#as Miss Marple looks on and worries

[mariana-oconnor]

The Copper Beeches pt 3

I hope you are anxious to hear the conclusion of the case of ‘The Copper Beeches’.

Yes. Yes I am. Because while it's now pretty certain that the Rucastles are not part of a sex-trafficking ring, they're still really fucking creepy and now I also have to worry about the poor dog who is also being abused.

Family of serial killers, I swear.

"Is there a cellar with a good strong lock?" "Yes, the wine-cellar."

...

😈😈😈😈

"You seem to me to have acted all through this matter like a very brave and sensible girl, Miss Hunter. Do you think that you could perform one more feat? I should not ask it of you if I did not think you a quite exceptional woman."

Leeeeeeettle bit condescending there, Holmes. Although I feel like I am just more sensitive to that because modern perspective and experience. However, I do think think this section needs noting, if only because of all the people who are determined that Irene Adler is the only woman Holmes ever saw worthy of a compliment. Nothing against Irene, she's great, but Violet Hunter deserves better. She's been doing all the legwork herself this case, and she's made a pretty decent detective.

"If you could send her into the cellar on some errand, and then turn the key upon her, you would facilitate matters immensely."

...

heh

heheheh

...

"Of course there is only one feasible explanation."

I still want to know what the other six possibilities were, Holmes. I want to know.

"Miss Alice Rucastle, if I remember right, who was said to have gone to America. You were chosen, doubtless, as resembling her in height, figure, and the colour of your hair. Hers had been cut off, very possibly in some illness through which she has passed, and so, of course, yours had to be sacrificed also."

Miss Alice Rucastle is having the worst year. First she's sick so badly she has to cut her hair off. Then her father imprisons her in her own home. And on top of all of that her stepbrother is a serial killer in training. Worst. Year. Ever.

"The most serious point in the case is the disposition of the child."

Really? That's the most serious point? Like, I agree it's not good. He's clearly showing signs of anti-social behaviour, aggression, and a worrying taste of having the power of life and death over other living beings, but I'm not sure I'd say that was the most urgent thing right now. I think getting Alice out is the most important thing. You can get him some serious therapy later.

"This child's disposition is abnormally cruel, merely for cruelty's sake, and whether he derives this from his smiling father, as I should suspect, or from his mother, it bodes evil for the poor girl who is in their power."

Ah, okay, you're saying that it's serious because it indicates the level of danger involved. Sure, yeah, okay.

Can't disagree on this point. It's certainly not a good sign.

ALSO, one other thing that has been bugging me since part 2. Does the kid know where his half-sister is? Is he aware she's locked up? He can't be, right? Because there's no way he wouldn't have let something slip. But at the same time, he's just unaware of a whole ass person being imprisoned in his home? It's weird. He's weird.

Dear Little Edward the murderer in training is either oblivious or very good at keeping creepy secrets.

I'm not sure about the stepmother. On the one hand, the crying and the quiet indicate that she's also being abused. But on the other hand she was the one to catch Violet with the mirror and then use it to further the scheme. Although she didn't say 'she has a mirror', which would have made Mr Rucastle angry. That whole bit is weird. Was she trying to stop Violet from getting into more trouble, was she trying to save their scheme? I don't know. But then, if she's living with Rucastle and her darling son all day every day, she's probably been ground down pretty far.

A loud thudding noise came from somewhere downstairs. "That is Mrs Toller in the cellar," said she. "Her husband lies snoring on the kitchen rug."

Suddenly there came a clanging As of someone wildly banging, banging at the cellar door.

And Mr Toller didn't even make it to bed? He's just passed out on the kitchen floor? He's lucky there's a rug in there and it's not just flagstones.

Then he tried the various keys in the lock, but without success. No sound came from within, and at the silence Holmes's face clouded over.

Not a particularly good sign...

"Now, Watson, put your shoulder to it, and we shall see whether we cannot make our way in." It was an old rickety door and gave at once before our united strength. Together we rushed into the room. It was empty.

Breaking down doors! Love a bit of action with my mystery.

"Ah, yes," he cried, "here's the end of a long light ladder against the eaves. That is how he did it." "But it is impossible," said Miss Hunter; "the ladder was not there when the Rucastles went away." "He has come back and done it."

But why would he climb up a ladder when he could just open the door?

I mean we know of the existence of at least one other person who would want Alice Rucastle out of that house and who wouldn't have a key to her room.

I'm just saying, Holmes.

"He's gone for the dog!" cried Miss Hunter. "I have my revolver," said I.

Oh no... poor doggo.

Please don't kill the dog, Watson. Please.

We had hardly reached the hall when we heard the baying of a hound, and then a scream of agony, with a horrible worrying sound which it was dreadful to listen to. An elderly man with a red face and shaking limbs came staggering out at a side door. "My God!" he cried. "Someone has loosed the dog. It's not been fed for two days. Quick, quick, or it'll be too late!"

