#about;imani graves

[gypsybelladonna]

tag drop for imani graves

[byneddiedingo]

Homayoun Ershadi in Taste of Cherry (Abbas Kiarostami, 1997)

Cast: Homayoun Ershadi, Safar Ali Moradi, Mir Hossein Noori, Abdolrahman Bagheri, Afshin Khorshid Bakhtiari, Elham Imani. Screenplay: Abbas Kiarostami. Cinematography: Homayun Payvar. Film editing: Abbas Kiarostami.  

Taste of Cherry won the Palme d'Or at Cannes and has a host of admirers, but  Roger Ebert found it "excruciatingly boring" and listed it as one of his "most hated films" on his web site. Having seen the film and read the review, I have to wonder if Ebert was in the wrong mood when he saw and wrote about it. I saw it in relaxed anticipation and found it anything but boring. Not a masterpiece, perhaps, but a strangely haunting film, whose images stayed with me through the following day: the winding dirt roads in the hills outside Tehran; the cascades of bare soil turned up by massive agricultural equipment; the shadow of the protagonist, Mr. Badii (Homayoun Ershadi), projected upon these mounds of dirt; the faces of the men the protagonist tries to enlist in his plan: a young soldier (Safar Ali Moradi), a seminarian (Mir Hossein Noori), the taxidermist (Abdolrahman Bagheri). I was struck by Kiarostami's choice of those three men, ethnic aliens in Iran -- a Kurd, an Afghani, a Turk -- as if to emphasize the inner turmoil that mirrors the external conflicts of the region. I was tantalized by the suspense about what Badii wants the other man to do. And as Ebert points out, we suspect that he is cruising the outskirts of Tehran to find a sexual partner, which, given that homosexuality is a capital offense in Iran, is a frighteningly risky thing to do. And when we learn that Badii wants someone to throw dirt over him after he commits suicide in a grave he has dug for himself, I was intrigued by what has driven him to this brink. Ebert took a literal-minded approach to all of this, wanting to know why we are being led to believe that Badii is gay and to know more about what has driven him to this extremity. Have we not learned long ago not to expect full backstories of characters in literature and film or be able to explicate them in some definitive sense? Isn't that why Kiarostami uses the "distancing" device at the end of showing the film itself being made? I'm content with what it tells us of Badii, and with the emotions and ideas demonstrated by the men he picks up: the young soldier's terror, the seminarian's steadfast faith, the taxidermist's hard-earned wisdom. I was struck by the way we watch Badii at the end through the window of his apartment, as if we will never get any closer, but then see his face as he lies in the hole fleetingly illuminated by lightning. But Taste of Cherry is not so much a character-driven film as a fable: a story about the mysteries of human existence and the interplay of lives. It is full of reverberations of one scene with another and of the events in the film with the political, social, and environmental troubles that haunt our times. It can't be reduced to conventional narrative or even allegorical terms. It took me someplace alien -- i.e., Iran, and the possible last day of a man's life -- and yet deeply, humanly familiar.

[talesofmetalandmagic]

“Lead them to safety with your gleam. Make so they play. Fill their days with smiles and their eyes with…”

“AZIR!”

The prisoner is startled upwards, and his hands shake out of control as he pulls up his cowl and bows to the ground.

“This is not what I requested you to do.”

“I was praying, my lord. No more.”

Xerath emits a low chuckle.

“Praying? Who would you pray for? Or to, for that matter. Yourself?”

Azir sighs, growling in rage underneath the rough spun cassock.

“I was praying the Sundisc,” he speaks with cold clarity. “For the children I lost.”

Xerath crackles and pops like burnt wood.

“Do you expect your children’s plight to move me?”

“Not you.” Nothing could move him. He’s got one track in his mind. “But nevertheless, I was praying. Is a father not allowed to grieve for those he loved?”

Xerath lowers himself into the sand, removing Azir’s cowl and raising his face.

“If you love them so, answer this. What would you do if they were in your stead, living your life.”

Azir shudders. Ibrahim was a spirited boy, strong too, but so young, and so fun-loving, the suffering would undoubtedly break him. And Imani… Imani was small, as pure as fresh-water and as sweet as a freshly plucked dandelion. She’d weep herself into an even earlier grave.

“They wouldn’t… this life…”

“Would you do anything to save them? Would you even… leave them forever?”

He knows where this is going, so he stays silent.

He heard Xerath cry many times back in the day. Sometimes he’d hold him tight, take his hand and stroke it, give him water. But never has he asked why.

He just knows losing his children hurts like a thousand knives to his heart, and if the bitter choice came between losing them once and for all or sending them away for forever…

He knows what he’d do.

“I was a child too, Azir. No child’s cry will ever move me. I give you the same medicine you all gave me. Maybe drinking the tears of a grieving parent will humble you enough to see what it did to my own people…”

He sighs. “Your people.”

Azir’s face is flushed under his feathers. “They weren’t your enemy. Why did you take them too?”

“That was not of my design. Maybe, had I been allowed to taste my freedom earlier, I’d have given them another chance. Especially that little girl… Eleni, was it?”

“IMANI!” Azir stands up all of a sudden. “HER NAME WAS IMA-“

“QUIET!”

Xerath slaps Azir so hard, a tear of blood runs down his face. When he’s so angry, Azir drowns in fear.

“I could have taken her as my own and taught her the truth about that despicable empire of yours. I’d have given her more grace than you gave me. I could have even taken her here, to see her father for who he is. A petty, selfish and stupid tyrant who only loves himself.”

He can’t be this blind. Couldn’t he see his grief just now? Or does he choose to ignore his love?

“She was my daughter.”

“And I was your brother. I’m done with you for today. If you want to pray, you’ll do it more intimately inside your cage. Now get up.”

It’s hard to pray when you can’t speak, see, hear or move. Azir tries to focus, but his mind is polluted with fear and remorse.

Imani deserved a better life, not… not to fall into dust like nothing. They all did. Had he not ascended, they would…

Everything he touches is destined to fall.

The best he can do, he reckons, is atone.

[lady-wren-of-tella]

You ask for a writing prompt, then I shall give you one my beloved! (/p) :D How about writing something with “It was all a lie, a beautifully weaved lie, one made by the most talented”? Sorry if that’s not a good writing prompt but go crazy Wren! Unleash your writing skills! ^-^

this is a short drabble, but I hope you like it!!! (feel free to send in more prompts if you want!)

The crowd cheers and cheers, screams growing louder when the queen of Imani and her two daughters wave from their chariot, looking like goddesses. The Sevaan's stand like perfectly-carved statues, every jewel sparkling under the bright sun above them.

Zira keeps her smile plastered on her face, even as the muscles in her cheek grow tired. Reaching out with her ferrokinesis, she fixes the circlet on her head, relishing the sensation of manipulating metal.

Her sister taps her arm, finger just barely brushing Zira's skin.

It's the signal.

Zira steps forward, breaking the perfect formation they'd been maintaining: Queen Kamara at the front, flanked by her daughters.

The crowd, the people if Imani, go silent with anticipation.

Taking a sharp breath in, Zira sweeps out a hand, calling out to the sheets of metal hiding underneath the bottom of the chariot. She makes birds of them, folding each sheet of steel like paper.

The metal birds fly out from under the chariot, turning the very air into a hall of sparkling mirrors as sunlight bounces off of their shiny, polished wings.

Everyone watching gasps, always taken aback by whatever trick Zira shows them.

Something cold slips around Zira's wrist and she has to will herself not to flinch as she's tugged back by a shadow her mother commands. Even when it lets go, the chill remains.

Zira's put back in her spot in the formation, pushed back into the role of second-in-line, Kamara's second-born, the little soldier.

Today, she just feels like a show animal.

The birds keep flying, kept aloft by Zira's focus.

The people of Imani continue to cheer, eyes wide with awe as they take in the display of power, opulence, excellence-- the perfection that is the Sevaan family.

It's all a lie, Zira wants to scream to them. It's all a beautifully woven lie! She wants to shake them awake, wants them to realize her family isn't perfect.

Arrio's grave is only a few years old.

Foxglove, somehow, feels her sister's anger.

