#and then continue to buy one book at a time to pace myself

[princesscallyie]

Me after reading my first novel in like over a decade after I got back into reading:

[pitlanepeach]

From Eden | Chapter Seven pt.2 (7/8)

Oscar Piastri x Francesca Gold (OFC)

Summary — Francesca Gold is an introvert with a quiet life and a Youtube channel where she talks about books, drinks too much tea, and rarely ever shows her face. She prefers it that way - tucked into her London flat with her cat, Henry, and safely hidden behind a screen.

Oscar Piastri is a Formula 1 driver. Fast-paced, high-stakes, always on the move. He hasn't read a book in years, but he's watched every single one of Francesca's videos. Just for the sound of her voice.

Following her on Instagram was a moment of weakness. He didn't think she'd notice.

She did.

Chapter Warnings — Agoraphobia, social anxiety, minor panic attack in public, Oscar speaking Spanish (brief, but ohmygawd), Christmas celebrations, brief sexual content.

Notes — Thanks for being patient with me for this one. I think I was lowkey procrastinating writing this because I’m going to miss them so much. Chapter 8 is also going to be a 2 parter, btw!

Oscar liked Spain.

He always had. There was something about the rhythm of the place — the slow, golden mornings, the late, laughter-filled dinners, the way the sun clung to his skin like honey, even in December. He’d spent a lot of time there over the past few years. For races, mostly. Training camps, media appearances, test days on sun-bleached tracks. It had always been somewhere he associated with purpose. With movement.

Now, though, it was different.

Now, he couldn’t walk the streets or breathe the air without feeling how it had shifted — how the fact that her parents had chosen to call this place home had altered everything.

(“They moved here after choosing early retirement,” Francesca had explained quietly, hours earlier in bed, when the sky was still indigo and the hotel was cloaked in silence. Her fingers had curled into the hem of his shirt like she was anchoring herself to him. Oscar’s hand had moved slowly through her hair, massaging her scalp the way she liked. Anything to soothe her.

“They emptied their bank accounts,” she went on. “Sold my childhood home.” Her voice cracked — not with tears, but with that quiet kind of ache that lived just under the surface. “We used to live in the countryside in Surrey, you know? I used to buy myself chickens with my pocket money.”

Oscar had smiled gently at that, picturing a younger version of her — tiny and stubborn, stomping around in bright yellow welly boots, giving all of the chickens names and backstories.

“That was five years ago, I think. I was seventeen. They sent me off to uni, helped me move into my dorm, and then a week later told me they’d sold the house. No warning. Just—‘Oh, by the way, we’re moving to Spain.’ Like it was no big deal.”

Oscar’s hand had stilled for a moment in her hair. His jaw ticked.

Seventeen.

She’d been seventeen. Still a teenager. Already struggling, freshly away from home, and they’d pulled up their roots and left the country. 

It hit him like a cold slap — not just how abrupt it had been, but how deeply, quietly cruel. How abandoned she would’ve felt, in the aftermath. 

Oscar knew what it was to leave home young. He’d gone off to boarding school when he was barely a teenager. Airports and hotels became familiar long before adulthood did. But even then — even in the loneliest, most exhausting moments — he’d still had people checking in. His parents had never disappeared. They’d driven hours to stand at cold karting tracks and sit through painful sponsor meetings. They'd never made him feel like he had to face the world without them.

Francesca, though — she'd been left to do it all on her own. She hadn’t had a team behind her or a goal pulling her forward. She’d just been a kid. 

She would’ve needed more. More reassurance. More patience. More love.

And they hadn’t given her any of it.

“My sister didn’t care,” she continued. “She was already living with whatever boyfriend she had at the time — Ian, I think his name was. But it was my home, you know? I thought I’d get to come back to it. I thought—” She stopped. Shrugged. “Anyway. Yeah. That’s how they ended up living here, and I stayed in England.”

Her voice was flat, stripped of emotion, and Oscar hated it. 

He didn’t say anything at first. Mostly because if he did, he was pretty sure it would come out too sharp, too cutting — the kind of thing he wouldn’t be able to take back. He could feel the words rising in him anyway, bitter and hot in his throat.

But she didn’t need his anger. 

Instead, his fingers slid across the sheets and found hers under the covers, cool and curled and a little tense. He squeezed gently — once, then again. It wasn’t just for comfort.

It was a promise. A quiet vow etched into the space between them.

Never again, baby.

He didn’t say it out loud. He didn’t need to.

She gave the smallest squeeze back.)

— 

He kept his hood up as he walked, hands in the pockets of his hoodie, trainers silent on the cobbled pavement. It was early still — the kind of soft morning that made everything feel gentler than it really was — but the streets were beginning to stir. The occasional bark of a dog, a child singing a Christmas carol at the top of their voice, the low murmur of Spanish slipping between couples on their balconies.

Oscar moved quietly through it all, sunglasses tugged low even though the sun hadn’t quite made it over the rooftops yet. He wasn’t trying to draw attention. He never really was. Still, it happened sometimes.

And it did, halfway down the block.

Two teenagers in matching puffer jackets, shoulders hunched and earbuds in, passed him and then doubled back a few seconds later, whispering frantically. He caught the shift in their pace, the cautious glance from one of them as she pulled out her phone and raised it subtly.

He offered a quick smile, nodding once, but didn’t stop. He didn’t really mind — he never had, it was all part of the life he’d chosen — but right now, his mind was too full of Francesca.

Of how small she’d looked yesterday. Of how quiet she’d been all night.

Of how she’d pressed her nails into her palms. How she'd barely touched her food. How her mother’s voice had hovered sharp in the air like static, and her sister’s laugh had stung like vinegar on a paper cut.

Oscar exhaled slowly as he turned the corner, the warm scent of coffee and sugar curling out into the street ahead of him.

He was trying. Trying to give her something soft in the middle of all this hardness. Trying to make up for years that aren’t his to make up for.

He stepped into the café, the bell overhead jingling softly. The woman behind the counter greeted him in rapid Spanish, and he answered with a polite smile and a “Dos cafés con leche, por favor,” his Australian accent thick, but his Spanish passable. Then, pointing to the glass case filled with pastries, he added, “Y... algo dulce. Lo mejor.” Something sweet. The best one.

Because that’s what Francesca deserved.

Something warm. Something kind. Something good. 

He balanced the tray carefully as he stepped out of the café, the door swinging shut behind him with a soft click. Two coffees, one with oat milk — hers, obviously — and a small white paper bag full of whatever pastries the woman behind the counter had insisted were the best. He hadn’t asked questions. Just smiled and handed over a few notes, trusting her judgement more than his own half-asleep cravings.

The air had warmed a little since he left the hotel, sunlight stretching long and golden across the pavement. The buildings threw soft shadows. There were more people out now, the small Spanish town waking up, but still no one paid him much mind. 

Again, his hood was up. His head was down.

And his thoughts were full of her.

He took a slow breath.

Australia.

The word itself felt too big to say out loud yet. But it had been circling his brain since the moment he got off the phone with his mum the night before. Since she’d told him, so casually, Book the flight. Bring her home. Like it was the easiest thing in the world. Like he wasn’t dealing with something so fragile, carrying her heart in his hands, trying to protect it from every sharp corner.

But maybe it was the right thing. Maybe it would be good for her. Sunshine. Real family. Space to breathe. Not her parents’ house, but his. His world. The people who already loved her without even really knowing her yet.

Oscar reached the corner and paused, waiting for the light to change. He shifted the tray to one hand, his fingers curling tight around the edge.

He didn’t want to push. That was the biggest thing. Francesca had spent so long being tugged around by people who didn’t listen; didn’t care. He never wanted to be another person adding pressure to her shoulders.

But God, he wanted her there. Wanted her to see what family could feel like. Wanted to fall asleep next to her with the windows open to the summer air and sand still on their legs. Wanted to show her his world — not the racing one, not the public one, but the real one.

He crossed the street, hotel coming into view ahead. They had the rest of the day ahead of them. No more family obligations. Just each other.

Maybe he’d ask her after breakfast.

Or maybe he’d crawl back into bed beside her, tuck the duvet around her shoulders, kiss her temple, and then ask.

Yeah. That sounded good. 

— 

iMessage — Hattie & Francesca 

Hattie

has he asked you yet???? 👀

Francesca 

asked me what???

good morning to you too btw

wait what time is it there 

oh just checked lol. good afternoon 

Hattie 

okay so here’s a rly fun idea!!!!!

let’s pretend none of this happened ok

actually i think i have the wrong number! 

Francesca 

hattie. piastri. 

Hattie 

NO DON’T BIG SISTER ME OMG

oscar is going to kill me. 

— 

Francesca was staring at her phone, an amused little frown pulling at her brows, when Oscar came back into the room. He was balancing two coffees and a small paper bag that smelled like sugar and something warm and buttery. Her stomach made an embarrassing sound and she felt her cheeks flush when he smirked at her, clearly having heard it.

“I wasn’t too long?” he asked, then gave her phone a glance. “Everything okay? Is it Katie?”

She shook her head with a soft laugh, her face still a little pink from the noise her stomach had made. “No, not Katie. Your sister, actually. Wanna tell me what’s going on?” She tried to sound casual, but there was a small edge of stress in her voice that made her question if she’d pulled it off.

He frowned, brow furrowing as he took in her words. “What do you mean?”

Francesca held up her phone, her finger pointed at the messages from Hattie. “She’s acting weird. Like, really weird,” she said, her voice laced with curiosity and a bit of concern, watching his expression closely as she waited for his response.

"Right," he muttered under his breath, his voice carrying the weight of frustration and quiet tenderness. He handed her the coffee labeled ‘oat, vanilla’ and placed the small paper bag of pastries down on the bed, his eyes never leaving her. Francesca held the coffee up to her face, breathing in deeply, and Oscar caught the small hum of appreciation that escaped her lips. It made his heart feel a little lighter, as though the world was right, even just for a moment.

But he had to get this out. 

“I spoke to my mum last night, once you were asleep,” he said, taking a step back, trying to give her the space to absorb it. He leaned against the edge of the bed, making sure to keep his posture open, inviting her into the conversation but giving her full control. “She wants us to go to Australia.”

Francesca’s fingers curled around the warmth of her coffee cup, her brow furrowing in confusion. Her eyes met his with a quiet surprise, and her lips parted as she tried to process his words. “Wait, what?” Her voice was soft, vulnerable, almost a whisper. “When?”

“Now,” Oscar replied, his voice steady but gentle. “Tomorrow, ideally. Before Christmas, really.” He knew how much the timing mattered. It was already the 18th. 

The plan had been to stay in Spain, to spend the holidays with her family. But now… now, things were different.

“I know we were going to stay here with your family,” he continued, shifting slightly as his gaze softened. “But I also know that after… well, after last night…” He let out a small, involuntary breath at the memory. (A hitched breath, her skin pressed against his, her lips against his neck as she said “I don’t want them in my life anymore. I’m done with them, Osc. For good.”) He exhaled slowly, trying to ground himself, his thoughts clear but filled with an ache for her. “I just wanted you to know that it’s an option, yeah?” 

Francesca blinked, clearly caught off guard, her eyes flickering downward as she processed his words. The silence stretched just enough for Oscar to notice the subtle shift in her—her shoulders sagged slightly, her brows knitting together as she turned the idea over in her mind. He could almost hear the quiet clamour of her thoughts, a whirlwind of everything she’d been holding inside for so long.

“You don’t have to decide right now,” he told her gently, his voice dropping to a soft, soothing tone. He didn’t want to pressure her, not when it came to something so big. “We could go to Australia. We could spend Christmas there, if that’s what you want. Or we could fly back to London, steal Henry back from Katie, and have Christmas at the flat, just the three of us. We could even stay here. Have a hotel Christmas. Order room service turkey sandwiches, get cozy in bed, and binge every single Home Alone movie.” His lips quirked into a small smile at the thought. “Anything, baby.” 

"Does your bedroom still look like it did when you were a kid?" she asked softly, breaking the quiet space between them. The question came almost aimlessly. 

Oscar made a face. "Yeah. Posters and all. Still got a few of my old racing suits tucked away in the wardrobe, too." His voice was warm, but there was something vulnerable in it too, a hint of nostalgia — the kind of nostalgia that only came from places you’d outgrown, yet could never fully leave behind.

