#The Bite that Binds Audiobook

[read-and-write-]

Get to know me

Rules: Answer and tag nine people you want to get to know better and catch up with.

Thanks @14carrotghoul for tagging me!!

Favorite color(s): Baby blue!

Last Song: Apartamento by Laura Pérez

Currently reading: How to Bite your Neighbor and Win a Wager (Audiobook), The Rules of Royalty (ARC) and The Pairing (Paperback in Spanish) and currently """reading"""" rwrb in french and my french textbook because of course im counting those 200 pages

Currently watching: i started Dead Boy Detectives but haven’t really had the time to watch it all. It’s really good tho

Currently craving: Lotus Biscoff Cookie from a place in my city (from the moment I started writing this to when I’m posting it I have obtained the cookie)

Coffee or Tea: Coffee. I think my country would consider it a crime if I picked tea but also I don’t drink tea at all and while caffeine and I are NOT friends but I do love the taste and coffee-adjacent products (chocolate covered coffee beans are the best thing ever i will NOT change my mind)

Hobby To Try: Crocheting, diamond painting, aerial silk, journaling, book binding, I want to do everything and all at once but I do a total of: nothing

Current AU: to quote my own doc “henry and alex are ghosts roaming around the same cemetery” that was supposed to be posted today for firstprince week but things happened and it will be posted at ssome point before october ends

And tags! I really don't know who has been tagged in this so forgive me if I'm double tagging anyone

@happiness-of-the-pursuit @inexplicablymine @alasse9 @kiwiana-writes @cactusdragon517

@sparklepocalypse @porcelainmortal @blueeyedgrlwrites @milowren29

[vodijajoma640226-blog]

The Bite that Binds Audiobook

Get now >> The Bite that Binds Audiobook Download In Here

[toothpastecanyon]

Noie’s Trip

After four long, uneventful years, highschool was finally over. Noie was going to make sure her and her brother had a better time in college together - she just had to make sure he picked the right one.

This piece was for the 2020 Transcendence AU Zine! There are many other awesome artists and writers who participated; go check out the full PDF here!

See most updated version on Archive of Our Own.

______________________________________________________________

It had been a year since nothing happened. Noie was seventeen years old, and life was coming up fast. She couldn’t wait to be done with high school, couldn’t wait to get out of here…

    It had been a year since nothing happened, and Noie had taken her brother on a road trip to tour around one of the state universities. It was a bit of a drive through lonely desert roads, and Noie had the whole weekend set up - she’d booked a motel for a night, filled up her gas tank, queued up all the music and audiobooks they could possibly need… it was gonna be great.

“Isn’t it… a little far from home, Noie?”

“Yeah! I mean, it’s not out of state, but it’s still pretty far out! No one’s gonna bother us out here.”

“But SASU’s so much closer.”

“Oh, you… wanna stay closer to them?”

“Yeah! And I’ve been looking it up, SASU has a great paranormal maths program…”

    It had been a year since nothing happened, and this road trip was going to go great. Dipper was going to be impressed. They stopped at a gas station, and continued south, into the darkness.

    “What does that light mean?”

    “Oh… oh, shoot, we got a flat tire.”

    “What?! We’re in the middle of nowhere, how are we-”

    “Don’t panic! I’ll just change the tire. Gimme one second, bro bro!”

    It had been a year since nothing happened, and Noie stared at the slashes in her tires. She watched a plain truck pull over in front of them, and felt her blood run cold.

    It had been a year since absolutely nothing happened. Noie was a normal teenager with a normal brother, touring universities like any normal person would do. She’d never been involved in any demonic stuff in her life.

    So why was she now being bound and gagged and dragged into the desert by cultists? Why were they asking her brother about some kind of demon fight in a convenience store? What was going on?

    “Tell us how you banished the Dreambender! Tell us now, or else!”

    Noie felt the knife’s edge press into her skin, and she could only gulp.

    She had no idea what they were talking about. Oh god, they were going to kill her, weren’t they? And they were going to kill Dipper.

    Oh god.

    Oh, god.

______________________________________________________________

    Dipper’s head pounded. His heart raced. He could hardly even concentrate on the cultist interrogating him; his eyes only fixed on the circle being drawn before them. The magic coming off it… stars, his brain felt like it was coming out of his ears. 

    “How did your sister do it? How did she bind our Lord? Tell us!”

    “Lord?” Dipper squinted to the side, where he could make out a blobby figure. “Noie? A-are you-”

    “Do not speak to her!” The slap barely registered in his mind; Noie’s gasp did. “Just tell us how she banished Alcor, and we won’t kill you. We need only one sacrifice tonight. Tell us what happened at the convenience store, and it won’t be you.”

    Alcor. That name rang strangely in Dipper’s head. He squeezed his eyes shut, but the circle still seemed to draw his gaze. His head was killing him… and the shouting wasn’t helping.

“He doesn’t know anything! Don’t hurt him!”

    “Be quiet-”

    “But we didn’t do anything! You think I know how to banish a demon? I’ve never seen one in my life!”

    “You lie! I saw you after the convenience store exploded - you and that vampire banished him!”

    “I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

    “I saw you banish him from the world, from our circles! He hasn’t answered our summons in years! I know he yearns for freedom; it was clearly his wish that I witnessed what I did, his wish that I find you and set him free! Now tell me how you did it!”

    Noie said nothing - if Dipper could think, he’d assume she was stunned into silence.

But he couldn’t think. He couldn’t even try. The circle… his eyes were closed, but the lines burned themselves into his retinas regardless. He watched as the Twin Star was traced in the centre, and grit his teeth as the pressure in his head swelled to an unbearable pain. His whole body felt like it was going to burst out of his skin.

He wasn’t just being torn apart, he was being pulled.

Towards the circle.

                The circle.

                    The circle…

    “Dipper!”

    Dipper barely felt the hands that were lifting and dragging him. He was feeling other things; feeling little rips form in the fabric of his mind, feeling strange tidbits of information trickle in like fire on his brain.

    “This is your last chance, girl. Tell us how you banished him, or we’ll send his soul to the Dreambender!”

All of a sudden he knew that that cultist’s name was Rodney Smith. He worked at a car dealership, and none of his employees liked him. He had a warrant out for his arrest - a contempt of court charge for that DUI hearing he skipped.

“No! Don’t kill him! Don’t kill him, I’ll do anything! Dipper!”

He knew Naomi Faybelle Argenta desperately wanted them to go to the same college, even as it was becoming clear they had different needs. She’d booked this whole trip for him, even though she’d already made up her mind. She only queued up his favourite tunes for the ride over, because she knew he didn’t really like her louder music.

He knew how many times she’d cry in her life. He knew she was going to get dementia like her grandmother. He knew the day she was going to die.

He knew. He knew. He knew heknewheknewheknewheknewohgodstop stopithurtsheknewhe-

He knew there was blood on the circle. His blood… on his circle.

The bubble of his mind popped then, and suddenly Alcor knew exactly what was going on. He let out a rumbling groan, and then stretched out his wings. It felt good to throw off that meatsack, to let magic crackle over his form.

    “M-my lord! You’re here! You’re back!” 

Them. He cracked a golden eye open to see the humans who had destroyed his human body. They were approaching - nervously? Reverently? Some were nervous. The one in front was revenant, its hands extended out like it wanted to touch Alcor.

“I can’t believe it! I freed you! I freed you, my lord!” The human laughed maniacally. “I followed all your signs, and now, now you’re here to reward me!”

Alcor growled as it approached, making it stop short of the circle. Still, there was an earnestness to this one’s aura; he could have fun with this.

“A̸̲̹̠̞̥̱̪h̹̪̱̹̼,̷͎̲̘͈̣ͅ ̼̹͙̗̙͓͔s҉͈̝̫̲o̸̭̘ ̜̥̖͇y͏̙̥̝o̮͖͈̦u̮̹̺̻͔̝͞ͅ ̨̹̝̪̩w̞̣̭̣̻̳͠o̦̥̫̥̻ṵl͇d̷̘͕̺̻ ̜̪̺̖̙l̫̥̞͕̟̭͡ͅi̦̻̗k̢̮̫e̤͎̘̱̥͉ ̧͉̙̤̰̤̩a͢ ̼͙̤͔f̮͓ì̯t̲͔̭ṯi͜n͎̦̝̮̝̫͞g̼̯͇͢ ͈̘̩̻r̞͇͠e̶͓̞̱̻ͅẉa̭͇̦͚̙r̥̯͉̬̼d̖͈͍̣͇.” Alcor stepped out of the chalk lines, his smile going wide and jagged. “Ș̴̻t҉̙e̘̙̯̫̥͕p̳͚͖̺̥ ̢̭ͅfo̴rw̢̠̰̦̻̜̞a̮̲ͅr̛̺̰̺̜̰ͅd͙̰͎͙ͅ,̖ͅ ͔̩̬͈t̳̪͇̼͙̮̘͜h̝̣͍͎ęn̜͈̠̯͍̲͙,͈͝ ̤̣̣a̧͍̙͍͎͙͉͈n̙͖̺̞͎̙̺͠d̯͇̟͔̮̹ ͎͈͇r̵̜̻̭e͙̭̺ͅc͔̭̱̰̣͔e̯̝͖͡i̬̝͍͟v̥̜̤͍e̟̳̺̘͕̯̕ ̩̭͇̬w̢̻͖��̜h̪͈̺̭͍̣a̪̠t͚ ͠i̸͔̪͇̬s̪͔ ̠̯͇̖̲o̙̕ẃ̺̟͎̗̻͔e̟͈̭͉͉̲d̴̲͍̮̯͎͙ ͔̯̜͉̬̪̕ͅt̻ͅo̗ ̥̖͝y͔̞̮͍o͚͔̫̪̙u͔̙͖̝.”