Her shadow-touch is kinder than their mother's when it gently brushes against Zira's arm, warning and soothing her.

Zira takes a deep breath and blinks.

The birds freeze in the air.

---

THE END

hopefully you liked it :)

[prairiesongserial]

24.14

By the time Imani got to her drinks cart, she was twenty-five minutes late for drinks service. Gabler was still hanging around the staff area, too, which was just Imani’s luck.

“What are you doing here?” Imani asked.

Gabler peered down her nose at her as Imani unlocked the wheels to the cart.

“It’s nearly time to announce Freiburg,” Gabler said. “How can it take you thirty minutes to deliver two bottles of water?”

Imani could have explained that every single passenger on the train had stopped her to ask about the drinks service, but she didn’t have the time to waste. She wanted to confirm Lecter’s location as soon as possible, before her imagination completely ran away from her. Probably everything was fine, and Lecter had just gotten up to use the bathroom. When she passed back through Car 6 with the cart, he’d be back in his seat with the Yiddish Daily News.

Of course, with Lecter and Graves, who fucking knew? Maybe they’d hijack the train.

Gabler stuck her foot out just as Imani started to push her cart out the door. She rested her kitten heel on one of the front wheels, wiggling it back and forth.

“You didn’t take another break, right? Because if you did, it must have been in a passenger area, which is prohibited.”

Imani’s lip twitched in annoyance. Did she have cherry danish in her teeth, or something? Gabler was obnoxiously sharp. Maybe she was a spy, too; that would be just Imani’s luck. Imani was tempted to brush down her uniform for any crumbs, but that would be as good as admitting it.

“Sorry,” Imani said. “I had to help an unaccompanied child. I was surprised, because it didn’t seem like anyone had checked on him since he boarded.”

She raised her eyebrows at Gabler. It was the chief stewardess’s job to check the manifest for unaccompanied children and VIPs, and inform the rest of the team of where they were seated. Check-ins were to be managed by the chief stewardess personally.

Gabler did not remove her heel from the drinks cart. Honestly, if Imani made it to the end of the train before Basel, it would be a miracle.

“There aren’t any unaccompanied children on board,” Gabler said. “What seat number?”

As if Imani remembered that. Imani forced a smile. “He was in Car 8, near the middle. Fortunately another passenger shared her lunch with him.”

Gabler swore. That a passenger in her care would resort to taking handouts from strangers reflected poorly on the company.

“He wasn’t marked in the manifest,” Gabler said, taking off at a brisk pace.

Imani pushed her cart out after her and began the slow trudge down the aisle. She handed out peppermint soda, ginger beer, and water–with or without gas–her attention divided. Of course, catastrophizing didn’t do her any good, but she couldn’t help it. Lecter and Graves really might hijack a train; it was well within possibility.

Imani worked her way through the cars until she got back to Car 6. Lecter still wasn’t back. Cassidy had taken possession of the Yiddish newspaper and was translating the cartoons into English for the boys. The princes were oddly stoic for children, only nodding or smiling politely. Maybe it was a British thing. Graves was also still present, so thank God for small mercies.

Imani moved along as quickly as she could hand down peppermint soda. She plastered a smile on her face as she entered Car 7. Vanya was back from his conversation with the Italians–only just recently, judging by the rise and fall of his chest.

“Two waters,” Yuri said without looking at her. He returned to his conversation with Vanya, speaking quickly in Russian.

Imani passed the bottles of water down. She didn’t see any weapons drawn, but that wasn’t surprising. Yuri and Vanya carried a sniper rifle and a machine gun respectively. If the job couldn’t be done with either of those two tools, it wasn’t a job for Yuri and Vanya. Imani didn’t let her gaze linger on the “skis” in the seats behind them.

Imani continued down the aisle. She’d initially thought that Russia and Italy were here to kidnap the British princes, but this might just as easily be an assassination. And with Yuri and Vanya, it would be a loud and messy one, a real spin of the global political roulette wheel. Only one thing was certain: multiple organizations would try to use the assassination to make a power grab. Imani found herself annoyed with Cataldi for the lack of heads-up, which wasn’t fair. He probably didn’t know. The British princes hadn’t been a viable target until they’d left the relative safety of England.

Imani pushed the drinks cart into Car 8, where she ran into Gabler again. Gabler’s blond helmet had taken some damage; a couple of stiff strands now hung at slightly odd angles. Her whole face was tomato red.

“Tash,” Gabler snapped. “All these children are accounted for, none unaccompanied. Were you mistaken about the car number?”

Imani handed down a bottle of water to the passenger on her right. It had definitely been Car 8 where she’d seen the kid. He had blended in with the numerous families seated in this section.

“It was Car 8. He was twelve or thirteen, blond, not comfortable with German.” Imani pushed her cart up a row. “He asked how long it would be before we got to Switzerland. He’s probably in the bathroom.”

“Then where is his luggage?” Gabler snapped.

Imani’s gaze floated around the train car. Clusters of suitcases and skis crowded the overhead racks. The boy’s suitcase could easily be crammed in among them, but Imani got the feeling that Gabler was right. If Gabler said his luggage wasn’t here, it meant she had dragged these families out of their seats one at a time to check if anything was out of place among their suitcases.

“I don’t know,” Imani said. “If he went up to the dining car, he might have taken his bags with him.”

Gabler had a look on her face like she wanted to say something that would get her in trouble with the union. Imani crossed her arms and waited. Eventually, Gabler stepped aside and allowed Imani to finish drinks service in the car.

Imani wondered about the boy herself; with agents from Russia and Italy running around, now really wasn’t a great time for a kid to be loose on the train.

“Messy, messy,” she muttered under her breath, then crossed into Car 9, and right into the Italian agents.

The two cardinals had made miniscule progress; they now held private counsel right by the vestibule that led into Car 8. They stopped talking as soon as Imani entered the car. They waved her away when she offered them something to drink. She got much the same reaction from the rest of the car; only one of the passengers lowered his newspaper to ask for a coffee.

“Sorry, sir, but all hot drinks have to be ordered in the dining car.”

The man furrowed his brow and muttered something in Dutch that sounded more acquiescent than offensive. Imani kept moving. On the plus side, by the time she made it back to Car 6, she was pretty sure the shootout would be over. Imani didn’t really want to be there for that part. As long as she could piece together the who-killed-who without losing Lecter and Graves in the chaos, she’d call it a good day’s work.

She told herself that, but it really was a shame about those princes.

She opened the door into Car 10 and stopped short. Car 10 was empty except for two individuals barrelling down the aisle toward her. Imani’s smile faltered. Valerie Lecter had a nun that he was dragging along behind him. Her wimple was crooked, and she was out of breath as they came to a stop in front of her. Lecter put his hands down on Imani’s cart, rattling the soda cans.

“You’ve got to help us,” Lecter said, also struggling to catch his breath. “Hijackers on the train. Going to hurt somebody. You have to stop the train and evacuate.”

The nun nodded emphatically, her eyes big and watery. Of course Lecter would get wrapped up in something like this. Imani felt a pang of disdain. Italy or Russia–probably Italy, if Imani was being honest–shouldn’t have shown their hand to civilians like this. The lack of professionalism was appalling.

“There’s no need to panic,” Imani said. She really didn’t want to walk through the last few cars again, not when it meant walking right into whatever Italy and Russia were cooking up. Especially not with two spooked civilians who might raise the alarm at any second. “We’ll get emergency procedures underway immediately. In the meantime, please allow me to escort you to your seats.”

She felt the train start to slow, and realized that she’d distracted Gabler before she’d had a chance to announce Freiburg. Imani gestured for Lecter and the nun to follow, abandoning her cart in the middle of the aisle. She led them back through Car 9, holding her breath as she passed the Italians, then Car 8–blessedly, Gabler was gone. The Russians were still bickering in Car 7, but that looked just about ready to come to a head. Imani heard a long zipper pull as she passed into the next vestibule, Lecter and the nun close on her heels.

She finally came to a stop beside Lecter’s seat in Car 6.

“Sit down,” Imani said, breathing heavily through her nose. “Where–”

She cut herself off before she finished asking where Cassidy and the princes had gone. It was only Graves left in their section. That was going to complicate things when Yuri and Vanya came through the door in a few seconds.