Francesca set her coffee down on the side table. Then, without thinking, she crawled over to him on the bed, her body fluid and natural in the way that only happened when she was with him. Kneeling up close to him, she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer with a quiet, almost imperceptible sigh.

"I miss Henry," she confessed quietly, her voice muffled against the side of his neck. It was a small admission, but it carried the weight of everything she hadn’t fully said yet. The empty space where Henry usually curled up on the couch, the quiet moments where her hands itched to brush his fur.

"Me too," Oscar admitted, his voice low, his arms instinctively wrapping around her, pulling her just a little tighter.

She let out a soft breath, resting her cheek against his chest for a beat, before sitting back slightly to look at him. Her eyes were softer now, but the flicker of uncertainty was still there, dancing behind them. "But I do want to see Hattie again. And I want to eat barbecue food on Christmas Day and sunbathe on Boxing Day." Her lips curved up a little at the thought, and for a moment, the heaviness of the conversation seemed to lighten. Still, she stared at him, her gaze more serious now. “It’s a lot, Osc. I prepared myself for Spain. I don’t… I don’t have anything with me. I—” She paused, taking in a shallow breath, like she could already feel the weight of the change pressing down on her. “I can already feel myself starting to get worked up about this.”

He let her speak, his hand coming up to gently brush her hair back from her face, his fingers lingering at the curve of her jaw, grounding her.

“I know,” he murmured softly, his voice full of understanding. “It’s a big thing, and I didn’t want to spring it on you like this, especially after everything with your family. But I just need you to know it’s an option, yeah?”

She nodded, her gaze softening as she took in his words. Then, without warning, she leaned up and kissed him gently, a quiet affirmation that spoke louder than any words could.

“Can we eat now?” She asked quietly, almost shyly, as if the simplicity of the request could bring some semblance of normalcy back.

He let out a small laugh, the tension melting from his shoulders as he cupped her face in his hands. “Of course we can, baby,” he said, his voice low and tender.

She smiled, the corners of her eyes crinkling as she pulled away and reached for the paper bag of pastries.

— 

TWO DAYS LATER

iMessage — Katie & Francesca 

Francesca 

send me photos of my son pls 

Katie

*5 photos of Henry sleeping, belly-up, on Katie’s silk bedsheets*

Aren’t you literally on an international flight right now?

Francesca 

osc bought me wifi hehe 

so i could reply to the comments on my new vid 

he’s the best. 

Katie 

Millionaire bf buys you airline wifi and you’re impressed….?

Francesca 

I’m like 90% sure the only thing ive spent my money on since meeting this man is rent. and he tried to talk me into putting that in his name last week. 

Katie 

… 

I think I’m turned on  

Francesca 

keep that to urself pls

just send me more pictures of my son

oscar wants to see the baby 

Katie

*4 photos of Henry, staring at the camera, unimpressed*

— 

The hot evening air kissed Francesca’s skin as she walked barefoot along the shoreline, the soft sand slipping between her toes with each step. The rhythm of the waves crashing against the beach was a calming constant, yet her heart beat erratically in her chest, a mix of adrenaline and something else she couldn’t quite place. 

The hum of the airport still lingered in her mind, the whirlwind of the past few days — the multiple flights, the onslaught of newness, the heavy discomfort that had settled in her bones. 

She stopped, her feet sinking a little deeper into the sand, and let out a quiet breath, her fingers threading through the loose strands of her hair. “It’s all so... different,” she said quietly, her voice almost lost in the roar of the waves. 

Oscar turned to face her, his expression soft but alert. “Different good or different... not so good?” 

Francesca smiled faintly, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. She looked back out at the dark horizon, the blackness of the sea melding with the sky, the sound of the waves rolling over her thoughts. “I don’t know. I think it’s just... I can’t believe I did this, Osc.”

Oscar hummed softly, the sound rich with understanding, a quiet vibration through his chest as he held her. His hand, warm and steady, reached out, gently guiding her down, not onto the sand but onto his lap, letting her find a place there, nestled against him. She let him guide her without protest, her body naturally folding as she settled, curling into him like she always had, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Her head fell to rest on his shoulder, her nose brushing the crook of his neck, where the faint scent of him — wood, salt, and something undeniably him — soothed her in ways she hadn’t realised she needed. The warm night air danced around them, but it didn’t reach the warmth of his skin.

Oscar’s fingers stroked through her hair, not with urgency, but with a calm rhythm. She could feel the subtle tension of his muscles beneath her cheek, his heartbeat steady and solid against her ear.

Francesca’s eyes fluttered shut, her chest rising and falling as she let herself relax into him, allowing the quiet weight of the night to press down on her, to settle the storm that had been brewing ever since she’d turned to him and said, “Okay, let’s go to Australia. I want to spend Christmas with your family.”

Tiny bruises marred the smooth skin of his neck, visible only when she looked up close — tiny marks, fang marks. They weren’t anything particularly dramatic, but to Francesca, they were something else entirely. They were her mark on him. 

She liked seeing them there. They made him more real, more hers in a way that the world couldn’t take from her. A part of him that she had a claim to — just like he had a claim to her entire soul. 

Her breath evened out, the warmth of his body wrapping around her like a protective shield.

“I can’t believe I actually did it,” she murmured again, her voice barely audible, but the words were a confession she hadn’t known she needed to say aloud. “I— I’m really happy. Overwhelmed. Scared. I wish I had a machine that would send me back to my flat right now, but…” She paused, taking a breath, letting the weight of the moment sink in. “I’m so happy.”

His hand trailed slowly down her back, the motion lazy and comforting, until it rested over her hip, pressing her closer into him. “Love you. Proud of you.” He mumbled. 

She kissed his neck. Then she bit him. 

Just because she could. 

—

Christmas Day was a blur of laughter, food, sunshine, and Oscar. The air was warm, the sun shining down in that way only Australia could, and everything felt like a slow, peaceful escape from reality. 

Nicole was already in her Pilates clothes, singing Christmas carols as she cooked breakfast, her voice bright and full of joy. "It's a tradition," she explained, when Francesca raised an eyebrow, confused. "My class does a special Christmas Day session. I can't miss it!”

Hattie had woken them up with a loud, cheery “Santa’s been!” that made Francesca laugh despite herself. She buried herself deeper into the warmth of Oscar’s chest, the weight of him comforting in the best way. They were still tucked up in his childhood bedroom, surrounded by old medals, trophies, and photographs from every year of his racing career. Being there felt intimate in such a specific, beautiful way.

The presents were piled under the tree when they made their way downstairs. Nicole handed out glasses of iced mochas instead of hot chocolate — her own twist on Christmas tradition — and the air was filled with the laughter of Hattie teasing her parents about her presents and Oscar rolling his eyes at her brattiness, but smiling all the while. By midday, they’d all made their way out into the garden, basking in the warmth of the sun. 

Chris had, of course, taken charge of the barbecue, declaring himself the “master of meat,” and making it clear that Hattie wasn’t allowed anywhere near the grill. “She’s got a bit of a hairspray addiction. Think it’s just a phase,” Nicole had whispered to Francesca, her tone conspiratorial.

Despite the whirlwind of it all, Francesca quickly found her place in the chaos. It was nothing like the Christmases she’d known—those were quieter, more subdued. This one was louder, brighter, warmer. Every moment felt larger than life.

As for Oscar… she had given him his present at midnight, when they were tucked in bed, the world outside quiet and still. She’d felt a wave of anxiety when she handed him it over, wrapped in cat-print paper. She watched his hands as he unwrapped it. 

“Is this what I think it is?” he asked, his voice low, quiet, and warm. 

She nodded, biting her bottom lip, her heart thumping in her chest. She reached over, took the book from him with hands that were slightly unsteady, and flipped to a few pages in — the dedication. All for him.

For you, Osc. Thank you for giving me the kind of love that people write novels about — it made this book possible.

He stared at the words for a long, breathless moment. He held the book carefully, like it was something sacred. Then, slowly, as if in reverence, he placed the proof copy of her debut novel on his bedside table, out of harm’s way.

Without a word, he reached for her, pulling her against him with a force that sent her breath rushing out. And then, with the kind of desperation that only comes when two hearts know exactly what they mean to each other, he kissed her — deep and messy and raw. 

— 

Now, sitting beside him in the warmth of the sun, a gentle breeze teasing her hair, Francesca found herself thinking that maybe all of the fear had been worth it, just to be here with him.

Her gaze drifted down to her finger, where her new promise ring rested. It fit her perfectly, a delicate band of silver that caught the light and shimmered softly under the sunlight. Nothing flashy or extravagant — just simple, understated beauty. 

A quiet, constant reminder of the fact that she was his, and he was hers. 

He’d given it to her in the kitchen, the morning still quiet, the rest of the family occupied elsewhere. He’d lifted her up, setting her gently on the counter, and stepped between her legs. Then, from the pocket of his sweatpants, he pulled out the small, velvet box, his fingers brushing hers as he handed it to her.

She’d held the box like it was fragile, as if it might shatter in her hands, until he chuckled softly and said, “It’s not that. Not yet, baby. This is just something to keep your finger warm in the meantime, yeah?”

Her eyes brimmed with emotion as she slowly cracked the box open, her breath catching in her throat. Inside, nestled on a soft velvet bed, was a silver band. When she examined it closer, she saw that it resembled a delicate piece of string, tied in a knot, dipped in silver. The design was youthful, understated — perfect in its simplicity. It was everything and more. 

Oscar reached over and took her hand, his thumb brushing lightly over her knuckles, grounding her back in the moment.

She turned to look at him, eyes soft, the sunlight catching the gold flecks in her irises.

“Okay?” he asked, his voice gentle, careful.

She nodded, a smile tugging at her lips. “Yeah. Okay.”

Without a word, he brought her hand to his mouth and pressed a kiss to the promise ring. Slow, intentional — like he was sealing a vow.

Francesca could feel Nicole watching them from across the garden. She didn’t need to look to know—there was a certain warmth in the air, a gentle kind of attention that made her skin prickle in the nicest way. Nicole was probably smiling. She did that often—soft and full of quiet pride, overjoyed in that tender, maternal way only a mother could be when watching her son so clearly in love.

(“Thank you for making him so happy,” she’d said to Francesca a few nights ago, her voice thick with emotion.

Francesca had smiled, heart swelling, and replied just as softly, “Thank you for making him so perfect.”)

—

liked by oscarpiastri, landonorris, and 76,043 others

bookishgoldie my first christmas in australia 🇦🇺

view all comments

user1 soft launch soft launch soft launch

user21 HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO BE CALM ABOUT THIS?????

user88 you actually went to australia? oh my god. im so proud of you. ♥ by bookishgoldie

user6 i know we’ve been seeing sm progress from her but this is crazy! GO FRANCESCA 📣

user76 yeah call me crazy for being able to tell from one picture, but that’s oscar piastri’s hand and i know that for a fact 🤡

user61 right like i recognise that vein

user76 GIRL RIGHT!!!!! 😭😭😭

user39 IS THAT A RING???????

bookishgoldie a promise ring 🫶

user76 OH IM FUCKINF JDJDJDNFJ

user39 ohmygodhdhdjf

user50 that is the cutest thing ever. so happy for u francesca ♥ by bookishgoldie

oscarpiastri 🎄🎁☀️

user81 what the fuck does that mean

user95 CAN SOMEONE SMARTER THAN ME DECODE THIS PLEASE

user72 first time he ever actually comments on one of her posts and it’s this??? OSCAR WTF

bookishgoldie 📚🎄🧘‍♀️

user81 oh ffs she’s just as bad as he is

user74 they’re so fucking annoying 😃

—

iMessage — Katie & Francesca 

Francesca 

*picture of hand wearing ring*

he got me a promise ring

its perfect. i love it so much

Katie 

Oh holy shit

I knew he was perfect for you but he keeps proving it 

The ring is beautiful, babe. SO perfect for you. 

Francesca 

merry christmas, i love you and im so glad that ur my best friend

Katie 

Merry Christmas, Fran. I love you so much <3333333

—

She had a panic attack in Melbourne airport. 

It hit her just past customs. The flicker of fluorescent lights, the overwhelming movement of people weaving in every direction — it all closed in at once. Her chest tightened. The ground beneath her feet felt like it might disappear. Her knees felt weak.

She stopped walking. Her breath hitched. She felt acid rise in her throat, burning and painful and foul. 

“Hey, hey,” Oscar murmured, already at her side, already shifting his body to shield her from everyone and everything around them. “You with me, baby?”

