both leads in previous dramas (Luo Yunxi and Song Yi), so I was hopeful when I started it. And I was not disappointed. It's such a fun show. I thought it was just a historical/palace drama, but then they sprung shapeshifting on us. (Anyone else think for a hot second she was a werewolf??) The characters are all great and the different narratives feel balanced across the board.

Sunset x Vibes, ep 3 - Even the silly scenes aren't bothering me, which is a feat. Sun is the biggest (softest) tease ever and I love him.

previous Currents posts

.

[wilsons-striped-ties]

september tc challenge (days 1-30 one shot)

original post here!

once again this is about passion fruit

1 - Describe your tc using only three words.

thoughtful, passionate, proactive

2 - When and how did you first realize you had feelings for your tc?

i guess it was when my heart started to beat faster whenever i entered his lessons, when i noticed his dimples more, when i became so much more eager to please, around the time he started to pick on me to answer questions when i started to get really good at history, maybe around second half of year three

3 - If you could ask them five questions and they HAD to answer, what would you ask?

what cologne he uses because it smells so good but he stopped using it unfortunately, if he'd be open to going out with me someday but not romantically la just like a casual lunch or something, what his favourite books/movies/music, if he's ever thought of me, if he ever misses me (be it in general or as his student)

4 - Tell us a daydream you have had about your tc!

that we'd just sit at the canteen or something and talk, just talk about life and hobbies and getting to know each other better

5 - If you have a playlist of songs about your tc, what is it called and why? If not, what would you title your playlist?

it's literally called passion fruit ramblings, im not even joking

6 - What would you want from them most on your birthday?

for him to know its my birthday, even just a simple happy birthday from him would mean the absolute world to me

7 - You get to spend one night with your tc. Where are you and what is the weather like?

we're under the stars, the night is cold and breezy, but comfortable at the same time, we're sitting on the rooftops with our legs dangling over the edge, or laying on the rooftops, the city lights are beautiful, making the stars shine even more but i know his eyes would sparkle the brightest

8 - If your tc were a Care Bear, what would their name be?

passionate bear probably, cause he has this magical ability to bring across his passion in anything and infect me with that same passion LMAO

9 - Share a picture of a famous person that most resembles your tc!

dont have HAHAHA but he used to look up to che guevara when he was a kid

10 - What color does your tc look best in?

black or dark blue maybe

11 - What is something you have said/done to/in front of your tc that you totally regretted but that they probably didn’t think twice about?

prom. just prom in general, i didn't take a picture with him, i didn't even talk to him at all??? what was going through my stupid mind then??? definitely one of my biggest regrets in my whole life

12 - What 3 emojis best relate to your tc? Just share the emojis!

😊⚽️☕️

13 - Following the last question, pick one emoji that best relates to a story about your tc. Now tell that story! (Don’t forget to post the emoji as well.)

👨‍⚖️ he used to have a gavel on his desk and would randomly hammer it when he was bored and it was quite funny

14 - Okay, let’s get super personal. How do you think your tc would be in bed?

next question HAHAH i don't know, i've never thought about it before

15 - What lengths did you go to to get into your tc’s class? If you can’t answer that, what lengths WOULD you go to?

like when i was in his class? i would read up about the chapters beforehand and memorise them so that i could answer whatever questions he threw at me, and even if i didnt know the answers i would bs and they would somehow be the answers he's looking for, i did so many extra practice papers to book a one on one consultation with him during the national exam season HAHHA

16 - Tell us about a moment that you got super jealous of your tc! (Or more than one moment if you’re anything like me!)

never got jealous of him before but im jealous of others cause in group photos hes more relaxed and does other poses but with me its just hands behind his back and a smile :'

17 - Hey pal, how’s school going for you so far with your tc?

im out of school already :(

18 - Pretend you are your tc for a moment. Now write a blog post as if they were posting in a “student crush community” about you! What would they say about you?

she just called me her favourite teacher... she just baked me cupcakes for my birthday... she shouldn't have, how did she know it was my birthday... (he uses ellipses a lot)

19 - What is your ideal first date with your tc?

honestly we could just walk along a park or something after eating dinner and just admire the evening sky and talk, maybe hold hands and that would already be perfect

20 - What lengths would you go to to please your tc?

literally stay up till midnight to bake cupcakes for him and order the passion fruit pulp from lazada because absolutely nowhere sells that and give it to him for his birthday :'

21 - How much taller or shorter is your tc compared to you?

honestly not that much taller than me, im 158cm and hes taller than me by half a head or slightly lesser

22 - Do you have any nicknames for each other? If so, tell us where those nicknames came from and if you don’t have nicknames, what WOULD you call your tc and why?

dont have any nicknames but he did call me his star history student once, and i wish i had the guts to call him my favourite teacher jokingly (because he is) but i dont unfortunately

23 - What fictional character is most like your tc? Why?

not sure HAHAH

24 - What do you think your tc’s spirit animal is?

hmmm he reminds me of a tiger

25 - What is the best thing your tc has said to you?

that i was his star history student, that he had full confidence that i would do well in humanities during high school and in college

26 - If it weren’t illegal and there were no rules, do you think that you would have a chance with your tc?

no chance unfortunately, he's married with three kids

27 - Write a “Facebook” status as if it were the morning of your wedding with your tc!

hurricane meets cyclone (he reminds me of a hurricane and my mother always calls me a cyclone)

28 - When did you join the tcc, how did you discover it, and who was the teacher that made you want to join?

like this year cause i started to use tumblr then, discovered via tumblr, that time it was mango that was my tc crush

z

nope but i sure hope so

30 - Write a letter to your future child for the day that they discover that they have a teacher crush.

ive been there and there's honestly no shame in having a tc <3

[halfbakedspuds]

Thanks to @honeybewrites for the tag!

Five lines tag

Rules: Find five lines based on the prompts you are given, then change ONE of the prompts at the end.