“Sit down. Just sit. Stay there.” Imani raised her eyebrows at both Lecter and the nun. She didn’t give them time to argue before she sprinted off toward the front of the train.

Imani ducked into the staff area to find Gabler flipping hysterically through the passenger manifest. She stabbed the air with a pen as Imani came in.

“Whoever you saw is a stowaway,” Gabler said accusingly. “I’ve been over the manifest three times now. The passenger in Row 8, Seat A reported giving the unknown boy a sandwich, so he does exist, but he’s not a ticketed passenger on this train. Brinkerhoff should have caught him when she checked tickets.”

“I should never have doubted you,” Imani said flatly, grabbing the mic for the PA out of its cradle. The brakes screeched as the train pulled into the station. “We are now arriving in Freiburg. Please stand clear of the doors. Once again, we are now arriving in Freiburg. Next stop, Basel.”

24.13 || 24.15

[vulpixelates]

okay! list time! these are the many ladies of ro (or, ro's ROs), some of which she doesn't end up w permanently but i'm including to explain some drama. also it should be noted that half of them are also witches bc we are extra and the town we play in is full of lesbian witches.

val cruz - ex. black/mexican mechanic who was really into monogamy and ro tried it out but it didn't work out, especially after ro got shot and val took care of her after and acted like she was going to break forever forth. now won't answer her phone calls even tho she's still her mechanic, and also is the cousin of an ER nurse at the hospital who now hates ro a little over it all.

ward easton - the best friend/fwb and fellow resident/future cardo and vascular surgeon. cis black stud with an enormous ego that she has earned and daughter of a famous surgeon so she and ro understand each other all too well. end up married to another character of mine, imani jelan, after being forced together by fate.

gabrielle pierce - white latina cardiothorasic surgeon hot shot who has approximately zero interests outside of surgery and cardio (the exercise). married to kennedy grey but did not tell ro that she was married to kennedy grey until she accidentally sent kennedy a text meant for ro and kennedy marched back to town and shamed her.

kennedy grey - the most gorgeous and talented femme dyke on the planet. literally wrote the textbook on fetal surgery, the most hardcore of specialties. also does neonatal, one of the other most hardcore of specialties. she is a black trans woman and was married to pierce for about ten years after meeting in college and hating each other, but met back up at a conference years later and got together. told ro that she was married the night they met but not to who and took her and ward home from a bar.

ambrose bright - the original token cis girlfriend. she's the less-problematic-towards-women, lesbian jackson avery, a mixed black/white jewish plastic surgeon who specializes in gender-affirming surgeries. was roommates w pierce during college and got bullied by her for being too nice. had a huge crush on kennedy but didn't think she was interested (of course, not true: kennedy also had a mondo crush on her). tried to get her and pierce together in a desperate attempt to get kennedy to see what was right in front of her but it, uh, did not work. travels around the world doing pro bono work. "made" ro fall in love w her over the course of her month doing lectures at ro's med school and then bailed to go back to her travels. has a huge family who absolutely adores ro and all the other future wives, who largely don't have great relationships w their families and it's very sweet.

omfg this got so long already so i'm adding the rest under the cut

ryu nakamura - trans woman, mixed japanese/puerto rican ASSASSIN (and biomedical engineer), and a prosthetic arm and leg that she helped design herself, complete with cool cyberpunky lighting elements. baby genius who went to college at 15 but then got roped into taking over the "family business" and hates it. has been friends w ro online for years but they never met in person until she got flung through ro's apartment window by a mutated man w a big hammer or something. dreams of being able to wear sweater vests and dorky ties w math jokes on them to work in a biomedical engineering lab.

calvin coleman - ro's childhood best friend and crush who grew up into a big butch who wears a lot of cozy sweaters. she is chinese and black, and ends up following in her bad ass single mother's footsteps of becoming both a pediatric and pediatric neurosurgeon. stopped being friends w ro when they were 15 after a GRAVE miscommunication in which she thought ro was being mean about finding out that calvin is trans when actually ro was being defensive about calvin finding out ro is trans. now they're doing their peds neuro fellowship together. it's only a ittle awkward.

asa aaraas - mixed native siberian and inuit hockey player turned permaculture farmer and "amateur" carpenter. does lots of crafting and has an adorable dog named duck. when she meets ro, she's in the process of building a whole house and setting up a farm for her mother. big softy, super sweet, wears a lot of flannel, and like 6'7". oof.

rhys blackthorn - the token white one (irish specifically, was born there so she's got the pretty accent). she's also a big trans butch. used to be a sailor and then was in a punk band, and now she's one of the foremost ortho surgeons in the country who specializes in nerve work and putting back together what most cannot. ro has been obsessed w her work for years and briefly thought that (because of the name) she was an old man and has said the phrase "they're going to have to take away my lezzy card" a lot about the situation but is extremely relieved to find out that she's a hot lady instead. loves flowery prose and listens to romance novel audiobooks while she works in her garden.

elias machado - brazilian/cuban butch who is always a little chilly bc of bad circulation but loves to break out a floral button up when the mood (and weather) strikes. winner of the Most Autistic of Undiagnosed Autism. the best pediatric neurosurgeon in the world, rightfully self-appointed. super grand master chess champion or something. loves board games and has prophetic dreams about her future in which she sees herself w a gaggle of wives and therefore avoids every single one of them like the plague bc she thinks she's not good enough for them like she is in the dreams. my beloved. i love her so fucking much.

emile dray - an eccentric artist who lives in a dramatic art nouveau house that she has spent at least 10 years refurbishing after the last of the lesbian art commune ladies who used to live there moved out. enjoys her days most when they are spent doing nude figure painting and having lesbian orgies, but her day job is being a reconstructive specialist and OB. is french mixed with middle eastern (we haven't narrowed down exactly where yet so sorry for being vague) jewish and loves to make fun of the french by saying "let them eat cock."

tane rata - trans butch maori woman and resident interested in ortho and trauma. a powerful "alteration freak" (affectionate) who is able to magically change her body and uses it in, uh, interesting ways. pulled her hot wives by being a secret softie even tho she pretended she wasn't interested in relationships for forever bc she didn't think anyone would ever feel like that about her. i will cradle her in my bosom until my dying day.

someone remind me to make a detailed list tomorrow of all of the LIs for the ttrpg game my wife and i play bc we wished grey's was more lesbian, trans, and butch

[a-crepusculo]

Meet My OC

—Dr. Nyla Imani Hassan

Basic Information

Full Name: Nyla Imani Hassan

Nickname(s): Lala, Ney, Nay

Place of Birth: Cairo, Egypt

Date of Birth: 14th November 1990

Hometown: Seattle, WA, USA

Ethnicity: Egyptian-Palestinian

Nationality: American

Hair Color: Dark Brown

Eye Color: Dark Brown

Height: 5′6″

Languages: English, Arabic, and (a little bit of) French

Personality Traits: Adventurous, enthusiastic, ambitious, familial, outspoken, stubborn, (can be) demanding, hot-headed, reliable, passionate, cautious

Hobbies: Hiking, swimming, photography, playing video games

Face Claim: May Calamawy

Family

Father: Hassan Noor Ali

Mother: Aisha Zahrah Mustafa

Sibling(s): Zayn Samir Hassan (older brother; deceased), Aida Zafira Hassan (younger sister)

Education

Medical School: Harvard Medical School at Harvard University

Undergraduate: University of Washington, majored in Biochemistry

Career

Current Occupation: Doctor, Internal Medicine | Head of Diagnostics Team at Mass Kenmore, MA

Past Occupation: Doctor, Internal Medicine | Attending at Mayo Clinic, MN

Romantic Relationship

Love Interest: Tobias Carrick

Personal Background

Nyla was born in Egypt, but moved with her family to Miami when she was three years old. They stayed there for a year with a close relative, then her father decided to move to Seattle when they have saved enough money

For the first few years of living in the US, their family has struggled financially

Though, despite those struggles, her parents have always prioritized Nyla and her siblings’ education, making sure that they could continue to learn in school

As an immigrant, Nyla was often belittled and bullied by her classmates, especially during elementary school. She was not (yet) fluent in English, so she would often mix up certain words and sentences

Things started to look up when her father was able to open up his own automobile repair shop, which instantly became popular in the neighborhood

However, when she came home one evening, she found her older brother laying on the floor, struggling to breathe. They rushed him to the hospital, but the hospital could not admit him due to lack of insurance. Her family moved him to another hospital, in hopes of him getting admitted and treated first, yet they were also declined in that hospital. As they rush to move him again to another hospital, her brother has passed away.

