#and it has this winding myth-like storytelling style

[whump-captain]

- Day 4 -

Media that gives you whumperflies

---

I was actually struggling to think of anything I've seen recently that was whumpy but then i remembered The Green Knight.

It's an Arthurian tale with gorgeous visuals and a strange, dreamlike atmosphere. Gawain's journey wears him down fast and we get to see him more and more dishevelled, exhausted, and lost. It's glorious. There are only a few straightforward whumpy moments - like a knifepoint robbery or near-death experience - but the entire movie has this oppressive air of a difficult, taxing quest that was simply *chefs kiss*.

It's Dev Patel, too, who is excellent as always and frankly unfairly beautiful, especially in distress.

Go watch it. (though do look up content warnings bc while not too gory/disturbing, it does have some Non-Gratuitous But Still Weird Dark Fantasy Elements)

[nat-seal-well]

I really do thoroughly enjoys redacteds magic system, like they all have magic but X can use x magic better than Y, shifters still have magic, FREELANCERS!!! its so fun and im mad its 100% going to influence my magic system

The magic system and worldbuilding is really, really neat! That was one of the main things that got me hooked on these stories :) And the cool thing is that the magic in the Redacted universe has traces that remind me of magic systems in other stories I like. Just little similarities.

And—if you don’t mind be going on a little bit of a ramble, I promise there’s a point I’m trying to make—that’s one of the things I love most about stories.

Every one has parts taken from others, borrowed and put together in different ways to create something new. My writing style is a combination of all the authors I’ve read and admired, woven together with my own voice, to make it what it is. It’s a nod of respect to the storytellers who have come before me, and really I think that’s how it goes for everyone who shares theirs, and it’s beautiful. I would not write the way I do if it weren’t for the books I have read and loved.

We’ve always been telling stories to each other, for as long as we’ve been able to as a species. It’s such an important part of what makes people people. (I could go on about the myths and stories and legends tied to the Pleiades constellation, for example.) To tell a story of any kind, or in any shape or medium, is to partake in one of the oldest crafts we’ve carried with us right up until now. And will carry on into the future. When you strip them down to the bare bones, it’s the same one, told over and over and over again but what makes each one beautiful and unique is the fact that all the people who tell it make it their own.

When I was a kid, one of my favorite teachers told my class, “If the story you want to tell sounds like one that’s already been told before, don’t let it stop you. Because no one else will ever be able to write exactly the way you do.”

Your writing voice and your style are like fingerprints. It is something uniquely your own, a combination of traits you’ve liked and borrowed from those who come before you, and your own way of weaving them together. And it is such a human thing, and seeing other people be inspired to share their own stories is so exciting!

All of this is just a very long-winded way to say, I think it’s awesome that you like his magic system and it having an influence on your own, or you borrowing the bits you like, is not a bad thing at all. That’s how stories have always worked. The most important thing is that you remember to use your own voice to tell it. Because no one else will be able to tell a story the way you do, not ever.

[pumpkinbutt700]

Review: The Prirory of The Orange Tree by Samantha Shannon

(Warning! This review is kind of long!)

The Priory of the Orange Tree was my first foray into adult fantasy ever. I finished this back in January, and I loved it. This was my first book of 2023. What a great start to my reading year! (Sadly I haven't had much book luck since.)

The sequel to Priory just came out in February. I'm going to borrow the audiobook from my library soon, but I am waiting for the paperback to be released to physically read it. I figured maybe I should finally make time to write about this first novel in the series in the meantime.

First of all, this cover is fucking gorgeous. The colors, the style, even the embossing all feel extremely lush and epic. The cover just totally sells the high fantasy of this story. I love gorgeous book covers. Nothing makes me happy the way looking at broken spines and colorful, rich covers on my bookshelf does.

Maybe I'm shallow, but I need good books to have good covers, and this one is one of the best I've seen since I started reading again. Books are art, and their packaging should reflect that!

More importantly, of course is just how much I loved the story in this book. We follow four characters from four different backgrounds and regions of a highly xenophobic and politically charged fantasy world. In this world, both dragons and wyrms exist. Dragons are a lot like what you find in classic Asian myths, and wyrms look like traditional European dragons.

One half of the world worships dragons but fears wyrms, and the other half despises and fears both and follows Queen Sabran for religious guidance. Thus the world has been become completely divided.

This means the four narrators in this story all come with their own prejudices and religious biases, which allows you to see the world from four wildly different perspectives. Our cast of storytellers consists of Ead, the secret mage sent to spy on Queen Sabran, Tane the dragonrider prodigy, Loth the nobleman sent on a suicide mission, and Niclays the old, gay, exiled alchemist.

The beginnings of chaos have befallen the world as wyrms slowly reawaken. Unease about a plague has completely isolated the South from the rest of the world. There are murmurings of the wyrms' leader, The Nameless One, rising from his 1,000 year slumber. Our narrators must stop this from happening, even if they don't all know it. Thus we are thrust into a winding tale of political intrigue, religious deconstruction, prophecy fulfillment, magic, and sapphic love that converges when they meet to seal away The Nameless One for good.

Much of the book is spent both getting to know our narrators and getting them all in the right place to get the larger plot tied up neatly. This is an epic fantasy, but there is a lot of character work that drives the plot forward. This was probably my favorite part of the book. Ead, Loth, Tane, and Niclays are fully realized characters with their own motivations. Each one gets their moment to shine, and by the end of their tale, they have all become different people than they were on page one. A lot of care is put into the character work here, and I really loved it.

This book is LONG! I liked it right away, but it took me about 150 pages before I had a solid grip on the world and could see the larger plot starting to come together. I can understand why readers might find this book slow or aimless, both criticisms I have seen. If you don't like the character work taking the lead over the epic fantasy dragon prophecy, you're probably going to have a hard time enjoying The Priory of the Orange Tree. This isn't something every reader is going to enjoy chewing on.

I'm surprised I enjoyed it as much as I did! But I just loved everything about this book. The world is rich and extremely well-thought out and diverse. Our cast of characters consists of lots of women, gays, and non-white people. Three of the four narrators are black or brown. Two are queer. Their ages range from 18ish to 50ish. Not to mention the side characters, which overwhelmingly consist of women in positions of power.

Oh, and how could I forget the sapphic romance between Ead and Sabran? It's a slowburn for sure, but so worth it.

This book is a gem. I fear it may have spoiled fantasy for me before I've even had a chance to get into the genre. I can't wait to take on the next book in the series. I can't wait to read more of Samantha Shannon's work either.

🍊 Loved every juicy bit of this one. Five stars! 🍊

[astrxealis]

i love the writing in this (and drakenier as a whole tbh) so much

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Ooh! Requests are open! Can I have first years sharing scary stories for Halloween? Who do you think could tell the scariest stories ?

Curiouser and Curiouser...

Ace is the type of guy that makes up petty scary stories on the fly. (He has lots of practice with keeping on his toes, since he’s always giving excuses to the teachers or to his Dorm Leader about why he’s late or why his assignment isn’t done yet.) He also has the tendency to give funny voices and falsettos when he’s speaking character dialogue.

The longer you listen, the more you put two and two together. A lot of the events and characters that he describes have direct parallels to things that have happened to him before, or to people he knows. (You’re particularly suspicious of the story of the “Crimson Tyrant” who supposedly chopped off the heads of anyone that disagreed with him.)

When you confront Ace about these similarities, he denies it all. “You’re insane,” he tells you with a stubborn pout. “If anything sounds familiar to you, it’s just a coincidence!”

Thanks to the magic of comedically poor timing and Ace’s bad luck, Riddle happens to be passing by while he’s in the middle of telling a story. He catches wind of the “Crimson Tyrant” and, scepter in hand, angrily demands, “And just who might you be gossiping about, I wonder?” (... Well, it’s off with Ace’s head.)

Deuce’s stories aren’t really scary. In fact, they’re pretty... mundane and anticlimactic. His idea of a “scary” story is something like opening a carton of eggs and finding one cracked. Only Deuce seems to think these kinds of things are gruesome (which makes him a target of Ace’s teasing).

“You guys just don’t get it!” Deuce stubbornly insists. “Don’t you think it’s sad that those eggs will never get to grow up to be baby chicks and chickens?! That’s just as bad as any serial killer coming at you with an axe or a chainsaw!” 

Ironically, he has much more frightening stories of his days as a delinquent, especially when he’s retelling the times he beat others up with his bare fists. (... But for some reason, Deuce doesn’t find those scary, they just leave a bad taste in his mouth.)

Like the good boy that he is, Deuce likes to end his stories on a positive note! It could be a moral or a way to avoid meeting the same grisly fate as the characters in his story... but, above all else, Deuce swears to protect his friends with his own strength!

Jack’s a man of few words, so his style of scary storytelling is limited to short one or two sentence tales. He’d rather be doing something productive like studying or exercising, but if you’re going to make him sit down and tell a story, he’ll want to get it over with as soon as he can.

He’s a stronger listener than a storyteller. From how intensely he stares at his friends, you’d think Jack was angry at them for something. But nope, he’s just listening intently, granting them his undivided attention.

Admittedly, Jack is the buzzkill of the group. He’ll sometimes stop his own story to explain something, or point out what doesn’t make sense in others’. (”... Why would they open the door when no one’s there after ringing the doorbell? That sounds suspicious as hell.” “They’re splitting up? At least go in a pair so they can watch each others’ backs... The first to get killed always goes off alone.”)

As the voice of reason, Jack steps in when he senses that his friends are too scared by the current story to change the topic or suggest a break before continuing. He’ll never admit to his niceness, though--he’ll just excuse it as “not wanting to hear people shouting in my ears the whole night”.

Epel’s specialty is urban legends and myths! There isn’t a lot to do in his hometown, so he used to trade stories with his school mates in his free time. They’re all native to the Village of Harvest and the people there, so even Jack ends up hearing new stories from him.

“Its like playing one big game of telephone, with each retelling adding new details or making a new version of the story,” is how Epel describes it. “It’s neat to see how a story can be spread and changed over time, isn’t it? Kinda like a seed that grows into a tree that’s way bigger than anyone expected it’d be.”

Epel also tells you stories of his real life experiences with the strange and the paranormal! (... And by that, he means the times he got so bored at home, he went exploring old abandoned houses rumored to be cursed.) He acts all tough (and maybe exaggerates a few points), but he’s really enthusiastic to share more about his life with his best friends!

Epel’s really good at setting the atmosphere for scary stories! Lights out, thick blankets, snacks, candles, and flashlights to shine for enhanced dramatic flair. It’s like having a sleepover with all of your closest friends.

Sebek boasts a wealth of knowledge in scary stories, thanks to hours spent studying and reading novels in his leisure. He can perfectly recall the details of any thriller, mystery, or true crime novel for the group, taking great lengths to build up the suspense before dropping the plot twists on you, much like how lighting strikes come quickly and without warning.

Of the first years, Sebek gets the most “in character” while he’s telling his stories. He not only attempts to put on fitting voices for every character, but also motions with his hands, acting out entire scenes like a one-man stage troupe.

You’re not sure if it’s pure coincidence or not, but when Sebek’s turn comes, there’s a heavy downpour. Oddly enough, the lightning also seems fo strike at the best of times—at the climaxes of his stories. Sebek seems to be the only one overjoyed by this, claiming that it’s a divine blessing from Lord Malleus himself! “HMPH!! Be thankful for the Young Master’s kindness, HUMANS! ... And beastman!”

Though Sebek’s retellings are scary enough as they are, nothing compares to the horrors of his childhood spent with Lilia. A noticeable chill descends upon the room as he recalls his time training in the wilderness and being terrorized by his mentor. By the time the final world has been said, even Sebek is left trembling in fear.

[justforbooks]

The 100 best novels written in English: the full list

After two years of careful consideration, Robert McCrum has reached a verdict on his selection of the 100 greatest novels written in English. Take a look at his list.

1. The Pilgrim’s Progress by John Bunyan (1678)

A story of a man in search of truth told with the simple clarity and beauty of Bunyan’s prose make this the ultimate English classic.

2. Robinson Crusoe by Daniel Defoe (1719)

By the end of the 19th century, no book in English literary history had enjoyed more editions, spin-offs and translations. Crusoe’s world-famous novel is a complex literary confection, and it’s irresistible.

3. Gulliver’s Travels by Jonathan Swift (1726)

A satirical masterpiece that’s never been out of print, Jonathan Swift’s Gulliver’s Travels comes third in our list of the best novels written in English

4. Clarissa by Samuel Richardson (1748)

Clarissa is a tragic heroine, pressured by her unscrupulous nouveau-riche family to marry a wealthy man she detests, in the book that Samuel Johnson described as “the first book in the world for the knowledge it displays of the human heart.”

5. Tom Jones by Henry Fielding (1749)

Tom Jones is a classic English novel that captures the spirit of its age and whose famous characters have come to represent Augustan society in all its loquacious, turbulent, comic variety.

6. The Life and Opinions of Tristram Shandy, Gentleman by Laurence Sterne (1759)

Laurence Sterne’s vivid novel caused delight and consternation when it first appeared and has lost little of its original bite.

7. Emma by Jane Austen (1816)

Jane Austen’s Emma is her masterpiece, mixing the sparkle of her early books with a deep sensibility.

8. Frankenstein by Mary Shelley (1818)

Mary Shelley’s first novel has been hailed as a masterpiece of horror and the macabre.

9. Nightmare Abbey by Thomas Love Peacock (1818)

The great pleasure of Nightmare Abbey, which was inspired by Thomas Love Peacock’s friendship with Shelley, lies in the delight the author takes in poking fun at the romantic movement.

10. The Narrative of Arthur Gordon Pym of Nantucket by Edgar Allan Poe (1838)

Edgar Allan Poe’s only novel – a classic adventure story with supernatural elements – has fascinated and influenced generations of writers.

11. Sybil by Benjamin Disraeli (1845)

The future prime minister displayed flashes of brilliance that equalled the greatest Victorian novelists.