The human stepped forward with a wild shine in its eyes. Alcor looked it up and down. Then he chuckled, unhinged his jaw, and went for the throat.

The screams from the other cultists tasted as sweet as the blood bubbling into his mouth. He stopped a moment to savour it, and then he chewed down further, biting through bone and sinew and a soundless scream to get to… The soul.

Alcor gave a full-body shudder as his teeth scraped it; stars, it had been too long since he’d eaten something so delicious. He dug his claws into the body’s shoulders, clamped his teeth around the soul, and ripped it out.

It tasted like wonderful pain. Alcor gulped it down in seconds, then set his eyes on the other cultists running into the desert. There was no moon tonight, but none of them escaped his gaze. None of them would escape him.

With a dark chuckle, he rose up from the ground, letting shadows descend onto the land, letting the blue fire dancing across his fingertips burn hot on the fear in the air, and-

He felt it.

Just above his ankle.

A silver knife - the same one that had slit his meatsack’s throat - was embedded in his form. The enchantments stung a bit, and he looked down, confused, to see who dared challenge the Dreambender… and ohh shit, ohhh no-

“You killed him!”  His own Mizar stared him down with murder in her eyes. Her hands, shaking and still tied with rope she’d cut, were grabbing at his shirt, dragging him down. “I’m gonna kill you! I’m gonna kill you!”

Alcor felt his stomach drop. He reached out a hand. “Mizar-”

“I’m gonna kill you!” 

Mizar wrenched down; in his shock, he only watched as she tackled him to the ground and stabbed him in the chest. He felt it go in and out, then in and out again and then he caught her arms.

“You can’t hurt me, Mizar.”

“I don’t care!” She tried to wiggle free of his grip. “Let me go!”

“Mizar-”

“Just let me go! Just let me go!”

Alcor watched her struggle against him for another moment, the pit in his stomach deepening as he remembered the person this soul had formed around. He watched Noie give one final tug, then sniff and gasp and choke and dissolve into a moaning sob over her hands.

The knife fell onto the dirt, and when Alcor let go, she sank down to lay beside it. He stood, and stared at the black despair of her aura…

And the red blood on his hands. Blood was everywhere; blood was all over his front, and blood was crusting around his mouth, and blood was leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. And where there was no blood? There was void, and there was teeth, and there was not a hint of the Dipper Argenta that Noie wanted to see.

He looked like a demon, devouring a cultist’s soul over a circle of candles… he looked like a monster.

The thought caught in his throat, and his hand went to where she’d stabbed him. He hesitated, there, for a moment, and the only sound to be heard was the buzz of crickets and the broken sobbing of his sister.

Then Alcor swallowed his thoughts. Right now, Noie needed her brother back. She didn’t need a monster. She didn’t need him.

So with an arm that trembled, he raised his fingers and set about bringing everything back to normal.

Snap.

______________________________________________________________

“Nearly - ugh - done with the tire, bro!” Noie beamed at her brother as she tightened the lugnuts. “This oughtta be enough to get us into town! I’ll look up tire places once we’ve got service again - don’t you worry about anything!”

Dipper Argenta could’ve lied to himself and pretended the strain in her smile was only from changing the tire, but Alcor knew better. He tried to smile back, tried not to see the panic simmering in her aura.

“And we’ll still make it to the motel before check-in time! This is still gonna be the best trip ever!”

“I’m sure it will be, Noie.”

“You better believe it! And in the morning, we’ll get up, and - and apparently there’s this really good tea shop in town, we’ll check that out and then go look around! It’ll be amazing!”

“I’m sure it will be, Noie.” Dipper looked out into the darkness, and sighed. “I’m sure… I’m sure it will be.”

“Dipper? You, uh… okay?”

He looked back to her, and smiled. “I’m okay. Everything’s okay.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. Yeah, just…” Dipper rubbed his neck. “Once we get into town, I need to go to the bathroom, or something. I need to clear my head.”

“Why? What’s wrong?” She stood up. “Is it a magic headache?”

“Yeah… let’s go with that. I just need a few minutes, though. Then I’ll be fine.” He looked down at his shoes. “Then everything will be back to normal, and… we’ll have fun.”

Dipper stood there for a moment in silence. Then, he felt an arm come and wrap around him. Noie smiled at him, and patted his shoulder.

“Alright.” She motioned to the car. “Well, the tire’s changed, so we better get a move on, huh?”

“Yeah. You’re right. No point in hanging around.”

Noie gave him a squeeze, and then with a laugh she pulled him towards the car. She started the engine, and the audiobook they’d been listening to started talking once again. Dipper tried for a smile at that, but it didn’t stick.

Things felt almost normal as they got back on the road... but he already knew the ending.

[jitteryjamborees]

An ode to Shakespeare.

A murder mystery filled with pretentious Shakespearean dialect and thespianism at its finest degree. Fittingly using shakespeare and his many comedies, romances and agonizing tragedies as allegories pushing forth the plot. (This on which I will write more in depth at a later date on how I think its done so seamlessly)

I couldn't help but feel an immense amount of loss coming out of my chest and enveloping me as I concluded the book. Was it Oliver’s grief over James? Meredith and Phillipa's pain over their fallen family? My own sadness over the book being over?

What could have been and what once was sits behind me staring at me.I couldn't help but grieve over my own -now dead- thespian future. Reminiscing over all those written plays, roles embodied, emotions felt and tears shed under the limelight. Well past all that melancholy, I must say the book was truly great. Mayhaps due to the fact that its the first book in 2 years that had that good book ending feeling to it, or maybe it was that it was an audiobook so I didn't have to battle with my wretched dyslexia. I wish I had a group of friends who were pretentious enough as I am to speak shakespearean with or a dialect of that sort. I will be looking into that more now, build up my repertoire.

I related particularly to Meredith in Gwendilin’s class, the vulnerability of stating bluntly her biggest fear. Feels bold and presumptuous to relate so strongly to the most beautiful bold and alluring charecter in the book charecterized by her sex appeal moreso than anything else. Could be my want and need to be a powerful woman, the witchiness taking a liking to the power that comes with such a powerful entity. Or perhaps just relate due to past experiences and current very present fears.

Moving on to my OTP, James and Oliver, my absolute babes. They didn't even have to say it, no one did, BUT the MLM was oh so obvious. Oliver knew it and James did too, weather they chose to acknowledge it earlier in their relationship is another matter, but no one can deny that that KISS that LIP BITE, no one can tell me that kiss wasn't every said and unsaid word wrapped up in One .Single. Desperate. Gesture.

The way the book progressed placed several characters from being suspects, Oliver always remained ,to me at least , off that list. Despite being jailed as well as having a very obvious motive it seemed unlikely to be him. I honestly suspected everyone except James. The force the plot picked up by the last few pages was so momentous it was like watching a candle melt slowly at first and then gone before you know it. How james suddenly just started unraveling it as if whatever was binding him shut started unwinding pulling Oliver into that path of destruction. 

There is no greater tribute to shakespeare than to end the book with an act of a lovers sacrifice.

[viydezolmi894474-blog]

The Bite that Binds audiobook download 

[yogaadvise]

10 Ways to Connect to the Present Moment Without a Meditation Cushion

You've heard the benefits of reflection, as well as possibly you have a committed formal technique that gets you up prior to sunrise. However your capability to connect to the here and now minute need not be limited to the moment you are remaining on your zafu or reflection seat. When you soften your assumptions of what mindfulness techniques resemble from the outdoors, you discover that there are numerous methods you can dip right into concentrated focus and embodied recognition. Attempt implementing these practices into your daily routine and in the past long, mindfulness will come to be a method of life.

" Wherever you are, that is the entry factor." -Kabir, 15th century Indian poet

1. Listening Meditation

Start where you are. Take a minute while sitting at your workdesk, pausing at the workplace, or also eating in a restaurant while your tablemate remains in the bathroom. Technique experiencing each sound as it happens, without trying to judge it, classify it, or push it away. If you discover yourself obtaining inflamed by the noises around you (e.g., "I'm attempting to compose a post right here, why won't that pet stop barking?") , attempt using the audios as a device for mindfulness. Bind your consciousness to the noises as an indicator of what is happening throughout the specific minute you are in. Gradually, your attitude toward the audios around you will change from inconveniences to chances for understanding.

2. Keep a Journal

Start your days or end your nights with an examination right into your ideas as well as feelings. You might numb out on alcohol, drugs, television, or various other interruptions and miss the chance to reveal what your sensations are attempting to in fact tell you. Sensations do not simply go away if left unacknowledged, so take a few minutes several times a week to resolve what's happening with you on the within. Bear witness to exactly how the feelings shift as you beam the light of recognition on them, they always pass. Mindfulness in this way indicates providing your emotions the focus they deserve, the way you would certainly to a close friend or family member.

3. Eye Gazing

Gaze into the eyes of your child, a pet, or a partner that wants. Depending on that you share this experience with, you may find quiet eye call to be awkward initially, however consider the benefits of social link and really being seen. Sustained eye call has the capacity to remind you that you are not the only one, that you are one with other beings, and also are much deeper than your external looks. Eye call with a baby or little kid enhances the bond you share. Securing eyes with your feline or pet dog faucets you in to the inherent existence of animals in any type of scenario (motivating, certainly). And if you see yourself in the mirror, remaining on the reflection of your own eyes can assist you to experience self-compassion as well as self-love.

4. Object Meditation

Yes, this is a reflection that is commonly done throughout a formal practice, yet the number of various other ways can you merge with the item of your concentration? Attempt resting at your cooking area table as well as look at-- really look-- at the food on your plate. Notification the colors, the appearances, as well as the plan on home plate. The suggestion is to concentrate on something that possibly you never totally contemplate-- a flickering candle light, a small piece of art work, or perhaps your own hands. You don't have to look at it for long, just a couple of seconds can bring you deeper into the moment you're in.