That specific moment became one of many reasons Nyla decided to be a doctor

Random Facts

Nyla loves swimming, and she got into the regional synchronized swimming squad when she was six years old.

One of her favorite childhood memory is riding the Seattle Great Wheel with her family when they first arrived at Seattle

Her current comfort show is Bridgerton

She always has a book in her bag wherever she goes, just in case she has some free time to read up

She would always bring white roses to her brother’s grave whenever she visits him

She met Marchia in middle school, and slowly became close friends as time flew by. They lost contact when Nyla got her internship at Mayo Clinic, but rekindled her friendship shortly after learning that Marchia became the Head of Diagnostics at Edenbrook

Her high-school superlative was: “Most Ambitious”

She suffers from fear of heights, or commonly known as acrophobia

Once, she bumped into Julia Roberts at the supermarket, and after asking Nyla tons of medical advice, they exchanged phone numbers. She still has her number to this day

Have more questions about Nyla? Feel free to send ‘em to my inbox, or send me a DM!

Main Masterlist

[brightlotusmoon]

“Be a Don Cheadle not a Dave Chappelle” –Imani Gandy. Why? Because Chappelle believes one of the most marginalized groups on the planet should be made fun of. Conversely, on February 16, 2019, Don Cheadle hosted Saturday Night Live wearing a T-Shirt that read “PROTECT TRANS KIDS.”

--On This Day in History, Shit Went Down: February 16, 2019--

Don didn’t say anything, just wore the shirt for a bit. The media said lots the next day, and so did social media. Much of the commentary was positive, but much was … not, because some folks love to hate trans people. They even build an identity around it, make it a cornerstone of their “comedy” act or put silly descriptors like “gender critical” in their online bios because they imagine that what is between a person’s legs is all that matters. Fuck those bigots, and enough about recent history. Let’s look way back, because trans people have existed for as long as people have existed.

The term transgender is new, but they are not. Records from ancient Mesopotamia, going back about 5,000 years, refer to priests of the goddess Inanna called gala that may have been trans. Graves from a few thousand years ago in Northern Iraq reveal burial rites that show they considered gender to be a spectrum. Archeologists discovered different funerary artifacts for men than for women, and also different offerings for a “third gender.”

In 2011 archeologists discovered a 5,000-year-old grave near Prague of a biological male buried with the funerary rites of a female. In 5th century Lebanon an assigned female at birth masculinized their name to Marinos and joined a monastery as a child, living the rest of his life as a man, not even revealing his sex (sex, not gender) after being falsely accused of fathering a child, but rather accepting three years of exile as punishment. His sex was only revealed upon his death.

Elagabalus served as Roman Emperor under the name Antoninus from 218 to 222 and was certainly trans. Contemporary Roman historian and statesman Casius Dio referred to Elagabalus with female pronouns. Legally, Hierocles was the wife of Elagabalus, but Dio wrote that the “husband of this woman [meaning Elagabalus] was Hierocles.” Dio wrote that Elagabalus preferred to be referred to as a wife and a queen, a lady not a lord. She dressed and adorned herself as a woman of the time, and reportedly offered a fortune to any surgeon who could give her a vagina. The Sanskrit epic Mahābhārata, written in India 2,300 years ago, tells the story of a trans man named Shikhandi.

These stories are barely a sample. Across areas and eras trans and nonbinary people have lived and loved and been both accepted and maligned. The prevalence of hate is nonsensical. In 2018 Dr. Joshua Safer, Executive Director of the Center for Transgender Medicine at Mt. Sinai Hospital, said, “Being transgender is not a matter of choice. It is not a fad … it is generally an overwhelming sense that their gender is not the one on their birth certificate.”

Get the book "On This Day in History Sh!t Went Down" at JamesFell.com.

Subscribe to Sweary History at JamesFell.Substack.com.

[pocminiseries]

At Midnight|4

❤︎

"You've heard of the name Rodrigo before, yes?"

Nodding his head, Leo casually leaned back against the counter with his arms folded. "Yes,"

"Then I imagine you know how dangerous he is,"

"Depends on who you ask," Leo replies. Even before he stepped foot into Seattle, he has heard Rodrigo's name a few times through word of mouth. He was a known figure because of his ties with the Mexican Cartel.

Before Leo had decided to part ways with the life he once lived, Rodrigo along with his poor excuse of a son was amongst the list of names his counterparts wanted to be eliminated. In a way, Leo felt like all of this was an interesting play of events.

The one woman who managed to pique his interest happened to be engaged to the very son of someone he was ordered to kill.

Sitting on one of the bar stools, Imani found herself eyeing Leo's muscled back and the large colorful designed tattoo that graced the entirety of it, including parts of his arms. Its Asian themed influence sparked curiosity inside of her as her fingers itched to touch it but she was quick to remind herself that wouldn't be wise to act upon her urges.

"My father used to work for him back in the day as a dealer in the streets and he made a lot of money from it which is how he met my mother. His illegal activities provided them with a lavish lifestyle and it became addicting to the point that they went into debt with Rodrigo..." Imani explains, turning her glass filled with water in her hands.

"And when people are in debt with someone like him, it usually means death because he knew no matter how much people pleaded, they'd never be able to repay him what is owed...and that's where I come into all of this."

Licking her lips, Imani let out a deep breath as she shook her head. "Rodrigo told them that he'd let them live under one condition...that they would promise me to be his son's future wife. I was only three when they agreed to it. I've never had a say so in anything I've done Leo. I was raised to be the perfect spouse because of my parent's foolish ways and now I'm stuck,"

"So you've tried to run before?" He guessed out loud, glancing at Imani over his shoulder.

"Of course. I did when I was twenty-one when I had found out the truth about what they had done. I was so close but Jayden had found me hiding out at my aunts and Rodrigo decided to use them as an example...I still remember the look on my mothers face when she saw her sisters limbs hung throughout the tree in our front yard along with her husband and their children,"

Squeezing her eyes shut, Imai tried to push the unwanted memory away but no matter how much she tried, the image would always be at the back of her mind. "Rodrigo had promised if I ran again, he'd do worse to not only my parents but my siblings and their families too - but I shouldn't care. My own flesh and blood gave me up as a pawn and my brother and sister left me out to dry...and I'm the one who has to suffer just so they'll be safe..."

Just thinking about it made her angry. "It's the guilt that's making you stay isn't it?" It was easy for Leo to see what was holding her back because he understood. "They don't deserve your compassion Imani...no matter which way you look at it,"

"Maybe they don't but I have a three old niece now and knowing what Rodrigo is capable of scares me," Plus running would also have her life on the line. Seattle wasn't the only city the Torres controlled.

Turning around to face her, Leo looked her over, taking in her stressed state. The slight bags under her eyes, her bruised cheek, her damp hair hanging over her shoulders, and mix-matched attire showed him just how tired she must feel. It was a problem he wanted to fix.

"Is that why you were hoping your heart would give out before your wedding day?" Leo questions, immediately catching Imai's attention. "You haven't been taking your medicine as you should, hoping that it would speed up the process...am I right?"

Imani's eyes snapped towards Leo in surprise, a bit taking back at his words. "It's sad isn't it? To choose the easy way out but...I just want peace and I can never have that if I stay here," She confesses, sounding defeated.

"Is that what you want, a way out?"

"There isn't any so it doesn't matter," If she ran, her loved ones would surely die and the guilt from that alone would bring her to an early grave before her heart could, and if she stayed, she'd be miserable being married to someone as toxic as Jayden knowing she wouldn't last long. Either way, she looked at it, it was a lose, lose situation.