12. Jane Eyre by Charlotte Brontë (1847)

Charlotte Brontë’s erotic, gothic masterpiece became the sensation of Victorian England. Its great breakthrough was its intimate dialogue with the reader.

13. Wuthering Heights by Emily Brontë (1847)

Emily Brontë’s windswept masterpiece is notable not just for its wild beauty but for its daring reinvention of the novel form itself.

14. Vanity Fair by William Thackeray (1848)

William Thackeray’s masterpiece, set in Regency England, is a bravura performance by a writer at the top of his game.

15. David Copperfield by Charles Dickens (1850)

David Copperfield marked the point at which Dickens became the great entertainer and also laid the foundations for his later, darker masterpieces.

16. The Scarlet Letter by Nathaniel Hawthorne (1850)

Nathaniel Hawthorne’s astounding book is full of intense symbolism and as haunting as anything by Edgar Allan Poe.

17. Moby-Dick by Herman Melville (1851)

Wise, funny and gripping, Melville’s epic work continues to cast a long shadow over American literature.

18. Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland by Lewis Carroll (1865)

Lewis Carroll’s brilliant nonsense tale is one of the most influential and best loved in the English canon.

19. The Moonstone by Wilkie Collins (1868)

Wilkie Collins’s masterpiece, hailed by many as the greatest English detective novel, is a brilliant marriage of the sensational and the realistic.

20. Little Women by Louisa May Alcott (1868-9)

Louisa May Alcott’s highly original tale aimed at a young female market has iconic status in America and never been out of print.

21. Middlemarch by George Eliot (1871-2)

This cathedral of words stands today as perhaps the greatest of the great Victorian fictions.

22. The Way We Live Now by Anthony Trollope (1875)

Inspired by the author’s fury at the corrupt state of England, and dismissed by critics at the time, The Way We Live Now is recognised as Trollope’s masterpiece.

23. The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn by Mark Twain (1884/5)

Mark Twain’s tale of a rebel boy and a runaway slave seeking liberation upon the waters of the Mississippi remains a defining classic of American literature.

24. Kidnapped by Robert Louis Stevenson (1886)

A thrilling adventure story, gripping history and fascinating study of the Scottish character, Kidnapped has lost none of its power.

25. Three Men in a Boat by Jerome K Jerome (1889)

Jerome K Jerome’s accidental classic about messing about on the Thames remains a comic gem.

26. The Sign of Four by Arthur Conan Doyle (1890)

Sherlock Holmes’s second outing sees Conan Doyle’s brilliant sleuth – and his bluff sidekick Watson – come into their own.

27. The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde (1891)

Wilde’s brilliantly allusive moral tale of youth, beauty and corruption was greeted with howls of protest on publication.

28. New Grub Street by George Gissing (1891)

George Gissing’s portrayal of the hard facts of a literary life remains as relevant today as it was in the late 19th century.

29. Jude the Obscure by Thomas Hardy (1895)

Hardy exposed his deepest feelings in this bleak, angry novel and, stung by the hostile response, he never wrote another.

30. The Red Badge of Courage by Stephen Crane (1895)

Stephen Crane’s account of a young man’s passage to manhood through soldiery is a blueprint for the great American war novel.

31. Dracula by Bram Stoker (1897)

Bram Stoker’s classic vampire story was very much of its time but still resonates more than a century later.

32. Heart of Darkness by Joseph Conrad (1899)

Joseph Conrad’s masterpiece about a life-changing journey in search of Mr Kurtz has the simplicity of great myth.

33. Sister Carrie by Theodore Dreiser (1900)

Theodore Dreiser was no stylist, but there’s a terrific momentum to his unflinching novel about a country girl’s American dream.

34. Kim by Rudyard Kipling (1901)

In Kipling’s classic boy’s own spy story, an orphan in British India must make a choice between east and west.

35. The Call of the Wild by Jack London (1903)

Jack London’s vivid adventures of a pet dog that goes back to nature reveal an extraordinary style and consummate storytelling.

36. The Golden Bowl by Henry James (1904)

American literature contains nothing else quite like Henry James’s amazing, labyrinthine and claustrophobic novel.

37. Hadrian the Seventh by Frederick Rolfe (1904)

This entertaining if contrived story of a hack writer and priest who becomes pope sheds vivid light on its eccentric author – described by DH Lawrence as a “man-demon”.

38. The Wind in the Willows by Kenneth Grahame (1908)

The evergreen tale from the riverbank and a powerful contribution to the mythology of Edwardian England.

39. The History of Mr Polly by HG Wells (1910)

The choice is great, but Wells’s ironic portrait of a man very like himself is the novel that stands out.

40. Zuleika Dobson by Max Beerbohm (1911)

The passage of time has conferred a dark power upon Beerbohm’s ostensibly light and witty Edwardian satire.

41. The Good Soldier by Ford Madox Ford (1915)

Ford’s masterpiece is a searing study of moral dissolution behind the facade of an English gentleman – and its stylistic influence lingers to this day.

42. The Thirty-Nine Steps by John Buchan (1915)

John Buchan’s espionage thriller, with its sparse, contemporary prose, is hard to put down.

43. The Rainbow by DH Lawrence (1915)

The Rainbow is perhaps DH Lawrence’s finest work, showing him for the radical, protean, thoroughly modern writer he was.

44. Of Human Bondage by W Somerset Maugham (1915)

Somerset Maugham’s semi-autobiographical novel shows the author’s savage honesty and gift for storytelling at their best.

45. The Age of Innocence by Edith Wharton (1920)

The story of a blighted New York marriage stands as a fierce indictment of a society estranged from culture.

46. Ulysses by James Joyce (1922)

This portrait of a day in the lives of three Dubliners remains a towering work, in its word play surpassing even Shakespeare.

47. Babbitt by Sinclair Lewis (1922)

What it lacks in structure and guile, this enthralling take on 20s America makes up for in vivid satire and characterisation.

48. A Passage to India by EM Forster (1924)

EM Forster’s most successful work is eerily prescient on the subject of empire.

49. Gentlemen Prefer Blondes by Anita Loos (1925)

A guilty pleasure it may be, but it is impossible to overlook the enduring influence of a tale that helped to define the jazz age.

50. Mrs Dalloway by Virginia Woolf (1925)

Woolf’s great novel makes a day of party preparations the canvas for themes of lost love, life choices and mental illness.

51. The Great Gatsby by F Scott Fitzgerald (1925)

Fitzgerald’s jazz age masterpiece has become a tantalising metaphor for the eternal mystery of art.

52. Lolly Willowes by Sylvia Townsend Warner (1926)

A young woman escapes convention by becoming a witch in this original satire about England after the first world war.

53. The Sun Also Rises by Ernest Hemingway (1926)

Hemingway’s first and best novel makes an escape to 1920s Spain to explore courage, cowardice and manly authenticity.

54. The Maltese Falcon by Dashiell Hammett (1929)

Dashiell Hammett’s crime thriller and its hard-boiled hero Sam Spade influenced everyone from Chandler to Le Carré.

55. As I Lay Dying by William Faulkner (1930)

The influence of William Faulkner’s immersive tale of raw Mississippi rural life can be felt to this day.

56. Brave New World by Aldous Huxley (1932)

Aldous Huxley’s vision of a future human race controlled by global capitalism is every bit as prescient as Orwell’s more famous dystopia.

57. Cold Comfort Farm by Stella Gibbons (1932)

The book for which Gibbons is best remembered was a satire of late-Victorian pastoral fiction but went on to influence many subsequent generations.

58. Nineteen Nineteen by John Dos Passos (1932)

The middle volume of John Dos Passos’s USA trilogy is revolutionary in its intent, techniques and lasting impact.

59. Tropic of Cancer by Henry Miller (1934)

The US novelist’s debut revelled in a Paris underworld of seedy sex and changed the course of the novel – though not without a fight with the censors.

60. Scoop by Evelyn Waugh (1938)

Evelyn Waugh’s Fleet Street satire remains sharp, pertinent and memorable.

61. Murphy by Samuel Beckett (1938)

Samuel Beckett’s first published novel is an absurdist masterpiece, a showcase for his uniquely comic voice.

62. The Big Sleep by Raymond Chandler (1939)

Raymond Chandler’s hardboiled debut brings to life the seedy LA underworld – and Philip Marlowe, the archetypal fictional detective.

63. Party Going by Henry Green (1939)

Set on the eve of war, this neglected modernist masterpiece centres on a group of bright young revellers delayed by fog.

64. At Swim-Two-Birds by Flann O’Brien (1939)

Labyrinthine and multilayered, Flann O’Brien’s humorous debut is both a reflection on, and an exemplar of, the Irish novel.

65. The Grapes of Wrath by John Steinbeck (1939)

One of the greatest of great American novels, this study of a family torn apart by poverty and desperation in the Great Depression shocked US society.

66. Joy in the Morning by PG Wodehouse (1946)

PG Wodehouse’s elegiac Jeeves novel, written during his disastrous years in wartime Germany, remains his masterpiece.

67. All the King’s Men by Robert Penn Warren (1946)

A compelling story of personal and political corruption, set in the 1930s in the American south.

68. Under the Volcano by Malcolm Lowry (1947)

Malcolm Lowry’s masterpiece about the last hours of an alcoholic ex-diplomat in Mexico is set to the drumbeat of coming conflict.

69. The Heat of the Day by Elizabeth Bowen (1948)

Elizabeth Bowen’s 1948 novel perfectly captures the atmosphere of London during the blitz while providing brilliant insights into the human heart.

70. Nineteen Eighty-Four by George Orwell (1949)

George Orwell’s dystopian classic cost its author dear but is arguably the best-known novel in English of the 20th century.

71. The End of the Affair by Graham Greene (1951)

Graham Greene’s moving tale of adultery and its aftermath ties together several vital strands in his work.

72. The Catcher in the Rye by JD Salinger (1951)

JD Salinger’s study of teenage rebellion remains one of the most controversial and best-loved American novels of the 20th century.

73. The Adventures of Augie March by Saul Bellow (1953)

In the long-running hunt to identify the great American novel, Saul Bellow’s picaresque third book frequently hits the mark.

74. Lord of the Flies by William Golding (1954)

Dismissed at first as “rubbish & dull”, Golding’s brilliantly observed dystopian desert island tale has since become a classic.

75. Lolita by Vladimir Nabokov (1955)

Nabokov’s tragicomic tour de force crosses the boundaries of good taste with glee.

76. On the Road by Jack Kerouac (1957)

The creative history of Kerouac’s beat-generation classic, fuelled by pea soup and benzedrine, has become as famous as the novel itself.

77. Voss by Patrick White (1957)

A love story set against the disappearance of an explorer in the outback, Voss paved the way for a generation of Australian writers to shrug off the colonial past.

78. To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee (1960)

Her second novel finally arrived this summer, but Harper Lee’s first did enough alone to secure her lasting fame, and remains a truly popular classic.

79. The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie by Muriel Spark (1960)

Short and bittersweet, Muriel Spark’s tale of the downfall of a Scottish schoolmistress is a masterpiece of narrative fiction.

80. Catch-22 by Joseph Heller (1961)

This acerbic anti-war novel was slow to fire the public imagination, but is rightly regarded as a groundbreaking critique of military madness.

81. The Golden Notebook by Doris Lessing (1962)

Hailed as one of the key texts of the women’s movement of the 1960s, this study of a divorced single mother’s search for personal and political identity remains a defiant, ambitious tour de force.

82. A Clockwork Orange by Anthony Burgess (1962)

Anthony Burgess’s dystopian classic still continues to startle and provoke, refusing to be outshone by Stanley Kubrick’s brilliant film adaptation.

83. A Single Man by Christopher Isherwood (1964)

Christopher Isherwood’s story of a gay Englishman struggling with bereavement in LA is a work of compressed brilliance.

84. In Cold Blood by Truman Capote (1966)

Truman Capote’s non-fiction novel, a true story of bloody murder in rural Kansas, opens a window on the dark underbelly of postwar America.

85. The Bell Jar by Sylvia Plath (1966)

Sylvia Plath’s painfully graphic roman à clef, in which a woman struggles with her identity in the face of social pressure, is a key text of Anglo-American feminism.

86. Portnoy’s Complaint by Philip Roth (1969)

This wickedly funny novel about a young Jewish American’s obsession with masturbation caused outrage on publication, but remains his most dazzling work.

87. Mrs Palfrey at the Claremont by Elizabeth Taylor (1971)

Elizabeth Taylor’s exquisitely drawn character study of eccentricity in old age is a sharp and witty portrait of genteel postwar English life facing the changes taking shape in the 60s.

88. Rabbit Redux by John Updike (1971)

Harry “Rabbit” Angstrom, Updike’s lovably mediocre alter ego, is one of America’s great literary protoganists, up there with Huck Finn and Jay Gatsby.

89. Song of Solomon by Toni Morrison (1977)

The novel with which the Nobel prize-winning author established her name is a kaleidoscopic evocation of the African-American experience in the 20th century.

90. A Bend in the River by VS Naipaul (1979)

VS Naipaul’s hellish vision of an African nation’s path to independence saw him accused of racism, but remains his masterpiece.

91. Midnight’s Children by Salman Rushdie (1981)

The personal and the historical merge in Salman Rushdie’s dazzling, game-changing Indian English novel of a young man born at the very moment of Indian independence.

92. Housekeeping by Marilynne Robinson (1981)

Marilynne Robinson’s tale of orphaned sisters and their oddball aunt in a remote Idaho town is admired by everyone from Barack Obama to Bret Easton Ellis.

93. Money: A Suicide Note by Martin Amis (1984)

Martin Amis’s era-defining ode to excess unleashed one of literature’s greatest modern monsters in self-destructive antihero John Self.

94. An Artist of the Floating World by Kazuo Ishiguro (1986)

Kazuo Ishiguro’s novel about a retired artist in postwar Japan, reflecting on his career during the country’s dark years, is a tour de force of unreliable narration.

95. The Beginning of Spring by Penelope Fitzgerald (1988)

Fitzgerald’s story, set in Russia just before the Bolshevik revolution, is her masterpiece: a brilliant miniature whose peculiar magic almost defies analysis.