5. Be One with Nature

As you walk your canine, walk throughout of your driveway to pick up the paper, or opt for a run in your area, practice fully embracing the nature around you. The myriad kinds of trees, the shades of the flowers, the odor of the sea, as well as the twinkling of the celebrities are all invitations to be one with the now. Take a few additional mins occasionally to truly obtain the recovery resonances of the earth, as well as you'll really feel an inner settling that will certainly bring you back to center.

6. Switch Up Your Routine

When you come to be contented in your regimens, it easy to go on autopilot. If you observe yourself getting here to work without remembrance of the commute, take a different route going home and also come to be a visitor in your very own city. Wish to reduce your eating routines and also actually relish your food? Try eating with your non-dominant hand. Have you grown connected to the same place in your group workout or yoga class? Transfer to a different part of the area as well as obtain a fresh point of view. Simple acts that tremble up your routine aid you to experience the freshness of your familiar tasks, thereby asking for a boosted feeling of presence.

7. Drive in Silence

Speaking of your commute, try experiencing a quiet drive, exercising mouna, or sacred silence in the vehicle. Provide yourself time to unwind from your day, or permit on your own to be silent so you can take in the views around you. When approached this way, your daily commute from below to there ends up being a mindfulness act in as well as of itself, no time is lost or taken for approved. If you locate yourself mindlessly paying attention to the radio as history sound, switch it up by rotating your audiobooks, podcasts, and also playlists with silent drives to slow down things down and also be alone with yourself.

8. Unplug from Technology

It might seem evident, however it's worth pointing out that the simple act of disconnecting from your tools can bring you right back to where you are. Anytime you are dealing with a computer system, making use of a clever phone, enjoying TV, or checking social media, your attention is pulled exterior, far from the minute you are in. As a matter of fact, lots of people feel worried or all out incapable of being alone with "nothing to do."

When was the last time you rested in the waiting area at the doctor's office without distracting yourself with some type of entertainment? What about being in best awareness during an aircraft trip or a train flight? (Re) train yourself to be tech-free, at least for the first and last hour of the day. Even better, disconnect for an entire day each week or month. It can act like a reboot to your hard drive.

9. Create Pauses

Consider the pace of your life and work stops into your daily rhythm. Before reacting to an inquiry, as an example, time out and after that address. Before taking another bite of your dish, time out and actually taste what is in your mouth. Acknowledge when things trigger you to come to be reactive, and challenge on your own to stop briefly amidst the inner problem. Possibly it is when a specific person informs you what to do, when you feel judged, or when points really feel rushed. Try taking a pause, a purposeful moment of recalibration, as well as check in with the moment you remain in. A solitary breath in a moment of time out can develop just adequate room to see your tendencies and make more conscious choices.

10. Connect to Your Senses

It only takes a minute, but connecting to your detects will assist you make a memory better than taking a picture. When you discover on your own in a moment you intend to remember (e.g., you youngster's initial steps, an attractive warm air balloon floating via the skies, or your very first in-person sight of the Grand Canyon), put in the time to go down in to every of your sensory experiences.

What is the smell?

What is the temperature

What is the taste of the air?

What are the sounds?

What are the colors?

What are the information of what you see?

When you make the effort to really honor your experiences by taking notice of the details, you produce mental pictures that can last a lifetime.

Meditation is the all-natural state of existing with on your own. Meditation educator Jon Kabat-Zinn claims that when you are fully absorbed in the present minute, paying interest to purpose and also not having judgment, you are meditating. So try broadening your sight of meditation and also spread it throughout your day. Allow go of what you think it ought to look like or exactly how the circumstances could be far better to meditate "flawlessly." When you realize that by just paying even more interest to what is, your view of the world will definitely change for the better.

Learn a natural, simple and easy design of meditation that profits every element of your life with Basics of Meditation, a self-paced on-line training course led by Deepak Chopra. Learn More.

[glittership]

Episode #66: "Tell the Phoenix Fox, Tell the Tortoise Fruit"

Download directly here: 

And here’s the RSS feed: http://glittership.podbean.com/feed/

Episode 66 is a GLITTERSHIP ORIGINAL and part of the Summer 2018 issue!

Support GlitterShip by picking up your copy here: http://www.glittership.com/buy/

  Tell the Phoenix Fox, Tell the Tortoise Fruit

by Cynthia So

  On the day Sunae turned nine years old, there was no joyful feast. A monster burst from the sea that night and ate five people. The Mirayans gathered upon the shore to watch this, as they did every Appeasement. Sunae’s mother covered Sunae’s eyes, but Sunae still heard the screams. The crunch of brittle bone between teeth. The wet gulp of gluttonous throats.

Sunae prayed to the Goddess that the warrior Yomue might rise from the dead and defeat the monster yet again. No warrior came, but a hand grasped Sunae’s and squeezed. A hand as small as her own.

When it was over, Sunae’s mother murmured, “Now we will be safe for another ten years.” She removed her hands from Sunae’s eyes, and Sunae flinched from the gore before her. The older children always said that this was why Miraya’s beaches were pink, but she hadn’t been convinced until she saw the sands now drenched with fresh blood. Dark red on dusk pink.

Full transcript after the cut:

    Hello! Welcome to GlitterShip episode 66 for March 5, 2019. This is your host Keffy, and I’m super excited to share this story with you. Today we have a GlitterShip original, “Tell the Phoenix Fox, Tell the Tortoise Fruit” by Cynthia So and a poem by Chanter, “The Lamentations of Old Money.”

This episode is part of the newest GlitterShip issue, which was just released and… is very late. The “Summer 2018” issue of GlitterShip is available for purchase at glittership.com/buy and on Kindle, Nook, Kobo, and now Gumroad! If you’re one of our Patreon supporters, you should have access to the new issue waiting for you when you log in. For everyone else, it’s $2.99, and all of our back issues are $1.49.

GlitterShip is also a part of the Audible Trial Program. This means that just by listening to GlitterShip, you are eligible for a free 30 day membership on Audible and a free audiobook to keep. If you’er looking for an excellent book of short queer stories to listen to, you should check out Bitter Waters by Chaz Brenchley. This book is full of speculative fiction featuring gay men and was awarded the Lambda Award for best LGBT speculative fiction.

To download Bitter Waters for free today, go to www.audibletrial.com/glittership — or choose another book if you’re in the mood for something else.

Up first, our poem:

  Chanter is a proud Wisconsinite who took flight (alas, not literally) from her originating small town, headed for the big city’s more accepting climes and never looked back.  She’s proudly asexual, demisensual, and some flavor of bi- or panromantic that’s as yet proving difficult to define.  She’s also brand squeaky new (emphasis, occasionally, on squeaky) to official publication.  Besides holding down a day job, she’s an active shortwave radio DXer and ham operator, as well as a crowdfunded author currently based mainly on Dreamwidth.

    The Lamentations of Old Money

by Chanter

  Jennifer doesn��t want a white dress.

She doesn’t want a church, an altar, a tangle of coast-grown flowers, sisters in matching silk, trained doves, stained glass, twenty overlaid colognes and splintering sunlight, rehearsed organ music and recorded pop shorthand warbling through weak speakers, biting April breezes, overthought hair and makeup, snow in hardwood aisles.

Jennifer doesn’t want a wild time.

She doesn’t want hips around shoulders, tools and toys, filthy supplications and hot breath ideas, hours between bedsheets, sticky aftermaths, bruises as tawdry mementos in hard to reach places, hands and mouths, teeth and tongues and fluids, too many entrances, the junctions of legs and legs and legs.

Jennifer doesn’t want hard edges.

Not for her, leashes, spike heels and bad girl pretense. not for her, the bite of too-demanding fingertips grinding at her biceps, cold and bruising at her cheeks, clamped into the flesh of her wrists. Not for her, orders with teeth both behind and in them, whipcracks in voice and deed. Not for her, daddy’s little anything, mommy’s little anything, a schoolgirl’s life, a paddle’s life, princess, flower, whore. Not for her, latex and custom-made chains, iron protocol and a child’s tear-stung punishments, revoked names and Halloween’s expected trappings.

Not for her, anonymity. Not for her, all of the spice and none of the wine to mull with it.

What Jennifer wants?

Fits on a two-sided coin.

One side:

Jennifer wants nights asleep in a hayloft, clothes on, with siblings in arms—and black coffee, and cotton-coarse humor, and blood— to her left and right.

Jennifer wants a uniform, wants honest lamplight with a wick beneath it, wants a hundred songs and a hand-tuned fiddle, a guitar played at a campfire, laces and burlap, branches and homespun wool, antique language, tactile camaraderie, respected rank and unresented ceremony, world-spanning care so personal it can’t be feigned, so simultaneously subtle and frank that it confuses, so elegant it’s genuine, so casual it’s ancient. “To be fair, that one does drive me utterly mad of an afternoon but God be good, dear fellow, why wouldn’t I?”

Jennifer wants a certain amount of ignored anachronism, wants a world where ‘dear fellow’ as affectionate genderless address is just fine, where ‘she’s a good man to have beside you in a fight’ is perfectly acceptable wording, but where the phrase ‘man up’ is both soundly off limits and considered decades or centuries distant, depending; a world where, at the end of the day, it’s quietly acknowledged and otherwise near-forgotten that oh yes, that one there, she’s a girl. As in woman. As in, see also, dame. Noun. Example I: To go to work for the war effort on the road under cover of darkness, on the air for the BBC, or on the battlefield firing decisive cannon blast volleys like a real dame.

Example II: I’m a girl, and mostly, I prefer other dames to fellas. Mostly. But when I don’t, I kinda have a type? Ahem!”

Somewhere, a coin is balancing on its edge.