However, that couldn't be the furthest from the truth and Leo knew this.

"I can help but only if you allow me to," Leo softly offers, silently wishing she'd say yes. The moment she showed up on his doorstep was the moment Imani unknowingly became his top priority.

Whatever she needed...whatever she asked he would oblige.

Traveling around the world because of his old profession, Leo has seen his fair share of women. All shapes, sizes and ethnicities. The type of women that men would kill over just to call them their own. However, that night at the gala when his eyes landed on Imani made him believe that maybe there was a God because only he had the ability to create the type of beauty in front of him.

He was hers and she didn't even know it.

"No Leo. Me coming here is already bad enough. I can't put you in harm's way because of my reckless decisions. You even letting me come here is enough. I really appreciate it," Imani thanks him, grabbing ahold of his hand and giving it a gentle squeeze. She watched as he looked at their hands before meeting her gaze, sending a shiver up her spine.

The way this man looks at her sets her body on fire. A sense of warmness flows from the top of her head to the bottom of her feet. It was a feeling she's never experienced before.

Until him.

"No harm will ever come to you while you're with me...trust me," While Imani wasn't aware of who Leo is or what he was capable of, she had no clue how true his words were.

Imani softly smiled as she shook her head. "You don't understand Leo..." Imani mumbles, letting her words trail off while unknowingly squeezing his hand tighter. "When he finds me, I-..."

Leo carefully watched Imani visibly shake as thoughts of what Jayden would do once he found her ran rapt through her mind. Especially if he were to find her alone with another man. "I shouldn't have come here. It was stupid. Fuck was I thinking?!" She said to herself standing up, knowing she had to leave before her psychotic ass fiance came searching for her.

Leo was quick to pull her to a stop, gripping her hand to get her attention. "Don't be foolish Imani. You going back to him tonight will only make do much worse. You know this. Stay here tonight and you can leave in the morning,"

"Bu-"

"You'll be safe with me, I promise," Leo reassures her. Still seeing hesitancy in her eyes, he pulled her closer making sure to leave no room between them. Dropping her hand, he cupped her face, forcing her to look at him.

His brown eyes wandered over her face, admiring features he considerate nothing short of perfect. "I got you...alright?"

Imani could only nod as her arms found comfort around his toned waist. This moment reminded her so much of their encounter at the restaurant. The way he held her as she cried. How good it felt when he held her close making her feel safe even for a few seconds.

This man had the ability to easily soothe her soul that has been aching for so long that she knew this feeling was going to become addicting.

Needing to feel more of him, Imani's hands ran up his back and pulled him closer as she laid her head against his chest, breathing in his scent. She felt him place a kiss against her forehead before he held her tightly like he knew she needed, what she deserved.

Imani knew that tomorrow was going to be hell once she came face to face with Jayden. Before she had arrived at Leo's she had disabled her location on her phone but she just couldn't shake the feeling that he'd still find her. He always did.

But for now, she didn't want to think about it. All she wanted was to enjoy being held by a man she knew nothing about but who made her feel so much.

"Come on," Leo says after a few minutes, stepping back and grabbing ahold of her hand to lead Imani upstairs. Turning off the lights behind them, Leo walked up the steps with Imani following close behind. She was quiet and he knew her mind was probably thinking of every type of scenario possible but he was serious when he said that she'd be safe with him.

"I have two guest rooms," He states once they reach the top. "Choose whichever one you'd like,"

Imani eyed the two doors before shifting her gaze towards his opened bedroom door. She knew exactly where she wanted to lay her head tonight. "Your room," She answers hoping he wouldn't question her decision and thankfully he didn't.

As soon as Leo closed his bedroom door, Imani pulled off her sweats and slid underneath his cool sheets with Leo sliding in right behind her. Wrapping his arm around her waist, Leo pulled Imani close instantly feeling her relax against him as he placed a small kiss on her ear before whispering words that would come save her in her most desperate times.

"When you need me, come find me,"

[askthiscpblog]

Can we have some random facts/head canons for the creeps or ocs? Also love this blog! Keep up the good work!

Imani bites her tongue when she angry REALLY hard, she’s bitten through it before.

Katie has protanopia, which means she can’t see red. She just doesn’t realize it.

In her spare time, Silent brings flowers to graves of ghosts, even if she’s never met them.

Jace never does his shows in November or December. He gets too homesick and can’t bring himself to take someone away from their families before the Holidays that are meant to spend time with their loved ones

Alex actually finds zodiac related things very interesting, and he does like wearing black, though since he never could when younger he just does not wear black now unless of course its in formal wear.

Mari finds the meanings and symbolism of flowers really intriguing. Whenever she comes across one she knows about she’ll ramble on quietly about it to herself if she has nothing else to do.

Anons tendrils seem to have a mind of their own sometimes. They like to be irritating or helpful. Tendrils also show feelings and emotions too.

Lulu enjoys grafting plants together, more specifically tree types and other plants if they are compatible. 

Char loves knitting and making her own clothes out of her own silk. Meaning she genuinely has some strong body armor on her at all times.

[imani-kingston]

date: november 2020 time: late night location: an alleyway

Talk about bad timing. She was doing great not being in the limelight when it came to wolf business, but it seems she thought too soon as she was caught in a scuffle with Maksim’s pack. They questioned why Imani and her brother hadn’t made a direct move over to their side, moreover they mentioned that one of their wolves didn’t return from one of the many full moons they had. The accusations did cause Imani’s anger to boil, but she remained unfazed as she didn’t want any of the heat directed to her and her pack. Therefore, playing dumb and nonchalant was her approach on things. Clearly, they were unimpressed with the reaction she’d given. Of course they wanted her to react, but she stood her ground and only fought once they laid a hand on her. 

The fight wasn’t fair as she was by herself, but she was able to break a few bones and faces here and there, before half running and half limping off. Her injuries weren’t as grave where she needed to get to the hospital, but they were unbearable in a sense where she couldn’t head back to her home by herself. Further, the healing process would take longer seeing as she was beaten up by more than one werewolf. Flopping onto the ground of an alleyway, she propped herself up against the wall and focused on regaining her breathing. She was exhausted and opted to perhaps lay there until sunrise. However, her senses picked up on an individual approaching and she immediately called them out. “Get your own alleyway. This one is mine.” 

@wesley-allard​

[shctteredillusions]

Emerald eyes stare down at the graves before him, a glimmer of tears revealed as he kneels before one in particular. Long pale fingers stretch out, fingertips brushing against the name carved into the marble as his heart clenched at every memory that sprang forth. She was still so young, had so much she could have done with her life. So much she had yet to achieve, so much more to give to the world. Her smile, though it had always been beautiful, was a rare sight especially as of late. When was the last time he’d seen her smile genuinely? He’d like to think that when he spoke of the family he had found back in the states, that it had been genuine but he knew it wasn’t.

He had noticed the sadness lurking just behind it, the envy in her eyes that was all too familiar to him from not that long ago. The same emotion he used to feel about her, he never thought he’d see the day where it stared right back at him. Taunting him, making the guilt that much worse. Some say she’s just another casualty of war, but she was so much more than that. And some say she’s in a better place and yet they don’t know the truth. Where his kind goes when their life has ended. Knowing the truth only makes it that much harder to accept, to know that she’ll never be in a better place. This was the best she’s ever known and even that was a horrible existence.

She’ll never get to see as the clans rebuild, all of her hopes and effort coming to fruition. All that they worked for and she won’t even be there for it. He’d never get that second chance to make things right, she’d never get to meet the precious little girl and the incredible woman waiting patiently back home. His family. This house was never his home, but back there with Imani and Callie? That was where he felt he truly belonged. Even more so now that the last piece that held him here was gone.

A bouquet of oriental lilies is placed before the headstone, tears falling down his cheeks and splashing against the fresh dirt beneath his feet. The sound of approaching footsteps drew his attention over his shoulder, noticing the servant stopping just a few feet away. “Nishimora-sama, your presence is requested in the Minori manor.” He stood up, no words leaving him as his eyes flickered over all of the graves once more.