96. Breathing Lessons by Anne Tyler (1988)

Anne Tyler’s portrayal of a middle-aged, mid-American marriage displays her narrative clarity, comic timing and ear for American speech to perfection.

97. Amongst Women by John McGahern (1990)

This modern Irish masterpiece is both a study of the faultlines of Irish patriarchy and an elegy for a lost world.

98. Underworld by Don DeLillo (1997)

A writer of “frightening perception”, Don DeLillo guides the reader in an epic journey through America’s history and popular culture.

99. Disgrace by JM Coetzee (1999)

In his Booker-winning masterpiece, Coetzee’s intensely human vision infuses a fictional world that both invites and confounds political interpretation.

100. True History of the Kelly Gang by Peter Carey (2000)

Peter Carey rounds off our list of literary milestones with a Booker prize-winning tour-de-force examining the life and times of Australia’s infamous antihero, Ned Kelly.

Daily inspiration. Discover more photos at http://justforbooks.tumblr.com

[britesparc]

Weekend Top Ten #467

Top Ten Romantic Couples in Superhero Movies (& TV)

It’s Valentine’s Day this weekend. Woo, I guess? I dunno. I’m not generally cynical about holidays but Valentine’s Day does seem to be entirely focused on selling cards without any of the associated pleasantries of, say, Christmas or Halloween. I’d rather just try to be nice to my wife all year round. At least because of the apocalypse all the restaurants are closed so we can’t be tempted to pay through the nose for a set menu. Anyway, it gives me a strained excuse to tie this week’s Top Ten to something vaguely romantic.

Superheroes are often horny. This seems to be a defining characteristic of the artform. Whether it’s their descent from ancient myths, or their creators’ origins in writing romance books, or just a function of genre storytelling in the mid-twentieth century, there’s quite a lot of romantic angst in superhero stories. Pretty much every superhero has a significant other; Lois Lane even got her own comic that was actually called Superman’s Girlfriend, Lois Lane. It’s hard to conceive of many heroes without their primary squeeze, and often – as we get multiple media adaptations of characters – we can add diversity or a twist to the proceedings by picking a lesser-known love interest, or one from earlier in the character’s fictional history; for instance, Smallville beginning with Cark Kent’s teenage crush Lana Lang, or The Amazing Spider-Man swapping out Mary Jane Watson for Gwen Stacey.

Anyway, I’m talking this week about my favourite superhero couples. I’ve decided to focus on superhero adaptations – that is, the characters from movies and films based on superhero comics or characters. I find this a little bit easier as I don’t have a phenomenal knowledge of sixty years of Avengers comics, but I have seen all the movies a bunch. As many comics as I’ve read, and as much as I love various ink-and-paper pairings, I can arguably talk more authoritatively about the fillums than the funny books. And let’s be real here, kids: my favourite comic book romantic couple is Chromedome and Rewind in Transformers. Also if I split them in two I can talk about comic couples next year. Woohoo!

It really is hard thinking of these things nearly nine years in, folks.

So! Here, then, are my favourite movie-TV Couples in Capes. Obviously there’s a fair bit of MCU in here. And I’ve been pretty specific about “superhero” romances: so no Hellboy and Liz Sherman, sadly (and I do really like them in the movies, of which they really need to make a third). Some are civvies-and-supes; some are capes-and-capes. You’ll work it out.

Superman & Lois Lane (Christopher Reeve & Margot Kidder, Superman, 1978): who else? The most famous romance in all of comics, a combo so strong it remains the focus of pretty much every interpretation of the character, but arguably never better than here; so good are Reeve and Kidder that their fast-talking banter and inherent goodness set the template for a huge swathe of other comic adaptations to follow. She’s sarky and streetwise; he’s gormless and good-hearted. She leaps in where angels fear to tread, he’s an invulnerable alien in disguise. They have buckets of chemistry and an utterly believable (tentative) romance. They’re perfect performances and the scenes of Clark in Metropolis for the first time (including Superman’s balcony interview with Lois) are the best bits of an already excellent film.

Raven & Beast Boy (Tara Strong & Greg Cipes, Teen Titans Go!, 2014): on a totally different register, we have the comedy stylings of the Teen Titans. Raven and Beast Boy had a flirtatious relationship on the original Titans series, but on this longer-running and much more demented comedy follow-up, they were allowed to make the romance more official (I nearly said “explicit” but, y’know… it’s not that). The jokes and banter – BB the love-struck, jealous suitor, Raven the too-cool partner who feigns nonchalance – build and build, but every now and again they’re allowed a moment of genuine heartfelt romance, and it hits all the more strongly amidst the ultra-violence and outrageous comedy.

Captain America & Agent Carter (Chris Evans & Hayley Atwell, Captain America: The First Avenger, 2011): the premier couple of the MCU, Steve and Peggy spend a whole movie flirting (she sees the goodness of him even before he gets all hench) before finally arranging a date that, we all know, is very much postponed. Peggy casts a shadow over the rejuvenated Cap and the MCU as a whole, founding SHIELD, inspiring dozens of heroes, and counselling Steve to her dying days. She remains Steven’s true north (like Supes with Lois, Peggy’s an ordinary human who is the actual hero of an actual super-powered hero), guiding him through the chaos and tragedy of Endgame, until they both get to live happily ever after. Even though he snogged her niece.

Batman & Catwoman (Michael Keaton & Michelle Pfeiffer, Batman Returns, 1992): Pfeiffer delivers a barnstorming performance as Selina Kyle, all barely-supressed mania and seductive feline charm. The chemistry between her and Keaton is electric, and propels the film forward even when the Penguin-runs-for-mayor stuff gets a bit daft and icky. There are beautiful moments of romantic comedy when they’re both trying to cover up injuries they gave each other, and of course there’s “mistletoe can be deadly if you eat it” – a line that runs a close second to “dance with the devil” when it comes to Burton-Batman quotations (just ahead of “never rub another man’s rhubarb”). Burton, generally favouring the macabre villains over the straighter edges of the heroic Batman, nevertheless makes great play of the duality of the character, and how this is something he and Catwoman can share – both “split right down the centre” – but also how this means a happy ending for either of them is impossible.

Spider-Man & Mary Jane (Tobey Maguire & Kirsten Dunst, Spider-Man, 2002): whilst a lot of this is really down to the sexiness of them kissing upside-down in the rain, there’s a nice duality to Peter and MJ seeing through each other too: he sees the wounded humane soul beneath her it-girl persona; she sees the kind, caring man underneath his geek baggage. This arc plays out beautifully across the first two films (ending in that wonderfully accepting “Go get ‘em, tiger”) before sadly getting all murky and unsatisfying in the murky and unsatisfying third film. Still: that kiss.

Wonder Woman & Steve Trevor (Gal Gadot & Chris Pine, Wonder Woman, 2017): probably the film that hews closest to the Clark-Lois dynamic of the original Superman, to the point where it includes an homage to the alleyway-mugging scene as Diana deflects a bullet. Steve is Diana’s window into man’s world, showing her the horror of the First World War but managing to also be a sympathetic ally and never talking down or mansplaining anything. He’s a hero in his own right – very similar to another wartime Steve on this list – and very much an ideal match to the demigod he’s showing round Europe. And, of course, Gadot’s Diana is incredible, both niaive and vulnerable whilst also an absolute badass. There is an enduring warm chemistry to the pair, with a relationship which we actually see consummated – relatively rare for superheroes! The inevitability of his heroic sacrifice does nothing to lessen the tragedy, and no I’ve not seen Wonder Woman 1984 yet.

Hawkeye & Laura Barton (Jeremy Renner & Linda Cardellini, Avengers: Age of Ultron, 2015): I love these guys! I love that Hawkeye has a relatively normal, stable family life. He has a big old farmhouse that he wants to remodel, he’s got two kids and a third on the way… he’s got something to live for, something to lose. It humanises him amidst the literal and figurative gods of the Avengers. And they’re cute together, bickering and bantering, and of course she is supportive of his Avenging. I hope we get to see more of Laura and the kids in the Hawkeye series, and I hope nothing bad happens to them now they’ve all been brought back to life.

Wanda Maximoff & Vision (Elizabeth Olsen & Paul Bettany, Avengers: Infinity War, 2018): theirs is a difficult relationship to parse, because they’re together so briefly. They cook paprikash together in Civil War before having a bit of a bust-up, and by Infinity War they’re an official couple, albeit on the run (and on different sides). That movie does a great job in establishing their feelings for each other in very little screentime, with their heroic characteristics on full display, before the shockingly awful tragedy of Wanda killing Vision to save the galaxy, before Thanos rewinds time, brings him back to life, and kills him again, and then wins. Their relationship going forward, in WandaVision, is even trickier, because we don’t know what’s up yet, and at times they’re clearly not acting as “themselves”, defaulting to sitcom tropes and one-liners. Will Vision survive, and if he does, will their relationship? Who can say, but at least they’ll always have Edinburgh, deep-fried kebabs and all.

Batman & Andrea Beaumont (Kevin Conroy & Dana Delany, Batman: Mask of the Phantasm, 1993): woah, Batman’s back but it’s a different Batman, say whaaaat. Animated Batman has had a few romances, from the great (Talia al-Ghul) to the disturbingly icky (Batgirl, ewwww), but his relationship with Andrea Beaumont is the best. Tweaking the Year One formula to give young Bruce a love interest that complicates his quest is a golden idea, and making her a part of the criminality and corruptiuon that he’s fighting is a suitably tragic part of the Batman origin story. Conroy and Delany give great performances, him wringing pathos out of Bruce, torn between heart and duty (“It just doesn’t hurt so bad anymore,” he wails to his parents’ grave, “I didn’t count on being happy”), her channelling golden age Hollywood glamour. The tragedy of them rekindling their relationship years later, only to wind up on different sides again, is – again – so very Batman. It’s a beautiful, earnest, very Batman relationship, a great titanic tragedy of human emotions and larger-than-life ideals. And they both look good in black.

Harley Quinn & Poison Ivy (Kaley Cuoco & Lake Bell, Harley Quinn, 2020): this one’s a little bit of a cheat, as I’ve only seen the first season of the show, where Harley and Ivy don’t even get together. But in the wider, non-canonical sense of these being characters who are part of the pop-cultural ether, Harley and Ivy will always be a couple, I feel; and there’s definitely enough in there already to see the affection between them, not yet consummated. They adore each other, are always there for each other, and as the season follows Harley getting out of her own way and acknowledging the abuse of her relationship with Joker – and finally getting over it in the healthiest way possible for a bleached-white manic pixie in roller derby gear. And all through this, holding her hand, is Ivy. They’re utterly made for each other, and I’m glad that they do get together in season two. I hope that Margot Robbie’s rendition of the character can likewise find happiness with a flesh-and-blood Ivy. Hell, just cast Lake Bell again. She’s great.

Just bubbling under – and I’m really gutted I couldn’t fit them in – was Spider-Man & M.J. from Spider-Man: Far From Home. Like Batman, I’m comfortable including multiple continuities here, and those cuties offer a different spin on a classic relationship.

[rubykgrant]

If you love high-fantasy, or are just kinda getting into it, and are looking for something to watch while you have extra time, I’d suggest the animated Ranking-Bass trio of the Hobbit (1977) as well as the sequel the Return of the King (1980), the Last Unicorn (1982), and the Flight of Dragons (1982).

I feel like the most well known is the Last unicorn, and a decent number of people are aware of the the Hobbit (but not so much the Return of the King), while the Flight of Dragons is somewhat forgotten. These animated Rankin-Bass movies were actually my first introduction to the Hobbit and anything Tolkein related, and I saw them a long time before I could even read (family friends had the VHS tape, and I’d watch it whenever my parents took me there to visit, starting when I was about 2 years old). This caused something kinda funny when I was in elementary school; I was taking a reading comprehension test, and we were allowed to go as far as we could with the test packet, which took me to high school level books. Because I’d seen the Hobbit (and other shows like Wishbone or Jim Henson’s the Storyteller), I could answer questions about the story, and my teachers thought I must have cheated somehow.