And the flip side:

Jennifer wants to write a hundred stories and bind them in hard covers, wants modern skirts to her ankles, comfortable jeans and blue corduroy coat sleeves, wants city streets, steel toes and long hair, near-distant clocktower bells, silver jewelry bought by her own hand, in her own name, a rocking chair made to last for decades, a damn fine radio setup, the solid strength of a wooden door at her back after she and she – he and she – they and she after they’ve crashed through it and, fully clothed, battered it closed behind them.

Both sides:

Jennifer wants her wrists pressed flat against that wooden door, all benevolent force, all warmth, all welcome gravity, all burgeoning life in orbit, all the steady strength of a star in symbiosis with a planet. Jennifer wants voices and voices and voices, innocent details and muscle-melting, breath-stealing turns of phrase, sound serving as light serving as lodestone to the iron in every millimeter of her except, except, for a bare and unbared few.

One side:

Jennifer wants the wind at her back, a message, a mission, a reason and a warning, miles and miles and miles rolled out under a sky filled with leaden stars, a purpose and a signal, a gesture, an anticipation of command that tenses her like a bowstring before—wait, wait, wait for it—rush for it— “Fire!”

Both sides:

Jennifer wants to be eager, to be teeming under her skin with silver, wants a reason and a cause and a leader who’s fallible by self-description, near-matchless by others’ accounts, wants to thrill to rank, surname, simple designation, wants to know at exactly what she’s aimed, near-precisely what will happen when she hits and that yes, the trusted, entirely human hands of gravity to a planet are the only hands pulling or perhaps, perhaps, the only hands directing those pulling her string, wants to be entirely, mindfully, consensually willing to be fired like a longbow.

And the flip side:

Jennifer wants to bring a girlfriend home to her parents, wants to curl into accented words like they’re warm compresses and quilts, wants to make promises and keep them, find each others’ keys, play each others’ record collections, brush cat hair off each others’ sweaters, adore and be adored forever, not live together. Jennifer wants to never grow tired of hearing herself say “This is Elaine.” Or “This is Kim.” Or “This is…” “This is my better half.”

Both sides:

Jennifer wants orders that both delight her and fill her with clean purpose, stoking a fire that consumes every inch of her except, except, for the space between her thighs. Jennifer wants the intersection where bravery meets well-placed loyalty. Jennifer wants to know exactly what she’s doing, wants to be utterly sure of her cause, to make up her entire mind, on her own, and then raise her voice and throw herself into the thing with abandon because yes, this is right, this is reason, this is exuberance and happiness and righteous fury blazing, this is bright history, this is justice, this is–

One coin. With two sides.

Jennifer wants the rarity that is liking of, love for, acceptance and welcome of both the existence and the admission of her two sides.

Even when she’s difficult. Even when she’s horrible. Even when she’s irrational. Even when she’s just, so most people would say, plain off baseline weird.

Especially when she’s weird.

All of the wine to mull with all of the spice ground by capable hands. Hands ringed in silver.

Hands at the ends of corduroy sleeves.

The sleeves of a coat that may have, once or twice, been a makeshift pillow in a hayloft.

After a night’s ride.

After a night’s mission.

    Cynthia So is a queer Chinese writer from Hong Kong, living in London. She spent her undergrad crying over poets that have been dead for 2,000 years, give or take. (She’s graduated now, but still crying.) Her short fiction has appeared in Anathema, Arsenika, and Cast of Wonders. She can be found on Twitter @cynaesthete.

Zora Mai Quỳnh is a genderqueer Vietnamese writer whose short stories, poems, and essays can be found in The SEA Is Ours, Genius Loci: The Spirit of Place, POC Destroy Science Fiction, Luminescent Threads: Connections to Octavia Butler, Strange Horizons, and Terraform. Visit her: zmquynh.com. Rivia is a Black and Vietnamese Pansexual Teen who has a passion for reading, video games and music. She says “I’m gender questioning but also questioning whether or not I’m questioning…Isn’t gender just a concept?” You can hear her vocals on Strange Horizon’s podcast for “When she sings…”

  Tell the Phoenix Fox, Tell the Tortoise Fruit

by Cynthia So

      On the day Sunae turned nine years old, there was no joyful feast. A monster burst from the sea that night and ate five people. The Mirayans gathered upon the shore to watch this, as they did every Appeasement. Sunae’s mother covered Sunae’s eyes, but Sunae still heard the screams. The crunch of brittle bone between teeth. The wet gulp of gluttonous throats.

Sunae prayed to the Goddess that the warrior Yomue might rise from the dead and defeat the monster yet again. No warrior came, but a hand grasped Sunae’s and squeezed. A hand as small as her own.

When it was over, Sunae’s mother murmured, “Now we will be safe for another ten years.” She removed her hands from Sunae’s eyes, and Sunae flinched from the gore before her. The older children always said that this was why Miraya’s beaches were pink, but she hadn’t been convinced until she saw the sands now drenched with fresh blood. Dark red on dusk pink.

She looked at the girl next to her, the girl who was holding her hand, and she saw a determination in those eyes as bright as the moon, as bright as her own. A determination to make sure that this would never happen again.

“I’m Oaru,” the girl said. “What’s your name?”

Sunae looked down at their clasped hands and told Oaru her name.

  The Temple of the Moon Goddess is the most beautiful place on the island. There are no straight lines and sharp angles within, but everything is curved and gentle and swooping. Shades of blue deepen as one enters through the front, the colors of twilight intensifying into midnight, accented by silver and broken up by patches of brilliant white that gleam through the dark. A pool of water from the Moon Lake shimmers in the atrium. Frosty glass cut into lunar shapes hang from the ceiling in long, glittering threads.

All of it is flawless craftsmanship, except for the wall of the prayer hall.

The hall is perfectly circular. Spanning a semicircle on the wall is a painting of Yomue, splendid in lustrous armor, wielding a sword as black as her hair and an expression as fierce as the sea. The sand of the Mirayan beach is pink beneath her feet, and she glares at the monster that towers over her. Its writhing, many-headed form is etched into the blackness of the night. The moon hangs above them, solemn and full.

The other half of the wall is blank, its contents effaced and forgotten.

Warrior confronts monster. What’s the rest of the story? Monster leaves island alone for a hundred years. Warrior dies, and monster comes back. It is starved and salivating, with too many teeth. Every ten years, it must be fed.

Is that what was on the other half of the wall?

Sunae’s mother buys her Carrucean books to read, because Carrucean is an important language to learn well. In Carrucean tales, monsters are always slain. Heroes sometimes journey into foreign lands and kill other people’s monsters for them, and they are rewarded with riches and brides and thrones.

Sunae is ten years old, but she knows this: there are Carruceans living in Miraya. Miraya was owned by Carrucea for hundreds of years, and then there was a treaty of some sort not long before Sunae was born, and now Miraya belongs to the Mirayans again.

The Carruceans came here to their island. They governed the island and lived here for centuries, but no Carrucean ever killed the monster for them. Yet here they are on the island still, with their wealth, their power. Their Mirayan wives.

“Mother, have any Carruceans ever been fed to the monster?” Sunae asks.

Her mother frowns. “Can’t we talk about something more cheerful?”

Sunae just wants to know how to defeat the monster. If no Carruceans will come to their aid, then who will?

  The old Library of Miraya is a burnt husk with a blackened facade, secluded from the town and set into the side of a hill, a little way from the Moon Lake. Sunae doesn’t understand why it hasn’t been torn down to make way for something new when fire ravaged it long ago, but perhaps its remote location preserved it. Evidently the Mirayans of yore prized a peaceful reading environment. Sunae can hear nothing of the bustling town here, only a chorus of birds.

She also doesn’t understand why she is letting Oaru drag her into the grim ruins. Inside, the half-collapsed roof lets in some lemony sunlight, but there is an unpleasant smell like overripe tortoise fruit, and rows of charred shelves loom and menace. “It went this way,” Oaru says, and drops to her hands and knees to crawl through a tiny hole in the wall.

Sunae sighs and follows. She gets stuck, her shoulders being broader than Oaru’s, but Oaru wrenches her free with a painful yank. She emerges into a cramped and airless space, illuminated only by the glow of the phoenix fox, which is swishing its enormous tail back and forth, sweeping away layers of ash and dust from the wall behind it.

Sunae coughs, but Oaru grabs her arm excitedly. “There’s something on the wall!”

Oaru leans over the fox and scrubs at the wall with her sleeve, gradually revealing the faded colors of a painting: a woman in an ethereal blue gown, sitting with a brush in her hand. A long scroll of paper unfurls before her, inked in an illegible, swirling script.

“Doesn’t that look a bit like Yomue?” Oaru asks.

It seems impossible that this serene woman should resemble the powerful warrior in the temple, but she does. It’s in the proud tilt of her jaw, maybe. Sunae reaches out and traces the woman’s chin. She has never been permitted to touch the temple mural, though she has longed to.

“What is she doing?” Oaru wonders.

“Writing poetry?” Sunae ventures.

The phoenix fox smirks at her and stretches lazily before slipping out through the hole in the wall, leaving them in absolute darkness. Oaru yelps, “I’ve got to catch that fox!” She tugs at Sunae’s elbow and Sunae reluctantly goes with her. It’s as much a struggle to get out as it was to get in, and the fox is nowhere to be seen by the time Sunae has wriggled through.

  The new Library of Miraya is a clean and functional building, centrally located, right next to the Town Hall. Most of the space is dedicated to Carrucean books, with the Mirayan literature section tucked into a dismal corner. Sunae asks a librarian to help her find Yomue’s poems.

“Yomue wasn’t a poet,” the librarian says, puzzled. “But I can recommend poetry from the same time period. Not much of it survived, what with the old Library burning down… But there is some, and it’s very beautiful. Do you know how to read Classical Mirayan, though?”

In the end, Sunae walks away from the Library with a few books and a leaflet for free Classical Mirayan lessons.