TW: non-detailed mutilation and violent amputation

A line about food: (from Children of the Stars. Sidenote: 'Skétrat' is a Callistoan word that translates to something like 'fuck off' or 'fuck you')

"Gods, human!" Lyanni laughed as Adrian wolfed down his meal, "Slow down, it's not gonna run away from you,"

He shot her a look, pulling away from the stack of meat and bread, "First of all: skétrat,"

"Rude,"

"Second of all, do you have any idea what a nutrient stick tastes like? Any conception whatsoever?" He took another bite. Without fully stopping to chew- which was already quite out of character for him, Lyanni noted- continued, "Fermented Sawdust. It tastes like fermented sawdust with so much sickening artificial sweetener that I would've been worried for my health if we lived in the 21st century. Summary: disgusting. And it's all I've lived on for seven years so excuse me if this burger tastes just divine,"

She huffed once, her people's sign of amusement, then dug into her own 'burger' as the humans called it.

It wasn't bad. A bit overcooked. But not bad.

A sad line: (from Children of the Stars)

"How bad is it?" Lyanni asked through panting breaths. She had to fight the urge to look at her arm. She knew it had been slammed by the door, likely crushed, but until she actually saw it, adrenaline would help to mitigate the pain.

"Bad," Adrian said in the type of monotone that his panic, his eyes flashing blue as he checked the impact timer, "Really bad,"

She saw him move in behind her, pushing his cybernetics to their limits as he tried to force the doors open, and achieving only fruitless exertion.

"How long til that orbital strike hits?" She ventured.

"One minute thirty. We have time to figure this out,"

Undertone of panic still, she thought, he's lying.

The adrenaline was starting to wear off, gods that hurt.

"Adrian,"

He continued trying to pry the door open, ignoring her.

"Adrian!"

No reply.

She reached over with her free hand to yank him towards her, cupping his cheek, "Run. Leave me here. There's... there's nothing you can do," she bit back swelling emotion and gnawing fear of her fate, then remembered something he had once told her, "This isn't your fault. Now go!"

He looked at her for a moment longer in silence, then reached up to her hand, simply closing his eyes.

This was goodbye.

Lyanni Sverik, killed by a door. What a gravestone that would make? The kind she might've found funny as a child, she realised.

She almost felt bad that she wouldn't get to see it.

She heard him take a deep breath, leaning his forehead against hers, stilling his thoughts and emotions the way she'd watched him do a hundred times before.

Click

She opened her eyes, looking down at the sudden cold steel pressed against her broken and trapped arm.

A gun. A revolver with gold-inlaid patterns in a pearl grip and a name welded onto each slot on the cylinder, held by a skeletal bioplastic hand.

Her gaze snapped to Adrian's face.

"You'll forgive me for this, I swear,"

Then he pulled the trigger, and the world was washed away by the ringing in her ears and a sudden numbness where her left arm was.

He tucked an arm around her upper body and behind her knees, holding her close to him, and sparing only a moment's pained glance down at her before breaking out into a run as fast as his legs could take him.

My arm... Lyanni's shocked mind slowly put together.

Oh gods, my arm!

A line about a book/reading: (From Echoes of Shadows)

Case files. They were wonderful things to fill out in Johan's opinion, second only to taking a bath in glass shards laced with Geneshan spices. Still, a necessity in their line of work, especially for cross referencing occult or demon activities with older ones.

He put pencil to paper and began to write the first draft of the report:

'Entity/suspect (under investigation) seems to prefer rural settlements around Zuidpunkt for it's victims. Killings are ritualistic in nature and leave no human remains, however analysis conducted by Dr. M. Eitkien Aaitken Aitkin[?] (Figure out how to spell this later) suggests that all blood found at each scene was indeed human, mixed from various sources. On-scene invest----'

"Privyet, Johan,"

"Gracious spirits!" He practically threw the pencil in his fright, looking up to see his flatmate standing in the hallway.

"I apologise. Is bad time?" Anastasia asked, her signature heavy drawl of an accent almost fully obscuring her Vosch speech.

Johan waved away her apology, flicking his hand to launch the fallen pencil off the floor and onto his desk, "No need, you just startled me is all," he cleared his throat, "Everything alright?"

"Yes, yes, no problem... problems," She responded, although given how she usually spoke he wasn't sure if that was her correcting her own grammar or saying that there were, in fact, multiple problems.

She walked over to him, placing a book down on his desk, a Vosch title with an elegant, vine-like typography adorned the red faux-leather cover.

"I think to improve my speak... speech... and best way of do is read Vosch, no? Books are good, fun practice?" She asked him.

He shrugged, "I mean, when they taught us Rostovan in school that's one of the ways they built vocabulary. I don't remember jack-shit from those classes, but that might just be because I never liked them. No offense,"

"I take none. There enough struggle with your language, I..." she paused, snapping her fingers, "What is word?"

"Sympathize?" Johan offered

"Zim-pah-ti-sihr" she tried sounding it out.

"Zimpatiseer," Johan repeated for her

She waved him away, "No matter," although she still silently sounded the word out three more times as she pointed to the book, then, "Do think is good for my purpose?"

"De verzinken va' Uysterkroën" he read out the title in Vosch, "You got that?"

Johan took another look at it, actually reading the cover. A frown slowly crept across his face as he leant back a bit, as if trying to get a better angle.

He really needed to get Maire to check his eyes, they used to be better.

" 'The sinking of Iron Crown', yes, but I think Uysterkroën is name, no?"

"Of a city, yes. Mythical one that allegedly sank somewhere off the coast of Pannessos" He flipped the book over to read the blurb, " 'Volgt de grijpende verhalen uyt de lasten jaër va' de mitologiëninspireerend verzinkte stad va' Uysterkroën. Volgt de driete: Soldat, Hex ent Koningin en hullijne betrokken by det legendare verhaal' ," He paused," You got all that?"

"Most" she said, with a look that told him that 'most' was in fact how much she did not understand.

Still, she seemed like she really wanted to read it, and if she got a bit better at the language she was learning in the process: no harm, no foul, he was there if she needed help. He simply smiled, handing the book back to her, "Then you should be good to go. It seems like the kind of story you'll enjoy too," he didn't miss the light in her eyes at that last part. The Rostovan did love her books, "Oh, and Anna?"

"Da?"

"When you're done with it, let me know if it's worthwhile,"

A line about the weather: (From the Tempest Prince book 4)

Clouds swirled high above, lightning flashing in the maelstrom with growing intensity and power, a sharp interplay of light and shadows all that was visible from the ground level.