Kaito Nishimora Asuga Nishimora Mitsuo Nishimora Emi Nishimora

A soft sigh left his lips, turning his back towards the headstones before addressing her. “Let Kyoko know I’ll be over soon, there’s something I have to take care of first.” She bowed, excusing herself to deliver the message as Ichirou made his way down the familiar hallways, pausing just outside the library. He almost regretted using this place to store the items, not really wanting to face the memories that going inside would stir up. In the end, he knew he had to, he needed these before heading back to the states, knowing that those waiting for their memories to be returned would like to have them back, and really, it was the least he could do after all that he put them through. And yet he knew that nothing could ever truly right the wrongs that he’d done.

[talesofmetalandmagic]

It’s a dark stormy night in Shurima.

Emperor Azir lays in his imperial bed, snuggled in the silk alongside his beloved wife Zeina. She sleeps like a baby, nestled and cozy. He, however, lays under the sheets nervous and tense.

Every lightning strike feels like a slap to his face, and every clap of thunder like a jab to the head. He holds onto the sheets until his knuckles turn pale; out of breath, sweating cold.

CRASH. Lightning strikes again, making the stained glass windows shake. It’s as if the fierce beasts portrayed upon them had come to life and were brawling inside the carvings, tearing each other to bits.

It’s just a storm. A normal storm. I mustn’t fret. They’d not have wanted it. I’m a man grown and an Emperor.

Another clap makes the windows tremble and creak, and Azir would rather hide his head under the sheets like a child.

I’ve been in battle, for the Sun Disc’s sake. Why am I cowering like an infant?

He covers himself tighter and shifts closer to his wife, hoping to find comfort in her warmth. He closes his eyes, takes deep breaths, tries to let sleep overtake him. And it feels so close…

Until another lightning strikes so close it turns the stained glass white.

Azir slips out of bed, wears a thick embroidered robe above his linen tunic, kisses Zeina’s head, takes the silk scarf that wraps his locs off his head and uses it to wipe the copious sweat that damps his face.

Barefoot, eyes agape, heart thumping, holding a lit lantern in one hand, he walks through the corridor towards the rooms of his children. Nighttime guards stare at him.

“My Emperor?” one of them says.

“I’m fine. You haven’t seen me. Swear it on your life” he grunts out.

Thunder strikes when he enters Ibrahim’s room. The boy sleeps peacefully, one hand slipping down the side of the fine carved bed, a small string of drool falling down his lips. He looks as innocent as he’s youthful, unburdened by the fear that overtakes Azir.

He has Zeina’s nose and cheeks, but something of Omah as well. Azir kisses his head and looks around. He’s fine. He’s safe. My beloved boy…

Taking a deep breath, he pulls the fallen sheets on his child and fixes his headscarf. His room is a mess, as usual: notes thrown all over the place, arrows still in their practice target, the bow thrown on the floor, and his gold and gems set of Senet is scattered about.

He should learn to be more proper. Why, had I made such a mess…

But the lightning strike that follows is so fierce it seems to illuminate the raindrops, and the window quivers in its hinges.

And Azir runs so fast he almost loses his robe.

“IMANI!”

He slams the doors as he rushes in, heart pounding once again. The girl lifts herself up from her bed, clutching her doll Iris to her chest.

“Father? What…”

The following lightning illuminates the child’s face, her wide eyes and the stray curls falling out of her own silken bonnet.

She’s fine, integer, not charred. Easing his breath, the Emperor sits by the child’s side and composes himself.

“Oh, my darling child. You’re fine. You’re alright.”

Imani blinks confusedly. “Why, father? Did you have a bad dream?”

“No. No. I couldn’t sleep. I needed to check on you.”

Imani, now fully wake, clutches her father’s neck and lets him scoop her into his strong arms.

“Are you afraid of the storm?”

Azir holds her closer. He cannot admit that he, winner of battles and light of Shurima, is indeed scared of thunderclaps and lightning strikes.

Let alone tell his innocent, gentle child that the reason why he’s fretting is that he’s remembering his own father and mother, burned to death in their own chambers. Queen Safiya of Vekaura holding onto her dead child in a completely burnt bed. His Radiant Majesty Emperor Saif the Great charred into an unrecognizable form, steaming still, rings melted into his flesh.

Why, Nasus, what’s the rush? I’m having fun with my friend here. This storm can’t last forever.

Azir, my dearest child. I have grave news. Be strong.

“If I was, Imani,” he says, rocking the child into the needed sleep. “Would you protect me?”

“I would. You’re a good father.”

He puts her back in bed, kissing her forehead. Seeing her smile at every kiss brings him a joy unknown.

I’m not ready, father. Not yet. Don’t go. I can’t do this. I can’t… please.

Imani hugs Iris tight and curls up under the sheets.

I would protect you too, Imani dearest. Father would never, ever hurt you.

[richincolor]

With 2018 coming to a close, it’s time to kick off our end of the year lists! Here are eight of Audrey’s favorite books that came out this year (in no particular order):

Undead Girl Gang by Lily Anderson Razorbill || Audrey’s Review

Mila Flores and her best friend Riley have always been inseparable. There’s not much excitement in their small town of Cross Creek, so Mila and Riley make their own fun, devoting most of their time to Riley’s favorite activity: amateur witchcraft.

So when Riley and two Fairmont Academy mean girls die under suspicious circumstances, Mila refuses to believe everyone’s explanation that her BFF was involved in a suicide pact. Instead, armed with a tube of lip gloss and an ancient grimoire, Mila does the unthinkable to uncover the truth: she brings the girls back to life.

Unfortunately, Riley, June, and Dayton have no recollection of their murders, but they do have unfinished business to attend to. Now, with only seven days until the spell wears off and the girls return to their graves, Mila must wrangle the distracted group of undead teens and work fast to discover their murderer…before the killer strikes again.

Dread Nation by Justina Ireland Balzer + Bray || Group Discussion

Jane McKeene was born two days before the dead began to walk the battlefields of Gettysburg and Chancellorsville—derailing the War Between the States and changing America forever. In this new nation, safety for all depends on the work of a few, and laws like the Native and Negro Reeducation Act require certain children attend combat schools to learn to put down the dead. But there are also opportunities—and Jane is studying to become an Attendant, trained in both weaponry and etiquette to protect the well-to-do. It’s a chance for a better life for Negro girls like Jane. After all, not even being the daughter of a wealthy white Southern woman could save her from society’s expectations.

But that’s not a life Jane wants. Almost finished with her education at Miss Preston’s School of Combat in Baltimore, Jane is set on returning to her Kentucky home and doesn’t pay much mind to the politics of the eastern cities, with their talk of returning America to the glory of its days before the dead rose. But when families around Baltimore County begin to go missing, Jane is caught in the middle of a conspiracy, one that finds her in a desperate fight for her life against some powerful enemies. And the restless dead, it would seem, are the least of her problems.

From Twinkle, with Love by Sandhya Menon Simon Pulse || Audrey’s Review

Aspiring filmmaker and wallflower Twinkle Mehra has stories she wants to tell and universes she wants to explore, if only the world would listen. So when fellow film geek Sahil Roy approaches her to direct a movie for the upcoming Summer Festival, Twinkle is all over it. The chance to publicly showcase her voice as a director? Dream come true. The fact that it gets her closer to her longtime crush, Neil Roy—a.k.a. Sahil’s twin brother? Dream come true x 2.

When mystery man “N” begins emailing her, Twinkle is sure it’s Neil, finally ready to begin their happily-ever-after. The only slightly inconvenient problem is that, in the course of movie-making, she’s fallen madly in love with the irresistibly adorkable Sahil.

Twinkle soon realizes that resistance is futile: The romance she’s got is not the one she’s scripted. But will it be enough?

Told through the letters Twinkle writes to her favorite female filmmakers, From Twinkle, with Love navigates big truths about friendship, family, and the unexpected places love can find you.

Isle of Blood and Stone by Makiia Lucier Houghton Mifflin Harcourt || K. Imani’s Review

Ulises asked, “How can I look at these maps, see this riddle, and do nothing? They are my brothers.”

Elias reached across the table and flicked aside two shells with a fingertip. The map curled into itself. “It’s bound to be a goose chase. You know that?”