She shook her head, eyes wide, blinking fast. Her fingers trembled. She couldn’t breathe — at least, not the way her body was demanding. They came fast and gasping, her lungs burning with the effort. 

Oscar’s hands found hers, warm and steady, his grasp on her tight. “Alright. It’s okay. You’re okay,” he said gently, like they had all the time in the world. “Let’s do Dr. Kapoor’s thing, yeah? Just you and me. Nothing else matters right now.”

People were watching. They were staring at her. She could feel them. Hear them talking about her. She whimpered, shaking, trembling, and Oscar cursed under his breath and just… dropped his backpack on the ground between them and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her flush against his chest and resting his chin on her forehead, holding her tight, tight tight. 

“Five in,” he said softly, against the top of her ear. “We’re just breathing now. That’s all. Ready? In... one, two, three, four, five.”

She inhaled shakily, trying to match him.

“Hold it for four. That’s it. Just like she showed us. And now — out for seven. Long and slow. You’re doing so good,” Oscar whispered. “You’ve got this, baby. You’ve done this before. You know that it works”

She nodded against his chest, barely, and her breathing eventually began to steady. Her shoulders loosened, and she let herself sink against him rather than standing stiff against him. His grip on her loosened, but he didn’t let her go.

“Almost home,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to her temple. “And you know who’s gonna be waiting for us?”

She managed a weak smile up at him. “Henry.”

“Exactly. Grumpy little man’s is going to be so excited to see us.”

She giggled wetly. “Yeah?” 

Oscar hummed, a smile tilting his lips. “Of course he is. So we’ll take him home and we’ll order Thai, put on some terrible movie, and he’ll sit between us and get so much love. You’ll be in your comfies, I’ll make you as much tea as you want. Sound good?”

She looked up at him, eyes still glassy but grounded now. “Yeah,” she whispered. “That sounds really good. Perfect.”

“Alright then,” he smiled, brushing a piece of hair out of her face. He stepped back, graved her hand, pulled it to his lips, and brushed his lips against her ring. “Let’s go home.”

— 

iMessage — Nicole & Oscar

Nicole 

I love you both so much. Thank you for giving me the best Christmas in years. All of my babies under my roof, happy and healthy. It meant the world, Oscar. 

Oscar 

Love you mum. Text you when we land x

— 

Curled up in her chair on the plane, noise cancelling headphones on, she turned and slid them off of her head when Oscar tapped her wrist with the back of his knuckles.

“Got you WiFi again,” he said, holding up his phone with a small grin. “You can edit your vlog, if you want. Or just scroll TikTok. Whatever you want.”

Francesca laughed quietly, touched in that quiet, full way she always was when he did things like this — small, thoughtful, kind, always without having to be asked. “You didn’t have to. I have, like, six new books to read.”

“I know,” he said, shrugging, “but you get that little crease between your brows when you’re stressed about not having a video ready to post, and it’s cute for about five seconds, and then it starts to stress me out.”

She rolled her eyes, but she was already pulling her laptop from her backpack and handing it to him with a flutter of her eyelashes and a ‘log me in, please?’

As she edited, he shifted beside her, reading through some sim feedback on his iPad but glancing over occasionally, watching the little preview box as clips of Christmas lunch, fairy lights, and soft-focus shots of the Christmas lights they’d driven out of town to see.

About halfway through the flight, with the video mostly stitched together, Francesca hesitated. Her fingers hovered over her trackpad.

Then, before she could lose her nerve, she clicked open a new tab, pulled up Pinterest, and navigated to a board. She stared at it for a second.

“Osc,” she said, her voice just above a whisper, “can I show you something?”

He looked over instantly, setting his iPad down. “Course.”

She turned the screen toward him. Dozens of carefully saved pins filled the board — sun-washed balconies, neutral-toned kitchens, mismatched bookshelves, tiny espresso cups on marble counters, linen curtains blowing in from open windows. All nestled under the board title: Monaco Apartment.

For a beat, he didn’t say anything. Just looked.

“This is beautiful,” he said softly. “Is this…?”

She nodded, cheeks warming. “Just something I’ve been playing with. I don’t know if— I mean… I wanted you to see it. I think… If I can do this.” She gestured around them vaguely. “Then I— I think I can do that. Move. Be with you. By the water.”

Oscar smiled slowly, fully. “‘Cesca,” he murmured, “It’ll happen for us if that’s what you want. I’ll make it happen for us.”

She didn’t say anything at first — just looked at him, eyes a little glassy, the corners of her mouth curved into something soft and full of hope.

“Okay,” she whispered.

He reached over and tapped one of the pins — a small, sunlit reading nook tucked between two windows. “That one’s got your name all over it. We’ll put Henry’s bed right there.”

—

Back in London, the city muffled by rain and fog outside their window, they were tangled beneath the duvet, warm and quiet and exactly where they wanted to be. Henry was curled between their feet under the sheets, a content little loaf of fur radiating sleepy heat. Francesca's head rested on Oscar’s chest, fingers tracing slow, absentminded shapes over the fabric of his T-shirt.

“It’s only been eight months,” she said quietly, her voice somewhere between awe and disbelief. “Since we started talking. Eight months.”

Oscar shifted slightly, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “Best eight months of my life,” he murmured, then paused. “I was gonna message you sooner, you know?”

She looked up at him, brow lifting in surprise. “Really?”

He gave a sheepish little smile, one shoulder twitching against the pillow. “Yeah. Ages ago, actually. You posted something about baking cupcakes and always wearing mismatched socks and I thought, yep, I’m in trouble. But I didn’t know what to say. Didn’t want to come off weird.” 

“You? Weird?” she teased, her voice soft and fond.

“I know,” he said, grinning. “Wild, right?”

They lapsed into comfortable silence again, the kind that didn’t need filling. Just the hum of the city beyond the window, the soft rise and fall of breath, Henry sighing in his sleep.

She pushed closer to him, nudging her head into his neck. “I want to go to the FIA Gala with you.” She whispered against his skin. 

Oscar stilled. It was subtle — just a fraction of a second — but she felt it. The faint pause in his breathing. The slight shift of his hand on her hip. It wasn’t disapproval. It wasn’t doubt in her. It was… fear, maybe. Concern. The protective kind.

But he didn’t verbalise it. 

He would never be the one to tell her what she could or couldn’t handle. Never be the one to limit her.

Instead, he reached for his phone on the bedside table, still half buried under the covers, and turned the screen on with a lazy swipe.

“I’ll let Zac know I’ll be bringing a plus one,” he said, then leaned down to kiss her forehead, his lips lingering like he wanted the words to sink straight into her skin. “I love you. You’re incredible, ‘Cesca.”

She smiled against his chest, letting the weight of him, of those words, settle around her. Her heart beat steady and sure, tethered to the sound of his.

“Love you too,” she whispered.

And even with Henry purring softly at their feet, even with the grey London sky pressing against the windows, her mind was already slipping forward — imagining the bright flash of cameras, the hum of a crowd, his hand wrapped tightly around hers. The noise. The nerves. The rush of it all. 

She wouldn’t be standing on the outside looking in.

She’d be there — with him. His partner. His biggest fan. 

His Francesca. 

—

The flat was warm, filled with the soft clatter of pots and pans and the distant sound of premature fireworks echoing somewhere nearby. From the living room, the low hum of the TV drifted into the kitchen, a comforting sort of background noise.

Oscar stood at the stove, sleeves pushed up, utterly focused. They were having lasagna and garlic bread — the fancy kind he’d ordered from a private chef instead of just grabbing it from Tesco like they normally would. Francesca sat cross-legged on the kitchen counter in a McLaren hoodie and black leggings, sipping wine and watching him with quiet affection.

No doubt he’d try to sneak a pile of green leaves onto her plate. She’d roll her eyes and grumble, but she’d eat them anyway — just to get him to shut up about it.

Henry sat nearby in his ridiculous little New Year’s bow tie, looking more dressed up than both of them combined. Oscar said he looked like a distinguished gentleman. Francesca said he looked bloody stupid — and painfully cute.

By the time the countdown started on the TV, they were full of carbs and tangled together on the couch, buried beneath a heap of blankets. Henry, having fought a long and noble battle with his bow tie, had finally torn it off and was now snoring in the crook of Francesca’s knees.

As the final seconds ticked down, Oscar reached for her hand, lacing their fingers together.

“This time last year, I didn’t know you,” he said.

She turned to him, eyes soft and shiny. “Osc…” she whispered.

“Now I can’t imagine being anywhere else.”

And when the clock hit midnight, he kissed her — slow and deep, with so much love behind it she felt it pulse through her like a second heartbeat.

Later, he pulled her into bed, and they welcomed the first hour of 2024 in a haze of pleasure. Soft moans. Back arches. Fingers gripping skin. His voice against her neck, low and growled; “Fuck, ‘Cesca.”

Afterward, she lay sprawled across his chest, their skin damp, her fingertips drawing idle lines back and forth across him.

“I think this is going to be a good year for us, Osc,” she murmured.

He tightened his arms around her, pressed a kiss to her hair, and said softly, “Let’s just start with a bath.”

She giggled — tired, happy, a little breathless. Then she let him scoop her up without protest, her arms winding around his neck as he carried her toward the bathroom, their bodies still warm and uncoiled. 

For now, the rest could wait. The year could wait. All that mattered was this — soft light, shared warmth, and the quiet, reverent promise of forever.

liked by oscarpiastri, mclaren, and 98,413 others

bookishgoldie so much to look forward to in 2024 🎊

view all comments

oscarpiastri happy new year🥰 ♥ by bookishgoldie

user87 happy new year!!!! 🥳

user71 HAPPY NEW YEAR

user76 omg the mclaren lego AND the mclaren like ????? AND OSCAR BEING THE FIRST COMMENT LMAO

user14 their hardlaunch is going to be sooooo slay

user30 like we all know they’re together we’re just waiting for them to confirm it atp😭😭

user72 miss girl spent xmas in australia. they’re together together

katiebird happy new year, my lovely best friend!!!! so much excitement for us in 2024 ❤️

bookishgoldie so glad to have you in my life

user65 nobody talking about francesca literally posting (almost) a full face pic🥹🥹🥹 feel like a proud big sister rn

CHAPTER EIGHT

[canonkiller]

Hi, I'm Canon. I'm a disabled artist with some kind of gender and homosexual tendencies. You might have seen my usernames around in posts about loving OCs, or complaining about video game inaccessibility, or attached to one of the worm-centric comics I made, like these ones:

I hate having to ask for help when there's already so much going on, but I am also At My Limit.

To make a long story short, I am very disabled in multiple ways and I am living in a very inaccessible (and often directly disability-hostile) home. While I live with family, they do not provide assistance (financial or otherwise) and our rural location and the glacial pace of Canada's social services have left me A Bit Fucked. (Whatever you think Canada's health care provides, either it doesn't, or it takes half a year to even book an appointment.)

I've asked for help in the past with smaller goals, but costs continue to add up - and this time, finally, I may be able to actually make permanent accessibility changes to the household... if I can fund it myself. On the amount I get from the disability support program in my province, I can't do that; I would have to stop eating for months to afford even one of the major renovations in that time, and, obviously, I can't do that.

What kind of accessibility updates would this be going towards?:

A wheelchair ramp at at least one exit of the house; there are four potential exits, and all of them are currently multiple sets of stairs without railings.

A stair lift (for upstairs access) or a walk in tub (for downstairs access), depending on what my family will agree to

Dressers / storage that I am physically capable of opening

HRT (guess what isn't covered by Canada's health care, apparently!)

A whole mess of medical appointments (vision, prescriptions, dental, infinite various symptom testings) and transportation to and from those appointments (guess what else isn't covered!!)

A functional freezer

Physiotherapy 👍

Food 👍👍👍

And how can you donate?:

Donate directly to my Ko-fi page

Pledge monthly to my Ko-fi membership tiers

Order a commission from me (you'll be added to a queue; I can't provide completion time estimates right now)

Buy my premade digital goods (TTRPG resources, bases, tattoo tickets, etc) through Ko-fi or itch.io

Buy my art on physical goods through Redbubble or INPRNT

Buy designs / adoptables I've made through Toyhouse

Buy things off of my Amazon accessibility wishlist

I'm trying to buy used and second-hand / go through free stuff groups where I can to save costs, so I don't have a fixed goal and genuinely every bit helps. I really want to be able to get back to functioning somewhat normally, and due to Circumstances - as embarrassing as it is - I can't do that on my own, and I can't keep struggling with it the way I have been.