A heartbeat rang out from its centre, rhythmic and rousing, the rhythm of the worldsong itself tearing through the thinning veil as powers which were never meant for this world found themselves swept up in the current.

And within it's eye, within the grand meeting hall of the Allyrian high council, the brothers clashed drakespine against witch's steel, fire against enchanted cloth, Hallowsteel against runed flesh.

A duel unwanted, but needed. A balancing of prophecy and destiny, the righting of nature.

Lightning crashed, and thunder roared, and if there were any witnesses to this battle they would've known this as the day that the demigods wept.

A fun line: (Translated from an old Afrikaans Scifi series I wrote but never posted anywhere. If it feels a bit off, that's why)

"Hey, you must careful not to get lost up there, hey Njax," Morné called, "Don't go left!"

"I'm the data tech, bruh, I know where the damn observatory is," Njabulo called back from the way he came. At least, he thought that was the way he came from. Oh god, had he actually gotten turned around in the vents? By all that's holy, he hoped not.

There was a dim light up ahead, coming up as a dozen bars of spectral grey from down below.

Bingo.

He turned himself around, sliding feet first onto the vent cover so that he could leverage what little weight he had to knock it open and drop down.

A little bit of muscle later, he felt it give under his weight, dropping down to the floor below, followed by him.

He started as the lights switched on and the airlock cycled, revealing Morné with his still steaming coffee cup.

"Mhm, you know where the observatory is, do you?"

"Hayibo," Njabulo stopped to look around him: a mop, some buckets, cleaning supplies.

Janitor's closet. Great.

"I went left, didn't I?"

"You went left,"

"God fucking damnit,"

The big engineer took another sip, and permitting himself an amused hurumph while looking up at the vents.

"In any event, the amount of crap that came down while you were up there makes me think that perhaps the vents aren't the best option. I'll go talk to Aadhvika, see if they can reroute the observatory keypad to our bracelets," He held out a hand to help Njabulo up, which he gratefully accepted, "You, my dear, are gonna get your ass to medical. Make sure you didn't breathe in some kind of super-carcinogen or whatever other nightmares this Hellworld may be hiding,"

Your lines:

A line about food

A sad line

A line about a book/reading

A line about uncertainty

A fun line

No pressure tag @illarian-rambling, @pb-dot and for whomever else wants it

[out-of-the-forest-i-come]

A Power Unbound Review

This is undoubtedly a five-star review and a new personal favorite! I've been waiting for APU for a whole year and I was so impatient I kept checking Freya Marske's tumblr to see if she had posted any news about the book for the entire year. I had high expectations and she met every single one of them and then proceeded to go far beyond that. So, if you loved A Marvellous Light and A Restless Truth, don't hesitate to read A Power Unbound because it was incredible!

If you want a longer and much more detailed review, you can find it under the cut or on Goodreads

spoilers for A Marvellous Light and A Restless Truth, not for A Power Unbound. tw for the book at the end of the review

As someone who has lists of favorite books because I cannot bring myself to choosing only one, I think I very well may have found my favorite series of all times, and A Power Unbound is the perfect conclusion for it.

It picks up three months after the end of A Restless Truth, in which Maud, Violet, Hawthorn, and Ross managed to retrieve the second piece of the contract. Unfortunately, their enemies know they have it, and also know they likely have the third and final piece of the contract. And they will stop at nothing to get their hands on it. With the impromptu help of one Alan Ross, it is up to the protagonists to find the knife, protect it, and prevent their enemies from ever forming the Last Contract. A task which is easier said than done.

If I had to list everything I loved about this book, it would take me days because I would have to read the entire book aloud and stop to explain why I loved every single moment of it. Seriously. It’s one of these books where nothing was wrong. Were there things that surprised me? Yes. Were there things I would have written otherwise if I had been the author? Also yes. But everything made sense, and fit both the plots and the characters, which is how you know it’s a good book.

Beyond that, what is really important is how much it made me feel. Because what use if a book with a perfect plot if it doesn’t make you feel a thing? Thankfully, A Power Unbound can only make you feel as you read it. I went from happiness, to literal giddiness, to anxiousness, anger, excitement, and more, all of that in the span of a day. Someone watching me read probably would have thought me mad because of all the incoherent shouts I let out. It was a brilliant read and I loved every second of it.

The characters are truly the strong point of this book. It’s for them that I read this, and it’s precisely because of them that I was so impatient for this book to finally come out. When I saw that Hawthorn and Ross were going to be the two protagonists for this third and final book, I knew it was going to be delightful. And I was right. Their interactions were already amusing in A Restless Truth, now they were absolutely delicious. A mix of witty banter and exquisite vulnerability, their developing relationship made me squeal so many times! I especially loved how natural it felt. I knew, of course, how it was going to go, but it didn’t feel forced one bit. It developed at its own pace and I really appreciated how, just like in the two previous books, Freya Marske made sure to develop attraction before developing anything else. But when she got to the point of the ‘more’, she gave us everything we could have asked for. She especially promised big gestures, and I can’t say I was disappointed because some of those quotes were astounding. My poor little heart did not survive.

(As with the last two books, there were explicit sex scenes. Those were a little different though, in that they involved role-play surrounding power dynamics. While it makes sense with the characters and personally did not bother me, and while everything is safe, discussed beforehand, and consensual, if that is something you don’t like, you should probably be aware of that.)

But A Power Unbound did not revolve just around Hawthorn and Ross, and it’s another thing I appreciated. We finally got to see all the characters together, and I loved how the interactions between them developed! It was especially nice to witness Robin and Edwin’s and Maud and Violet’s relationships through the lense of other characters, and some time in the future. All the old characters were true to themselves: Edwin, just as adorable and intellectual; Robin, still impulsive and caring; Maud, kind and determined; Violet, smart and witty; not to mention Adelaide, who was a full-time character and a true badass! Despite this, I could see they had grown since the last time we saw them, and that was peak character arc on Marske’s part.

Finally, the plot was amazing. It’s true that I came here for the characters, but the plot did not disappoint either. The stakes were incredibly high from the beginning since this is the last in the trilogy, but they only get higher the more we advance in the book. The pace is well-mastered, alternating between faster moments and episodes of reprieve, and the plot points and plot twists had me gasping with emotions all throughout. I won’t say anything about the ending except that it is well brought about and makes sense, and that it did not disappoint me.