Two days?! Two fucking days? Seriously.

But it kind of sounds like the doggo is getting revenge. Good boy. Good boy! You eat the bad man.

There was the huge famished brute, its black muzzle buried in Rucastle's throat, while he writhed and screamed upon the ground. Running up, I blew its brains out, and it fell over with its keen white teeth still meeting in the great creases of his neck.

Holy fuck this action escalated quickly. That is graphic and also... poor dog. I mean... I doubt it could have been rehabilitated at this point, but still. Poor thing never had a chance.

I do not remember this story being this brutal. Holy shit that guy's throat was ripped out.

Can't say I'm sorry. Glad the dog got its revenge before it died.

"Ah, miss, it is a pity you didn't let me know what you were planning, for I would have told you that your pains were wasted."

I mean, you didn't exactly give her reason to trust you? Why on earth would she? This is the most ridiculous 'you should have talked to me' ever.

"If there's police-court business over this, you'll remember that I was the one that stood your friend, and that I was Miss Alice's friend too."

I mean, were you? Were you? Alice's friend, sure. But were you Violet's friend in all this?

"He knew he was safe with her; but when there was a chance of a husband coming forward, who would ask for all that the law would give him, then her father thought it time to put a stop on it. He wanted her to sign a paper, so that whether she married or not, he could use her money."

It's Mary Sutherland all over again, just with more violence. Hey, Holmes. Holmes! You remember how you sent Mary Sutherland back into that life and didn't warn her about it? Huh? You remember that? Maybe thinking that wasn't such a good idea now? Huh? Are you?

I've had it with these men and their refusal to let their daughters have their own goddamn money.

"When she wouldn't do it, he kept on worrying her until she got brain-fever, and for six weeks was at death's door."

I know this is like a common Victorian cause of illness and all that, but I'd be real suspicious about that brain fever, because it feels like poison is a real possibility rn.

"...that didn't make no change in her young man, and he stuck to her as true as man could be."

Good for him. Basic minimum achieved. I mean, also he's been trying to get her out of this house, so he's also gone above and beyond. I'm glad he and Alice got away in the end.

"But Mr Fowler being a persevering man, as a good seaman should be, blockaded the house, and having met you succeeded by certain arguments, metallic or otherwise, in convincing you that your interests were the same as his." "Mr Fowler was a very kind-spoken, free-handed gentleman," said Mrs Toller serenely.

Oh, she did it for the money. Not such a good samaritan. But then if she were, she would have just smuggled the girl out.

Mr Rucastle survived, but was always a broken man, kept alive solely through the care of his devoted wife. They still live with their old servants, who probably know so much of Rucastle's past life that he finds it difficult to part from them.

I will admit I am sad the guy survived that. I'm not sure how he survived it. He had a mastiff's teeth 'buried in his throat'. He's insanely lucky his carotid wasn't torn open. But I suspect he doesn't do a lot of laughing anymore. So sad.

You couldn't have waited a little longer before shooting the poor dog, Watson? Let it get its revenge?

Also, that household sounds utterly terrible to live in still. Just a lot of horrible people being horrible to each other because they literally can't get away. And what about the child? What about dear little Edward? Is he still in there with them? I can't imagine that this made him less of a serial killer.

And the man doesn't get arrested for imprisoning his daughter?

Justice has not been served this day.

And that kid is going to grow up and kill a lot of people. I'm just saying. This isn't so much an ending as a 'to be continued'.

As to Miss Violet Hunter, my friend Holmes, rather to my disappointment, manifested no further interest in her when once she had ceased to be the centre of one of his problems, and she is now the head of a private school at Walsall, where I believe that she has met with considerable success.

Good for her.

Also, Watson, leave Holmes alone. He doesn't need a wife. He's fine. It is amusing to see that commentary, though. Like... there were 0 vibes of Holmes being into her. He complimented her a couple of times and was concerned for her safety. But he kept comparing her to a sister and there was no hint of romance in the whole thing. Watson is a bit delusional sometimes.

[lilolilyr]

Books to get rid of a reading slump ? Are you a big reader ?

Hi! It depends on what genres you like, I think! Also, if you haven't read anything in a while (also if you haven't read anything but fanfic in a while), reading something completely new can be a challenge, so you could try re-reading an old favourite, or a sequel to a series you've read before, or something by an author you already know well.

Some personal favorites for easy reading:

The Enchanted Forest Chronicles

an old children's fantasy book series that's still very enjoyable for adults. you can find them online for example on the Internet Archive, Gutenberg Project or the readerslibrary

Murder Mysteries by Agatha Christie

I love them, especially the Miss Marple and Poirot ones, but also all of her other books. They're fun, interesting to read but really easy to get into, and each book has its own storyline so you don't need to worry about which book to read first, just check which ones they've got at your local library :)

Anything by Enid Blyton

Maybe it's because it's a nostalgia thing for me to re-read them as Enid Blyton books habe been some of the first books I read myself as a kid, but I just adore them and they're such a comfort read! Especially Malory Towers, St. Clare's and the Famous Five.