About these movies; the Hobbit/Return of the King are obviously based on the books by JRR Tolkein. Rankin-Bass had already done many animated and sto-motion movies (pretty much all the Christmas classics are them), and they wanted to get into stories with more depth in different styles, so they started making high-fantasy movies. For the Hobbit, the art style was partially inspired by the art of Arthur Rackham, who did the concept art for them. The scenery and backgrounds very beautiful with many details in the tree roots and rocks, creating lush watercolor world. Animation for it was done by Topcraft, which later became Studio Ghibli (the same studio and crew also worked on Return of the King). Many of the poems Tolkeing wrote in the book were used and made into songs, sometimes the characters singing/speaking the lines, but there was also mood-music and singing done by Glenn  Yarbrough (including an original song just for the Hobbit). The voice cast for both movies included many talented people, but some that might be known for their other work; Hans Conreid plays Thorin (who was also Captain Hook in Disney’s Peter Pan), and Casey Kasem as Merry (who was the original Shaggy from Scooby-Doo). Both of these movies include very important scenes from the source material, and they really do them justice (Smaug’s boastful introduction, Thorin’s good-bye, Eowyn taking her stand, ect). Another animated movie, the Lord of the Rings (1978), combines The Fellowship/Two Towers, and was directed by Ralph Bakshi. It has completely different animation, and unique mood for itself, but is still rightfully impressive and worth watching as well (the live-action Lord of the Rings films were heavily influenced by Bakshi’s work)

The Last Unicorn is based on the book by Peter S Beagle, and he also worked on the screenplay for the film. Topcrfaft again worked on the animation, and while it is visually similar to the Hobbit in certain areas, it has an entirely different style and feeling, the backgrounds/scenery resembling classic tapestries. There is an especially lovely way hair and eyes are depicted in the Last Unicorn, something we can see in various anime shows/movies; the eyes are deep with shine-sparkles, and the hair flowls either elegantly or wildly. There is again a very amazing cast for this film, each person doing an amazing job. A few people that are known in other animated roles; Jeff Bridges plays Prince Lir (who has been in more recent animated movies like Surf’s Up as Zeke), and Angela Lansbury voicing Mommy Fortuna (who was Mrs Potts in Disney’s Beauty and the Beast). Like many books-turned-movies, certain things were cut for time, but what remains are still very important parts of the story. The movie also has a beautiful collection of original songs, performed by the group America. The over-all vibe of the the Last Unicorn is a combination of bright beauty, dark themes with sad undertones, and little bits of combedy scattered through it all

The Flight of Dragons is interesting, because it actually combines two different books into one animated movie; the Flight of Dragons by Pter Dickenson was where the author explored various myths and legends about dragons, and worked out how it related to real life. In some cases, what existing things people might have mistaken for dragons, but also if it was possible for dragons to have truly existed. Another book, the Dragon and the George by Gordon R Dickson (part of the Dragon Knight series), told the fictional story of a modern day man who works as an assistant to a history professor going on a strange journey to rescue his fiance. He winds up in another world where fantasy creatures are real, and dragons refer to all humans as “George”. While in this world, the man winds up inhabiting the body of a dragon, and a quest involving a knight/a magician/evil dragons/and much more. For the animated film, elements from both stories were used, creating a new one about “Peter Dickenson” being the modern day man who winds up in the body of dragon, which he is very excited about since he can learn more about his favorite subject this way. Yet again, the voice cast was incredible, and two that are known in other media; John Ritter as Peter Dickenson (who was also in Three’s Company and the Problem Child), and James Earl Jones as the evil wizard Ommadon (known for lending his voice to Mufasa in Disney’s the Lion King and Darth Vader from Star Wars). The film follows a similar plot to the Dragon and the George, but still includes the science the works out how dragons coult hypothetically existed, explaining the fire-breath and the flight. Themes in the movie also include science VS magic, how modern ideas often seem to harm forms of fantasy, the dangers of both forms when humans take no consideration with what they create, but ultimately it is using science as a force for good that saves the magical realm. Illustrations for the book Flight of Dragons were done by Wayne Anderson, who created very stylized drawings that was also heavily detailed, many of the dragons have pebbled scales/large eyes/and powerful claws. This art was used as the inspiration for animated dragons, bringing the illustrations to life

OK, enough from me; if you can track these down and feel like it, enjoy some fantasy films~

[yehet-me-up]

Frozen North ~ Night One

Pairing: Chanyeol x reader

Genre: Horror/Suspense/SPOOP in general/light romance (because who else would I be?)

Word Count: 2,675

Rating: PG13 (nothing gruesome, but knowing me there will be swearing)

Summary: You run a late night radio show dedicated to telling scary stories and urban legends, the creepier the better. Listeners call in and share their own, creating a small but loyal community of folks like you who love this sort of thing. But one night a man calls in with what sounds like an all-too-real story and before you know it you’ll do anything to make sure he’s safe.

Frozen North Masterlist

A/N: A smol mini-series for @yeoltidecarol because let’s see how many ways I can procrastinate writing this book 😂 and because I luh you <3 Plus it’s blizzarding here, so why not get creepy?

The station is normally deserted by the time you get there just after seven thirty. All the daytime hosts leave by six, seven at the latest. A few other nighttime crew members are arriving for the evening shift. The janitor Marcus waves to you before sliding in his earbuds and you return it with a smile.

The building seems to move in closer as the evening settles in, making a protective cocoon around you as you step into the tech room.

Daniel, the evening producer turns and gives you a nod before going back to manning the controls. The show before yours is winding down. 

Sue lifts her headphones up to fix her hair and waves when she catches your attention. You’ve worked back to back for going on three years now and Sue was the first person to take you out for drinks to celebrate getting a regular show.

After dropping off your coat and bag in the closet of the studio you head for the kitchen to get a large cup of coffee. With the eight to midnight shift five nights a week, you’ve learned you need it.

You roll your neck and grab a mug from the collection in one of the cabinets. Even if the station bootstraps damn near everything they thankfully never skimp on good coffee. 

The sound of wind howling draws you to the window while you stir in your creamer.

Snow flurries outside, coating the trees with thick whiteness. Even though it’s warm in the station and in your sweater, you shiver. The sun sets early in winter here, making it seem like the dead of night by five or even earlier.

Your phone buzzes in your pocket and you pull it out. A face is on the screen, a profile photo of someone you don’t recognize. Messy black hair falling into warm brown eyes. Ears that stick out at the edges.

CHANYEOL WOULD LIKE TO FACETIME the screen reads.

Well, you’re not one to avoid a little mystery. With the pinky of the hand holding your coffee you swipe the accept button.

Before you can say anything a sound comes through the phone. It’s deafening, howling, drowning out any attempt at conversation. Wind, if you had to guess. 

There’s no face or sign of the man in the photo on the screen. The only thing you can see is white and gray. For long seconds you wait to see if the scene will change.

‘Hello?’ you call into the phone.

Nothing moves, the noise and the whiteness remain. You look up at the clock and see its 7:48. ‘Shit.’

You shake yourself and shrug, ending the call with your thumb and shoving the phone back into your pocket. ‘Well, that was odd.’ 

You hustle off back to the booth to get ready for the show. After a quick run-down with Daniel you grab your laptop and quietly open the door to the booth.

‘And here’s one last track from me tonight. Please enjoy Pied Piper from the Senate. This has been Local Rewind. I’m Siouxsie and I’ll be back tomorrow at six.’ She sighs and takes the headset off, hanging it on the holder.

With a big stretch she leans back in her chair, twisting her neck to work out the kinks. She stands dramatically and motions for you to take the chair. 

‘After you, queen of the spook.’

You share a laugh, heading to the plush leather chair. ‘Great show tonight, I loved that Temple of the Dog choice to open the show. I haven’t heard it in ages.’

She pouts while slinging her purse over her shoulder. ‘Thanks. One day I’ll get over Chris Cornell, but that day is not today.’

The two of you air kiss as she passes you, wrapping her scarf around her neck. ‘It will never be that day, Suse,’ you laugh gently.

She pauses in the doorway, leaning her hip against the wood. ‘Ah, you’re right. Have fun tonight babe, don’t let the demons get you.’ With a wink and a waggle of her eyebrows, she’s gone.

You laugh, the sound echoing back to you as the door shuts. You slide into the chair and lift the headset over your ears. Bopping along the ending of the song you pull up the notes for the show on your laptop.

The insulation in the booth makes it feel like a bubble. Only the lightboard of calls that come in throughout the night, and Daniel in the control room, remind you that you’re not alone in the world.

The song playing fades out and you look to Daniel. After a beat he points to you and the ON AIR light flashes to red, letting you know you’re live.

‘Hello and welcome back to The Long Night on 107.9 KJWZ Seattle, where the dial might stop, but we don’t. I’m Roxy and I’ll be your host for the evening. Let’s get weird.’ Your assumed name slips off your tongue like clockwork, further distancing you from the real world.

You smile to yourself as you read the first short story, one of your favorites from the SPC Foundation database. 

Here feels like your home. Your voice on air is absent of the nervousness that it seems to take on in your daily life. Here you don’t have to worry about bills or eating a balanced fucking diet or grad school and your mountain of reading to get through by Sunday for your PhD in mythology and folklore.

Here you can savor the pure joy of sharing, hearing, and discussing excellent stories that remind you why you love the craft of storytelling.

The first hour of the show goes by fast. A regular listener, who goes by the handle Ghoulish, calls in to share the piece he’s working on. From the semi-regular stories he’s called in to share you suspect he’s an aspiring horror writer. Sure, his submissions might read a bit like someone who worships and emulates Stephen King. But he’s got style, and loads of potential, and you’re always happy he calls.

Once he finishes you jump back on the line. ‘Oooh, that was a good one this week Ghoulish. Thanks so much for calling in.’

You jump to the next chunk of your notes. ‘Tonight’s local myth is the story of Mariner High up in Everett. According to legend a creature haunts the school, stalking its halls and terrifying the night janitor so badly he was put in the hospital with heart palpitations last month.’

In the control room Daniel’s mouth presses together in interest and he gives you a thumbs up. He used to hate being the night producer, claiming he was too old and superstitious to be able to cope with hearing stories like the ones you dive into. But now, after three years together, he’s coming around.

‘Witnesses report that since the 1990’s late night visitors to the school have noticed flickering lights, unearthly whispering from the men’s locker rooms, and the sound of nails scratching along lockers. Many claim that the entity is the spirit of a worker who died at the school during its construction in the mid-seventies.’

Daniel frowns and wraps his arms around his torso dramatically, his salt and pepper hair shaking as he cringes in mock horror. You lift a hand to your lips to smother a laugh.

‘Allegedly, if you get close enough to this being you see a pair of floating, glowing eyes. Jackson Donnelly, a member of the football team who was there late on Friday night after practice claims that he saw the eyes around a corner. The longer he looked he says that an outline of a tall man with wings started to form.’

‘Supposedly this figure is protective of the school and its students, but Jackson says that the form definitely did not seem welcoming. After his phone rang, distracting him, Jackson said he looked back and the figure was gone. He quickly dressed and left, swearing to never be in the school late at night again.’

‘So, what do you guys think? Real? Myth? Let me know.’

Lights start blinking on your call panel and you grin. It never fails to amaze you how many people listen to and love your show. A small cult following has grown up after an article from The Stranger highlighted it and you’re so grateful to be able to do this.

You push the button for the first line. ‘Welcome on the show, what’s your name?’

‘Hi, my name’s Janelle. My cousin Alisha goes to Mariner and she said for sure it’s real. She and her friends were there working on signs for cheerleading and they swear they heard something in the gym calling their names. Got so freaked out they ran out immediately.’

‘Oooh, fascinating. Thanks for calling in Janelle.’ You push the second line. ‘Hi, what’s your name?’

‘David. I gotta say this sounds pretty cliche, it’s probably just an old building with faulty lights and bad plumbing. Not that it’s not a great story, and no offense to Janelle’s cousin, but I just don’t buy it.’

‘Very possible, David. Thanks for playing Devil’s Advocate as always,’ you laugh warmly and David joins you for a beat before you end the call.

After a few more responses you see its approaching ten o’clock and decide to move on. ‘Thanks for calling in everyone. We’re going to take a short break for some sponsor messages and then I’ll open it up for submissions again. Don’t go anywhere.’

When you get back to the chair after a quick bathroom break you settle in, easing the sleeves of your sweater over your palms. The temperature in the building gets freezing, especially when everyone goes home for the evening.

The ads finish and Daniel signals that you’re back. ‘Alright, let’s see what stories you guys have for us tonight. Hmmm.’

You debate, watching as the ten lines all fill up with blinking lights. Something makes you hit button six. ‘Hello, lucky number six. Welcome to the show, tell us about yourself.’

The line is dead for a moment and you almost move on and hit another button, but then a man’s voice comes on. ‘Hi. I’m…. you can call me C.’ His voice is a deep baritone, wrapping around you like silk.

You look at the station computer at his number and a chill runs down your spine. 1-907-613-2458 - UNLISTED NUMBER - NOME

‘Hi C, where are you calling in from tonight? The extension on your line says 907. Are you calling from Nome… Alaska? That can’t be right.’

He ignores the question. ‘I thought you might be able to help me.’

You meet Daniel’s raised brow through the glass. Running a night time radio show about scary stories, you’ve definitely heard your fair share of weirdos. People playing practical jokes or soliciting all manner of freaky sex acts. People who are way too into some of the more gruesome legends, especially the ones involving women.

Luckily, those kind of calls are few and far between. And this man’s voice is steady and sure, unlike the tremor and intonation of some of the more disturbing callers.

You lean forward in the chair. ‘Help you how?’

‘I see her sometimes. At night.’ His reply comes fast.

His words ignite that feeling in your gut that sets you on edge. Alarm races through your veins, speeding your pulse. ‘See who?’

When his voice returns it’s distant, quieter. ‘The white woman. Amarok Siku. That’s… what the others call her.’

Fear slides through your lungs. If he’s making this up he’s a damned good actor. ‘Others?’

He carries on, the line fading into static. You press your headphones to your ears to hear him clearly. ‘I see her outside my window. From the trees. I think… she wants me to come and walk with her. Onto the ice.’

‘C. Are you alright? How can we help?’ You err on the side that he’s someone in honest need of help. ‘This is a radio show down in Seattle and we talk about paranormal stories and legends. Is this woman… human?’

‘She wasn’t supposed to be real,’ abruptly his voice continues, rising at the end to a panicked, keening sound. ‘Please, help m-’

The line clicks off. You sit there in silence for a few moments, trying to slow your breathing. Daniel waves to get your attention. Are you okay? He mouths.

You nod and shake yourself, jumping back onto the line. Something feels off, and terribly wrong. You can’t explain it, but you know that wasn’t just a story.

With a cough to clear your voice, you continue. ‘Well, thank you... C. That was definitely a new one for us. What did you guys think? Let me know.’

The lights on the panel flare to life, but you can’t look away from his number, still on the screen.

You finish the show as best you can, unable to get your mind off that call.

At eleven fifty-nine you wind things down, stifling a yawn. ‘Thank you for hanging out with me tonight everyone. I’m Roxy and this has been The Long Night. See you guys tomorrow... stay safe,’ you add after a beat.

While you gather your things Daniel queues up the programming that runs from midnight to five when the morning shows start running. Per habit you tidy the studio, slide on your coat, grab your purse and laptop, and flip the switch before leaving the booth.

Daniel presses a final button and motions for you to exit first. He turns the lights out in the halls while you snake your way through the building. Neither of you speaks, both unsure what to say.

After locking the front double doors he finally turns to you. ‘Are you okay going home tonight? That was some weird shit, Rox.’

You shrug, trying to shake off the weird feeling that’s lingered on your skin since C’s call. Folding your arms to keep in the warmth, you plaster a smile on your face. 

‘Oh yeah, Dan, I’ll be fine. It was just a prank or some new thing someone’s trying. I’m sure.’