As you’ve understood from this whole review, this book is perfect from beginning to end. I have nothing bad to say about it and it was a fantastic conclusion to a fantastic series. Those who have loved the previous two books should not fear; the third one will not let you down.

tw: explicit sex scenes, sexual role play, mentions of violence, blood and violence, major character injury, fear of death, near-death, mentions of suicide, killings and death, mentions of murder

[saintmeghanmarkle]

The Bench seems to have sunk without a trace two years on. Not exactly the eternal children's classic the sugars made it out to be. by u/Hermes_Blanket

The Bench seems to have sunk without a trace two years on. Not exactly the eternal children's classic the sugars made it out to be. So I went over to Amazon to see what's going on with The Bench these days. I remember how many negative reviews there were in the first few months after it came out. Hundreds. Most of these seem to have been expunged, and there are currently 4,623 reviews listed. It now is rated 4.7 stars out of five, and the "top critical review" is still semi-positive. How did that happen, I wonder ...There are 69 used copies available for $1.57 and up, and 13 new for $7.80. Amazon itself urges you to order soon because it has only three copies left in stock. Lol. Wonder whether they pulped all the leftovers to recycle into copies of Spare, which will then be pulped to recycle into copies of MM's tell-all, which will be pulped ... etc., etc., in a never-ending Cycle of Suck.I did enjoy this review, though, which was listed as positive but reads like parody. Did one of you fellow Sinners leave it?Seconds before I laid eyes on the Duchess' book, my eyes were on fire. In fact, I went to sleep and woke up, with my eyes on fire. Why? Because here I am today, writing yet another countless expose, on countless predators, whose victims I've snatch from their jaws and their retaliation. All the while thinking: I am 65. I have been doing this for 40 years. Am I not getting too old for this yet? Where are all the young bloods carrying this same torch of liberation? Then I heard a box drop on my front door step.I already knew! It was The Duchess' book. But what I didn't know was: time I opened the box, the Duchess herself! was going to rise up and soar from out of it! With her delicately scripted, precious book in hand. That has never happened to me before with just a delivery. Only for The Duchess to take me by the hand, lead me into my living room, pour a cup of hot herbal tea for me; then arm around my shoulder, tenderly leaf through one page at a time. As she lovingly explains her heart's choice of each touching illustration.While wiping tears of joy from my eyes. As the pain in my heart from decades of being stalked melted. Even my eyes stopped burning! ​ post link: https://ift.tt/yadGWhL author: Hermes_Blanket submitted: September 27, 2023 at 03:42PM via SaintMeghanMarkle on Reddit

[bookaddict24-7]

REVIEWS OF THE WEEK!

Books I’ve read so far in 2023!

Friend me on Goodreads here to follow my more up to date reading journey for the year!

___

64. Things We Never Got Over by Lucy Score--⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Hear me out: The main reason why this isn't a five star read was because something about it kept putting me off. Like, I would pick up the book and think, "I'm really enjoying this, wow!" and then I'd put it down. Then anxiety would hit and I wouldn't pick it up for days at a time. But I've very glad I did.

I loved the story behind this and seeing how the FMC and the MMC worked through their *cough* sexual *cough* frustrations. Their chemistry jumped off the page from the moment they met. Their spicy scenes fed some of the spicy hunger I had while reading this book, but it was how they grew to not being able to be without the other that really got me...even if this was set in a short amount of time.

Let's be honest: this book was massive, but it takes place over a surprisingly short amount of time. That threw me off a bit.

I loved the whole "evil twin" trope because it felt like its own character for the first half of this book. It definitely added a nice twist to the traditional small-town romance storyline! Especially since the FMC was already running away from something in her past.

The cast of side characters were great and I enjoyed getting to know them and watching them grow and just warm the pages of the book.

One thing: This felt very much like a book Zapata fans would love. My only complaint (even though in other instances I would be the opposite of this) is that we had a dual perspective. Don't get me wrong, I enjoyed seeing what Knox had to say and what his thoughts were, but one of the things I enjoyed about books like this is seeing the love interest slowly melt as the story progresses. Being able to see what he's thinking kind of took that mystery away for me. I'm just in a contrarian kind of mood, I guess.

Anyway, I really enjoyed this and I'm glad I kept trying to read it. It was definitely worth the fight and I definitely want to pick up the sequel at some point this year!

___

65. Hitting the Wall by Cate C. Wells--⭐️⭐️⭐️

I came for the secret baby and stayed for the tough as balls FMC. She was a fighter mom who only wanted the best for her daughter and who loved her no matter what society told her or threw at her. Their relationship was what made this book something so special.

But that MMC was something else. He was so naive and so frustrating. There was so much talk about "family" and being unable to believe that someone he grew up with could be so awful. But I WILL say that I appreciated how he did start to notice certain things and was immediately in dad mode. I do think, however, that he needed a backbone and I absolutely loved how the main character kept calling him out whenever he said, "I'll talk to them".

The spice was pretty good, but also felt slightly basic and a little fast--especially consider the trauma the FMC has of being shut out so soon after their ONS so many years before (when she was 17 and he was 24, btw, which was weird af.)

I did like the mystery behind this and how it carries into the second book. I DO think that one of the things that could potentially be detrimental to this series is how it is potentially intertwined with the other series by Wells. I'm pretty sure something happens in another book in her other series that is referenced in book 2. Also, the abrupt ending in this book where...no one really faces any real consequences was disappointing.

Good thing I liked the second book more.

___

66. Against the Wall by Cate C. Wells--⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Hands down, this book was better than the first one.

The MMC still had some naive moments like his brother in book one, but his spine was a little stronger. Plus, we all love the misguided guy who thinks the only way to get the love of his life's attention is by teasing her and *bullying* her in front of others, even though he insists that he wasn't bullying her.

I think with storylines like this, where we have two narrators, getting the full story really adds meat to a story, transforming it from a one dimensional bully story into a fully fledged story of a man pining so hard for another woman that he reverts to acting like a child. For example, her commenting that he was acting weird and twitchy, when, after reading what his personality is actually like, the reader knows that he's just nervous as hell.