“Or a treasure hunt,” Ulises countered, “and you’ve always been good at those.”

Nineteen-year-old Elias is a royal explorer, a skilled mapmaker, and the new king of del Mar’s oldest friend. Soon he will embark on the adventure of a lifetime, an expedition past the Strait of Cain and into uncharted waters. Nothing stands in his way…until a long-ago tragedy creeps back into the light, threatening all he holds dear.

The people of St. John del Mar have never recovered from the loss of their boy princes, kidnapped eighteen years ago, both presumed dead. But when two maps surface, each bearing the same hidden riddle, troubling questions arise. What really happened to the young heirs? And why do the maps appear to be drawn by Lord Antoni, Elias’s father, who vanished on that same fateful day? With the king’s beautiful cousin by his side—whether he wants her there or not—Elias will race to solve the riddle of the princes. He will have to use his wits and guard his back. Because some truths are better left buried…and an unknown enemy stalks his every turn.

The Poet X by Elizabeth Acevedo HarperTeen || Audrey’s Review

A young girl in Harlem discovers slam poetry as a way to understand her mother’s religion and her own relationship to the world. Debut novel of renowned slam poet Elizabeth Acevedo.

Xiomara Batista feels unheard and unable to hide in her Harlem neighborhood. Ever since her body grew into curves, she has learned to let her fists and her fierceness do the talking.

But Xiomara has plenty she wants to say, and she pours all her frustration and passion onto the pages of a leather notebook, reciting the words to herself like prayers—especially after she catches feelings for a boy in her bio class named Aman, who her family can never know about. With Mami’s determination to force her daughter to obey the laws of the church, Xiomara understands that her thoughts are best kept to herself.

So when she is invited to join her school’s slam poetry club, she doesn’t know how she could ever attend without her mami finding out, much less speak her words out loud. But still, she can’t stop thinking about performing her poems.

Because in the face of a world that may not want to hear her, Xiomara refuses to be silent.

Let’s Talk About Love by Claire Kann Swoon Reads || Audrey’s Review

Alice had her whole summer planned. Non-stop all-you-can-eat buffets while marathoning her favorite TV shows (best friends totally included) with the smallest dash of adulting–working at the library to pay her share of the rent. The only thing missing from her perfect plan? Her girlfriend (who ended things when Alice confessed she’s asexual). Alice is done with dating–no thank you, do not pass go, stick a fork in her, done.

But then Alice meets Takumi and she can’t stop thinking about him or the rom com-grade romance feels she did not ask for (uncertainty, butterflies, and swoons, oh my!).

When her blissful summer takes an unexpected turn, and Takumi becomes her knight with a shiny library employee badge (close enough), Alice has to decide if she’s willing to risk their friendship for a love that might not be reciprocated—or understood.

Blanca & Roja by Anna-Marie McLemore Feiwel & Friends || Group Discussion

The biggest lie of all is the story you think you already know.

The del Cisne girls have never just been sisters; they’re also rivals, Blanca as obedient and graceful as Roja is vicious and manipulative. They know that, because of a generations-old spell, their family is bound to a bevy of swans deep in the woods. They know that, one day, the swans will pull them into a dangerous game that will leave one of them a girl, and trap the other in the body of a swan.

But when two local boys become drawn into the game, the swans’ spell intertwines with the strange and unpredictable magic lacing the woods, and all four of their fates depend on facing truths that could either save or destroy them. Blanca & Roja is the captivating story of sisters, friendship, love, hatred, and the price we pay to protect our hearts.

Shadow of the Fox by Julie Kagawa Harlequin Teen || Audrey’s Review

One thousand years ago, the great Kami Dragon was summoned to grant a single terrible wish—and the land of Iwagoto was plunged into an age of darkness and chaos.

Now, for whoever holds the Scroll of a Thousand Prayers, a new wish will be granted. A new age is about to dawn.

Raised by monks in the isolated Silent Winds temple, Yumeko has trained all her life to hide her yokai nature. Half kitsune, half human, her skill with illusion is matched only by her penchant for mischief. Until the day her home is burned to the ground, her adoptive family is brutally slain and she is forced to flee for her life with the temple’s greatest treasure—one part of the ancient scroll.

There are many who would claim the dragon’s wish for their own. Kage Tatsumi, a mysterious samurai of the Shadow Clan, is one such hunter, under orders to retrieve the scroll…at any cost. Fate brings Kage and Yumeko together. With a promise to lead him to the scroll, an uneasy alliance is formed, offering Yumeko her best hope for survival. But he seeks what she has hidden away, and her deception could ultimately tear them both apart.

With an army of demons at her heels and the unlikeliest of allies at her side, Yumeko’s secrets are more than a matter of life or death. They are the key to the fate of the world itself.

[prairiesongserial]

16.2

Johannes decided it was time for a drink.

He’d successfully charmed Laurence Touissant, an up-and-coming gang leader from upstate New York, and the exchange had taken twenty painful minutes. Johannes had laughed deliriously at Touissant’s jokes, mooned over his French accent despite it being an obvious put-on, and had nearly had to accept a dance with the man. He’d only been saved by coincidence - it was the band’s break. Even without the dance, Touissant agreed to host the circus next summer. He probably needed the circus more than Johannes needed the gig; new gangs were easier marks since they were invested in making themselves liked, if not legitimate.

“Not even that rich,” Johannes grumbled, plucking a glass of black-red wine from a tray.

Who Johannes really wanted was Imani Khan. She controlled Atlanta, the gang that didn’t have a name; they called themselves Atlanta because they were Atlanta. Imani Khan was rich, powerful, and a tough person to get introduced to, which was why the Madsen and Graves couldn’t get a single gig between Florida and North Carolina.

Johannes spotted Ezra, still tangled up in the gala crowd. He felt a twist of anxiety in his gut as he watched Ezra trade pleasantries with Rhea Bellamy. So she had made it up for the gala.

He continued to survey the room, looking for the next mark. The gala was being held in a garden, but somehow, “room” was still the right word. They were pumping in the summer breeze and the sounds of crickets and tree frogs. The ballroom was big enough and the night sky projected on the ceiling realistic enough that Johannes could almost forget he’d snuck himself and Ezra through a lobby and past a bouncer to get in.

It was tempting to forget his purpose here and just enjoy the party. The costumes alone were inspired. The trains of heavy, diamond-studded ball gowns dragged over the flagstones. Lace fans beat like disembodied butterfly wings. Gina Durante, his first failed mark of the night and the second in command of a Chesapeake gang called the Red Sky, had called her dress a robe à la française. That conversation had ended with Durante telling Johannes to “Go read a book.”

Everything here was over the top, colorful, glittering, and rich. Everything was made of feathers. Everything smelled like flowers. This was what the circus could have been like if they’d sucked it up and called themselves a Hemisphere operation. In exchange for Hemisphere dues, this world would have split open before them like the oysters on ice passing by on silver trays. Judith hadn’t been willing to go that far in her time. Mame could be brutal, but not even she had taken Hemisphere bounties.

“Rhea says hi,” Ezra said, suddenly appearing beside him. “And about a hundred other things. I think she’s been talking to Mame.”

“Any word on Khan?”Johannes asked him.

“Mm. She doesn’t come to these things,” Ezra said. “I need a drink. Where did you get that?”

Johannes, reminded of the drink in his hand, took a long sip. “Sleight of hand.”

Ezra rolled his eyes. “Hilarious.”

It was weird to be acting like normal. It was weird that Ezra had agreed to crash the Hemisphere gala without protest - that in itself felt passive aggressive, like Ezra was throwing Johannes’s assertion that Johannes was the ringmaster and Ezra played piano back in his face.

“Huh,” Ezra said. “That guy’s looking at us. Who is that?”

Johannes snapped back to attention, following Ezra’s gaze. A man kept looking over at them, even as he moved through the crowd, chatting with one cluster of gala attendees before flitting to the next. Always, Johannes noticed, making his way closer to Ezra and himself. The man was one of the best dressed people at the party, wearing a pink suit and a matching cape with real chrysanthemums sewn to it.