By the time she turns twelve, she has read all the Classical Mirayan poetry that the Library has to offer—and all the modern Mirayan poetry, too.

She tries her hand at writing her own poem. She writes about Yomue and the monster. Yomue’s husband, wrongfully convicted of murdering a man, chained to a pillar on the shore, awaiting his execution. Yomue weeping at his feet. The moon trembling in the sky, the Goddess watching. Yomue dressing herself in armor, carefully lacing her breastplate, looping her belt through the buckle. Whetting her sword and sheathing it. Her hair, tied back with a ribbon given to her by her husband. Her boots hitting the ground, her armor jangling. The monster howling, crashing back into the sea where it nurses its wounds for a hundred years.

Sunae wins a competition at school with this poem, and gets a shiny badge that she pins to her satchel.

She is fourteen, and she writes about nature: trees touching, sands blushing. The ocean embracing the coast. Leaves tender for one another. Mountains asleep next to each other. The moon observing everything.

She is sixteen, and Oaru bets a boy she can beat him in a swordfight. Sunae has watched Oaru practise in her garden every week for five years, first with a toy sword, then with a real one; Oaru is graceful and deft with it where Sunae has always fumbled and flailed.

Oaru and the boy are wearing white clothes and using wooden swords dipped in red paint; the boy soon looks like a bloody mess and yields, while Oaru is still pristine.

“You were amazing,” Sunae says afterwards, as Oaru is cutting into a celebratory tortoise fruit. Oaru waves a slice of it in her face, and Sunae grimaces at its distinct mustiness. “Ew, no thank you.”

“How can you not like tortoise fruit?” Oaru says, shaking her head. “Are you even Mirayan?”

Sunae sticks her tongue out. “It smells like a sweaty armpit and it tastes even worse.”

Oaru eagerly bites into the purple flesh of the fruit. “You should know though, you kind of looked like a tortoise fruit just then, when I wafted it under your nose.”

Sunae blinks at the wrinkled skin of the tortoise fruit in horror. “I looked like that? Don’t be so mean!”

Oaru laughs and nudges her side. “All right, I’m sorry—but hey, do you think I’ll be good enough to defeat the monster someday?”

No. Don’t you dare try. Sunae swallows. Oaru must be the best fighter Miraya has seen in generations. Surely if anyone has a chance to ward off the monster and stop more Appeasements from happening, it’s her. How can Sunae be so selfish as to hold Oaru back for fear of losing her?

She says, “You look so much like Yomue in the temple mural when you’re moving with that sword.”

Oaru’s breath catches, and Sunae suddenly understands what it is she has really been trying to write poetry about all this time. They are alone in Sunae’s bedroom, and Sunae kisses Oaru. There is tortoise fruit on Oaru’s tongue, cloying and bitter, but Sunae doesn’t scrunch up her nose. She doesn’t mind at all.

“That has to be the boldest thing you’ve ever done,” Oaru whispers, her lips soft and purpled, her hair mussed by Sunae’s hands.

“I guess you inspired me,” Sunae says, and Oaru grins and grips Sunae’s arms.

“Remember that time I tried to catch the phoenix fox?”

Sunae nods. Every day she thinks of the painted woman lit by the phoenix-fox fire. The nameless poet buried in the rubble, her face so strangely like Yomue’s. Sunae returned to the shadowy wreckage of the old Library once, but she has grown and can no longer contort herself to fit through that hole in the wall.

“I wanted to give the fox to you,” Oaru says.

Oh.

It is a Mirayan custom for young men to present phoenix foxes to girls they wish to marry. This fact had utterly escaped ten-year-old Sunae, who merely assumed that Oaru wanted the fox as a pretty pet.

Sunae raises her eyebrows, stroking Oaru’s cheek with her thumb. “You already wanted to marry me when you were ten?”

Oaru shrugs. “I didn’t know then, what it meant. I only knew I wanted to be your friend forever. But now I know what it actually means, for me to want to marry you.” Her eyes are serious, like a cloud veiling the moon.

It means we could both be a part of the next Appeasement if anyone finds out. Sunae closes her eyes against the thought and kisses Oaru again.

Sunae is eighteen and she is awarded a scholarship to study at the University of Wimmore, one of Carrucea’s world-famous institutions. If she takes the scholarship, she will be absent from Miraya for a year. She will be absent from Miraya on the day of the next Appeasement.

Tell me what else there is, she pleads with the impassive image of Yomue on the wall, as everyone else in the prayer hall lifts their cupped hands repeatedly to their faces in the traditional gesture of worship. Tell me.

Because if there is more to the story than a swordfight, then maybe she can convince Oaru not to risk her life. And if she has to go to Carrucea to find the answers, she will.

At the end of the prayer session, when people are either shuffling off or lingering to socialize, Sunae tells Oaru about the scholarship.

“It’s stupid that you have to go to Carrucea to learn more about this island, our island that we’ve been living on our whole lives.” Oaru spits the words, and her frustration echoes in the chambers of Sunae’s heart.

“I know.” Sunae wants to run her hands through Oaru’s hair to comfort her, but it would be foolish to show such affection in public. She wants to hold Oaru’s hand, but they are not children anymore. They will not get away with it, not here where everyone can see. “Just promise me that you won’t try and take on the monster when the Appeasement comes. Please. You’re not ready.” I’m not ready.

“I promise.” Oaru’s voice sounds fervent with honesty.

Sunae hopes she has known Oaru for long enough to tell when she is lying.

  The Moon Lake is luminous as a heart that brims full with emotion, and Sunae stands at the edge and dips her toes in.

Oaru is naked in the water, moonlight dripping from her hair. Oaru wears a smile like a phoenix fox’s, sly and burning through Sunae. Oaru’s arms are muscled and impatient and open wide.

“Come on, Sunae.”

Sunae’s fingers hover over the knot that ties the sash around her waist. “You’re breaking the law,” she whispers.

Oaru wades closer to Sunae. She lifts the hem of Sunae’s gown and kisses Sunae’s ankles. “We’ve been breaking the law for a long time, tortoise fruit,” she says, her dark eyes looking up into Sunae’s. “When has that ever stopped you?” She leaves wet handprints on the skirt of Sunae’s gown, droplets trickling down the backs of Sunae’s calves. “Who knows when we’ll get to do this again?”

I’ll only be away for a year, Sunae thinks, but Oaru’s eyes are darker than fire-scorched walls, and Sunae knows it will be the longest year of their lives.

She loosens the knot. Her gown joins Oaru’s in a careless heap on the sandy bank, and soon her body twines with Oaru’s in the water. Mist forms around them, as though the Goddess herself wishes to hide them away from the world.

  Let’s skip ahead for a moment. It is Sunae’s nineteenth birthday, and she is chained to a pillar on the pink shore of Miraya. Her lover Oaru is shackled to a different pillar. They cannot touch or kiss each other. The monster is about to rear its ugly heads from the sea, and Sunae is crying, but she is speaking. She is reciting a poem she wrote, and I am watching, as I always have. I am listening.

So how did they get here?

  Sunae sits on the steps of a lofty sandstone building, shivering in the wind and eating a whole tortoise fruit by herself.

She has been studying in Wimmore for four months, and she hasn’t made a single friend. The light in Wimmore is muted and cold, the streets narrow and grey, the houses foreboding and tall. People laugh at her accent. The dresses fashionable here are too tight, and she can never get enough air into her lungs.

The air tastes nothing of salt, anyway. She misses the sea.

She runs her fingers over the tough, knobbly green rind of the fruit. Her professor had bought it for the class to try—an expensive import from Miraya, not easily purchased. The others in her class had squealed over how disgusting the fruit looked and smelled as Dr. Janner was dissecting it like a corpse, and Sunae thought of Oaru’s teeth tearing into a wedge of tortoise fruit. Oaru’s tongue stained purple by its juice.

Sunae had stood up, gathered the massive fruit in her arms as though it were a baby and marched out of the classroom. And now she is sitting on rain-wet stone and chewing miserably.

How Oaru would tease her, if Oaru were here.

A girl sits down next to her. Talia from her class, with wheat-colored curls flattened in the drizzle. “You really like tortoise fruit, huh?” Talia says.

“I hate it,” Sunae says.

“Let me try a bit, will you?”

Sunae gives her a small slice and she takes a tentative bite. “Hmm, it tastes a lot better than it smells. Definitely not the texture I was expecting, though. It’s… squidgy?” She finishes the slice, throws the rind over her shoulder, and grabs another immediately.

Sunae smiles. She thinks it must be the first time she has smiled since she set foot in Wimmore. “You like it more than I do, then.”

“So what are you doing out here eating something you hate and crying?” Talia asks, squinting. “Don’t tell me that’s just the rain.”

“It’s not just the rain,” Sunae says, rubbing a hand over her face. “It’s just… It’s what a friend calls me. Tortoise fruit.”

“An affectionate nickname?” Talia turns the piece of wrinkly rind over in her hand. “Is it a cute boy who’s waiting for you at home?”

Sunae hesitates. “Um. Not a boy.” And then, to distract Talia from fixating on that, she launches into an account of everything that’s been overwhelming her. She explains that the next Appeasement is happening soon, and that she has been trying to conduct research into the history and literature of Miraya to see if she can find any clues as to how Yomue defeated the monster last time and why the monster came back, but she still hasn’t found anything useful.

“I just want to find another way,” Sunae says. “I don’t want my friend to do anything rash. I don’t want to lose her.”

Talia presses her shoulder gently against Sunae’s. “One of my ancestors was part of the first expedition to Miraya. We have an attic full of things left behind by various family members. We’ve never managed to go through all of it properly, but you’re welcome to come and have a look.”

This is how Sunae finds herself cross-legged on the dusty floor of Talia’s ridiculously big attic, cross-eyed after three continuous days of rifling through boxes of miscellanea in dim light, unable to believe what she’s looking at.