The spice took a while, but I enjoyed it (even if it was admittedly brief) because we had to work for it. It wasn't gratuitous and it was granted to us after a build up of this relationship being fixed and healed.

But while I enjoyed the banter (I laughed a few times), the surprisingly delicious southern charm, and the thrilling undertone of the mystery and cloud of despair hanging over the town, I really didn't like how the FMC reacted to something she stumbles upon. Granted, maybe I'm broken, but I didn't agree at all with her reaction. Another thing I wasn't a huge fan of, but I won't take a star off for because it makes sense since this is a southern book, but the God worship was...a lot. If it wasn't for the sex, swear words, and innuendo, I'd call this a Christian romance. It was a lot and although it didn't feel preachy, it was a lot more than I was used to in my romance novels.

Also, some of the events of book one are transferred to this one, so that was a great way of continuing the tension from the last book.

___

67. Skandar & the Phantom Rider by A.F. Steadman--⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

SKANDAR book one took me completely by surprise. I never expected to love it as much as I did, to the point where I sometimes still think about it. I think this is one of those series that has the power to be remembered decades from now because it has so many things that a lot of readers love in MGLit novels: adventure, mystery, a daring group of friends, an outcast MC trying to still do the right thing, and a world that is determined to make the MC's life as difficult as possible.

While book two didn't have the same impact on me as book one, I still really enjoyed it. I loved the twists and that ending! This book follows the MC almost directly after the events of book one, so we are immediately seeing the repercussions of his secret keeping, how the truth of his existence is affecting his new society, and what it looks like to be treated as an outsider in a very bigoted world (bigotry against spirit unicorns). I liked seeing these very really consequences and felt the pain the MC felt when he encountered the people who wanted to either keep him down or take him out completely.

One of the things this series also tackles in a slightly subtle way is grief, its effects, and its aftershocks. It shows us our inability to forgive when grief has its clutches in us--whether it's grief for a person or for a life that never was. This grief can be catastrophic and even world-ending.

SKANDAR also touches on the very real emotions kids might experience: jealousy, moments where emotions are overwhelming but because they're so young they don't fully know how to navigate them, and the fear of disappointing those we love.

This is just a very well rounded book with some surprising twists and fun but dangerous adventure. I loved reading about how these characters find the answers they're seeking, despite everything being against them.

I highly recommend this series!

___

68. Charge by Cate C. Wells--⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Came for the single mom romance with a biker dude, stayed for the adorable kid and the slap in the face the FMC's dad and stepmom needed after all of the shit they put her through. The level of audacity these people have is so frustrating that that ending was *chef's kiss*.

I love how we're introduced to the MMC in this book because it felt very realistic (especially when he finds out that the beautiful and young woman he was hitting on is actually a very young mom). I don't think I've ever read a romance book where the love interest looks terrified and breaks that "oozing sexual confidence" that a lot of love interests tend to have when the MC first meets them. It was hilarious and one of the better parts of this book.

I think I'd have to dig further into this series to fully appreciate some of the characters since they're only briefly touched on, but I did find it entertaining to see some characters I recognized from Wells's other series.

Trigger warning in this one for the mention of r#@e--that part was rough. Also, victim blaming, and emotional and verbal abuse. Stay safe out there!

I'd definitely recommend this one to readers who love a strong mom who doesn't have an easy life, but has all of the love for her child. Also, if you like a sassy kid who has a huge personality, then this one might appeal to you. And finally, if you like the classic bad boy with a heart of gold and brothers who would ride to war for him, then you need to add this to your TBR.

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69. Hidden Pictures by Jason Rekulak--⭐️⭐️⭐️.5

While this wasn't as amazing as I thought it would be (thanks hype trains), I ended up really enjoying HIDDEN PICTURES.

I thought the mystery aspect of this book was fun and had some pretty good twists thrown in there, even though they did feel like they came out of nowhere. The paranormal aspect of the story gave it that nice creepy vibe--especially the artwork thrown into the story here and there.

The writing wasn't the absolute best. There were some instances that felt very YA, especially when the MC is falling for her love interest. I do love their teamwork, but it was giving me YA Thriller vibes (which isn't a bad thing because I love that genre). I don't know if I'd call this a horror novel, maybe more of a paranormal thriller?

That being said, there were definitely some creepy and skin tingling scenes that had nothing to do with the paranormal aspect. Those scenes made me so uncomfortable and were probably the things that creeped me out the most about HIDDEN PICTURES. Other than the truth behind the mystery. That was some twisted shit.

If you're looking for a fast-paced paranormal thriller this summer, this might be the one for you. Maybe don't read it alone in a dark cabin, though.

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Have you read any of these books? Let me know your thoughts!

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Happy reading!

[goldenwanderer]

Decided to answer all the asks from this post. Full list of what I read this year coming soon.

How many books did you read this year?

125.

Did you reread anything? What?

Yes. 17 of the 125 were re-reads. Most were from series I haven't reread in many years (like Wheel of Time and Green Rider).

What were your top five books of the year?

Oh god it's hard to pick just 5 out of 125, especially when your preferred genre(s) tend to come in series. But, in no particular order:

The Outside by Ada Hoffmann

Unseelie by Ivelisse Housman

Even Though I Knew The End by C.L. Polk

Late Bloomer by Mazey Eddings

A Day of Fallen Night by Samantha Shannon

Did you discover any new authors that you love this year?

Finally got around to reading some of N.K. Jemisin's work, and I completely understand the hype. I look forward to reading more from her next year.

What genre did you read the most of?

Unsurprisingly, fantasy. The two tracking apps I use have different numbers - Storygraph has me at 76, while Fable has me at 94 - but either way, there's no question fantasy is my most-read genre.

Second place goes to science fiction, at 32/45. I'm actually quite new to the genre (in literature at least), but I've been enjoying it immensely so far.

Honorable mention to the LGBTQIA+ category. The majority of my reading choices, across genres, feature queer characters or themes (predominantly WLW or a-spec).

Was there anything you meant to read, but never got to?

Nothing in particular, though there are a few books that have been on my shelves for years which I need to get around to at some point.

What was your average Goodreads rating? Does it seem accurate?