He pats your shoulder. ‘I’m getting too old for this shit,’ he says in his best Murtaugh impression and you crack a genuine smile.

With a laugh he gets in his car and drives away, raising a hand in farewell to you. Once inside your own car you start it up, willing heat to flood the space. As soon as Daniel pulls away, leaving you in the empty lot, you pull out your phone.

The number is still there on the screen from when you typed it in - 1-907-613-2458 - and with your breath visible in front of you, you debate. ‘This is silly,’ you say aloud to yourself.

But still, something makes you press the call button. The number fades as the phone starts ringing. 

CALLING CHANYEOL the screen now says, the face from earlier popping up.

‘What the-’

While it rings you click the home screen and pull up your contacts. You shake your head in confusion while you scroll to the C’s. Christine. Caitlin. Carrie-Ann. Camille. Connor.

Definitely no one named Chanyeol. And you’d have remembered that face.

The phone makes a beep, the line going dead. Not even a voicemail option. ‘That’s so fucking weird.’

Pulling up Google you type in the words he said: Amarok Siku. Dead end links come up one by one. Eventually you add ‘Alaska’ and finally get somewhere. The words in Inuit mean Ice Wolf. 

You purse your lips, drawing one into your mouth to chew on it. Adding ‘myth,’ you can’t find any results. Usually urban legends or tall tales at least have some blog posts or local articles, but for this, there’s nothing. 

Lastly you type in ‘Chanyeol’ and ‘Nome, Alaska’ and get no results. 

Disturbed, carving the warmth and safety of your apartment you shrug, turning on the radio and moving the car to drive.

[derieri]

Princess of the Light

A Nanatsu no Taizai and Legend of Zelda crossover

Another piece of the NnT + LoZ blend that has been on a back-burner for upwards of a year. This would/will be the opening prologue of the narrative. As I’ve mentioned before, I fully intend to follow through with this idea... at some point. Feedback very welcome!

Prologue

The Princess’ crystal eyes went wide at the sight of the puppet show before her. Cast in the golden, angled light of a late summer afternoon, the silhouette figures seemed to breathe as they danced before a tapestry of greenery and sky. The narrator stepped up beside the puppets’ “stage” to start the tale, gaily dressed in pink and silver feathers meant to represent the goddesses. She slowly looked over the assembled crowd until they silenced; the anticipation in the atmosphere could have been cut open with a knife.

“This is a story of ancient times before the worlds of man and gods became divided forever,” she began. She sang the story in the ancient style, and the puppets followed the contours of her melody.

“Across the land, the seven races thrived: Giants, working metal in the mountain tops; Zora, who guard the river’s run; Druids and their cousin Sheikah; the Fair Folk in the forest with their mystery and mischief. Living in their center were the Humans, humble and devoted. Above all were the Holy Goddesses, the four mightiest of who had made the world. And below them roamed the Demon Clan in their realm of shadow and horror.

“One day, the demons’ King tired of the careful balance, so he tipped the scales toward the night. A great war ensued for the soul of Britannia, and many were slain.

“In the midst of the violence, our blessed goddess declared: ‘This great evil must be defeated.’ She assembled seven individuals from among the clans to wage a fierce battle against the demon king.” On-stage, the puppets charged at one another, brandishing their weapons. Black and purple smoke spewed from the Demon King’s form, while the sages fired back with sparks. The Princess shouted encouragement to the heroes with the other children, but despite that, their attacks grew fewer and smaller, until they altogether stopped. A bolt of fear struck the Princess’ heart. The sages were going to lose!

“All hope seemed lost,” the narrator continued. “Then, the goddess took her blade and cut a hole in the earth. She told the sages: ‘Push the demons in there.’ One by one, the sages sent the monsters into the abyss, until they came to the demon king once more.”

Again the sages faced the King, this time with the glowing white form of the goddess beside them. They attacked. Bit by bit, they fought the Demon King backward, until he stumbled into the gorge with a furious yell. The Princess cheered with the other children, and the puppets on-stage began to prance about in celebration.

“The people prepared a victory feast, but the goddess was wise. ‘First, we must keep the demons in their prison,’ she said.

“Using magic never seen before or since that time, she put a mark upon her body and became the seal that trapped the demon clan. With the last of her power, she prophesied to the people there: ‘I have set in motion a great plan. Scatter to the wind, my seven, to await the hero’s spirit and the princess of the light. Only then shall the power of the sages defeat our ancient enemy once and for all.’” The narrator paused for dramatic effect, and the audience held their breath in rapt anticipation.

“For now, no one has ever found one of the members of the prophecy. Some believe that they can only be identified by the princess or the hero, while others say the sages have long died. Let us pray it’s not the latter, else we all might be in trouble when the demon king breaks out again.”

An ominous chuckle echoed from behind the puppet stage, reverberating like it came out of the chasm where the demon clan was sealed. Chills raked up and down the Princess’ spine. More colored smoke coated the stage in black ash clouds edged with firelight red. A shadow appeared in the background, obscured by the thickening smoke. It loomed closer and closer in time with the dark laughter and the thumping of her heart. The Princess’ head swam as the specter of the Demon King grew so large he swallowed the entire stage, and with him a farrago of sights and sounds: clashing blades; the groan of the dying; swathes of land soaked in blood; an abyssal eye that burned with dark flames—images of catastrophic war.

Forceful hands snatched both sides of her ribcage. A terrified cry escaped her lips as they tipped her balance backward to suspend her off the ground, breathless and unable to escape the crushing grip. She thrashed against the air. She already knew their hold on her was too strong for her to break, but maybe, maybe she could–

“Elizabeth! Elizabeth!”

The stern almost-shout of her nanny splashed over Princess Elizabeth’s panic like a pitcher-full of ice water, stilling her. She realized that she could see again as if she hadn’t before. Suddenly confused and exhausted, she lay still on the ground and let her eyes travel over the scenery around her. Nanny’s face was close to hers, and around her in a ring were the faces of the half-a-dozen children she had watched the puppet show with. More adults looked down on her from up above the children.

“Nanny? Nanny, why am I on the ground?” She could not read the expression on Nanny’s face. Was that gladness, or anger? Or, perhaps—what were those new words she learned in lessons?—Nanny was irritated or relieved.

She didn’t speak or resist as Nanny shooed the villagers away from them, bundled Elizabeth up in her arms, and set off in the direction of the castle. When they passed the inner gate into the courtyard, Nanny set her down on the staircase. She stood back from the Princess by a step and put her hands upon her hips.

“Princess! You know that you are not to run around the village without supervision!” she scolded.

Elizabeth flinched and turned her eyes toward her dirty palms in shame.

“I’m sorry, Nanny. I heard some boys talking about the storyteller that was coming, and I wanted to go see it. I should have asked you to come with me. I’m sorry.”

Nanny huffed. Elizabeth did not look back up at her but blinked away a tear. It crawled along her cheek, down her nose, and then it dropped onto her wrist with a tiny splat. Nanny huffed again, and then the Princess found herself enveloped in her warm, soft arms.

“It’s alright, dear, no need to weep about it. You must keep in mind, though, that you’re a fragile girl. Now, besides the end that spooked you, how did you like the story? You went to all the trouble of getting to it, after all.”

“Oh, I loved it!” She looked up and clasped her hands together, damp cheek forgotten as she relayed the story and the prophecy about the princess of the light. “Sometimes princesses are named after the goddess, aren’t they? That’s where my name comes from.”

Nanny shook her head. “No, that family name just comes from an important great-great-grandmother in your family. The myth is all a lot of nonsense, made up.”

“But Papa tells me stories about the seven Sages all the time! He says they promised they would help the rulers of Liones if we needed them a lot sometime!” Nanny only frowned again.

“I will talk to His Majesty about this. I’m responsible for your education, and filling you with nonsense such as this won’t teach you to separate fact from fiction later on. Now go along, go ahead and play with the elder princesses.

“Yes, Nanny.”

“Take it easy, though, since that story made you so overexcited.”

“Yes, Nanny.”

Elizabeth scampered off to find her big sisters, and she obediently tried to put the goddess and her sages as far from her mind as possible. Her father ceased to tell her stories of the legends. Soon, her lessons increased in length and difficulty, and her childhood free time began to fill with other pursuits. It should have been easy to move on.

Despite all of this, however, she never managed to forget the goddess’ prophecy. It haunted her dreams and sometimes moments of her waking hours. She couldn’t say why, other than to guess that deep within her, in her innermost being, some part of her knew that it was true.

[danyreads]

TITLE: Outrun The Wind AUTHOR: Elizabeth Tammi RELEASE DATE: November 27th 2018 READ DATE: August 7th 2018 PUBLISHING HOUSE: Flux & North Star Editions RATING: ★★★☆☆

ARC provided from the publisher via NetGalley in exchange for an honest review (thank you Flux & North Star Editions!!)

The Song of Achilles but make it sapphic !!!

after joining Meleager on the hunt for the Calydonian Boar as the only woman on the crew, huntress Atalanta is faced with the terrifying consequence of drawing first blood on the boar, a creature made by the goddess Artemis. except Atalanta didn’t kill the Calydonian Boar, one of Artemis’s own huntresses, Kahina, did. as both make their way to the kingdom of Arkadia—Atalanta, returning home, and Kahina, trying to earn back Artemis’s favor—their paths cross and their fates unravel, revealing so much more than either girl ever bargained for.

very loosely based on the greek myth of Atalanta, Outrun the Wind is a fun, quick read. my expectations were high for this one, and i’m happy to say that, despite a few issues i had with the book, my expectations were mostly met!!

i can’t write this review without mentioning at least once how often this book reminded me of the first 60-75 pages of The Song of Achilles, when Achilles and Patroclus still live as boys in Phthia. from Greece itself as a setting, to Patroclus/Achilles and Kahina/Atalanta and their tranquil relationship as the plot develops, and the undeniable parallels between Atalanta/Achilles and Kahina/Patroclus. Kahina’s POV, her voice and storytelling style, were both very similar to Patroclus’s in my opinion. Outrun the Wind is obviously not as emotionally loaded as TSOA, and the ship itself is not as heavy and remarkable. TSOA is a masterpiece on its own, but Outrun the Wind definitely had very similar vibes. so if you find yourself looking for something like TSOA but with lesbians, this is it.

speaking of lesbians, though. this book almost had me thinking it was gonna queerbait me. the slow burn is very subtle, and you honestly never know when (or even if) the main characters are even going to get together. it wasn’t until around 80% of the way through the book that we even had any evidence that either of them truly had romantic feelings for the other, before that it’s just very angry but extremely subtle requited pining. so the chemistry was there, but something was definitely missing as far as relationship development goes. it isn’t the best wlw ship i’ve read, but it was okay. however!!! i’m happy to say that this book has a bisexual MC and a lesbian MC, and that is super fun!!!!

for a debut novel, i think Elizabeth Tammi’s writing style was pretty good!! as i said, it kept reminding me of TSOA, and that HAS to be a good thing. my only issue with Tammi’s writing style is that Kahina’s and Atalanta’s POV’s were barely discernible between one another. if we didn’t have the character’s name before each chapter to tell us who the narrator is, i don’t think i would’ve been able to tell the difference. aside from that, though, i think Tammi did a fantastic job.

overall i think this was a fun, quick read and i was really impressed by it!! despite the few issues i had with it, i’m very happy to have been able to read an early copy and i’ll be eagerly awaiting its release in november. thanks again to NetGalley, Flux & North Star Editions!!

GOODREADS LINK

[ratherinterestingmilkshake]

Meet the Writer Tag

thx @goxmyworldxthings for the tag xD Even though I don’t do my writing on here (I know I repost it, I like my own writing, okay?), and these are actually my questions, I don’t care, I got tagged., so NOBODY can say anything :3

1. How would you describe your writing style?

descriptive, cryptic, kinda poetic, overall weird. Also destructive for myself.

2. Can you ever finish anything, or do you get distracted by new ideas far too easily?

I always get distracted by new ideas. I have NEVER finished anything longer than one or two chapters. I have written longer stuff, but never finished it.

3. Who or what influenced you most in your writing? (Teachers, Siblings who you told stories too, Books, Myths etc.)

My interest in writing and storytelling was fueled by my first teacher (from 6-10 we have only one teacher except for like two subjects). He got me interested in all sorts of things, but especially my own imagination and understanding of the world. Tbh he’s probably the reason why I’m also so interested in science of any sort. My writing itself - style, genre etc. - were books and movies and all sorts of things that tell stories. Mythology probably very deeply but also children’s books and any type of movies.

4. Do you ever want to publish?

No. I can’t think of myself as a published author.

5. What is your worst writing-related fear?

Just ... losing my imagination. This isn’t just writing related, but it ties in. I can’t imagine losing my ability to imagine. Stop dreaming up fantastic worlds while riding the bus to school or daydreaming about magical creatures while teachers are going on and on about stuff I don’t want to hear. Or thinking about the magic in my city, about how you should never follow a white or a black pigeon because they are never just pigeons. Dreaming up wings for myself, so I may one day ride the wind and sleep on clouds and just touch the waves with my fingers. Losing that would probably also mean losing myself ...

6. If you could just stop time and write for as long as you like without the pressure of time or other people, without losing interest in your idea or losing inspiration - what would you write?

I ... don’t know. Probably finish everything I have lying around and then ... write something nobody has ever written before. Dream something up as big as JRR Tolkien’s World, with new races and creatures, and a new type of gods and a new creation of the world. Maybe breathable air in space like in treasure planet. Maybe something as mundane as a world without humans.

7. What is your favorite book?

let’s stop saying Neil Gaiman’s Norse Mythology for a while (it’s that one) and say the book I love almost as much but HAVEN’T EVEN FINISHED READING YET ._. The Sillmarilion.

8. What was your favorite book when you were a child (about 10 or younger)?

It must have been “Die Höhlenkinder” (The Cave Children) or “Ronja Räubertochter” (Ronja, The Robber’s Daughter). Both beautiful but kinda old Children’s books, and probably one of the few I will still only read in German.