It’s a roughly colored sketch of Yomue the warrior, copied from the temple wall. Sword and monster and moon. And beneath that, a sketch of Yomue again—a woman dressed in the same armor, holding not a sword but a scroll open in her hands. Next to her is something a little like a mirror, or a full moon: a vast circle, shaded in silver. Within it coils a spiral shadow.

Sunae isn’t sure how to interpret this, but she knows that this Yomue and the painted poet in the old Library are one and the same.

She rummages through the rest of the box which contained the sketches, and her hand touches worn leather. She pulls it out of the box and it falls open on her lap, yellowed pages crammed with neat handwriting.

It’s a diary.

  “Why do all you rich Carruceans have stuff just lying around in your attic that I’ve only been searching for my entire life?” Sunae mutters under her breath to Talia, who is sitting next to her at this dinner. She clenches her fist around her fork.

“Well, at least now you can read Yomue’s poetry!” Talia whispers back.

Dr. Sotkin, a dear friend of Dr. Janner, carries on explaining to everyone how he recovered the lost manuscript of Yomue’s poems when he was cleaning out his grandfather’s house after his grandfather recently passed away. Sunae saws away at her chunk of boiled beef.

“I’ll be publishing a translation later this year,” Dr. Sotkin announces.

Sunae takes a sip of water and a deep breath. “What kind of poetry is it?” she asks, proud of how calm and polite she sounds.

“Sadly, it only survives in fragments, but I’ve brought a copy of some of them to share with all of you as a preview.” Dr. Sotkin digs in his bag and retrieves a sheaf of papers. “I believe Dr. Janner told me you can all read Classical Mirayan?”

“Some of us better than others,” Talia murmurs to Sunae, and Sunae hides a smile behind her napkin. Some of the boys in their class seem to be getting by with barely any knowledge of Mirayan. Sunae assumes it must be their wealth that passes their exams for them.

She takes the sheet that Dr. Sotkin offers to her and scans it quickly. Her mind whirls dizzily and she pushes away her plate and reads the fragment again, more slowly this time. And again.

She closes her eyes and envisions the inscrutable moon in the night sky to steady herself. Dr. Sotkin is saying something about a man that Yomue is drinking with. “She compares her love for this man to the Moon Lake—a blessing that glimmers on and on.”

Sunae hands the sheet to Talia and holds onto the edge of the table. “Dr. Sotkin,” she says, and she isn’t able to sound calm anymore. Her voice quavers. “I don’t believe Yomue is talking about a man. I know it’s only a fragment, but it’s clear from the grammar that she’s writing about a woman.”

Dr. Sotkin frowns. “Did you not hear when I said that this is a love poem?”

“Yes, I know, and I believe that Yomue’s beloved is a woman.”

“That’s preposterous. It’s simply impossible.”

“You think it’s impossible that Yomue loved another woman?”

“What you are speaking of is highly illegal and punishable by death, young lady,” Dr. Sotkin sniffs. In both Miraya and Carrucea, yes—Sunae is extremely aware. “Are we to believe that Yomue shared these poems with the public and was not executed for her sins?”

“Well, she warded off the monster, so there were no Appeasements—”

Dr. Sotkin tugs haughtily at his cravat. “You do realize that it is possible to execute people without feeding them to a monster as you barbarians love to do?”

“Love?” Sunae’s voice is shrill to her own ears; drums thunder in her ribcage. “You think we love having to feed people to a monster every ten years to keep it from destroying our whole island?”

Dr. Sotkin’s face is pink as the sand on Miraya’s beaches. “I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

“Yes,” Dr. Janner joins in. “Sunae, your behavior of late has been extremely rude and disruptive and I’m afraid we cannot tolerate this. Dr. Sotkin is the foremost expert on Classical Mirayan and he will not be insulted by your bumbling reading of this poem.”

“But she’s right!” Talia protests, jabbing at the sheet of paper. “Dr. Janner, Sunae’s right. Look at this line here.”

“It’s all right,” Sunae says, putting her hand on Talia’s arm. “I’m leaving.”

  Sunae’s head is still spinning from the fragment of Yomue’s poetry. It was so much like the poems that she has been writing about Oaru, folded into envelopes and sent across the ocean to her lover. One was about the glow of sweat and moon-water on Oaru’s skin, the night they drifted together in the Moon Lake, the last night they spent together.

And now, this letter from her mother. She sinks to the floor of the post room and clutches her knees. She is going to be sick.

The door creaks open. She looks up and Talia is there. “I’m so sorry,” Talia says. “You were such a fearsome warrior back there, speaking up to Sotkin like that. He’s utterly dreadful. Janner, too. I want to lock them both up in my attic and never let them out. Janner revoked your scholarship but he hasn’t even tried to suspend me.”

Sunae stares at Talia and cannot speak. Talia doesn’t know about the letter yet. She thinks Sunae is just upset about what happened at the dinner, but the world is crumbling at Sunae’s feet and Talia has no idea.

A smile stretches across Talia’s face. “Can you believe your legendary Yomue’s one of us?”

Sunae’s shoulders loosen a little. “One of us?”

“One of us,” Talia repeats and holds her hand out to Sunae, and Sunae understands. Instead of taking Talia’s hand, she lifts up the letter and gives it to Talia.

Talia reads it and is speechless, too. She sits down next to Sunae and together they watch the flickering light bulb. It is no moon, but it soothes, somehow.

Eventually, Talia asks, “When is the next Appeasement? Will you make it back in time?”

“If I leave at dawn, I might,” Sunae says, hoarsely.

“You’ll be arrested too if you go back, won’t you?”

Sunae nods.

“But you’re definitely going.”

Sunae nods again.

“Good luck,” Talia whispers. “If you don’t die, write me a poem. You have my address.”

She kisses Sunae’s forehead.

  Sunae crosses the ocean home. She prays to the Goddess. She prays to Yomue.

She writes.

  Which is what brings us here, to Sunae’s nineteenth birthday, and Sunae and Oaru on the beach where they first met ten years ago. “I love you,” Sunae says to Oaru. There is white sea-spray in Oaru’s windblown hair, and if Sunae’s plan doesn’t succeed, she wants this to be the last thing she ever sees.

She closes her eyes. The waves lap the shore. Her lungs are full of salt air. The moon caresses her face with its white light.

She opens her mouth.

The truth comes out.

Sunae wrote that silly poem when she was twelve, where I saved my husband from the monster. I laughed when I heard her read it to her classmates. Now she is a much better poet, and she has learnt so much—from sketches and diaries and mistranslated fragments—and this is what she tells the Mirayans.

Four hundred years ago, Yomue loved another woman, and they had flowers and wine and stars; they chased phoenix foxes together in the valleys. They ate tortoise fruit and kissed each other’s mouths purple. They wrapped themselves in moonlight.

Yomue was skilled with the sword, but even more skilled with words, and she was the Goddess’ favorite. She could not stand by and watch a monster kill more people in her town. She wove a spell out of poetry and enchanted the monster, led it to the Moon Lake where it slumbered for as long as she lived, and longer, because she taught others the poem.

But the Carruceans came; they brought their laws with them, and they knew how powerful fear was. How to control a people with it. Fire bloomed in the Library; in the temple, fresh paint dried on the wall. Yomue the poet was erased from history. The monster was awoken, and anyone who caused trouble could be thrown into its devouring jaws.

“Now you tell me I cannot love Oaru.

  We chase a phoenix fox that Yomue tamed once,

Reborn from the ashes of the Library.

It hides poems in its fur.

Tell the phoenix fox I cannot love Oaru.

  We eat tortoise fruit grown from centuries-old trees,

Roots as deep as our island.

It hides poems in its rind.

Tell the tortoise fruit I cannot love Oaru.

  We bathe in the Moon Lake Yomue drank from,

Water sacred to the Goddess.

It hides poems in its bed.

Tell the Moon Lake I cannot love Oaru.

  Tell the Goddess I cannot love Oaru.

Tell Yomue. Tell her and the woman she loved.

Go back in time and bind her to this pillar and

Tell her she was wrong.”

  The monster rises out of the sea, torrents of water cascading from its back.

Oaru was arrested because of Sunae’s poetry. Because Oaru’s father found the incriminating poems, because Sunae had sent so many and they overflowed, spilled, flooded Oaru’s room. Poems alight with the memories of all that Oaru and Sunae did together, all the times they were wide-eyed travelers in the landscape of each other’s bodies, all the smoldering hearths they built in the secret corners of each other’s hearts.

The monster bellows and the earth quakes and Sunae is not afraid. She knows she is not the first who has been here. She is not the first who has done this.

  “Let her tell you she is me.

Let her open her mouth and

Sing the monster to sleep

Again.”

  Sunae’s pores still have the magic blessing of moon-water in them, and I am with her. Through her, I sing. I was here, like her. I loved, like her. I fought the monster and won, and she will, too.

  If you visit the Temple of Moon Goddess today, you will see this scene painted alongside my mural in the prayer hall:

The monster walks spellbound across the island, and the Mirayans walk with it, every one of their faces slack with awe. Sunae leads them, freed from her shackles.

She holds Oaru’s hand.

  END

  “The Lamentations of Old Money” is copyright Chanter 2019.

“Tell the Phoenix Fox, Tell the Tortoise Fruit” is copyright Cynthia So 2019.

This recording is a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives license which means you can share it with anyone you’d like, but please don’t change or sell it. Our theme is “Aurora Borealis” by Bird Creek, available through the Google Audio Library.

You can support GlitterShip by checking out our Patreon at patreon.com/keffy, subscribing to our feed, or by leaving reviews on iTunes. You can also pick up a free audio book by going to www.audibletrial.com/glittership or buying your own copy of the Summer 2018 issue at www.glittership.com/buy

Thanks for listening, and we’ll be back soon with a reprint of “Instar” by Carrow Narby.