Thank you for your time, and any help you're able to provide. Reblogs are welcome and appreciated.

[breelandwalker]

I have adhd and I'm constsntly getting interested in various topics about witchcraft, which leads me to buying books because I NEEDED right now and saving podcasts and YouTube videos and tumblr posts to listen/watch/read later.

And then I get paralized. I feel like i'm never developing in the craft as I should because I struggle to focus on one topic and really learning it before going to the next

Oh honey, you are preaching to the proverbial choir. I have ADHD as well and I have the same damn problem. So much information, so little attention span, so much Decision Paralysis.

Saving things to a Watch Later is a really good hack. Bookmarks and Notes To Self are my lifeline when it comes to keeping track of those random little ideas that flit in and out of my head all day. Choosing a thing is indeed the hard part. Sometimes I just pick a random book or saved thing to explore and if it scratches the itch, I continue with it. If not, I try again later (because going back to the Decision part can be too overwhelming).

What finally worked for me was figuring out that I could totally multitask and do things piecemeal as my interests dictated. It meant that I didn't progress in any one thing very quickly, but it meant that I was making small amounts of progress in several things at once, which was better than nothing. Sometimes, I'd sit down with a stack of books and start to take notes on one of them at random. It was rare that I'd get through more than a chapter or so, but having the other options there in case my interest waned was helpful for me.

Also, learning about various topics when they caught my attention helped me start to see connections between ideas and subject matter that made things easier to understand. It was a slow process, but a lot less frustrating than trying to make myself focus on one thing at a time.

The important thing is to be patient with yourself. The progress you make is entirely at your own pace and there's plenty to learn, so there's no need to rush. That way lies frustration and burnout. Pick and choose the things that resonate with you. Do what you can when you can. Small steppy is better than no steppy, as the meme says.

Something else that helped me was sitting down occasionally and reviewing my progress from the previous year. I keep records of the spells I cast and the research I do, and it's surprising how much you can learn over the space of a year without hardly realizing it. If you want, you can check out this list of Witchcraft Exercises I put together. Some of them might be helpful. 😘

Good luck!

[mimisempai]

I wasn't expecting you 4/5

Chapter Summary - Pastry date

Aziraphale comes as expected to collect his pastries, and receives a lot more...

Notes

It seems they're good at surprising each other...

On Ao3

Rating G -  2202 words

Chap 1 - Chap 2 - Chap 3 - Chap 4 - Chap 5

"So how did you like it last night?"

Crowley, who was restocking the pastries in the display case, replied to Nina without turning around, " You guys are a pretty nice, fun group. Even if you've had one too many."

As he chuckled, Nina protested, "Hey, it was the carpet seller who had one too many. We weren't sober, that's clear, but we weren't drunk either. Besides, you should be thanking us for taking care of the 'Brown' problem."

"Yes, in a very subtle way."

He straightened and Nina shrugged, "It's the result that counts, right?"

She leaned toward him and said in a conspiratorial voice, "And what do you think of the bookseller?"

"He is... interesting."

"Interesting?! Interesting?! I had to put up with poor Mr. Brown's lamentations, and all you can tell me is that he is interesting?"

Their bickering was interrupted by the jingle of the door bell, and Crowley's chuckle died in his throat as the object of their conversation had just walked through the door.

Nina nudged him and whispered, "I'll leave you with this... interesting customer."

Crowley shook his head as he watched Aziraphale approach the counter and greeted him, "Welcome Aziraphale, what will it be today?"

"Good morning Crowley. I don't know yet, let me see what you have."

The barista watched with mild amusement as the bookseller paced back and forth in front of the display case, hands behind his back, looking for his pastry.

Then Aziraphale turned to him and said, "I'd be tempted by a slice of apple pie, but the slices are pretty big. I was wondering..."

He took a few steps closer and continued, "Do you have a break? Maybe we could share it and..."

Crowley didn't have time to react as he felt Nina unfasten his apron behind his back while she said, "He's entitled to a break and besides, as luck would have it, it's now." Then she nudged Crowley and added, "Come on, come on, half an hour, so don't waste a minute. I'll bring you the pie and..."

Aziraphale, an amused gleam in his eye, continued, "A cup of Earl Grey."

Crowley, realizing he had no chance of resisting, not that he wanted to, added, "An espresso for me."

He pointed to an empty table in the back of the coffee shop and said to Aziraphale, "After you."

A few seconds later, they sat down and waited for Nina to come up with their 'order'. When she had placed the drinks and the halved slice of pie on the table, she said to Crowley, "The half-hour starts now," then walked away without looking back.

The two men looked at each other and laughed together.

"Always so subtle."

Crowley nodded before asking, "Isn't the bookshop open this morning?"

"Yes, Muriel, my co-worker is here. I don't like dealing with customers, but they're very good at it, so we work it out."

The barista nodded and asked with interest, without a trace of judgment in his voice, "So it wasn't really a joke on Nina's part?"

Aziraphale shook his head and said in a self-deprecating tone, "I inherited this bookshop. It was my grandfather's, and he took me in when I left my... family at 18. I'm a literary critic, I love to read, and I'm not really a shopkeeper, not to mention the fact that I'm very attached to books, so I find it hard to part with them. But it's no miracle, you have to make money to keep the shop going, so Muriel came along at just the right time, a bit like you did with Nina. They intuitively know which books to buy for the bookshop to sell and which ones belong to my... collection. So they take care of the practical side of things, and I can get on with my work, surrounded by my precious books.  I'm not even a bookseller, you see".  

"Impostor," Crowley teased as he took a bite of pie.

Aziraphale laughed softly and continued, "But I'm only talking about myself. I know barista isn't your only job. What else have you done?"

Crowley replied, "Barista is the job I've done the most, but I've also been hired several times as a mechanic's helper because I have an old car I like to tinker with, and I've also done courier work. But none of that is my dream job. In fact, the reason I wanted something more stable and to be able to settle down is because..."

Crowley paused, realizing he was about to tell someone about his dream for the first time, and someone he barely knew. 

Aziraphale must have sensed his hesitation, because he said quietly, "If you don't want to talk about it, I understand, you know, we barely know each other, you don't have to..."

But Crowley wanted to, he had this compulsion, this feeling that he could tell the other man anything, so he continued, "I want to study astronomy. I know it's ridiculous, and I don't-"

"Hey, don't say that! Let me remind you that you're talking to a bookseller who doesn't sell books! My only question is, why this particular field?"

"I grew up in the country, and on summer evenings when the sky was clear, my father and I would often go to the same clearing to look at the sky. He would show me the constellations, know the names of some of the planets, and always tell me that he regretted that he hadn't studied to understand more. So when I was about ten, I promised myself I'd learn as much as I could so I could show him a lot more. But when I had just started college..."

His throat tightened and for a few moments he was unable to continue. Sensing his emotion, Aziraphale put his hand on his, which was next to his cup, and said gently, "Take your time."

Crowley thanked him with a smile, warmed by the kindness in Aziraphale's eyes, and lowered his gaze to take the time to collect himself so he could continue. 

After a few seconds, when he felt able, he resumed, "But he and Mom were in a terrible car accident and didn't make it, so, as they were my only family, I had to work to support myself and had to forget that childhood dream. Until now. I don't know if I want to make a living out of it, but I want to be able to fulfill that dream, for myself and for my father. There, you know everything."

Looking up, he saw Aziraphale's eyes shining with unshed tears as the bookseller said quietly, "Thank you for your honesty. I'm truly sorry for the loss of your parents. I know we barely know each other, but Crowley, I have to say it, you're amazing, you know? This is a very beautiful dream, and I hope with all my heart that you can make it come true."

Then he squeezed Crowley's hand before pulling it away, adding in a lighter tone, "And don't ever say it's ridiculous again."

Crowley let out a shaky breath, suddenly feeling as if he had been lifted from a weight he hadn't realized he was carrying, just by sharing his greatest secret with the man in front of him.

Then his eyes slipped to the wall clock and he exclaimed, "Oh, it's been half an hour!" He finished his coffee before standing up and saying, "My break is over. I'm sorry, I have to...

"Would you like to have dinner with me?"

"What?"

"I know it might be a little soon since we didn't know each other until yesterday, but-"

"Yes."

Aziraphale could only repeat like a parrot, "Yes?"

Crowley laughed softly and replied, "Yes, I would like to have dinner with you. Just tell me when and where."

"Tonight and at my place? I know it's not very proper for a first date, but I think it might be better for, well, you know, with the street gossip and..."

Seeing that the bookseller was starting to ramble again, Crowley stopped him by putting a hand on his shoulder and said, "No, that's fine with me."

He was rewarded with a bright smile and added, "I really have to get back to work. See you tonight then!"

He walked away, then returned to ask, "What time?"

Aziraphale, who had risen, replied, "7:00?"

"Perfect!"

Crowley then joined Nina behind the counter to help her serve the arriving customers, while Aziraphale strolled happily back to the bookshop.

He stepped through the door and exclaimed cheerfully, "I'm back!"

Muriel, who had been bending over behind the counter, straightened up and replied, "Welcome back."

"I'll put the last box of books away."

"Okay!"

Aziraphale picked up a box and walked to one of the shelves, whistling a lively tune. After a few seconds, Muriel appeared and asked him suspiciously, "You look very cheerful. Any reason?"

Knowing that his colleague and friend wouldn't let go until he said something, he replied neutrally, "I have a date."

"A date? A date? Mr. 'I'm going to end my life a bachelor because no one can stand someone like me' has a date?"

"Yes, Muriel..."

"Who, where, how?"

Aziraphale chuckled and replied, "Crowley, the new barista, here, I invited him to dinner."

"Him? Whereas you didn't know him yesterday?"

Muriel reached over and touched his forehead.

Confused, Aziraphale asked, "What's the matter with you?"

"I'm checking to see if you have a fever."

Aziraphale laughed again and replied, "Idiot."

Muriel became serious again and asked quietly, "Are you sure?"

Aziraphale replied with the same seriousness, "Absolutely sure."

"What has changed since yesterday?"

The bookseller replied quietly, "Something about him makes me want to take the risk."

Muriel looked at him thoughtfully before turning and walking away, "I'm in the mood for a hot chocolate, I'll be back soon!"

"Ok- What?! Muriel, no, don't-"

But only the sound of the shop door closing answered him as he saw his friend cross the street and enter the coffee shop.

Crowley was just putting the clean dishes away when he heard the coffee shop door open. Nina was checking the inventory in the back room, so he turned to the counter and saw a new customer arrive, looking determined as they walked up to the counter.

"Hello, I'd like an extra large hot chocolate, please."

Crowley replied politely, "Very well, I'll bring it right over."

He went to prepare the chocolate and returned a few moments later to the customer who had taken out their purse.

He handed them the hot chocolate and said, "3.25 pounds, please."

The customer grabbed the cup before handing them the money. Just as Crowley took it, they grabbed his wrist and looked him in the eye, saying firmly, "If you hurt him, you'll have me to deal with."

Crowley almost laughed because he was twice their size, but something in the customer's eyes told him they were serious, even if he wasn't sure what they were talking about.

He just nodded and watched in amazement as they left the coffee shop and crossed the street before entering the bookshop.

"Well, you just met Muriel."

"Muriel? Aziraphale's co-worker?" Crowley looked back at Nina, who nodded and then laughed at his bewildered expression.

Crowley thought the people on this street were completely mad, but somehow he was really beginning to appreciate their sweet madness.

*********

Much later in the day, about two hours before Crowley was due to arrive, Aziraphale began to wonder what had possessed him to invite the barista like that. What would they talk about? It had been so long since he'd done that. What if the other man found him boring? What if he had misread the signs?

"It is not the mountain we conquer, but ourselves."

The words his grandfather used to repeat to him whenever he doubted came back to Aziraphale's mind, and as he looked at his portrait on the desk, he felt calm return to him and murmured, "Thank you, Grandpa."

Aziraphale took a deep breath and continued his preparations, heading to the kitchen to cook dinner.  He was quite confident in his culinary skills after receiving compliments from members of the small community on Whickber Street who had tasted his cooking more than once.

An hour later, the meal was ready and he looked at the kitchen clock with satisfaction. He had just enough time to shower and make himself reasonably presentable for the evening ahead.