I don't use Goodreads, and I dislike rating/reviewing books. However, I do have an average star rating of 3.9 out of 5 on Fable. Which tracks.

Did you meet any of your reading goals? Which ones?

I kept exceeding my yearly goal - I started low, since I only read 30 books last year, and had to keep raising the bar every few months. I struggled a bit at the end to get to 125, thanks to a hyperfixation pulling me toward fanfiction, but I just managed to get there.

I also took part in several reading challenges on Storygraph, mostly during the spring and summer.

Did you get into any new genres?

Thanks to aforementioned reading challenges, I dabbled in poetry, literary fiction, and horror for the first time. Not sure I would say I "got into" them, per se, but I'm not opposed to further dabbling.

I loved historical fiction as a kid, but haven't touched the genre much as an adult. I finally found a few I enjoyed this year (all queer, and some blended with fantasy elements), so hopefully I can find more next year.

What was your favorite new release of the year?

I already put Late Bloomer on the overall top 5 list, so I'll mention The Stars Too Fondly by Emily Hamilton here. It's sci-fi mixed with cheesy rom-com, and it was a really fun read.

What was your favorite book that has been out for a while, but you just now read?

I guess I'll go with The Fifth Season by N.K. Jemisin - and its sequels, since I read them all in rapid succession and so they're blurred together in my head. This was my introduction to her work, and I'm glad I took the plunge. Jemisin's storytelling and worldbuilding is phenomenal.

Any books that disappointed you?

Not sure it was disappointment, exactly, since I also struggled to connect with Harrow the Ninth, but I really had a difficult time getting through Tamsyn Muir's Nona the Ninth. I enjoyed the first book in the series, but the sequels have not really been my cup of tea, with Nona being my least favorite so far. I appreciate how important Muir's writing is to the community, but it just isn't for me.

What were your least favorite books of the year?

I didn't hate any of the books I finished, but I suppose there were a few I liked less than the others. Nona the Ninth was one. Some others were We Free the Stars by Hafsah Faizal, Your Driver is Waiting by Priya Guns, and What I Mean When I Say I'm Autistic by Annie Kotowicz.

What books do you want to finish before the year is over?

None. At this point, I'm saving any current reads for my 2025 count.

Did you read any books that were nominated for or won awards this year (Booker, Women’s Prize, National Book Award, Pulitzer, Hugo, etc.)? What did you think of them?

Yes. The Mimicking of Known Successes by Malka Older was nominated for a Hugo award in 2024. It's a brilliant sci-fi/mystery novella featuring queer main characters - so, naturally, right up my alley.

What is the most over-hyped book you read this year?

Anything by Hafsah Faizal seems to be trendy on social media, but I especially kept seeing A Tempest of Tea everywhere. It was a perfectly fine fantasy heist book, though I found the (straight) romances uncompelling.

I also don't love This Is How You Lose The Time War (by Amal El-Mohtar and Max Gladstone) nearly as much as other people seem to. It's very unique and very queer, and it was okay for me, but I probably wouldn't read it again.

Did any books surprise you with how good they were?

I wasn't expecting to like The Deep by Rivers Solomon, et al., as much as I did. It's a beautiful piece of speculative fiction that examines pain and trauma and memory - and there's a queer romance in here to boot.

How many books did you buy?

Somewhere around 20, give or take.

Did you use your library?

Not my local library, no. I did, however, sign up for a card from the Queer Liberation Library on the Libby app.

What was your most anticipated release? Did it meet your expectations?

I wasn't waiting on any new releases this year - except maybe for Brandon Sanderson's Wind and Truth, which came out this month but I haven't read yet.

Did you participate in or watch any booklr, booktube, or book twitter drama?

Absolutely not.

What’s the longest book you read?

That'll be Brandon Sanderson's Rhythm of War, at just over 1200 pages. The other book to (barely) crack 1000 was The Shadow Rising by Robert Jordan.

Out of 125 books, 22 were 500+ pages, and 65 were between 300-499 pages. This is what happens when you're a fantasy/sci-fi fan; you tend to end up with longer books.

What’s the fastest time it took you to read a book?

I read a few of the shorter books/novellas in one day. I remember getting through The Deep in one sitting, for example.

I'm a fast reader, but I also have ADHD, so most of the time my focus is split between multiple books. Sometimes I like a book well enough to get through it in a week or less, and sometimes it takes a few months. That's why my average read time (according to Storygraph) is 25 days.

Did you DNF anything? Why?

Yup. Not too many, though. Most were free ebooks I tried but couldn't get into. I tried to reread Pride and Prejudice, since my sister gifted me a beautiful edition, but I didn't like Jane Austen's work in high school, and I don't now, so I gave up on that pretty quickly. It looks gorgeous on my shelf, though.

What reading goals do you have for next year?

Not much of a goal-setter, tbh. I'll probably set a basic goal of 100 books for next year, and see how it goes. I've joined a couple of Storygraph challenges, to give my ADHD some additional motivation. And I plan to continue rereading a few older series, however slowly.

[ominouspositivity-or-else]

Book asks: 3, 5, 17

3. What were your top five books of the year?

Okay sooo I'd have to say

Fifth would be Plague Journal, by Michael O'Brien. I read it for fun and at the end I cried over character development and paternal love. 10/10

Fourth, The Future Home of The Living God by Louise Erdrich. I genuinely loved that book so so much. It tore my heart to shreds, but it was so beautiful and well-executed that I enjoyed the entire process.

Third on my list, only because I read the other two novels on this list, is Anna Karenina, by Leo Tolstoy. It took me a month and a half of steady reading to get through, but stars above it was worth it. I loved this novel so very deeply, and came to know the characters so intricately, and I absolutely adored it!!!! Everyone should delve into Russian Lit at some point and I, personally, think Anna Karenina is a great starting place. You get so used to both the way they talk, interact, and what's important to them and their ways of living that you just fall in love. Over and over again. And ugh. I love every character because of how infinitely human they are.

Second, again only because I read the other one, is Frankenstein, by Mary Shelley. I don't think I've ever read a book like this and I don't think I ever will again. I don't think there's another book like this. I think Mary Shelley is the only person who could think like this, and that she's batshit insane, and she's the smartest person in the room and could have killed us all. There is something so special to me about Frankenstein and the progression of monster to man to monster and man to monster that makes me lose my mind.