Episode #66: “Tell the Phoenix Fox, Tell the Tortoise Fruit” was originally published on GlitterShip

[randomsofmine]

March Wrap Up 2017

A good reading month. There were a few ok books but that was balanced by some excellent books. In total I read 16 books and completed 1 book carried over from February. That worked out to 4586 pages read, which makes March my second best reading month so far. I also completed my Goodreads reading goal of 50 books. I don’t think I want to change the number, I might just keep it at 50 and see how far above my goal I get. My reading is going to change soon as my job role will be changing which means less time to listen to audiobooks so that will affect my years total. I also plan on spending April reading all my biggest books on my tbr pile. This is inspired by Tome Topple, a readathon created by @thoughtsontomes which will be taking place this month (for more information please see here). Looking forward to diving into some really chunky books.

Stiff: The Curious Lives of Human Cadavers by Mary Roach I am a science geek. My degree is in forensic science. So this sort of book is endlessly interesting to me. And it was brilliant. Scientific to satisfy my geek side but also extremely approachable and with a bit of humor. It looks at how cadavers are used for science (currently and historically). There were some bits that were gross (don’t eat while reading some parts of this) but overall it was fascinating and gave me a lot to think about. I will definitely be picking up more of her books. 4/5

Hidden Figures: The American Dream and the Untold Story of the Black Women Mathematicians Who Helped Win the Space Race by Margot Lee Shetterly I don’t think this needs explanation. I wanted to read the book before seeing the movie. These women's contributions not only to science but also to the different communities around them are truly inspiring. The book itself was very good, the jumps in timelines were a little jarring but I was always able to pick up what was going on. Ad it had some excellent space science information. 3.5/5

Wizard of Oz by L.Frank Baum This was way darker than I remembered.I didn’t enjoy it as much as I did when I was younger or as much as the Judy Garland adaptation.Dorothy was a tad annoying. 3/5

The Bridgertons by Julia Quinn

The Viscount Who Loved Me 4/5

The Viscount Who Loved Me: The Epilogue II 3.5/5

Continuing my read through of Julia Quins works.Sweet and funny,romance candy.

A Quick Bite by Lynsay Sands Urban paranormal romance.I picked this up as a re-read (according to Goodreads) and thought I knew what this was about. I think Goodreads is wrong.I do not believe I have ever read this book before.It was not the book I thought it was (which I now need to find). It was ok. Not great. Some of the dialogue was a bit cringe worthy. 2.5/5

The Lady Helen Mysteries by Alison Goodman

Lusus Naturae: A Lord Carlston Story 3/5

The Dark Days Pact 4/5

A novella and sequel to last years The Dark Days Club. The novella was fine, I don’t think it added anything. It was the meeting between the two main characters, from Lord Carlston’s prospective. The Dark Days Pact was an excellent sequel. Just as on the edge of your seat as the first book. Lady Helen is still learning her role, what that really means and how to live with it within respectable society. It ended on a cliffhanger and I can’t wait till next year for the 3rd book.

Hope and Red (Empire of Storms, book 1) by Jon Skovron This was amazing and will definitely be going on my favourite list for this year. Its a sci-fi fantasy with pirates and science experiments. Thats the easiest way to describe it. Its dark and a bit bloody and fast paced. Theres a lot of in-built slang but you can pick up the meaning quite easy. The characters are fascinating and I felt the main characters were quite unique.  5/5

Star Wars Rogue One: The Ultimate Visual Guide by Pablo Hidalgo I picked this up at the Star Wars Identity exhibition. Its a coffee table book about Rogue One. It’s incredibly detailed. You get minute details about characters, worlds, ships and weapons. There were character details about characters that appeared for a minute or two in the movie. A prefect gift for the Star Wars nerd. I enjoyed it so much. 5/5

Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them by J.K Rowling This was the audio version of the book, as read by Eddie Redmayne. This was just pure comfort reading. He is an excellent narrator and the book was full of interesting tidbits about the creatures from the Harry Potter world. 4/5

The Truth (Discworld, book ) by Terry Pratchett Newspapers and journalists come to the Discworld! This was another fun adventure with a tongue in cheek poke at journalism. We had the opportunity to view the Night Watch from the outside and met a few new characters that I think come back in later books. 4/5

The Fault in Our Stars by John Green This was another re-read (although via an audiobook this time). The first time I read this I loved it and was an emotional mess by the end. This time round I still enjoyed it nut knowing what was going to happen and being able to recognise the books flaws did diminish my enjoyment a bit 3.5/5

The Lord of The Rings by J.R.R.Tolkien

The Two Towers 5/5

The Return of The King 5/5

Continuing my re-read of Tolkiens work, I carried over Two Towers from the previous month and completed Return of The KIng. I always forget exactly how long Return of the King takes to end. That would be my only complaint. The world building and the writing are beautifully done. I will be reading The Silmarillion and The Unfinished Tales this year but I’m putting them on hold to read The Complete Sherlock Holmes stories with a friend.

Vampire Academy 10th Anniversary Edition (Vampire Academy series, book 1.5) by Richelle Mead This was a bind up of the first book in the series and 3 novelleas. I read the novellas as I only finished the series last year and wasn’t in the mood for a re-read. They were all pretty good. I think the 3rd one was my favourite because... well of Dimitri. 3.5/5

After Alice by  Gregory Maguire I still have no idea of what to make of this book. It really should have been in two parts. One part the elder sister of Alice’s story and the other Ada’s adventures. I could have done with being able to skip the elder sisters story which was hard to do as the chapters alternated sometimes. I didn’t really enjoy that bit, it made the book drag for me and was a bit pointless. Ada’s adventures were pure Carroll-esque. They were bonkers and zany and full of known characters. I don’t know if this books adds anything to the Wonderland world, like Wicked did for the Oz world, but it was an interesting read.3/5

[coffeeandcalligraphy]

February Goals Update

Hey People of Earth!

Another month has come and gone, I see...

Let’s just get straight into this, shall we?

1. Map out even more of the spinoff.

Lol. This shouldn’t even be a goal because it’s not even much work for me. I love mapping out this book so, so much. This is a definite win! I’ve even started a scene list, and am planning a how I outline post soonish... As soon as the spinoff’s outline is done, I’ll get on it! But yes, great start!

2. Finish editing the final chapters of FOSTERED #4

Oh guys, I did this. And I did it quickly too. I finished the edits for this book in one night because they were so fun to do. Thing I’ve learned after a year of doing edits on I’M DISAPPOINTED: line edits are SO fun. I think this might be my third favourite part of the writing process behind drafting and note-taking.

Here’s a picture I took because this was straight-up the most atmospheric writing/editing session that I’ve had to date.

3. Title FOSTERED #4 (at long laaaaaaaaaaaast)

Mwahahaha. MWAHAHAHAAHHAHAHA. I did this pretty early on. FOSTERED #4 is officially now HOLLOWED.

(If I could go back and tell 13-year-old Rachel not to choose past tense verbs as titles, I would. Just rollin’ with it at this point.)

4. Design FOSTERED #4′s book cover, and have it printed out through CreateSpace

Okay, I’ll be honest with you guys, I did not think I would actually do this. I thought this was too ambitious, and that I was biting off more than I could chew. But I literally did this SO quickly. I did this in the super early days of February! I now have the paperback sitting on my bookshelf.

It doesn’t really match the others because I designed it five months after I redesigned books 1-3, and my graphic design style has since improved (at least, I think so LOL). The cover itself had to match the others though, so it’s still (cringily) done in the same style. So many things I wish I could change, but ohhhhhh well...

5. ENJOY BATES MOTEL SEASON FIVE

NORMAAAAAAAAN.

Guys, was this even a QUESTION? The premiere for season five was EPIC. I’m so, so excited for this week’s episode.

(If you don’t watch Bates Motel, watch Bates Motel. Watch it now.)

6. Read a book yo

Finished Kristen Cashore’s BITTERBLUE in audiobook format again for the third time... The audiobook version of this novel is INCREDIBLE. I re-read BITTERBLUE back in November-ish and loved it even more than I did when I read it in 2014. I’ve had such a major book hangover since finishing the book a couple months ago, so listening to it again was SUCH AN EXPERIENCE. I love this novel, gahhhhhhhhhhhhh. I loved the audiobook so much, I destroyed it in a week. It’s sixteen and a half hours long.

No regrets.

I would do it again.

Such a good book.

Audiobooks are so good. God bless Audible.

7. Start and finish chapters 1+2 of FOSTERED #5

I got this done. More on this below.

Okay, that’s it! I completed every single goal this month...

I think this monthly goals thing works the best for me, lol.

I’ll be honest with you guys, February was a lot harder than I initially thought it would be. Really, I thought it was going to be super easy because The Semester From Hell was over. And while my classes have been SO insanely easy, I’ve entered a Canada-wide competition for graphic design through my school and that’s been a smidgen stressful. Not nearly as stressful as last semester though.

I’ve been kind of out of routine, to be perfectly honest. From September to January, I was used to coming home, relaxing for an hour, getting ready for the evening, doing my homework for 3-4 hours, then writing on and off. That was my routine. And now that I don’t ever have any homework (I shit you not, I have not had homework at all), my routine’s become a little skewed. It’s like I don’t know what to do with all the time I have. I haven’t written nearly as much as I’m used to. To be honest, I wrote MORE when I had zero time than I have now.

I’m around 9k words into FOSTERED #5 (I’m sorry, bear with me with this no name thing), and that’s not that good considering I’ve had SO MUCH TIME. Seriously, I can’t express how much time I’ve had. I think I’m just not used to having so much time that I’ve reverted to somehow not writing until 9 or 10 or not writing at all.

(I know. It’s weird.)