He didn't dwell on the fact that it took him a little longer than usual to choose his outfit, that he combed his hair three times before finally tousling it with his hand, that he put on his best cologne. 

The most important thing was that half an hour later he was ready.

All the preparations didn't stop his heart from skipping a beat when he heard a light knock at the door. It also didn't stop his heartbeat from quickening as he approached the door to open it.

With his hand on the latch, Aziraphale took a deep breath before opening it and saying, in what he hoped was a natural way, "Good evening, Crowley."

_________

Still not beta'd

Still not my native language

Still hoping you'll enjoy this story  🥰

Still thanking you for bearing with me 😝

Ineffable Husbands masterlist : here

[mindofmellilla]

Living in a Hologram

Recently, I've been shuttling myself from my apartment to my classes and back. I've been falling asleep on my couch and waking up at the oddest hours of the night to stare at a screen and work. I go to the club on Saturdays, not to party, but to work as a photographer for around €8 an hour. I've been living off of americano coffees and cigarettes despite the fact that I have supposedly quit smoking. I'm not doing well, that much is clear.

I've exploded on my friends multiple times and they've still found it in their hearts to forgive me despite my cruel treatment. I haven't eaten well in some time, and I find myself crying and begging whatever powers are at be to take me to my bedroom back home. The one I've occupied from the ages of 11 to 18. The one I share with my younger sister where we've left our fingerprints everywhere. The one with a bathroom that has a bathtub, a luxury I am not afforded at my current apartment, that I can fill up at any moment and sink into for hours while I stare at the wall in front of me. The one in the home my parents have provided for me, filled with music, and books, and food, and laughter, and love.

The place where if I stayed in bed for a week, like I want to I would be dragged into the car and taken for a drive along the coast just to give me a change of pace. A place that I can physically return to, but I mentally have never belong to.

And yet despite the whole unbearable routine that November has brought, and the dreadful feeling of homesickness, coupled with the lingering feeling of emptiness, I can't seem to forget the only person I want to talk to. The only person who is no longer in my life but can instantly make me feel better. The person whose personality changed the second I panicked and felt that being in contact with would break me. Turns out I constantly think about them and the presence they take up in my head is one larger than I had comprehended.

Sometimes I imagine what it would be like if I ever ran into them, an impossibility considering the fact that they no longer live here. I would be in my favourite book store, a spot that they've been to so often and I would be looking through all the books. I imagine it to be a sunny day but not a sweltering one, around 20º or 21º celsius. Anyways they would come into the bookstore and at first we wouldn't see each other, they'd see me from the back but not recognise me because by then my hair would be different and I would have lost some weight. I would continue my browsing and then at some point we'd see each other and lock eyes, familiarity will wash over both of us alongside a mixture of emotions I have yet to determine.

I would put the book in my hand back in its place, and leave. I have no idea what would happen afterwards, I can't even imagine what a conversation would be like, how would it sound, how would I feel, what would they say? I have no idea. I just imagine myself walking out of the bookstore and heading to the nearest place that sells cigarettes, about two shops down from the book store, and buying a pack of vogues and whatever light I'd like to add to my collection of lighters, even though I already quit smoking. I imagine I'd smoke about 5 or 6 from the pack, I'm not sure.

I so desperately want to feel something, that I resort to imaginary scenarios of panic and yet I still feel absolutely nothing. I don't know if I miss this person, or if I miss the way I felt. I feel stupid sometimes, like the little girl running with her eyes closed and tripping only to slice her forehead open and need stitches, stitches that will cause a scar I will have forever. I feel like I could avoid everything but if I did what would be the point of breathing? Do I even know what it's like to live?

I've expressed that I don't know who I am previously. I don't know what I'm supposed to do or who I'm supposed to be or what I feel. I just think sometimes maybe if I just stopped running to catch up to this blurry thing in front of me, I would figure it out. Maybe in that moment of stillness I would have some sort of discernment of my life, maybe I would understand something.

I found my playlist from when I was 13, and let me say, my music has barely changed, but I've been listening to it. It feels like a hug from a child. A line from an incredibly familiar song I can't place keeps circulating in my mind "I live in a hologram with you." I don't think anything has been able to describe me better, I live in a hologram with the expectations of my family, and the burden I place on myself, and the hope for a scene that will never play, and the dream that I will one day figure myself out.

"I don't know who I am, how can I like something I don't know?"

"How can you hate something you don't know?" My best friend told me, as I sobbed on a bench in a church's garden. The truth is I don't know. I don't know anything.

I wrote this when I was 19 in November 2023 and it's been sitting my drafts for two years, I feel sharing this is vital considering I've evolved far past this. Time doesn't necessarily heal, it transforms. So give yourself the time, welcome it. xo mellilla

[dollarbin]

Dollar Bin #55:

Steeleye Span's Parcel of Rogues

Twenty two years ago, in the depths of the Bush administration's lies and war crimes - which are idyllic in comparison to the bizarre abhorrence of the present moment - I slipped away from parenting my two year old and the adults in my care to weed through my local dollar bin and take a $4 chance on Steeleye Span.

To my ill-informed 27 year old self Steeleye were nothing more than a weak-ass Fairport Convention spin off that RT and the boys had trounced in a surely apocryphal game of footie back in 69. They did not rock and were fronted by someone not named Sandy Denny, so they were not worthy.

But it'd been a rough day and I wanted something to show for my efforts. So buy the record I did.

Thank goodness: Parcel of Rogues gave me an introduction to one of my favorite 70's bands and it contains one of the best three song cycles in my collection.

Side 1, admittedly, is a slog. One Misty Moisty Morning has a hook but desperately needs drums; Alison Gross, with its rockin' refrain about the "ugliest witch in the North Country" kinda rocks but is indeed gross, The Bold Poachers gets your hopes up with its minor chords and doom but it is followed by The Ups and Downs which, as my daughter this afternoon accurately declared, makes her "want to go to her room and shut the door with a bang" on all my terrible music.

But: Side 2! The Wee Wee Man is far less silly than you assume it must be given its Weird Al-worthy title and, after that first track, The Weaver and the Factory Maid plants a bold flag of hope. Indeed, I remember sitting up way back in 2003 and telling my now 23 year old to pay attention, as something exciting was happening.

She ignored me, of course, and continued slobbering on her toys. But she should have listened!

I anticipated the eventually fevered bounce of the track all through its opening stately verse, but when the groove finally arrived, preceded by a doodling electric guitar riff that stands on its own and then is joined by a caustic fiddle, I picked up my kid and high stepped about the house, arms swinging and boots pounding. She liked that. And the closing outro, with Maddy Prior alone, her voice doubled and then tripled masterfully, sealed the deal. Steeleye Span!

Rouges in a Nation follows and it still basically breaks my heart. My life has been one of privilege: I've never been forced to pit myself against another human being in deadly conflict. But I've read plenty of books about those who've done so, men who've had to kill or be killed.

For me, Rogues in a Nation is a fitting soundtrack for such horrors, a Scottish song to be sung by those who've survived but are forever stained.

I don't think you say enough about Prior's harmonizing here. Masterful pathos!

Scotland stands behind the climax to this stirring trilogy as well, offering up another tone altogether on Cam Ye O're Frae France. Drums appear with military brilliance beneath satisfyingly violent guitar strokes. But the real power and greatness comes, once again, from Prior.

As a sophomore in college I earnestly visited my music history professor during his office hours so as to play him Richard and Linda Thompson's The Great Valerio; it just seemed like something worth doing. The teacher, who I see recently retired, was a genius: he taught us to understand the opening movement of Beethoven's 5th by comparing it - stunningly - to the Flintstones' theme song.

Anyway, I'll never forget watching him encounter Linda's voice for the first time: she has zero interest in sounding beautiful or meeting gender norms as she traces the tight rope walker's dangerous paces; rather she just beats the hell out of you; after all, that's what the song calls for.

"Who is this singer?" my teacher demanded, standing up from behind his desk to crank the song up louder than anything I'd ever encountered through a stereo system. "She barely sounds human; it's like she's some kind of God!"

I was brought back to that moment when I first brought home A Parcel of Rogues and heard Maddy Prior's delivery on Cam Ye O're Frae France. She's descended from her place on high and is about to do 5,000 push ups one handed; we should cower.

Prior, like Linda Thompson, is not pop singer, nor is she delicate. Rather, she has come to kick all our asses.

What more could one want outta the dollar bin?

[koecode]

Preparation for the study

Hello guys!

Well, I've been doing a course of java in the past week or so, but I haven't been tracking and I want to keep a progress to be more sure I am in a good pace and will end it (kinda) faster.

So today I am going to pick a schedule and turn it into a habit, also I am going to organize how I will spend my time studying. I am learning Java (still on the very beginning heelp). So far, have made into 55 of 541 videos in the Java course, 77 hours of lessons and there's also practice and some challenges to do. I don't think I am able to get it done if I don't put my effort into being aware of my time, so my biggest flaw here is to keep focus and avoid procrastination at all my costs.

The course abt java has:

-Fundamentals of Java

-Programming oriented object

-Functional programming

-Mysql

-Mongodb

-Spring boot

-Javafx

-JPA

-Hibernate

And when I end this course I will continue with the ""sequel"", my point is to keep learning so I can get a job at the field and move on into being able to buy more books and keep this looping going. As the obsessive I am, I'm fully engaged in tech obviously, so my plans much depends on learning about it, and then how to make everything in my life about it too so... Yeah it will be fun, and a big stress probably. Hope I don't burn my head doing that.

Also, I bought last week a few other courses, cuz they were for such a good price I couldn't say no. Still haven't picked any of them to study, but, respectively they are:

-HTML and Css basics

-Terminal for beginners

-Gnu nano

-Shell script advanced

-Learn to compile

-VPS Server

-Create your own package manager

-Vagrant

-Slackware essentials

-Darkweb

Those are some topics I am interested in, even knowing a little about one here and there, will be a great challenge to advance my comprehension. I need to find time to put them into schedule. Wish me luck everybody. Maybe I am getting too overwhelmed to do everything I picked? Of course, but fuck it I can handle - just not at the same time obviously, sometime I will get there I just need to be patient with myself and keep consistency at check.

Gosh, was a long post huh? I will say later on my plan to get it all done! Until them, thank you for staying with me.

[jacquelinesbookclub]

Monks - Des Dillon

I’ve been in a Funk. A Funk with a big fat capital F. Let me explain.

I had a whole thing lined up to talk about this book, about how sometimes a story is written in such a way that it begs to be read out loud. The difficulty in teaching Shakespeare to kids in English class is that it’s not meant to be read, but heard. It’s written with performance in mind, and trying to untangle it wholly within your own head won’t give it the space it needs to express itself. Monks has an element of this as well, and I can see why Dillon took it and turned it into a play after its initial publication, it’s expressive in a way that needs to be performed. I read the first third or so of this book out loud to myself, pacing my living room gesturing wildly like I was on stage again for the first time in twenty years, and it was fun! It felt like that was exactly how it was meant to be experienced, out loud, in person, in real physical space where it can breath and shout and play, where it can exist. But then disaster, I broke my glasses.

I broke my glasses while cleaning them on my shirt, snapped them clean in two, right down the middle. Less than a week later I broke my backup pair in the exact same place in the exact same way. Broken glasses means I can’t see which means I don’t see and by don’t see I mean I’ve stopped looking. I can’t read, I can’t write, I can’t diddle away on my phone for hours on end. Driving hurts my poor soggy little brain, as does literally anything that requires focus, no riding my bike, no video games, no model kits, no painting, drawing, sketching. I can’t see properly so I’ve not even bothered trying, I’ve let the Funk in and its made itself at home.

...

And stayed there. I wrote these first two paragraphs a month and a half ago, which was two weeks after finishing the book, I’ve barely left the couch in eight weeks. I’ve had new glasses for a while now and I’m still not out of the Funk, so it isn’t that. I tried to blame the weather, it’s been below freezing in the mornings and constantly wet and dreary, but no-one believed me. “I’ve been busy”, I say from my comfy chair, they’re not buying it. I’ve gotta come clean, I’ve been depressed. Not just sad and mopey, but real, teeth in the flesh depressed. Like a bulldog’s lockjaw around my ankle, the ol’ ball and chain dragging me down. But it’s me, I’ve created this, the Funk is coming from inside the brain, and I’ve sealed all the doors and closed myself in with it.