Johannes felt increasingly uneasy as he watched the man exclaim “Rhea!” and kiss each of Rhea Bellamy’s cheeks in turn. He took her hand in both of his and whispered a private joke in her ear. Who was he? And more importantly, what must he be worth if he was on equal terms with Rhea? Johannes ran down the list of East Coast mobsters he knew - or had at least heard of - but this man with a broken nose and blond curls wasn’t ringing any bells.

The man’s eyes paused on Ezra again.

“Do we owe him money?” Ezra asked, sounding every bit as uneasy as Johannes felt.

It was too late for Johannes to answer; the man had closed the space between them. He held out his hand to Ezra. Ezra hesitated, then took it, and Johannes had to stop himself from barking out a laugh when the man raised Ezra’s hand to his lips.

“Marc Waters,” the man said. A curl fell between his eyes, and he lowered Ezra’s hand in order to tuck it back into place. “I don’t believe we’ve been introduced.”

Marc Waters. He wasn’t on Johannes’s radar because this was Marc Waters of Texas Waters, one of the wealthiest operations in the States. Waters could easily pay to keep the circus in town for a week, if it struck his fancy. Adding Waters to the circuit would be worth crossing the Mississippi. They’d pass through New Orleans, try to build connections there, too - why not? Val would see his family every year.

“Ezra Graves,” Ezra said. “This is Johannes Madsen, my brother. We operate a travelling circus that plays for most of the Hemisphere towns on the East Coast. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Johannes wanted to tell Ezra to flirt, but any interjection would be obvious.

“Ezra, the pleasure is all mine,” Waters said, ignoring Johannes’s presence. “I must know everything about travelling circuses immediately, and I’m afraid you’ll get very thirsty telling me. Can I get you a drink?”

Ezra looked to Johannes for help.

“Don’t worry on my account,” Johannes said, offering Ezra an easy smile. “Have a drink, go dance, have fun.”

Ezra’s gaze turned stony for the split second before he turned away from Johannes. He then waved a waiter over with a confidence and entitlement that Johannes had never seen in him before. The waiter scurried to obey.

Johannes watched Ezra pluck two glasses of champagne from the tray and hold one out to Waters.

“Allow me,” Ezra said, not smiling.

Waters was slow to take the champagne, as if Ezra had taken him by surprise.

Johannes decided to give Ezra room to work. He wandered away, fingers crossed in his pocket. Ezra was no natural salesman, but if Marc Waters was going to take a social interest, Ezra might not have to be.

Johannes made his way along the edges of the garden, greeting the people he knew and charming a few he didn’t with paper lilies produced from his sleeve. Unfolded, they gave the name of the circus and Johannes’s telephone number. He was in the middle of entertaining Madeline Bellamy with the story of how he and Val had escaped the cult in Kill Devil Hills when Madeline’s expression suddenly changed from delight to interest in something on the other side of Johannes’s shoulder.

“Wow, she looks good,” Madeline said dreamily.

Johannes thought he knew who Madeline was referring to before he turned around. The mood in the garden had changed. Conversations sputtered to a halt; those that revived themselves were spoken in a more cheerful register.

Lady had entered the ballroom. She was dressed in a form-fitting black dress and black gloves that fastened at the wrist with a single pearl bead - nothing like a flouncy robe à la française. She didn’t wear a mask. The message was clear: she was better than the theme of the party.

“She wasn’t supposed to be coming,” Madeline whispered in Johannes’s ear. It was a painfully loud stage whisper. She fanned herself, trying not to pout. Few at the party could have upstaged Madeline Bellamy in her dramatic cinch-waisted silhouette and alligator skin mask, but clearly Lady’s arrival changed things.

Johannes schooled his face to a placid smile. He’d heard the same gossip - Lady had been away from Central all summer with no indication of when she’d be back. She wasn’t supposed to be here. Her being here meant that she was one glance across the dance floor away from demanding Johannes hand over his bounties tonight.

Johannes began looking for a way out. Significant damage had been done just by the fact that the circus had performed tonight. Lady would already know the circus was in town. But if Johannes could get himself and Ezra away from the party before Lady noticed them, they could get the circus out of D.C. in the dead of night before Lady had the chance to come inquiring.

He spotted Ezra; Waters had gotten him onto the dance floor. Lady was stuck near the entrance - that was good. People were practically lining up to pay their respects. Lady had a sour look in her eyes as she greeted each of them and received their compliments.

Then Johannes caught a glimpse of a pair of circus costumes he’d sewn himself. One was an orange and gold lamé outfit with a matching capelet and mask, themed after the sun; its pair was silver and midnight blue, embroidered all over with little crescent moons. Johannes stared, unbelieving, at the dancing couple. It was Val and Friday.

Madeline had lost interest in him and wandered off, which was just as well, because Johannes hadn’t heard a word she’d said in the last minute. His mind was turning over how he was going to get himself, Ezra, and two wanted fugitives out of the Hemisphere gala. Every scenario ended with the bodyguard who was never far from Lady’s side nudging her and saying, “Look, the Madsen and Graves brothers are smuggling Valerie Lecter and Friday Wilmot out of your party.”

Johannes felt a tap on his shoulder.

He turned, only to be met with a grinning face that he knew better than his own. Dark curls framed Iris’s face, her porcelain mask perched precariously on top. She wore a red suit with silver detail that ended in very practical boots.

Johannes frowned at his ex-wife.

“Hi, clown,” Iris signed. “You fucked up.”

16.1 || 16.3

[a-tired-birds-ramblings]

Who Were They?

(Just a little thing about Aeris’ past, and setting up where the bits of her story I’ve written sit in the FNV timeline!)

(There’s a little reference to @madebyeternalwords ‘s character Imani Davis at the end! I looove how he built Imani and wanted to show how Aeris met her)

Aeris walked up the hill slowly. Her head had felt fuzzy recently, and she knew what it was. Since she’d seen that crow talk to her, she’d been off of Mentats. ‘I’ll be screwed if I keep hallucinating shit like that.’ She’d thought. But now she missed the rush, how quickly she could react, how precisely she could act. But tonight, she was glad she was sober.

The wind blew by, cold and unforgiving. She took off her hat, sitting down slowly on a rock next to a grave. Goodsprings was starting to quiet down at the base of the hill, lights flicking out one by one. Aeris struck a match, lighting a small lantern.

“I miss you.” She said. “I know it’s unnecessary. Not like missin’ you could bring you back, but... I do all the same.”

The night offered no consolation.

“We were unstoppable.” She continued. “I thought no one would ever beat us. Hell, I know you’d never say it, but you felt the same way, right?”

Of course, the dead cannot respond, and Aeris waited in vain for some sign that her dead partner could hear her.

“You were always better with this stuff than I was.” She said, feeling the tears beginning to run down her face. “Hell, if the roles were reversed, I know you’d have driven those bastards all the way to hell by now.”

Though no one was there to see her cry, she covered her face.

“Why wasn’t it me?”

Aeris knew why. But she refused to believe it.

She would have continued, were it not for the slow trod of footsteps she heard.

Aiming to stay out of sight, so no one would see her cry, she slipped away, disappearing down the slope. But the gunshot that followed made her come back.

Someone in an awful tux was holstering his gun, and directed two thugs to start burying someone. Aeris realized that she’d just witnessed a murder.

She waited until the three were gone, then rushed to where she’d seen them standing. But a robot had beaten her to it.

Victor was creepy. There was no other word for it in Aeris’ mind. But he was digging someone out of a shallow grave, and said to Aeris “Gimme a hand, would ya? I think whoever’s in there is still kickin’!”

She knelt down, and said “Who were they?”

The robot only responded with “Beats me, but I’m not the type to pass up helpin’ someone in need, ya hear?”

The bounty hunter nodded, and helped Victor dig a courier out of the dirt, and bring them to the Doc. They were a bit taller than Aeris, and a hell of a lot stronger-looking. But the way she hung limp between the two of them, Aeris had little hope this courier was still alive.

Aeris never did find out who the courier was, it was too dark to see much, and the person was too dirty to see enough detail. In fact, she got a job the next day, so she never checked in with Doc Mitchell to see if they were alright. But something about one of her new friends seemed a bit familiar.