The Violent Bear It Away, by Flannery O'Connor, takes the top place on this year's list. I read the ending and then I sat there and cried for a good while. Not because of sadness, but instead because of hope. There's only a specific kind of author who can give you hope like Flannery O'Connor can. If I ever get a tattoo, it will be one of the last lines of this book. It has stuck with me so deeply and completely and wholly that I can never be the same for having read it. I can never be the same because of that book. Words that she wrote are so deeply in my mind that I need them everywhere in my house. I need that story written in my bones. Oh my stars. If you read nothing else off of this list, read this book.

5. What genre did you read the most of?

I already answered this one in an earlier ask, but I think my second most read would be Classics. Gotta love being an English Major!

17. Did any books surprise you with how good they were?

The Catcher In The Rye pulled a real 180 on me. I hated it the entire time I was reading, and then within the last 5 chapters, J. D. Salinger took the book and my opinion of it an flipped them both on their heads and when I read the last chapter I sat there and stared at it. Because he changed my mind so completely on both the character and the character's behavior based on information that was invisible to me for the entire book. It was so nuts. I understood the main character and in understanding the character, was able to love him as he was.

[televinita]

It's going amazingly! Somehow I've already read 125 books, so I'm not only set to clear the already-high goal of 150 I finally set for myself at the beginning of June, I'm secretly kind of aiming at 200 for the second time in my life -- and the first time since more than 15% of my reads were written for an adult audience -- which is possible if I simply continue to keep up this pace. Which I'm not even really trying to do, it's just...happening.

AND I'm doing it with lots of 4- and 5-stars and mostly not wasting my time finishing disappointments (quite unlike the previous time, when my average rating for the year was 3.2), though weirdly, still not one that stands out as my Clear Favorite, or even a small group of top-tier favorites. Best I can do so far is a pool of, like, twenty candidates?

P.S. I know someone's going to ask for examples! So behind the cut, my first attempt to pick possibilities, without restricting myself to a a number count. In chronological order of read date.

Billion Dollar Girl - Megan Shull

If We Were Villains - M.L. Rio

Emily Wilde's Encyclopedia of Faeries (& its sequel!) - Heather Fawcett

The Seat Filler - Sariah Williams

Elizabeth and Her German Garden - Elizabeth von Armin

Acts of Love - Maureen Daly

A Hundred Pieces of Me - Lucy Dillon

In Front of God & Everybody: the Confessions of April Grace - K.D. McCrite

Bear With Me Now - Katie Shepard

Long Lost - Jacqueline West

Meet Me At The Summit - Mandi Lynn Bell

The Heiress - Rachel Hawkins

The Spellshop - Sarah Beth Durst

(actually, even looking at these, I feel like I can tell a few I'll later eliminate as possibilities for my Top Five next...but I'm going to leave that conundrum for December Me to solve, in hopes that the last 5 months of my reading year are even better)

Weekly Bookish Question #400 (July 28th - August 3rd 2024)

[eggcatsreads]

August Reading Wrap-Up

Rating: ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

Favorite Read of the Month:

The Bone Season (10th Anniversary Special Edition) by Samantha Shannon (GR review)

The year is 2059. Nineteen-year-old Paige Mahoney is working in the criminal underworld of Scion London, based at Seven Dials, employed by a man named Jaxon Hall. For Paige is a dreamwalker, a clairvoyant and, in the world of Scion, she commits treason simply by breathing. Attacked, drugged and kidnapped, Paige is transported to Oxford – a city kept secret for two hundred years, controlled by a powerful, otherworldly race. Paige is assigned to Warden, a Rephaite with mysterious motives. But if Paige wants to regain her freedom she must allow herself to be nurtured in this prison where she is meant to die.

The Bone Season is a PHENEMONAL series. And if you've read it - then I suggest a reread for the anniversary edition. If you haven't - pick up this version. If you tried reading it, or didn't like it (assuming your issues weren't simply only the plot/world/etc) please give it a second chance with this version. The 10th anniversary edition isn't simply a rewrap of the series - it's an intense edit and revision that takes the same story - but uses Samantha Shannon's current prowess as a writer that she hadn't developed yet for her debut novel. Many MANY things are edited, or removed, or reworked to the point that even though I knew how things were going, since I've already read TBS, I even got a few pleasant surprises. The character dynamics are smoother, and I loved Paige and Warden even more in this edition than I originally did, somehow.

I loved TBS when I first read it last year - but I can also readily admit to some issues with the format and storytelling (and, to her credit, so does SamShan in her blurb at the end for reasoning for the revisions). This edition could NEVER be described as "info-dumping" at you, or being choppy at places - it's such a breath of fresh air it made me love the series all over again and become excited for book 5. I, personally, will be purchasing the revised editions of books 2-4 as well - and these will be edited as well, but more so to bring them in line with any changes present in TBS10E.

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Other Five Star Reads:

She Who Became the Sun, He Who Drowned the World by Shelly Parker-Chan

In 1345, China lies under harsh Mongol rule. When the Zhu family’s eighth-born son, Zhu Chongba, is given a fate of greatness, everyone is mystified as to how it will come to pass. When a bandit attack orphans the two children, though, it is Zhu Chongba who succumbs to despair and dies. Desperate to escape her own fated death, the girl uses her brother's identity to enter a monastery as a young male novice. There, propelled by her burning desire to survive, Zhu learns she is capable of doing whatever it takes, no matter how callous, to stay hidden from her fate.

I reread She Who Became the Sun so I could read Drowned while not forgetting anything, and somehow I loved Sun even more the first time. This story is intense, it's dark, and yet the characters really speak to you. I liked how even the enemies in this book are given their own narratives and there are no clear lines for right and wrong. If you liked The Poppy War then I cannot suggest this duology enough.

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Epic of Helinthia by MJ Pankey (GR review)

When a madman seized the throne, the gods on Olympus fell silent, and the island of Helinthia withered into decay... Dargos is sure these events are no coincidence and convinces Kelric and Gadnor to join him in a rebellion against the king, hoping to incur favor with the gods and restore prosperity to their ravaged lands. Turmoil follows their footsteps, and they're confronted with the terrifying truth that not all who dwell on Olympus want the island to recover, and some will stop at nothing to ensure Helinthia spirals deeper into chaos.