Dillon’s unnamed protagonist continuously refers back to time spent in “the Ward” with Jimmy Brogan, and those of us who know, know that there is often very little healing to be done in places like that; locked up with your own thoughts, ruminating between bouts of sedatives, only people to talk to are like minded or trying to fix your mind like. It’s suffocating, there’s no fresh air to be had, no way to stick your head above the clouds and feel the sun on your face even for a second. You’re in with the Funk, and you’re not goin’ till the Funk is gone. But where is it supposed to go? You’re trapped in there playing hot potato with the Funk, back and forth, bouncing from hand to hand, feeding it with every touch, with every contact. The Funk has seeped into the walls, it’s a sticky film over all the furniture, the entire place reeks of it behind the bleach, you can’t get clean of it because it’s everywhere, you can’t get clean of it in there.

Breaking my glasses might have been the catalyst, but what I’ve actually done is built myself my own personal Ward, not of wood and bricks but of Funk. Dillon says “at some stage we level our eyes to the earth and don’t look up the rest of our lifes”, that’s what I’ve done, I’ve stopped looking out at the stars and turned in on myself. We’re all guilty of this, in our own way, building up walls and keeping our whole world inside. It’s scary out there, and comfortable here in here, I tell myself, but in here there’s nothing but Funk, a circuitous bubble of the same thoughts ricocheting off each other. I need to get OUT.

This is what Monks is telling us, to get out. “We’re over here to stretch our lifes. Make them bigger. Experience things”. Healing happens not in my Funk in front of the TV, but out there, in the world. It happens when I meet a neighbourhood cat, or feed some ducks. It happens when I improvise a silly song with a friend in the moment, when I say something embarrassingly wrong on the phone and the world doesn’t end. It happens when I laugh about missing a shot in a game of billiards, and when the room cheers once I get it right. It happens when I breach above the Funk for a moment and take some space for myself. Every time I get out of my comfort zone and come back safely, my zone expands. Yeah, it’s hard, fuckin’ oath it’s hard. “But strugglin’s good. Strugglin’s perseverance an indomitable spirit. Strugglin’s searching for something stronger inside. Strugglin’s what it is to be alive”. The struggle is what helps the healing, It’s like training my muscles, I push them so they can grow bigger, without resistance I’ll never grow.

So that’s what I’ll to do then, push through the struggle to get out. Get out into the world, Run up a mountain, kiss a beautiful woman, laugh with friends, have a wierd conversation with a wierd guy, share a knowing glance with a cashier at the shops, feel the cold on my face, and see that it’s real. It’s really really really real.

[ilikereadingactually]

Archangels of Funk

Archangels of Funk by Andrea Hairston

this is a tricky book to review! i liked it, let's start there. it took me a while to get into a groove with it, but we got there together, this book and i, and then at the end i got weepy which is always a plus. but i somehow read the entire thing not knowing that it's a sequel, or at the very least a followup, to two of Hairston's other books—which did clear up for me why i felt a bit lost most of the time while reading it, but which i'm actually glad i didn't know, because i probably wouldn't have requested the galley otherwise.

happily, i did request the galley, and read it in a few big chunks separated by several weeks, because other tasks got in the way of my fun reading time for a while; the second half of the book really went better for me than the first. i came into it feeling like i was rushed and running behind on deadlines both self-imposed and imposed by the publication date (spoiler: this book has been out for a few weeks already, whoops). that's not my favorite way to jump into any book, but really was hindering me reading this one, which has such a strong rhythm and music that it was like walking out of sync with the beat. i'm a person who walks in rhythm when there's a rhythm, bops when there's music (and often when the music is just in my head), and who reads best and most immersively when i can just let the prose carry me along. after totally blowing past the pub date and being busy-then-sick, i came back to it with a much more relaxed and open mind, and i had a great time. tl;dr, this is very much a book to read when nothing's pressing on you and you just want to float on feeling.

Hairston presents an imaginable future not too far from our present, after Water Wars have widened class (and, because they are inevitably linked, racial) divides into high tech walled communities and the folks who build their communities outside the reach of marketing and surveillance. we experience this world through shifting povs, including Cinnamon Jones, a pushing-sixty coder, farmer, performer, hoodoo practitioner, and community leader; her two dogs, each of whom is a bit more than a regular dog in their own unique ways; Indigo, a young goth who gives us a sense of this world outside of Cinnamon's farm and her immediate circle; and the Circus Bots, three performing robots possessed of powerful AI and modeled after Cinnamon's grandparents and great aunt, elders who continue to pleasantly haunt the narrative. and tying all this together is the mysterious Taiwo, who is perhaps a human war vet or a magician or a loa spirit or an alien, a top-hatted presence bringing unreality and real safety to the ensemble cast simultaneously.

it feels rare to me to read a story where AIs are pushing love and learning and creating community; where ghosts (in this case, haints) are a reassuring and life-affirming presence. those elements together, and mixed with straight up magic, feel very right and even more rare to me, and really encapsulate the ways in which this story is about both past and future, about celebration and revelation, about stage magic and real magic and technology and love, and what those things create together.

the deets

how i read it: as i mentioned, this was an e-galley from NetGalley that i'm very grateful to have had access to, even though i did not actually manage to read it before it was published. but i liked it enough that this is one i will probably buy for myself and definitely give as a gift to a friend also!

try this if you: dig really musical prose, enjoy a book where you have to just go with the flow, love a sweet slow pace, or were ever or still are a weird performing arts person. also i bet the audiobook of this is a banger.

some bits i really liked: relatable Cinnamon moments

The straw bale sugar shack made Cinnamon want a stack of blueberry pancakes with lots of syrup and butter. Jugs of maple lined the walls. Her mouth watered at maple candy, cookies, biscuits and cream pies. There was also maple relish, and maple suckers formed into weasel sculptures with mint-green eyes. Goodies for Festival.

___

"Reverse the curse, ImagiNation! Who cares? Why do I put myself through theatre misery?"

___

Cinnamon was a righteous rebel, a champion of the people. Secretly, she also felt superior to comfy, gullible users who'd been hacked and deep faked from day one, who thought they controlled their feeds, their fates, who believed they made up their own minds. Nobody made up their own mind. Mind was always a community affair.

___

"Getting old, you haunt your own self," she explained.

___

Dark days We know that Truth under the gun I ain't waiting For justice to be done I'ma be my own light And shine I'ma win my own fight Surprise I'ma be my own sun And rise I say Dark days We got that I'ma be my own sun And rise

pub date: May 7, 2024, it's out, go get it!!

[winterkittenreads]

Review: Daughter of No Worlds by Carissa Broadbent

Audience: Older teens and up

Stars: 4/5

Fav quote: “The way I look at it,” he said, very solemnly, so quietly that his words slipped into the air like steam, “you didn’t forget what you were. I think you remembered. And I hope no one ever again has the fucking audacity to tell you otherwise.”

dear radish,

This was a solid read! I think the easiest way to go about this review may be to address a few of the “drawbacks” I noticed pointed out in other reviews I’d read before picking up this book.

1. "I wish there was more of an info-dump toward the start of the book to flesh the world out more.”

Valid comment! However, over the years, my attention span has shortened, and I’ve found myself often lacking the patience to get through the more dense world-building description that many fantasy novels offer. DoNW gave me enough information to understand what was happening, while keeping me hooked with the exploits and inner world of our female lead Tisaanah. Does the magic system come anywhere near being as intricately fleshed out and presented as that of Avatar: The Last Airbender? Naur. But I am satisfied for what it is. And I felt like the descriptions that we did get were creative and cool.

2. “The pacing is strange. There are places that lag which makes it feel like the overall stakes are reduced.”

Pacing felt fine to me! It felt like the first season of a shonen anime, where the main protagonist needs to take time to build up her skills and strength first, before facing off various big-bads. And the former is exactly what Tisaanah did, with single-minded, unstoppable determination. I was impressed! I want 1/10 of that drive for myself. 

3. “Once the character Rashaye is introduced, it becomes difficult to distinguish if it’s Tisaanah, Rashaye, or Max (male lead) speaking.”

I also didn’t find this to be an issue. Rashaye, by the way, is a character introduced later in the book who speaks directly in Tisaanah's mind. Here’s my quick guide to distinguishing who’s speaking. 

{Everything in italicized brackets is Rashaye.}  Italics usually means Tisaanah is reliving one of Rashaye’s/Max’s memories as if she were them. Regular, unitalicized font is Tisaanah mind-speaking, except for the times when it’s partially Tisaanah, partially Rashaye starting to take control. 

It became intuitive to distinguish early on. I actually liked that there was both separation and a blending in these sections. The mind + identity is a tricky thing to define and as Guru Pathik said: “The greatest illusion of this world is the illusion of separation. Things you think are separate and different are actually one and the same.” I didn’t mind seeing these ideas represented physically on the page. 

Other thoughts:

For fans of political intrigue, there’s a little bit in DoNW. The epilogue seems to promise more of that in the upcoming installments.

This book had some of the most genuinely sweet yet powerful lines I’ve read in awhile! See fav quote for reference. 

Felt to me that trauma was addressed well in this book. Good that it was depicted as an ongoing battle. 

Take a closer look at the book’s cover art after you finish reading the book! I did, and it’s so rewarding! And tragic. And rewarding! 

I will continue reading this series 🎉 

Book blurb: 

A former slave fighting for justice. A reclusive warrior who no longer believes it exists. And a dark magic that will entangle their fates.

Ripped from a forgotten homeland as a child, Tisaanah learned how to survive with nothing but a sharp wit and a touch of magic. But the night she tries to buy her freedom, she barely escapes with her life.

Desperate to save the best friend she left behind, Tisaanah journeys to the Orders, the most powerful organizations of magic Wielders in the world. But to join their ranks, she must complete an apprenticeship with Maxantarius Farlione, a handsome and reclusive fire wielder who despises the Orders.

The Orders’ intentions are cryptic, and Tisaanah must prove herself under the threat of looming war. But even more dangerous are her growing feelings for Maxantarius. The bloody past he wants to forget may be the key to her future… or the downfall of them both.

But Tisaanah will stop at nothing to save those she abandoned. Even if it means gambling in the Orders’ deadly games. Even if it means sacrificing her heart.

Even if it means wielding death itself.

Fans of epic romantic fantasy like Sarah J. Maas and Raven Kennedy will devour this tale of dark magic, passionate romance, vengeance, and redemption.

[kelmcdonald]

See You at VanCAF

This is copy pasted from my newletter. 

Hey all! My main thing is I'll be at VanCAF which is in Vancouver, British Columbia on May 20&21. They haven't posted con maps yet, so I don't know what my table number is. But I'll be there and it's free to get into. So stop by!

Like I said the big thing this month is going to VanCAF. The rest of the month is mostly keeping my nose to the grindstone. 

This month's full moon movie is The Wolfman again. This time the remake. While watching the original Wolf Man, myself and other folks in the discord talked about some of the stuff that was changed in the remake (stuff like the remake is twice as long.) So I figured doing a back to back would be kinda fun. So if you wanna join, we'll be watching it May 5th at 6pm PST. Join the discord if you want.

As always I'll be streaming art on Twitch. My schedule is currently the following:

Tuesday 8pm-10pm PST

Wednesday 8pm-10pm PST

Thursday 6pm-9pm PST (during the Iron Circus Geekshow)

I mentioned last month that I was redoing the live reading of Fame and Misfortune. My mic worked this time so I've saved it and posted it on my youtube. We go over through the whole story in about 30 mins. Then I answer some questions from fans.

I'll definitely doing something like this for The Better to Find You With. As I'll get to in the next section, I got a lot of stuff on my plate. It will probably be some time in the fall.

I spent a lot of April still playing catching up on things. I was really backed up on my work for Seven Seas. I think I got it handled now, but Blue Moon is still not done. I think that has to be my primary focus this month. I was hoping to get the current chapter of You are the Chosen One last month, but that didn't happen. It's penciled so for the next few Fridays I'll post the pencils of the rest of chapter.

By the time those go up, I'll hopefully be done with Blue Moon and can give You are the Chosen One more attention. I hate to do it, but I have to put something on hold. The City Between being free means it gets me more new readers/attention and You are the Chosen One takes longer. And after I write Blue Moon, I should probably make sure the next batch of You are the Chosen One script are ready for drawing. So here's my to do list/priority:

Write Blue Moon

Keep up with The City Between

Freelance thing that is NDA

Clean up Murky Water to make a book

Finish Chapter 3 of You are the Chosen One

Review next few chapters of You are the Chosen One

Anyway, that's quite a lot.  I barely had time to read or watch new stuff this month. So kinda a short list this month.