9. Which movie do you think has the best story?

uhhhhhhhh ... Treasure Planet? Maybe? Just thinking off the top of my head, it would be that one. Though I think the world building is a lot better there. American Satan has a good story - one I could see myself writing. Crimson Peak is good - though the visual design of the ghosts and Tom Hiddleston probably help a bit. Taking something based on a book would be cheating ... Rouge One: A Star Wars Story. I’ll settle on that. And I won’t say why.

10. Would you ever like to write stories for games? why, why not?

I would like to actually. Especially very story driven stuff, though not even with much text (Life is Strange, Journey etc.). It’s something I would LOVE to do as a job, but I’m not sure I can ever do that. And honestly, I have no idea why xD

I’m not gonna tag anybody bc as I said, those are actually my questions xD

[kuciradio]

Tropicália Festival Review, 11/11/17

Long Beach was especially poppin’ on a Saturday as Santa Ana’s Observatory crew threw the first-ever Tropicália music and taco festival, right in the Queen Mary’s backyard. The sold-out Felipe Esparza-hosted festival was, first and foremost, a celebration of Latin American music and cuisine, with headliners like Los Tigres del Norte, Café Tacvba, Sonora Dinamita, Chicano Batman, and newcomer Kali Uchis, not to mention unlimited free tacos from vendors catering to all types of diets. The eclectic lineup also included artists ranging from soul classics The Delfonics and Brenton Wood to rapper Madlib to LA DIY-scene rockers like Sadgirl. This stellar mix of international musicians provided attendees of various ethnicities and ages with more than enough standout performances to witness.

The high sun beat down on the Día de los Puercos stage (one of four stages total) as Evelyn “Champagne” King, a disco icon, brought the heat with hits such as “I’m in Love” and “Love Come Down.” Although the audience consisted mostly of people born 15 or even 20 years after the height of King’s popularity, her funk-drenched pop gems remain impossible not to dance to. The songstress herself, now 57 years old, dropped it low, shimmied, and tossed her hair back while grinning from ear to ear, giving one of the most energetic and joyful performances of the day.

 Over at the Mota stage (which lived up to its name), Los Angeles band Current Joys played for all the Burger boppers who secretly yearn to relish in their emo phases every now and then. The warbling vocals and reverb-drenched guitars of “New Flesh” and “Television” made the sun burn with less intensity and brought about an ocean breeze. The beloved “Kids” really resonated with the kids in the crowd who jumped in unison as if they were in a hazy, teen coming-of-age movie. The sense of community and sincerity apparent in their ritual was more moving than I can put into words; this was one of those moments that I hope at least some of these kids will look back on one day as a moment in which they were so purely happy that evil ceased to exist and time stopped to look at them.

 Beloved local surf rockers the Buttertones knocked some serious socks off with one of the best sets of Tropicália. The infectiously catchy “Sadie’s a Sadist” and “Orpheus Under the Influence” (a Buttertones classic) bewitched dedicated fans who wiggled as if they were at Jack Rabbit Slim’s. The dapper quintet, complete with a blasting sax (courtesy of London Guzman) and frontman Richard Araiza’s iconic drawling vocals, went out with a bang with “Dak’s Back,” leaving their rabid, moshing disciples wanting more as always.

 In between acts, ravenous hordes of festivalgoers swarmed the stands to score free tacos, pupusas, burritos, and more. Local LA and OC businesses like fish taco-slinging Mariscos Jalisco, The Classic Taco (with tacos loaded with fries), savory Burritos La Palma, and vegan Taqueria la Venganza. One of the best dishes of the day had to be the soy chorizo tacos, which had a fresh kick to them that kept the Taqueria la Venganza line perpetually (and impossibly) long, even attracting numerous non-vegans. Afters brought out their to-die-for new mango chamoy ice cream, one of their best flavors yet. On top of all of this, Tropicália was the only festival I’ve ever been to that has served delicious elotes coated in a thick layer of cheese that covers everything around it like fresh snowfall.

Amongst a lineup full of greats and long-time performers (including rockabilly queen Wanda Jackson), the youngsters of Tropicália proved to be anything but rookies. 20 year-old UK artist Jorja Smith (a glowing, flawless, smiling angel of song who is quickly making her presence known) graced the fest with a voice similar to that of the late Amy Winehouse yet a sound and style all her own, talented beyond her years. Another British talent, 18-year-old George van den Broek, more commonly known as Yellow Days, is a Soundcloud sweetheart who brought his soulful squeals and sweeping synths to an already adoring fanbase for his first U.S. performance. The youngest performer on the main stage was Hawthorne’s 19-year-old-ex-band-geek-indie-sweetheart Cuco, a hopeless romantic known for alternating between singing and synth-playing and going in on swoony trumpet solos with an easy versatility. He crooned the R&B-influenced “One & Only,” and the entire crowd was entranced by the romance of his “Lover is a Day,” not to mention the wall of vibrant colors swirling behind him.

Amongst these new voices, Tropicália threw 90s R&B icon Ginuwine into the mix, which was nothing short of amazing. With a rousing, gospel-inspired introduction from his impassioned backing band, he took to the stage with his unyieldingly suave charisma. He exuded perpetual sensuality and showered his audience with love as he belted hits like “So Anxious” and “In Those Jeans.” In his animated showmanship, he turned wiping away his sweat with a towel into a full performance, as his entire band joined him in a truly moving piece in which he only had one question: who wanted his towel? As he found a new owner for the godlike towel, he joined the sea of spectators for a very sexy rendition of the universally beloved “Pony,” going out on a high note.

 As crisp ocean winds came over the main stage that night, King Krule (real name Archy Marshal) breezed in with his signature coolness, bringing new music from his latest release The OOZ with him. The deep-voiced Brit mixed fuzz guitars, distortion pedals, and clean bass licks into his uniquely dark punk, jazz, hip-hop fusion; Marshall is a lyrical and musical wunderkind who just can’t be pinned down in the often monotonous indie rock landscape. He can go from being resigned and lovelorn such as on 6 Feet Beneath the Moon classic “Baby Blue” to some biting, fiendish character, as is evident in the jazzy, dirty, squealing sax romp that is “Lizard State.” “Dum Surfer” and “Biscuit Town” highlight Marshall’s prowess for the delicate, holy matrimony between dissonance and precision. Seeing the man, the myth himself as he laid himself out, completely absorbed in his passion and craft, was something to remember.

Kali Uchis made everyone forget they were ever cold as she came out shimmering in a goddess-like white, bejeweled ensemble, the loving mass of bodies surrounding the Tropicália stage collectively on tiptoes to glimpse her in all her glory. She showered her fans with just as much love as they gave her, sharing her truths, insecurities, and heartaches in “I Know What I Want” and “Loner”, demonstrating strength in her willingness to own her vulnerabilities. “What They Say,” an underrated, dreamy gem about a reckless, blissful romance as well as what she claims to be the first song she ever wrote, showcased Uchis’s skills as a storyteller. Her pop hit “Tyrant” and Tyler, the Creator collab “See You Again” summoned countless voices from the individuals in the crowd who knew every single word. Her cover of Al Green’s timeless “Let’s Stay Together” came from a special place deep within her heart that allowed her inner beauty to shine outward like a beacon of love; a gorgeous, lush soul tribute that Green himself would have shed a few tears upon hearing had he been there to witness Uchis’s pure perfection. This was definitely one of her finest moments thus far in her still-blossoming career, not to mention of the festival itself.

The colorful, nopal-sprinkled landscape of Tropicália joyously celebrated and payed respect to the uniquely multifaceted nature of Latinx culture, refusing to limit itself to being just one thing or another but exploring and embracing different aspects of that identity. Through the experiences that accompanied sharing these foods and this music amongst others who value them just as much, Southern Californians from different backgrounds came together for a day as friends who had never met before, yet had so much to appreciate in each other.

- Sophie Prettyman-Beauchamp, DJ Owen Chillson of Beach Daze

All photos by Gabby Salinardo

[myteaguy-blog]

Gonfu Tea Ceremony: Origin Stories, Legends and Myths

Back when I was a younger man in my 20’s, tea had already become my drink of choice.  While most of my friends ordered coffee with their desserts, I would ask to see the tea selection. I am referring back in time to the 1980’s, so the selection was always standard tea bags such as Twinning’s Earl Grey, Harney & Son’s English Breakfast or Lipton’s Orange Pekoe.  Although I had no idea what orange pekoe meant at the time, I would drink it with milk and sugar and… I enjoyed it.  As the years passed on, the tea selections improved with the addition of green tea, jasmine tea and herbal teas. I continued drinking and enjoying those teas for years, ignorant of the exciting world of teas which I was soon to discover.

During a visit to China back in 2012, my friend Lester asked me if I enjoyed drinking tea, which I proudly answered, “Yes, I love tea!”  He proceeded to take out his gonfu set, and asked me what type of tea I enjoyed drinking?  As I was a little confused and a bit intimidated by the gonfu set, which I had not seen before, I told him, “Oh, whatever you like is good, I like all tea.”  Well, we ended up spending several hours just drinking tea.  It only took him a few minutes to realize that I had never drank tea in this fashion before, however, he still delighted in telling me the tea origin stories and any other relevant details about the tea, as he proceeded to brew them.  He truly enjoyed watching me light up with an eagerness to learn more and more about tea.  We spent the next few weeks tasting different teas such as tieguanyin, wuyi yanchas, aged and sheng puerhs. All of which, I was tasting for the very first time, and all of which, he had fascinating stories for.  Sometimes the stories were the terroir details or the processing method, sometimes the stories were imaginative mythological legends passed down through the generations, sometimes he just shared his own personal experience with the specific tea.  Whatever the story was, it was what made the entire experience of gonfu cha more interesting and unique than any other social experience I had encountered.   When we visited Hangzhou together, we were invited to drink some longjing green tea with a local farmer family.  As the 70-year-old head of the household brewed our tea, her grandson shared the origin story of longjing tea, as well as the story of how his family came to possess the farm and the house which we were now on.  The tea was fantastic, to say the least, but it was the stories he told us which made the entire experience unforgettable for all of us present.

I came to realize during this trip that gonfu tea is not just about drinking a beverage.  It is so much more!  Gonfu tea service is a gateway into a social connection leading to the exploration of many other subjects including culture, society, environment, meditation, moral values, and of course tea and tea ware.  Every tea that Lester offered me had a back story.  Every gaiwan or yixing pot that he used had a back story.  Every utensil he used in preparing the tea had a back story.  While drinking tea with Lester, I learned about the many different dynasties of China. I learned about the differences between western and eastern cultures. I learned how to relax and enjoy the moment. I learned how to appreciate nature. I made new, lasting friendships!  Whether the stories which he shared with me were true or not, didn’t matter, but the stories all became just as much a part of the tea memory I had formed as the aroma and the taste.

My experience with gonfu tea service in China lit a desire within me to come back to the states and share my tea experiences with others.  I gathered a bunch of friends together in my home, not knowing how they would react, since none of them were tea enthusiast. I was pleasantly surprised to see that even people who do not take tea as serious as I do, truly enjoy a gonfu session as a social gathering, when it is filled with fascinating tea tales about the teas being brewed for them.

The more I got involved with serving gonfu style tea to my friends, the more I realized that almost every tea legend which I had heard, I would hear retold slightly different on another occasion, by a different gonfu server. It was refreshing to hear the personal touch added to the storytelling.  It wasn’t about the accuracy or the truth behind the stories, but rather it was more about the connection being made with the people present.

In the following pages of this essay, I will be retelling some of the stories which I have come to learn.  I have referred to online websites to gather the stories, however I have altered the stories slightly in accordance to my own memory of how the stories were told to me. It is quite common for the version of the story which will be told to you at a gonfu session to alter in accordance to where the story teller is from.  

We will begin with three different versions of the ‘origin of tea’ legends as told by Chinese, Indian and Japanese cultures;

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

THE ORIGIN OF TEA (CHINA)

Version 1

Emperor Shen Nong set up camp with his entourage in the shade of a large tree. A fire was made and a pot with boiling water was prepared. The heat of the fire brought some of the leaves of the long branches of the tree to dry out. Suddenly, a fierce wind got up and blew some of the leaves into the pot with boiling water. The water turned golden and a delicious scent appeared. The emperor tried the drink and was delighted by the scent and delicious taste. Being immediately aware of the refreshing and invigorating effect, the emperor let out the sound "T'sa", meaning godlike so that, until today, "cha" is the name for tea in Chinese.

Version 2

In ancient times, people knew little about plants.  To determine which plants were edible, poisonous, or medicinal, Shen Nong tasted various kinds of plants every day.  Fortunately, Shen Nong had a transparent belly, making it possible for him to observe the reactions in his stomach caused by the plants he had eaten.  When he tasted tea leaves, he found that the tea leaves passed through his stomach and intestines, checking for poisons in the stomach and cleaning the intestines.  Shen Nong referred to these leaves as Cha, which has the same pronunciation as “checking the poisons” and it became the plant’s current name (tea).

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

THE ORIGIN OF TEA (JAPAN)

Bodhidharma made a pledge of 7 years of meditation, in which he vowed not to sleep.  One night he fell asleep and upon awakening, he was so angered by his failure that he cut off his eyelids and threw them to the ground to prevent himself from falling asleep again. As soon as the eyelids touched the soil, they grew roots which soon developed into a large tea bush.  After picking some of the tea leaves and chewing them, he felt energetic, and he concluded that the tea helped him to stay awake. Until today the Japanese language uses the same character for eyelid and tea.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

THE ORIGIN OF TEA (INDIA)

Fakir Dharma took a vow not to sleep for 7 years. After 5 years, it appeared that he could no longer fight the need to sleep. Full of desperation, due to knowing he would not be able to keep his vow, he grasped a couple of branches off the tree where he had made his camp. He put a few leaves into his mouth and chewed them. Immediately, Dharma experienced a refreshing and invigorating effect, his tiredness evaporated and he could keep his vow.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As you can tell by reading the preceding stories, each story varies greatly.  The stories told by a gonfu tea server can be creatively imaginative with very little truth, embellished truth or very straightforward facts.  In any case, the stories all serve the purpose of helping the listener to both be entertained and to create a lasting memory.