Plus, this past week as been devoted to editing I’M DISAPPOINTED and working on my submission for the OTSC (!!).

I’ll probably go more in depth with this in my writing update, but to conclude: I’m out of the loop. I’m winning in terms of time, and losing in terms of productivity.

(And yes, I know, says the girl who just completed every one of her goals. I’m an extreme workaholic and productivity is incredibly important to me. Being dormant frustrates me.)

I haven’t had this much time to write since grade eight. Which was almost three years ago...

I’m pretty out of it.

I think I need to make a writing schedule, and from there, get back on track. Hopefully I can start with that in March.

Alright, I don’t want to go in depth with all of this for this post, so keep an eye out for the writing update!

As for the goals I have for March:

1. Hit 20k words in FOSTERED #5

2. Read another book yo

3. Enjoy the hell out of Ed’s new album, and Dylan in 13 Reasons Why

(AKA Dylan Minnette from The Narwhals, my favourite band ever, thanks for letting me have that fangirl moment you’re the best moving on.)

4. Map out more of THE WORDS THAT BIND US

5. Finish ALANNIS’ (the spinoff) scene list

6. Learn a new song on the guitar.

You know, I really want to do this... I've learned all of If You Leave on the acoustic (save for Winter and Touch, since I can’t find tabs and am definitely not skilled enough to learn by ear lol), except for Still. I know the beginning bit, but would like to learn the rest, so maybe that’s what I’ll do... And then I know all (kind of) of the album... Might even do this tonight...

7. Start an outline for ALANNIS.

Okay I think that’s it...

So that’s all for now! Thanks for reading. :)

--Rachel

[thebookwormscornerblogspot]

The Bite That Binds- Suzanne Wright - Audiobook Review.

The Bite That Binds- Suzanne Wright - Audiobook Review. Audiobook Review. @suz_wright #Review #TheBiteThatBinds #DeepInYourVeinsSeries #Vampires #SupernaturalRomance #Fantasy #SuzanneWright #JustineEyre #PJOchlan #Audiobook

Synopsis

It’s just over a week until Sam will be Binding with Jared, and the only thing she wants is to spend that time relaxing and preparing for the ceremony. Unfortunately, she seems to be asking too much of fate, because suddenly she’s lumbered with a number of distractions that have the potential to postpone, or even cancel, the Binding. There’s a guarded fiancé to crack, a complicated…

[books-n-wine]

~**~ Audiobook Review: Archangel’s Viper (Guild Hunter #10) by Nalini Singh. Narrated by Justine Eyre. ~**~

***5 ‘Menace & Trouble’ Stars***

Here are a couple of truth’s before starting this review.

I’m a total fangirl of Nalini Singh’s.

The Guild Hunter series is that series I listen too at least twice a year.

I’ve listened to Archangel’s Viper three times in a row and will probably continue to listen to it a few more times before my mind decides to give it a rest.

So with all of that stated it’s pretty obvious that I absolutely ADORED this book and all that happened in it, even crazy parts, but then again I knew I would. Ever since seeing Holly and Venom together in Archangel’s Blade I had that gut feeling that they would make the perfect, snarky, ‘other’ pair...as long as they didn’t kill each other in the process and when it was announced that there were going to be each other’s mates I swear I did a full on happy dance and I wasn’t disappointed in any way. It was all kinds of snarky and sassy fun with a huge dose of heart and drama that could only work in the intricate and deadly world of the Guild Hunter.

I was pleasantly surprised by the Holly I got to know in this book because when we last spent any time with her she was still pushing boundaries and trying to come to terms with what Uram had done to her and what her future would hold. In AV, she is still working on coming to terms with it, but she is more focused and grounded and not lashing out like a hormonal teenager. The snark and sass are still presented, and I thank the powers that be that they were, but I loved seeing the compassionate and thoughtful side of the woman who had a purpose beyond simple survival.

While I’ve always been intrigued with Venom, I will admit that it never got to the same level as that of Bluebell and Sparkle because while I loved his verbal barbs the emotional gut punch was never there to learn more about him but that all changed with this book. I was totally sucked into the vortex that is Venom. I loved how he never pulled his verbal punches and how much of the time they weren’t meant to wound, but to force their target to acknowledge the truths that he could see much more clearly than others expected and ones they were trying to avoid. But more than that it was the opportunity to finally get to see the heart that lay behind the sunglass and viper’s eyes, because that heart was much more compassionate and genuine than I ever thought possible.

As for their journey to their HEA. I expected the snark and was very happy that even as their antagonistic relationship evolved it that aspect never went away, but changed with them. What I was surprised by, pleasantly so, was the mutual respect they gave each other and how much they simply enjoyed being in the others company. That made it so easy to see how well they fit together and really needed to spend eternity with one another because there really was no one else in the world that could put up with either one of them. Their romance is a slow build one, but absolutely satisfying in every way possible.

I loved hanging out with the unique and crazy cast of characters that make up the Guild Hunter world whether they be members of the Seven, the Guild or those that are aligned with them in a mish mash of ways. It was fun to get a deeper understanding of the ties that bind them all together and getting updates on almost everyone. I’m quite interested to see where Ms. Singh will take the series with the way that both Archangel’s Heart and Archangel’s Viper ended since a couple of main storylines have been either ended or at least paused for now. I, like most, am dying for Bluebell and Sparkle to get there own books, but I’m all for making sure it’s the right time for their stories to be revealed.

As for the narrator, Justine Eyre. She is absolutely fabulous. I love the cadence and tenor of her voice and how she brings each character to life. She is spot on with each accent she performs and truly brings the emotions the characters are feeling to life.

Enter New York Times bestselling author Nalini Singh’s breathtakingly passionate Guild Hunter world with the story of a woman who isn’t a vampire or an angel…or human…

Once a broken girl known as Sorrow, Holly Chang now prowls the shadowy gray underground of the city for the angels. But it’s not her winged allies who make her a wanted woman—it’s the unknown power coursing through her veins. Brutalized by an insane archangel, she was left with the bloodlust of a vampire, the ability to mesmerize her prey, and a poisonous bite.

Now, someone has put a bounty on her head…

Venom is one of the Seven, Archangel Raphael’s private guard, and he’s as infuriating as he is seductive. A centuries-old vampire, his fangs dispense a poison deadlier than Holly’s. But even if Venom can protect Holly from those hunting her, he might not be able to save himself—because the strange, violent power inside Holly is awakening…

No one is safe.

Release Date: September 26th, 2017

Goodreads | Audible | Amazon | B&N | Kobo | Google Play | iBooks

I've been writing as long as I can remember and all of my stories always held a thread of romance (even when I was writing about a prince who could shoot lasers out of his eyes). I love creating unique characters, love giving them happy endings and I even love the voices in my head. There's no other job I would rather be doing. In September 2002, when I got the call that Silhouette Desire wanted to buy my first book, Desert Warrior, it was a dream come true. I hope to continue living the dream until I keel over of old age on my keyboard.

Website | Facebook | Goodreads | Twitter | Instagram

[amoy71184-blog]

Read / Download The Establishment: And How They Get Away with It by Owen Jones Ebook in PDF or Epub

Download PDF The Establishment: And How They Get Away with It by Owen Jones EBook [Read Online] Simple Way to Read Online or Download The Establishment: And How They Get Away with It by Owen Jones Link : http://filtow.com/book-item/23120225-the-establishment.html Click & Download Your Book Book Overview: In The Establishment Owen Jones, author of the international bestseller Chavs, offers a biting critique of the British Establishment and a passionate plea for democracy Behind our democracy lurks a powerful but unaccountable network of people who wield massive power and reap huge profits in the process. In exposing this shadowy and complex system that dominates our lives, Owen Jones sets out on a journey into the heart of our Establishment, from the lobbies of Westminster to the newsrooms, boardrooms and trading rooms of Fleet Street and the City. Exposing the revolving doors that link these worlds, and the vested interests that bind them together, Jones shows how, in claiming to work on our behalf, the people at the top are doing precisely the opposite. In fact, they represent the biggest threat to our democracy today - and it is time they were challenged. Owen Jones may have the face of a baby and the voice of George Formby but he is our generation's Orwell and we must cherish him (Russell Brand) This is the most important book on the real politics of the UK in my lifetime, and the only one you will ever need to read. You will be enlightened and angry (Irvine Welsh) Owen Jones displays a powerful combination of cool analysis and fiery anger in this dissection of the profoundly and sickeningly corrupt state that is present-day Britain. He is a fine writer, and this is a truly necessary book (Philip Pullman). This book is one of best seller books in the world. Many of people very interesting to read this book. So, your life will be regret if you never read this book on your life. BEST The Establishment: And How They Get Away with It by Owen Jones PDF. B.O.O.K The Establishment: And How They Get Away with It by Owen Jones ePub. Book The Establishment: And How They Get Away with It by Owen Jones DOC. R.e.a.d The Establishment: And How They Get Away with It by Owen Jones WORD. B.O.O.K The Establishment: And How They Get Away with It by Owen Jones PPT. Free The Establishment: And How They Get Away with It by Owen Jones TXT. B.O.O.K The Establishment: And How They Get Away with It by Owen Jones Ebook. Ebook The Establishment: And How They Get Away with It by Owen Jones Kindle. BEST! The Establishment: And How They Get Away with It by Owen Jones Rar. Best The Establishment: And How They Get Away with It by Owen Jones Zip. !BEST The Establishment: And How They Get Away with It by Owen Jones Mobi Online. Best! The Establishment: And How They Get Away with It by Owen Jones Audiobook Online. D.o.w.n.l.o.a.d The Establishment: And How They Get Away with It by Owen Jones Review Online. Best The Establishment: And How They Get Away with It by Owen Jones Read Online. B.e.s.t The Establishment: And How They Get Away with It by Owen Jones Download Online.