Darling by Olivia Stephens - Darling is a Western Horror about a black woman who's living as a werewolf to escape the racism of 1800s America. She meets a black man on the run and the two have an instant connection Olivia art is excellent and rendering makes every page look both beautiful and haunting. It's one of the best werewolf comics I've read. You should all go back it here.

Love is Hard for Otaku - This is one checked out because Mangasplaining did an episode on it. They had a kinda mixed opinion of it, but I was curious to look into it myself. It's about a gal who's a big nerd but is hiding it from her day job because her last boyfriend dumped her for being too nerdy. A nerdy guy friend proposes they date each other because since they are both nerds she won't have to worry about him dumping her for it. There is a manga and an anime. The manga is a little rough. The pacing seems to be kinda wonky. The anime does a better job landing the jokes, mostly because a lot of the jokes involved references to anime. So the joke works better when they can copy the scene from Evangelion shot for shot, rather than translation the animation into a comic. I don't 100% buy the characters as a couple so I'm on the fence about continuing to watch it. 

Nope - This was something that was on my I should get around to seeing this movie since it came out. It was streaming so I made a point to watch it. It's less than a year old so I won't go into details about the plot. But I really liked the point it makes about random chance and nature. I also really liked the relationship between the two main siblings. It was a good mix for conflict, frustration, and affection.

Anyway, thanks for sticking with me through the big workload that's going on. Please back my Patreon if you can. Every little bit helps!

[ninelivesart]

2024 Reading List

Hi everyone! I'm still here. I just hit a pretty big block that has taken over every aspect of my life. 2024 ended up going in a different direction than 2023 in regards to my Books/Art things. I didn't have quite the same goals last year as I did the year before. Namely, I kept catching myself reading really short books just to make a certain number. And putting off larger books I wanted to read. So I made it my goal to just like not have a goal.

In which case, success!

Otherwise, I fell off the wagon with the Drawing My Reads. And I read like maybe half of what I read the year before. Once I hit that block later in the year, my numbers just tanked. So I decided not to include these in the Drawing My Reads post I have already up.

This post will just be the books I read and what I liked/didn't like about them. Mini-reviews, if you will. I'll probably also make a separate DNF list because I started keeping track of those as well. Yay, Storygraph!

So continue below if you care to know what I read this last year.

And Happy New Year!

January

1. When She Dances by Ruby Dixon

I already read all the IPB books, so I started dipping my toes into her other books. I don't care for this series as much but they're nice for when you just want a quick mindless read.

2. The Ten Thousand Doors of January by Alix E. Harrow

I absolutely loved this book.

3. Bookshops & Bonedust by Travis Baldree

I listened to the audiobook, read by the author. Also, fun fact, my fanart of the first book made him follow me on Tik-Tok, so we're mutuals now!

February

4. Unfamiliar, Vol. 1 by Haley Newsome

A cute graphic novel about a witch.

5. Shadow and Bone by Leigh Bardugo

I'm gonna be real with you, I didn't enjoy this book. It felt very... young? Just felt like a kid's book and was really boring a lot of the time. I really just wanted to jump to Six of Crows but I felt like I was missing something when I started that one. Probably won't finish this series but I will read Six of Crows eventually. I do enjoy some of her other books. So I'm assuming it's because she wrote this when she was very young.

6. Horrorstor by Grady Hendrix

I loved this book! I picked it up because it has a very clever design. The entire book looks like an Ikea catalog. It's fun for being a relatively graphic horror novel. Nothing too intense, though.

7. Halfling by S.E. Wendel

I'm pretty sure I picked this up because I kept seeing it advertised and the cover was pretty. It was fine. I don't remember much about it.

8. A Gathering of Shadows by V.E. Schwab

I finally decided to finish this series. AND I LOVED IT. V.E. Schwab is an auto-buy author for me now.

9. Choosing Theo by Victoria Aveline

Needed another filler series. Trying not to overdo it like I did with the IPB series. So I'm pacing myself. But I do really enjoy these books. They're wholesome the way the IPB series is.

10. A Conjuring of Light by V.E. Schwab

Miss Schwab just doesn't miss for me. Loved this series. So excited that it's kind of continuing.

11. In Nightfall by Suzanne Young

I listened to the audio at work. It was a YA retelling of The Lost Boys. Fun but not amazing.

March

12. Freeing Luka by Victoria Aveline

Fun.

13. Zatanna: The Jewel of Gravesend by Alys Arden

Jaqueline de Leon does the art for this graphic novel and I've been following her for years. She's a huge inspiration to me. So it was nice getting to see a big project like this from her. It was a cute story. Sad though.

14. The Night Hunt by Alexandra Christo

Another one that fell on the young side. I know it's YA already but it felt like it could have been something bigger/better. It felt like an early draft where the author just info dumps the story before fleshing it out. I loved the concept but the execution was a little lacking. Wish it had been more expanded on.

15. Court of the Vampire Queen by Katee Robert

These books were fucking stupid.

16. Miles Morales Suspended by Jason Reynolds

Cute! I didn't realize it's a semi-sequel to the first Miles book. I think it can be read standalone but it does take place after that one. I also listened to this but wish I'd read the physical book for the artwork.

17. Divine Rivals by Rebecca Ross

A TikTok recommendation that actually didn't disappoint me. I ended up really loving this book and I had to buy the second one immediately because I didn't want to wait for it to come back to the library.

18. Ruthless Vows by Rebecca Ross

I know there were mixed reviews on this duology, but I loved it.

19. Thornhedge by T. Kingfisher

Short! An interesting retelling of Sleeping Beauty that leans very heavily on faerie folklore. I listened to the audio and really liked it. It's a quick read.

20. Bride by Ali Hazelwood

The only Ali Hazelwood book I've ever read. It was fine. I liked the MC's sense of humor. She was refreshingly sarcastic. However, I cannot STAND her STEM romances. They give me the ick so bad. So this was surprisingly enjoyable.

21. Saving Verakko by Victoria Aveline

Fun again. I'm enjoying this series but trying not to zoom through it. Good for light, quick reads.

April

22. The Prince of Prohibition by Marilyn Marks

A really interesting fae romance that takes place during the 1920s. The fae are based on Welsh mythology and are disguised as idk mobsters or something. I actually enjoyed this but I don't remember much about it.

23. The Veil of Violence by Marilyn Marks

I can't remember the differences between each book since I read them back to back. I know I didn't enjoy the sequel as much as the first one. But they weren't bad. I'm pretty sure it left off open-ended, so possibly another one at some point?

24. All Systems Red by Martha Wells

I listened to the audio. It's another quick, short one but Murderbot is a really fun character to follow. I keep forgetting to read the rest of the series.

May

25. Norse Mythology by Neil Gaiman

I've really enjoyed Neil Gaiman's work so it's a shame he's a garbage human being. I'm a big fan of mythology but I can't bring myself to read any more of his work.

26. The Fragile Threads of Power by V.E. Schwab

Miss Schwab back at it again. Can't wait for the continuation of this series.

27. Ghost Station by S.A. Barnes

I really enjoyed Dead Silence, so I was hoping this one would be just as good. I listened to the audio and I think it fell short of my expectations. It wasn't bad but wasn't my favorite. Dead Silence was better.

June

28. A Tempest of Tea by Hafsah Faizal

Interesting take on vampires. I liked the worldbuilding and the characters. It was entertaining but not the "edge of your seat" kind.

29. The Last Bloodcarver by Vanessa Le

I picked this up because of the beautiful cover and really enjoyed it. I know I've complained about YA books sometimes feeling too young. I usually mean the writing style, which is no fault of the books. They are for younger audiences, I'm aware. But this one didn't feel overly young. I listened to the audio and liked it. I hope there's more in the series.

30. Restless Stars by Caroline Peckham and Susanne Valenti

This series is also fucking stupid. But I've read every single one of them. So joke's on me, I guess. Anyway, dumb ending to a series I'm glad is over. I will be reading more by these authors, though. Because I clearly don't read these books for the good writing. I will never reread them.

31. The Never King by Nikki St. Crowe

I actually dislike these more than Zodiac Academy, tbh. I wasn't reading them for the plot, though. Fucking stupid. I've read all of them.

32. Maneater by Emily Antoinette

I read this because of the cover and also I was hoping she actually literally ate men. A little disappointed that she falls in love with one instead. Cute, short romance if you can overlook the lack of murdering. Pretty sure this is a prequel but I haven't read the others yet.

33. Ink Blood Sister Scribe by Emma Torzs

I enjoyed this book. It wasn't amazing and I was listening to it while doing busy work. So it wasn't enthralling or anything but I didn't hate it. I can see why some people thought it was boring, though. I liked the magic system. There's a dog named Sir Kiwi, which is the most important thing to know. She lives.

July

34. The Dark One by Nikki St. Crowe

I remember the MC being agonizingly annoying throughout this series. And how they just like--all collectively fall in love with her even though she has the personality of styrofoam. She made me cringe a few times. And for some reason they like her more than all the other Darlings after knowing her for like 2 days and never really explain why she's special and different.

35. Their Vicious Darling by Nikki St. Crowe

I don't remember her being vicious a single time.

36. The Fae Princes by Nikki St. Crowe

I remember that most of my questions were still left unanswered. Every character is annoying except the Crocodile, I think. Idk. I can't remember. I'm pretty sure there's a spinoff or will be at some point but I don't care enough to read it. I don't know how I made it to the end beyond wanting those questions answered and then not getting that.

37. As Old as Time by Liz Braswell

I've been really enjoying these Disney books. They hit a lot harder than the movies and answer some questions. I liked that you learn more about Belle's mother in this book and it gives a bit more backstory into the Prince being cursed and everything. Fun.

38. Romancing Rem'eb by Ruby Dixon

Back at it again with the IPB spinoffs. Mushrooms? Dumb. Gimme fourteen of them.

August

39. Tempting Auzed by Victoria Aveline

This is why I stop myself from reading these books back to back. I can't remember the differences between them. Fuck if I know what happened in this book. I enjoyed it though.

40. Ocean Wolves by Theresa Beachman

I'm pretty sure I chose this because 1. it was free on Stuff Your Kindle Day and 2. I needed a book with an author with the same initials as me for the summer reading program. I actually really enjoyed this book? Very suspenseful as well as romantic. Will probably continue this series even though it isn't my usual cup of tea.

41. Fire in His Blood by Ruby Dixon

More Ruby Dixon for my IPB fix. I don't enjoy this series as much. More dystopian than sci-fi. They're fine, I guess. There are dragons. I'm pretty sure I read another one but it isn't logged anywhere.

42. The Unmaking of June Farrow by Adrienne Young

I really liked this one! I listened to the audio and there were a few times I had to go back because I wasn't paying enough attention. I don't do that often, which is why I usually choose YA for my listens. Also because I don't want to be listening to smut at work. This one isn't YA, though. I liked it a lot.

43. Iron Widow by Xiran Jay Zhao

This... this is the edge of your seat book I've been looking for. I was hooked from the first page. Loved every second of it. I started to get anxious about the love triangle but then it turned into a throuple, which is the only valid solution. I started with the audio and my time ran out, so I checked out the physical book. Which doesn't happen often, but I needed to know more. FEMININE RAGE. QUEER CHARACTERS. CHINESE MYTHOLOGY. GIANT MECH SUITS. BE GAY. DO CRIMES. 10/10.

September

44. Cryptids, Creatures & Critters by Rachel Quinney

This is about the point that I started to lose momentum. This book didn't tell me anything new about cryptids but the artwork is STUNNING. I will be buying this book because I want to stare at it.

45. Wild Wolf by Caroline Peckham and Susanne Valenti

The conclusion of the Darkmore books. Also stupid. But I wasn't here for the plot. I don't remember much of what happens in this book besides a lot of orgies, tbh.

46. Thrum by Meg Smitherman

Ok, I read this on a fucking airplane because I didn't expect there to be smut in it. But... this book was fucking... weird? Like, I think I didn't enjoy it. Idk. There were a lot of things left unanswered. And it wasn't as thrilling as I was led to believe. It's been months and I don't think I fully processed it yet. I don't recommend it.