I will continue with a collection of some well-known and some not so well-known tea stories which have amused tea drinkers for years, decades, and even centuries.  While reading them, keep in mind that you may have heard some of them already, told in a different way.  This is the beauty of Gonfu storytelling!  Each gonfu tea server can retell the story in his/her own way.  The stories are told to make a connection with the guest being served.  If you can tell your story with emotion, sentiment and passion, you just might create in your guest an unforgettable memory and a desire to learn more about tea and tea culture…as it happened with me.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

LONGJING:

In the year 250 AD, there was a drought that took hold a small village in Hangzhou.   The local priest told the villagers that if they prayed to the Dragon who lived in a nearby spring then perhaps he will bring them rain.  They believed that this spring led to an underground sea where the Dragon lived.  It seemed only plausible that this creature could bring them the water from the sea.   The villagers prayed and prayed until finally the rains came.  In honor of the Dragon, the villagers named the village Longching (Dragon Well).

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

DA HONG PAO

During the Ming Dynasty, the emperor’s wife had grown gravely ill. He sought the advice of every doctor in the land to try and save his wife, however, nothing could be done to save the dying empress.  He then offered a reward to anybody in the land who could save his wife.  A farmer came to him with a tea which he had made from the leaves of a bush that grew on a high and steep cliff near his home.  As soon as the tea touched the lips of the empress, she began to regain her health.  The emperor was so pleased that he honored the farmer with a gift of his imperial red robes.  In response, the farmer named the tea Da Hong Pao (Red Robe Tea).

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

TIEGUANYIN

There was a man named Wei Yin in Anxi County who worked diligently in his tea farm and believed in Buddhism. He always offered a cup of tea to Guanyin, the Goddess of Mercy, in his shrine at every sunrise as well as every sunset for several decades. One-night Guanyin appeared to him in a dream and showed him a unique tea plant between the gaps of rocks. The next morning, Wei Yin followed his dream walking along the creek side to the rocky place and found the tea plant between the rock crevices that he saw in his dream.  With a great excitement, he brought the tea plant home, put it in an iron tripod, and began to cultivate it cautiously.  He treated the tea as a family treasure and brewed the tea only for his important guests. A literati scholar came to have the tea with Wei Yin one day and asked: “What is this great tea?” Wei Yin told the scholar the dream and the discovery. He also told the scholar his intention to name the tea after “Iron Rohat,”, the enlightened Buddhist Dharma protector, because the rocks where the plant was found looked like Rohats, and the plant was cultivated later in the iron pot.

Shaking his head, the scholar said: “Some of the Rohats look too wrathful. How can you name such a precious thing like that? Guanyin appeared in your dream and directed you to the tea, it only suits its elegance to name the tea Tie Guanyin (Iron Goddess of Mercy).

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

TAI PING HOU KUI

A mother monkey died of grief after losing her child.  A local farmer kindly buried the monkey on his land. The farmer soon dreamt of the monkey guiding him to a place, deep in the forest, where a tea garden was. Upon awaking, he retraced his dreaming steps to verily discover a hidden garden of tea bushes which he plucked to make this tea.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

JASMINE DRAGON PEARL

An orphaned brother and sister lived on the outskirts of Fuzhou. One winter, the brother got very seriously sick and no doctors could help him. An old woman told his sister about a magic dragon who was always helping people in need. The girl decided to go to the dragon’s cave and ask for his help.  The cave was surrounded by jasmine bushes of amazing beauty. She told the dragon about her problem and he promised to help her. Soaring into the sky, the dragon made an ominous cry and a beautiful pearl appeared on his neck, glittering on the sun. A small drop fell from the pearl and onto the ground, where a beautiful tea bush sprouted and started immediately growing. Dragon said to the girl that she should take care of the bush and he disappeared. It rained hard the whole day but the girl looked after the bush not leaving its side even for a moment. Finally, small long leaves appeared on the bush. The girl gathered from the most delicate leaves from the top of each branch, dried them next to jasmine flowers, and made delicate beads, like the one that hung around the neck of a dragon. Returning home, she brewed some tea from these magical leaves and their house was filled with the wonderful aroma of jasmine. Having tasted the miracle drink, her brother quickly recovered.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

BI LUO CHUN

The name Biluochun literally means "Green Snail Spring". It is called so because it is a green tea that is rolled into a tight spiral, resembling snail meat, and is cropped early spring. The original name of Bi Luo Chun is Xia Sha Ren Xiang, meaning "scary fragrance". It was so named when a tea picker who ran out of space in her basket, put the tea between her breasts instead. The tea, warmed by her body heat, emitted a strong aroma that surprised the girl.

The Kangxi Emperor visited Lake Tai in the 38th year of his rule. He enjoyed the tea very much and decided to give it a more elegant name, Bi Luo Chun (Green Snail Spring).

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

JUN SHAN YIN ZHEN

The Fujian province were experiencing a dry spell which was threatening the lives of the villagers. It was believed that a celestial plant was growing in the Taimu mountain which was guarded by a black dragon. This plant is believed to be able to cure many kinds of illnesses and it will bring up water when the juice of this plant is dropped into the river. Many villages went looking for this special plant but failed and were magicked into rocks in the mountain. A young lady, whose two brothers also went there but were both dead, decided to risk her life. When she reached the mountain, the black dragon attacked her viciously but she cunningly managed to kill the dragon. The young lady then plucked the celestial plant and dropped its juice into the river and onto the people who had been turned into rocks.  They were transformed back into human beings. Thanks to her courage and effort, the villagers were very grateful. They transferred the plant from the mountain and planted it widely in their villages. Due to its silvery white color and needle shape, it was named Yin Zhen (Silver Needle).

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

KEEMUN

The name Keemun comes from Qimen county in southern Anhui province, where almost all the mountains are covered with tea bushes. Qimen county produced only green tea until the mid-1870’s. Around that time a young man in the civil service lost his job. Despite being totally heartbroken and completely embarrassed by his shame, he remembered what his father told him – ‘A skill is a better guarantor of a living than precarious officialdom’. Following this advice, the young man packed up his courage and his bags to travel to Fujian Province to learn the secrets of black tea manufacturing. Upon his return to Qimen in 1875 he set up three factories to produce black tea. The black tea method was perfectly suited to the tea leaves produced in this warm moist climate with well drained sandy soil. Before long, the superb flavor of Keemuns became very popular around the world.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

MILK OOLONG TEA

The moon fell in love with a comet passing through the night sky. The comet, passed by, burned out and vanished. The moon, in her sorrow, caused a great wind to blow through the hills and valleys, bringing about a quick drop in temperature. The next morning, local tea pickers went out to collect their fresh leaf. To their surprise, when the tea was processed it had developed an amazing milky character, which was attributed to the motherly character of the old moon.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

EARL GREY

The Earl Grey blend is named after Charles Grey, the British Prime Minister in the 1830s.  In 1831, one of Charles Grey’s men rescued a Chinese man from drowning. As a token of his thanks and appreciation, he gave Charles Grey this unique blend of tea as a gift. The Prime Minister enjoyed this unique blend and asked his tea merchants, then headed by Richard Twining II to make it for him and his guests. Everyone was intrigued and delighted by the distinctive hint of bergamot that gave this tea a unique taste, something his guests were not accustomed to. The tea was so popular that when it ran out, Richard Twining agreed to produce and sell this sought-after blend. In those days, it was called, Earl Grey’s Mixture, and later came to be known as Twining’s Earl Grey. However, crucially, Twining omitted to trademark the blend enabling others to enter the market.

I strongly encourage anybody who is interested in serving tea to guest in a gonfu style to spend some time reading the origin stories, the legends and the myths of the teas they will be brewing for their guest.  When combined with your own personal experiences, which you will accumulate throughout the years, you will soon find your guest sitting on the other side of the tea table, utterly intrigued as they watch you brewing the tea, explaining the intricacies of it, the terroir, the age, the cultivar…and then you will take the whole experience to the next level, leaving them with a lasting impression, while they intensely listen to the story of the tea…as only you can tell it!

“If history were taught in the form of stories, it would never be forgotten.” ― Rudyard Kipling

[a-weird-blog-in-general]

In the Heights God Au

Yep. I went and did this, and it’s long. And it’s a bit of a mess. And long. This is going to be Part 1 of hopefully one 2, to avoid making this post too long. And of course, you are all free to take your own creative liberties with this; what I’ve chipped in is only what I’d like to see, nothing more.

Overall this may seem like a jumbled mess and I'm sorry for that.

The way I have it, each character is going to have their God based on an already existing deity/myth, and they all vary in origin and cultural influence. Cause I wanted to do more than just Greek mythology. They all reside in varying places in the world too.

Usnavi => God of Stories and Storytelling

Based on Anansi the Storytelling spider of the Caribbean

Resides on an a relatively small, floating island (it's his island), all pretty and stuff, and it's spider central (but like cute spiders not those big hairy ones Usnavi would probably freak if he saw one of those)

The spiders provide the stories Usnavi collects; if there's one he really likes he'll go out and get the story himself.

He met Vanessa by chance one day, had a conversation and hit it off and he fell so hard for her; he’s made it his mission to seek Vanessa out and see her again.

He weaves the web to catch Vanessa when the wind blows by, but she always slips through => he tries to fashion better webs; it never works out.

His little island tends to orbit where Sonny lives so he can be close and watch over little god Sonny.

Creative liberty => Usnavi could totally have multiple arms if you wanted that in a design; I think that’d be really cool

Vanessa => Goddess of Wind and Flight

Vanessa lives in the clouds and sky, that being her domain, so she can fly and be free.

She would be based off the Aztec wind god Quetzalcoatl => light and beautiful dress, but strong and bright colors and she's adorned with gorgeous feathers.

She flies across the sky, carrying the winds with her where she goes => She can just fly on her own

She likes Usnavi, and thinks it kind of funny that they keep playing this game of “Catch the Wind,” but once she starts falling for Usnavi oh boy => She blames Carla for it (you’ll see why)

Sonny => God of the Sun

He resides in an open tower made of clay with plenty of openings for him to fly out wherever he wants

Based off the Incan god of the sun Nuit with plenty of Inca cultural influence in dress manner =>  I love the idea of Sonny having physical wings here

Bright and energetic, a protector of the people, but hot-headed (get it?)

He kinda really very much loves the moon and wants to meet her and see her and have a conversation with her => Can't really have time to do any of that because the moon and the sun can't be in the sky at the same time; he tries anyway => Sonny chases Nina across the sky the moment the sun is supposed to rise to catch at least a glimpse of Nina before she disappears for the day

He'll never actually catch her, though

Nina => Goddess of the Moon and the Minds

Most definitely based off the Greek god Athena => Much Greek influence in design

Resides in a Greek style pantheon, which happens to be in a mountain

Sonny chases her to catch her, but she ends up falling in love Benny who does catch her

She wants to have some freedom from the confines that Kevin has placed upon her

Pretty solid relationship with Lincoln even though Kevin disagrees; Lincoln can always cheer her up somehow and does indirectly help Nina and Benny hook up (You’ll see)

Benny => The Mortal who Caught the Moon

He's a mortal who falls in love with the Moon, but he can never see her because she's too far away and he can't stay awake long enough to draw her attention

So he sings to the moon until he can no longer stay awake (Lincoln provides the slightest drop of inspiration, leaving the rest to Benny) => Nina hears it and looks for the source and she does find it => She leaves a note

Every night they leave each other gifts and notes and they slowly fall in love => one of those gifts is knowledge, specifically the knowledge of how to catch a god => using the other gifts he crafts a makeshift net, everything held together by a single string made of his love (Carla and Lincoln help with that, you'll see how later) => He catches Nina with the net, pulling her down as gently as possible cause that's a god you've got Benny a pure divine angelic being you better be careful and they're adorable together and they kiss, sealing a bond between them

Lincoln => God of Death

Resides at a shrine located in a graveyard => Graves of the Nameless; people/mortals come to pay their respects to Lincoln and the dead unknown => He takes the unknown deaths/souls under his wing because he can relate to their loneliness

He is the closest to the mortals and practically in constant contact with them

Inspiration from San/Santa Muerte with a strong cultural influence => contributes to his musicality and isolation

He provides the inspiration for music and art

He creates death as something that is not to be feared, but something to be celebrated => Makes that happen by connecting music and liveliness of cultures to the celebration of death

Kevin’s not the biggest fan of that ideology, and they disagree on the aspect of death and how it should be addressed

Abuela Claudia => Goddess of Heaven and Sky, Lord of Constellations, Mother of the Gods

Inspired by the first Mesopotamian god AnuShe lives everywhere; you ask for her guidance she will just appear

She likes being with the mortals, and often disguises herself as a mortal to check up on the world => bless those doing good and punish those who are not

She takes the souls of the dead and places them as stars in the sky

Also takes time to feed the birds

She foretell events that will occur, but she cannot influence the event in such a way that completely changes the course of fate

The Rosarios => Divine Arcana

Camila => The Empress

Kevin => The Emperor

Camila focuses on health and bounty, values and ethics => Kevin focuses on authority and control => Both serve as judges over the worldInspiration from the tarot arcana of the same name, along with traditional Catholic influences/imagery

Reside in a mountain which inside has the most palace (like a "King Under the Mountain" type of place) and in the center, there's this beautiful grotto and garden with an opening in the ceiling to the sky => that's where Nina is

Kevin built it there to keep Nina close and happy but Nina wants to be freeKevin has so much responsibility it can get overwhelming

Pete => The Boy who Calmed the Sun

Takes inspiration from the demigod Maui => Feel free to take creative liberties in design

Pete's a demigod (in some circles, this can be a bad thing) who receives a from a strange woman (guess who => it's Abuela Claudia helping out fate) asking him to seek out the sun => So Pete goes to find Sonny

Here's why:

Sonny is NOT happy that Nina and Benny are a thing => He's basically lost his only possible chance to have Nina notice him and boy is he salty

So out of anger, he refuses to obey any natural laws and literally starts heating up the whole earth => that's how mortals explain how the earth got deserts

So someone's got to talk some sense into Sonny but he won't let anyone near himHe gets help from Vanessa to be able to find Sonny quickly => Most Gods want to help Pete because no one is benefitting from Sonny’s heatwave

He does find Sonny, but Sonny isn't gonna deal with anyone so he books it => Pete finds a conveniently placed cord, uses it to catch Sonny and ties him down=> So Sonny’s floating in the sky with his hands bound to his sides and he is not happy => He desperately tries to use his powers against Pete in some way but because of Pete’s demigod blood he’s not really affected by any of it

The whole thing that happens is based on the Maui myth about slowing the sun, just without attacking the sun to the point of weakness

They do start to get along on the way back to Sonny’s home => Pete becomes the therapist friend who helps Sonny vent and talks all the anger out

They get back to Sonny’s tower and Nina’s there => she worked around a few rules to be able to talk to the sun => Sonny so desperately wants to be mad at her but he can’t => they talk it out, actually get to know each other, make amends, etc. => Pete you did a good => mortals and Gods are like “whoa damn man you just snagged an angry God out of the sky like whoa”

Carla => Goddess of Love and Matchmaking

Inspired by the Chinese god Yue Lao, who ties the red string of fate around those destined to be together; or people she thinks should be together => fate works the way it does => Normally does the tying after checking with Abuela Claudia on fate’s say in the matter; sometimes she gets an answer, sometimes she doesn’t => Only she can see the stringReally into knitting and crochet => thanks @boopliette !