Do you like stories of Greek myths, and retellings of those myths? Does a part of you wish you didn't already know EVERYTHNG about them, so that nothing is a real surprise to you and sometimes you have to confront interpretations you don't agree with? READ THIS. READ IT. This book felt like reading a Greek myth I wasn't aware of, and yet it felt familiar. The mythos of Helinthia, a goddess to an island that neither actually exist, still fit so perfectly into the mythology that it simply felt like I just didn't know this story. That I missed an epic of Homer somewhere.

This book comes out in October, and I highly suggest adding it to your TBR and/or pre-ordering it.

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Vampires of El Norte by Isabel Canas

As the daughter of a rancher in 1840s Mexico, Nena knows a thing or two about monsters—her home has long been threatened by tensions with Anglo settlers from the north. But something more sinister lurks near the ranch at night, something that drains men of their blood and leaves them for dead.

Together We Rot by Skyla Arndt (GR review)

Wil Greene's mom has been missing for over a year, and the police are ready to call the case closed--they claim she skipped town and you can't find a woman who wants to disappear. But she knows her mom wouldn't just leave...and she knows the family of her former best friend, Elwood Clarke, has something to do with it.

Before the Devil Knows You're Here by Autumn Krause (GR review)

1836. As Catalina sets plans to ensure their survival, a strange man appears—a man covered in bark, leaves growing from his head, and sap dripping from his eyes. Before Catalina can stop him, he scoops Jose Luis up and disappears. Along the way she finds help from a young Paul Bunyan, whose life has also been changed by the Man of Sap. As they travel deeper into the Northwoods, they uncover more of the Man of Sap’s history and the connections he and Catalina share, giving her the power to change his life, or end it.

This book comes out in October, and I highly recommend it. There's signed and personalized books if you check the author's Instagram.

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Into the Drowning Deep by Mira Grant

Seven years ago, the Atargatis set off on a voyage to the Mariana Trench to film a “mockumentary” bringing to life ancient sea creatures of legend. It was lost at sea with all hands. Now, a new crew has been assembled. For the ambitious young scientist Victoria Stewart this is a voyage to uncover the fate of the sister she lost.

EVIL KILLER MERMAIDS!!! KILLER MERMAID HORROR!! I DON'T KNOW HOW ELSE TO DESCRIBE THIS BUT IF YOU LOVE AQUATIC HORROR, READ THIS!!!

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Maeve Fly by CJ Leede

By day, Maeve Fly works at the happiest place in the world as every child’s favorite ice princess. By the neon night glow of the Sunset Strip, Maeve haunts the dive bars with a drink in one hand and a book in the other, imitating her misanthropic literary heroes. Maeve ditches her discontented act and tries on a new persona, inspired by the pages of American Psycho. Step aside Patrick Bateman, it’s Maeve’s turn with the knife.

Rest of Books Read Under the Cut:

Rating: ⭐⭐⭐⭐

The Art of Prophecy, The Art of Destiny by Wesley Chu

It has been foretold: A child will rise to defeat the Eternal Khan, a cruel immortal god-king, and save the kingdom. The hero: Jian, who has been raised since birth in luxury and splendor, celebrated before he has won a single battle. But the prophecy was wrong.

The Devil Makes Three by Tori Bovalino

Tess Matheson finds herself working all summer at her boarding school library, shelving books and dealing with the intolerable patrons. The worst of them is Eliot Birch: snide, privileged, and constantly requesting forbidden grimoires. After a bargain with Eliot leads to the discovery of an ancient book in the library's grimoire collection, the pair accidentally unleash a book-bound demon.

She is a Haunting by Trang Thanh Tran

When Jade Nguyen arrives in Vietnam for a visit with her estranged father, she has one goal: survive five weeks pretending to be a happy family in the French colonial house Ba is restoring. But the house has other plans. Night after night, Jade wakes up paralyzed. Jade can’t ignore the ghost of the beautiful bride who leaves her cryptic warnings: Don’t eat.

Lone Women by Victor Lavalle

Adelaide Henry carries an enormous steamer trunk with her wherever she goes. It’s locked at all times. Because when the trunk opens, people around Adelaide start to disappear.

Graveyard of Lost Children by Katrina Monroe

At four months old, Olivia Dahl was almost murdered. Driven by haunting visions, her mother became obsessed with the idea that Olivia was a changeling, and that the only way to get her real baby back was to make a trade with the "dead women" living at the bottom of the well. Now Olivia is ready to give birth to a daughter of her own…and for the first time, she hears the women whispering.

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Rating: ⭐⭐⭐

The Hexologists by Josiah Banecroft (GR review)

The Hexologists, Iz and Warren Wilby, are quite accustomed to helping desperate clients with the bugbears of city life. But when they are approached by the royal secretary, the Wilbies soon find themselves embroiled in a mystery that could very well see the nation turned on its head.

Athena's Child by Hannah Lynn (GR review)

Gifted and burdened with stunning beauty, young Medusa seeks sanctuary with the Goddess Athena. But when she catches the eye of the lecherous but mighty Poseidon, she is beyond protection. Powerful men rarely answer for their actions, after all.

Brother by Ania Ahlborn (GR review)

The Morrows keep to themselves, and it’s served them well so far. When girls go missing off the side of the highway, the cops don’t knock on their door. Which is a good thing, seeing as to what’s buried in the Morrows’ backyard. But nineteen-year-old Michael Morrow isn’t like the rest of his family. When he meets Alice, a pretty girl working at a record shop in the small nearby town of Dahlia, he’s immediately smitten. But his brother, Rebel, is all too eager to remind Michael of his place…

Listen. Call me a fucked up monster all you like, but I thought this book was kind of boring and predictable. The synopsis gives it entirely away, there's no real twists or surprises (I mean, there are, but they never change the tone of the book, if you know what I mean? Like, okay it's a twist, but it didn't change anything from what I assumed this book would be) and the characters remain static the entire novel. Another reviewer called it tame considering the trigger warnings, and I have to agree.

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Books read so far this year: 101

How I rate books.