47. The Widow and the Orcs by Finley Fenn

I downloaded this for my trip because I knew I wouldn't be able to download anything else, and I didn't realize it's #9 in the series. I did like that the MC is older and not a baby-faced 19yo. But it was also a lot. Not sure if I'll continue the series because her love interest is a villain in the other books and I'm going to have a hard time forgiving him.

48. The Orc and the Innkeeper by Cora Crane

I was on a trip. And clearly going through an Orc phase, okay? This was kinda dumb. More modern setting. Former high school bully. Suffered a bit from the miscommunication trope. I don't really want to read more.

I saw Hozier in concert after this so I had to take time off to process that as well. You can't have an out-of-body Hozier experience like that and then just jump right back into Orc smut, you know? Also, I got really sick after this so I was like zooted on fever temps and dayquil for the rest of September.

October

49. The Book of Bill by Alex Hirsch

The only book I read in October. Absolutely delightful for a Gravity Falls fan. 10/10.

November

50. ExtraOrdinary by V.E. Schwab

Mad that no one told me there's a comic series that takes place in the Vicious universe. Rude of them. Fun story.

51. Beware the Banshee's Cry by Steven J. Rolfes

In my folklore era now. I enjoyed this book. More background on Banshees. I used it to argue why Banshees belong in the folklore section and not metaphysical. And I stand by that choice.

December

52. Dark Folklore by Mark Norman

This book got me EXCITED. I love folklore. And I loved that this book went into the more cultural history behind these folk stories, rather than just telling the stories. There's a whole section on how sleep paralysis influenced folklore and I DID NOT SHUT UP ABOUT IT FOR WEEKS. I can write essays on sleep paralysis and folklore. So I was super excited to see it explained in depth. It also gave me new information I didn't consider. Ex. the incubus/succubus myths derived from people experiencing sleep paralysis. Amazing. 10/10.

53. When She's Bold by Ruby Dixon

Another cute, quick read. Very glad the miscommunication was cleared up quickly. By, you know, talking to each other. There's no real high stakes. No beating around the bush, so to speak. Once they realize they aren't communicating properly, they just like, talk about it. I appreciated that.

54. The Fright Before Christmas by Jeff Balanger

Christmas folklore, of the darker variety. This book claims it's more Krampus based, and does go into depth on that myth, but it also touched on the dark origins of a lot of Christmas traditions. Fascinating. I love having random folklore facts in my back pocket to ruin Christmas for everyone. 10/10.

55. Goldfinch by Raven Kennedy

I put off reading this book because the ending to the last one pissed me off. But I finally read it. It was fine. Overall, not the best series I've ever read but I enjoyed them. I mean, I read them all. Glad things got resolved and wrapped up.

56. The Visitor by Sergio Gomez

This book annoyed me. The premise was different from the execution. It felt flat and rushed. I know it's a short story but I felt like the suspense could have been built up better. Also, they just like figure out right away that they're being hunted by an alien and it's harvesting their organs. People aren't going to jump right into figuring it out like that. More of a telling not showing kind of book. The dog survives so that's important.

I also read a book called A Glitch in the Matrix but apparently I didn't log it anywhere. I did finish it but I didn't enjoy it because it ended up just being personal accounts of people's ghost stories. I didn't feel like there were enough Glitches and 9 times out of 10 they were obviously sleep paralysis or something that had an easy explanation.

2024 Total: 57

[paperback-bitch]

Review: Defy the Night

Defy the Night #1 By Brigid Kemmerer Hardback: $17.99 – Paperback: $12.99 – E-book: $7.69 Approx. 480 pages – Audiobook: 13 hours YA Fantasy/Romance

SYNOPSIS

A desperate prince. A daring outlaw. A dangerous flirtation.

In the Wilds of Kandala, apothecary apprentice Tessa Cade has been watching people suffer for too long. A mysterious sickness is ravaging the land and the cure, Moonflower Elixir, is only available for the wealthy. So every night, she defies the royal edicts and sneaks out, stealing Moonflower petals and leaving the elixir for those in need.

In the palace of Kandala, Prince Corrick serves as the King's Justice, meting out vicious punishments and striking fear into the hearts of agitators and outlaws. Corrick knows he must play this role convincingly—with a shortage of elixir and threats of rebellion looming ever closer, the King's grip on power is tenuous at best, and Corrick knows his brother is the kingdom's best hope for survival.

But when an act of unspeakable cruelty brings the royal and the outlaw face to face, the natural enemies are faced with an impossible choice—and a surprising spark. Will they follow their instincts to destroy each other? Or will they save the kingdom together . . . and let that spark ignite?

Themes: Revolution, Illness, Contested Monarchy

Tropes: Rebel Network, Spreading Plague, Political Unrest, Court Politics, Government Coup

Warnings: Depictions of violence, including terror attacks such as bombings. Death from illness.

REVIEW

Brigid Kemmerer does it again – another series to add to my list because she hooked me with the first one. It’s like when I fell fast and hard for A Curse so Dark and Lonely and I ran out to buy books 2 & 3 in the trilogy immediately. (They have since languished on my shelf while I distract myself with so much else, but this is the curse of the mood reader, oops.) But this book reminded me how much I love her writing style, so expect to see the Cursebreaker series reviews sometime soon, because they just bumped much higher up my TBR.

This world is vibrant and fresh, and I love the way Kemmerer layers in her worldbuilding so it feels natural with the pace of the plot. I loved the characters, though I will say I had some issues with the audiobook. Nothing major – Lexie McDougall and Christopher Ragland are both incredible performers – but Lexie voices male characters much more smoothly (and believably) than Christopher voices women. It led to me being pulled out of the story at times, but it was definitely bearable and didn’t detract too hard from the overall experience.

As far as the plot and dynamics, the story is compelling if a bit unclear. We’re left at a semi-resolved point in the story, after a confrontation that was so tense I was literally holding my breath for part of it. The book was a whirlwind of emotion for me, honestly, playing the relationship between Tessa and Corrick out alongside the mounting tensions of the people rebelling against the kingdom. We manage to end on a hopeful note, even with the unresolved tensions and loose ends, but part of me does wonder how this plot can carry three books at this point. I’m expecting some twist, of course, but we’ll have to see.

FINAL THOUGHTS

4/5, if only because we have some room to grow, and there were moments where I struggled to see where the book (and series) was going. I’m hopeful that it continues picking up and carrying its plot, but I am nervous about whether the inevitable twist will work.

RECOMMENDATIONS

If you enjoy books like ACOTAR and Throne of Glass, the Grishaverse, or even Kemmerer’s other series, you should try this one. It’s a strong fantasy world and I’m so excited to see where this is going.

[itsyatomydude]

My Anime Life Chapter 1

Hi there, before I share the preview I want to thank you for supporting me while I work on this. It means the world to me that you're interested in my content/the series! Please feel free to give me your thoughts and opinions on what's here so far!

My thoughts when working on MAL:

I wanted to make a story that had every anime trope in the book, with a main character hating anime itself. I felt like having that contrast of a very realistic grounded person in a fantastical world would be funny. I originally wrote this in like 2021 with some old friends but like many other ideas that you might see here, it never left the group chat. I also wanted to get a lot of idioms of anime culture sprinkled throughout, the story. So here's the first two paragraphs for your enjoyment Without further adieu Chapter 1: School time prep Waking up at 6:00 for school at 8:30 is ideal...I wake up at 5:30 to ensure I don't hog the bathroom, but for no one else to stall in the bathroom. Showering should take me about 15 minutes; if I heat the breakfast I made last night, that should save me 30 minutes of making breakfast. Given that my little brother doesn't do anything to take time out of my plan, I should leave the house by 6:24 exactly, meaning I have left almost an hour early with breakfast already eaten. So far- no tropes. Oh, I suppose I should introduce myself. Hello, I'm Charlotte ‘Erza’ Mori, and I aim to live an average life… that sounds boring to you, let me explain.

I live in a world that feels fantastical, superpowers, kaiju, and giant mechs are par for the course here. This is a world that, in itself is a love letter to anime. For example, there’s this popular Magical ‘girl’ duo called ‘Quiet Ki’ and ‘Golden Leader’ who fight villains like almost every day they’re our closest thing to, and people are born with wild ass hair colors, I’m a prime example; my hair color is an obnoxiously bright pink that can be picked out from a mile away. I just dyed it black so I can blend in more. I live in a world full of anime tropes and the love of anime, and I alone… loathe anime and its tropes and cliches. I never, wanted anything to do with anime given my parent's almost cult-like worship of the medium. I walk down the street in my black medium-length skirt, matching the sailor-styled top with blue and white trimming along the edge of the sailor-style uniform dodging any possible bumps at intersections, taking the fastest route, and having backup routes planned in case those get closed off, I reach the school gates right at 7:00. I take the peace and silence to buy myself a drink from the vending machine nearby, just a bottle of water. This plan could have been perfect, however, there is one slight oversight on my part, I now have an hour to spend. I could spend some time in the nearby park as I wait out this hour, or I could pace around the building…like some creep, I guess I’m off to the park for now.

As I make my way to “Comiket Park” I see a group of people, they seem to be about my age given the fact that they’re in, albeit a heavily modified version, my school’s uniform …which is bad on its own, but it’s only worse made by the fact that they’re all practicing their “special moves” their stances give off some energy blast but only enough to put a chunk in a tree, or to take out a small crater in the ground in front of. I try not to give them any attention and find a spot to sit in a gazebo somewhat nearby.

To Be Continued...

If you want to read the story two weeks early along with other series, please check out my Patreon! Otherwise, I'll see you in two weeks, Bye!

[sfwordsmith]

National Novel Writers Month 2023

Hello readers, welcome back. Spencer here with a writing update.

So this year I participated in NaNoWriMo. For those not deep in the writing life, it’s a non-profit-backed call to action to all writers to write 50,000 words of a new novel’s first draft during the month of November. Happy to report, I was a winner! Just barely. I wrote 50,004 words. It was an interesting challenge, fast-paced, and took lots of time and dedication to accomplish. It gave me a better understanding of the type of discipline it takes to match what essentially is the well-known daily word count of Stephen King. (His is a self-reported 2,000 and to beat NaNoWriMo you need to do 1667 a day to reach 50 thousand by the end of the month.) With that said, it’s not undoable, and I managed to accomplish it while working 50+ hours a week at my day job. Oh to imagine what I might accomplish with this being my full-time job. Buy me a coffee here if you’d like to help make that a reality.

With that said, while I appreciated the drive that NaNoWriMo gives you, the pace of writing didn’t quite fit my usual style. I found myself at times wanting to take the time to develop the plot and stories a bit more mentally, but feeling like if I didn’t just get the words down I wouldn’t be able to maintain my pace. Speaking of which, there is a graph below that showcases that I did exactly that, keep pace. I would write to my word count, and on some days just slightly above, in an effort to just finish the challenge.

This sort of pace makes it so that you don’t self-edit much, or really, that you don’t have the time to self-edit much. It’s good for getting words down on a page but definitely isn’t suited to all types of novels. Luckily, the idea I had for my new novel was one that was heavily conversation-based and focused entirely in one setting. This made it easy to just play with the characters and develop their personalities in a variety of scenarios and really delve deep into who they were and how they acted and interacted with each other. Had I been working on my big trilogy of novels in this challenge, I may have felt that the quality of my work had suffered, however, due to the type of novel I chose to write in the challenge – it actually worked well.

Not to say that the novel is done or anywhere near being a final product. I imagine it needs another 25,000 – 50,000 words for me to be able to wrap up the story, and it will need a major dose of editing. Yet I am still very proud of what it was I was able to accomplish during this month, and am happy that I have joined the community that NaNoWriMo has helped flourish over the years. I look forward to continuing this project, which as of now is tentatively titled The Man on the Couch, and is primarily a story about a man who loses his job and is dumped by his girlfriend, winding up on his best friend’s couch after that same friend has just recently moved into a new apartment with his girlfriend… as told by the narrator, the apartment itself. It’s been really fun to write and I can’t wait to be able to share more of it with you all.

Until then, check out my other book! By the way, my Press53 promo code is still running for a 53% discount off that book until January if you buy it directly through me.(It’s also available on Amazon with no promo.) That promo code is special because of my poem getting placed into the Press53 January 2024 edition soon to come. If you didn’t read about me winning Press53’s Prime 53 Poem Summer Challenge, now’s your chance.

I’ll try to check back in here before the end of the year. Feel free to hit me on socials in the meantime. Adios!

Read more here