Whenever two souls end up together, people normally blame Carla => they did for the whole Benny and Nina thing; she’ll never admit that she did tie them together

The two souls she ties together are supposedly soulmates => mortals don’t always follow what she’s made and that’s okay => sometimes people can be a little stupid

Likes being in the thick of humanity with Daniela, mostly cause it’s her job to watch over the soulmates she ties

Daniela => Goddess of Beauty and Femininity

Inspiration from the Egyptian goddess Bastet, Goddess of Felines, women, and beauty

She and Carla go hand in hand => Carla hooks up the people, Daniela plays out the game of life with the two

Daniela sometimes fools mortals and orchestrates the drama that entangles them

Protective of women, but she does it in a subtle way => Blesses them with beauty, gives them confidence, and tries to steer them away from poor choices

Also into cats

She prefers to stay around humanity for the drama; she likes having something to talk about

As I’ve stated before, creative liberties are open! Please, you have all the right to dabble into this with your own ideas and stuff. I’d love that. And hey, if you ever want to talk about this, I’m open for conversation. Part 2 will hopefully come with more of the world stuff; how humanity is, and other little things about being a god/divine.

[readingontheedge]

Dolor and Shadow

The Seidr Cycle Book 1

by Angela B. Chrysler

Genre: High Epic Fantasy

  A great power has awakened within Princess Kallan.

To keep the princess hidden, she is taken to Alfheim; her abilities suppressed and her memory erased.

Years later, Kallan inherits her father’s war, and vows revenge on the one man she believes is responsible: Rune, King of Gunir. But soon, a twist of fate puts Kallan in protection of the man she has sworn to kill, and Rune in possession of powers he does not understand.

Lost in the world of Men, the two must form an unlikely alliance to make their way home and solve the mystery of their past - and of the Shadow that hunts them both.

Praise for Dolor and Shadow:

"...a sweeping, epic novel... highly recommend it to all fantasy lovers." - Erin S. Riley, author of Odin's Shadow

"Angela B. Chrysler has brought world building to breathtaking heights with ‘Dolor and Shadow’" - Jay Norry, Amazon Review

"This is book one in a set that has the potential to become timeless" - Timothy Bateson, Amazon Review

Goodreads * Amazon

https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/43562840-dolor-and-shadow 

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B00VXB916Y 

Video Trailer:

https://youtu.be/ovHqM9cHGDE 

Think back to the oldest era your mind can fathom, back beyond everything we can remember, when gods were still men who had not yet lived the deeds that would deify them.” Gudrun’s aged gold eyes peered from behind her curtain of long, silver hair. “Think back before the time when the Aesir and the Vanir were still men who had settled here on ancient Earth, ages before their war.”

“Back when the Earth was new?” Kallan asked, looking up from the vellum scroll before her on the table. The tips of her tapered ears poked through the brown hair she had tied back to avoid the candle’s flames.

“Was it?” Shadows flickered over Gudrun’s face and shelves full of jarred things. All sorts of unusual jars of powders and exotic roots had been crammed into every available corner. Dried herbs hung from the crossbeams. The light from the candle and small hearth fire mingled and added a heavy thickness to the room that smelled of boiled heather and sage. “The Earth was still very old by the time the gods found it,” Gudrun said. “By then it was already ancient soil, which stirred beneath their feet. Can you see it, Kallan?”

The girl closed her eyes, an iridescent blue like the lapis stone, and thought back to the earliest memory she could recall, back before the Great Migration, when the gods lived in the Southern Deserts and the Land of Rivers. Back before the Great War between the Aesir and the Vanir.

“I can,” Kallan said.

The old woman kept the dry sternness in her voice. “These are the antiquated stories that predate the empires of men. We have studied the Vanir and their ways, their medicines and herbs. Now think of the gods of our gods, the gods so old that we have forgotten. The gods our gods once taught to their young. And think of their ancient stories and their myths, the legends they once revered before they themselves became myth. And think of everything now lost to time.”

Kallan nodded. “I see it.”

“The Seidr is older still,” Gudrun said. “Like veins, it flowed from the Great Gap, spreading through all elements of the Earth, stretching out, threading itself into the waters, the air, and earth.”

Kallan opened her eyes as she drew the connection to the tri-corner knot enclosed in a circle hanging from the chain on her neck. Gudrun smiled, confirming that Kallan’s conclusion was correct.

“Your mother’s pendant,” she said. “Na Tríonóide: the three united. The Seidr fused itself to the elements, until it lost itself inside the Earth, becoming a part of it, flowing with the waters, churning with the soils, and riding on the wind through the air. The Seidr is still there sleeping, waiting for us to remember.”

Kallan shifted forward in her seat.

“When the Vanir found the Seidr, they recognized it. In secret, they honed it and mastered it. They hoarded it, keeping it concealed from the Aesir.” Sadness hovered in Gudrun’s tone. “Afraid the Aesir would learn of their treasure and exceed them in power, the Vanir refused to divulge their secret.”

“What happened to the Vanir?” Kallan asked.

Gudrun visibly fought back the bitter sting of tears. “They died.” Her voice was low. “Doomed to be forgotten, and living only within the ancient stories now nearly extinct.”

Kallan bit the corner of her lip as if biting back a question.

“Deep within the earth, beyond the sea to the west, they met their end,” the old woman continued. “Some say they perished far beyond the western-most reaches of the world where the beginning formed. There where the Seidr emerged from the life source and fused to the elements and life itself. The Seidr now resides dormant in all of us. However, for most of us, it sleeps, available for the host to use, but never awakened, its keeper unaware of its presence.

“But don’t think its power is lost,” Gudrun said. “Even dormant Seidr, ripped from its host, will destroy the life line that has formed around it. It lies sleeping within every man born to Midgard. Just as the races of Men have it, we elves have it—”

“Elves?” Kallan repeated.

“Alfar,” Gudrun clarified, forgetting the word was foreign beyond the Ocean Isle where she had lived for the past three hundred years. “The Dvergar, the Svartálfar. Even the Ljosalfar—”

“They have it?” Kallan interrupted. “King Tryggve?”

Gudrun nodded. “King Tryggve and King Eyolf—”

The name of her father sharpened Kallan’s attention. “Father has it?”

Gudrun continued, not daring to encourage the princess’s interruptions.

“As do the reindeer that migrate across the valleys of King Raum in the north and the elk birds that fly across the southern realms of King Gardr Agdi. The sea worms that swim, and the pines that grow tall in these lands. However, among us all, Men and the three races of the Alfar, only a rare handful are still aware of its existence. Of those precious few, only some can waken it. Fewer still can wield it.”

After concluding her lecture, Gudrun spoke faster, more sternly, leaving behind the mysticism of the storyteller.

“To wield the Seidr is to pull on the lifeline that has formed within the confines of your center. To master the Seidr is to pull on the threads that have woven themselves within the elements. Find it!”

As if suddenly aware of the stuffy room, Kallan narrowed her eyes to better see the Seidr that was somehow there suspended in the air. This time, Gudrun’s smile stretched across her wrinkled face.

“Start small,” she said. “The Seidr around us has not conformed to the order of a path and goes where the elements take it. Try to find the Seidr within you, at your center. That is where it sleeps. That Seidr will know you and be the first to obey you.”

Slouching, Kallan nodded and closed her eyes, then changed her attention to the center of her body.

“Once you master your own Seidr, you can reach out to the Seidr in others. It won’t be as willing to obey as your own, but it too has adapted to the confines of a living being.”

Kallan opened her eyes, eager to collect the knowledge that always seemed to pour out of Gudrun. “Is it within the fire you summon?”

The old Seidkona shook her head.

“Fire is not an element, but a reaction, like when the cook blends stews or when I mix spells.”

“Like bubbling water or brewed tea?”

“Exactly,” Gudrun said. “Fire is only present when other actions bring it out, whereas soil, wind, and water are always there, maintaining a permanent state that defines the Seidr.” As she listed each element, Gudrun pointed to each point of the pendant hanging from Kallan’s neck. As she finished, she traced her finger around the circle enveloping the knot. “The elements don’t require fuel. However, Seidr is living. It is a life form made of pure energy. Compress enough Seidr, and it will release heat. Compress it more, and it will become hot enough to produce flame.”

“And hotter still produces your lightning.” Kallan grinned.

“Exactly.” 

Angela B. Chrysler is a writer, logician, philosopher, and die-hard nerd who studies theology, historical linguistics, music composition, and medieval European history in New York with a dry sense of humor and an unusual sense of sarcasm. She lives in a garden with her family and cats.

In 2014, Ms. Chrysler founded Brain to Books and the virtual trade show, Brain to Books Cyber Convention. A passionate gardener and incurable cat lover, Ms. Chrysler spends her days drinking coffee and writing beside a volume of Edgar Allan Poe who strongly influences her style to this day. When Ms. Chrysler is not writing, she enables her addictions to all things nerdy, and reads everything she can get her hands on no matter the genre. Occasionally, she finds time to mother her three children and debate with her life-long friend who she eventually married. Her writing is often compared to Tad Williams. Her influences are Edgar Allan Poe, The Phantom of the Opera, and Frankenstein.

Angela also loves writing, cats, reading, knitting, gardening, Tai Chi, Yoga, meditation, coffee, BBC, baking, cooking, dancing, singing, anime, and smiling. 

Website * Facebook  * Twitter * Instagram * Google+ * Amazon * Goodreads 

Author Links

Website: http://angelabchrysler.com/

Facebook:  https://www.facebook.com/angelabchrysler 

Twitter: https://twitter.com/abchryslerabc 

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/abchrysler/ 

Google+:  https://plus.google.com/+AngelaBChrysler 

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Angela-Chrysler/e/B00VXX0JDQ 

Goodreads:  https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/13818332.Angela_B_Chrysler  

Fire and Lies

The Seidr Cycle Book 2

 War rips across the land of Alfheim.

As the Fae gods draw near, Queen Kallan’s strength is tested.

She follows King Rune, but the Shadow Beast caged within Rune’s body is writhing in hunger. Kallan’s newest companion, Bergen - the legendary Berserk - is determined to end the conflict in her life.

As the three come together, the truth buried in the past resurfaces. Now, Kallan must master a dormant power... or watch her kingdom fall to the Fae, who will stop at nothing to keep their lies. 

Goodreads * Amazon 

https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/43562856-fire-and-lies 

https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B01FKK7XK4 

Video Trailer: https://youtu.be/6hTuUKOjih8 

At the farthest ends of Midgard, where Alfheim begins, the Fae goddess Fand gazed upon

Kallan’s fair city. Lorlenalin. The White Opal. The Dokkalfar citadel. Humming a ditty, she

collected her skirts and idly glided through the wood surrounding the city.

Like threads of gold, Seidr flowed from the tips of Fand’s fingers. It flowed down her

gown and branched across the first autumn frost glistening in the moonlight as if the Fae gods

themselves had emerged from Under Earth and touched down on the lands of Midgard. Like

veins, the Seidr webbed a path to the city. The life she found there was strong, but hollow with

grief for their missing queen. Fand called the Seidr back, and she smiled. Memories of the dead

never survive the ages. It was only a matter of time before the Dokkalfar forgot their precious

queen.

“This won’t be too hard.”

Fand took a step and strips of leather wove themselves around her bare foot. By the time

she took a second step, she wore a pair of fine leather boots. Her gowns of Under Earth reknitted

themselves into something simpler, but just as suggestive. Just as inviting. The gems she

wore to ordain her bodice became grains of golden sand that vanished with the wind. Her

cheekbones rounded out. Her pearlescent skin darkened to look more like a daughter of Alfheim

than the pale, jeweled complexion of a Fae goddess of Eire’s Land.

Fand pushed a hand through her raven black hair, sending strands of Seidr streaking the

black and changing it to a pale blond by the time her fingers reached the tips.

By the time Fand stepped into a beam of moonlight where the Dokkalfar guards could see

her, all that remained of her original appearance was the stunning rings of gold Seidr that

encircled her pupils and the mesmermizing smile that arched her red lips.

By dawn, only two would remember the name of Kallan, Daughter of Eyolf, Queen and

Lady of Lorlenalin. 

Giveaway

$20 Amazon, Signed copy of Dolor and Shadow 

Follow the tour HERE for exclusive content and a giveaway! 

https://www.silverdaggertours.com/sdsxx-tours/the-seidr-cycle-book-tour-and-giveaway