Crime novels by Jacques Berndorf

(Pretty sure you need to understand German for those, I don't think they've been translated), my fav series of crime novels, they're somehow both super chill and very thrilling!

The Hobbit

It's such a sweet book, and not as complicated as the Lord of the Rings, you don't need to make plans to read LotR afterwards either, just enjoy a smoll Hobbit on his journey :)

If you have a specific genre you want recs for, feel free to ask! I also read a lot of fantasy, a bunch of sci-fi, assorted romance novels and queer fiction, and just books I came across one way or other :D

Oh, and if you're also looking for book-length fic recs, hmu! I know of many in many fandoms, also ones you can just read without knowing the fandom, basically treating them as original fiction then.

Thanks for the ask :)

[agentnico]

The Afterparty - Season 2 (2023) Review

(IN SOUTHERN ACCENT) "Sir, there has been a murdah, and you are a suspect." Michael Scott from The Office would fit so well into one of these murder mysteries, I tell ya.

Plot: When Zoe's sister's wedding weekend is destroyed by a murder, Aniq calls his old friend, Danner, to investigate the crime. The two proceed to interview the suspects, each telling their story in the style of a different movie genre.

Once again, there has been another murder, and yet again Hercule Poirot is busy elsewhere in Venice dealing with death and ghosts apparently, so we are left in the capable hands of the Haddish to discover the murderer. It's another whodunnit, and ever since Rian Johnson reignited the excitement of the genre in 2019's Knives Out, I've been eagerly anticipating these murders. I sound like a psycho stating I'm excited about murders, so I must emphasize I mean fictional ones. Then again, what if I'm not and have now become the prime suspect in my own murder mystery! Regardless, The Afterparty returns for a second season to Apple TV+, and though at first I expected only Tiffany Haddish's detective to transition from the first outing in the style of a Holmes or Miss Marple, we actually also see the return of Sam Richardson's Aniq and Zoë Chao Zoe as the charming yet awkward couple, and Richardson especially stood out last time with his comedic timing so was lovely to see him return.

Otherwise, it's a whole new fresh set of characters and suspects, and look, if there's one thing murder mysteries these days are good at, it's getting flashy actors to be in them. The entire roster is great here, from the disarmingly charming John Cho who's truly blossomed into a wondrous flower compared to his days smoking the greens and traveling to White Castle with his friend Kumar; to Anna Konkle as a socially awkward quirky sister of the groom; to Ken Jeong being surprisingly delightful and adorable and the loving father of the bride, and very different to Jeong's more madder unhinged performances in Community and The Hangover movies; to Paul Walter Hauser as the ex-boyfriend who by the way is absolutely hysterical in this, especially with the physical comedy, but those who recall seeing Hauser in 2017's I, Tonya as he inept doofus of a bodyguard should not be surprised by this. It's a great cast and was fun watching all of them. My good friend though has made it super clear to me that he has a vengeful hatred for Jack Whitehall, and as such as I enjoyed the weekly new episode releases of The Afterparty, I also had the pleasure of receiving by message weekly dosages of my friend's commentary which primarily involved comments such as "I do worry that Jack Whitehall will ruin it" and "is Jack Whitehall shit in every scene he's in??" to "Jack Whitehall is not a handsome guy" and also "I think I just hate Jack Whitehall" and finally "I think Jack Whitehall might be one of the only people I hate". All I'm saying is that if Jack Whitehall gets murdered out of the blue, we know who our No 1 suspect would be.

The second season also dials up a notch its concept of mind movies, in which each suspect tells their story using a certain unique movie genre. On top of playing with elements like cinematography, music, and sound, The Afterparty Season 2 also immerses us further in each character's mindset with more exaggerated costuming, hair and makeup, and production design choices. Season 1's characters wore the same costumes in every mind movie, and the sets and props remained constant as well. Here, they switch depending on whose point of view we're watching. An especially hilarious film noir episode dresses characters in sleek suits and fedoras, while the Jane Austen episode sees characters exchanging lavish, handwritten letters while wearing elaborate gowns. Elsewhere, an inspired Wes Anderson-themed installment takes painstaking efforts to evoke the filmmaker's signature style across the board. Additionally, we also get some campy horror and 80s soap opera parts in there too.

As for who was the murderer this season? No spoilers, but I'd say it was a good choice, however, the show had plenty of red herrings thrown in throughout they really could have gone for any one of the suspects and it would have made sense. Feel like they could have maybe thrown an extra clue in there to guide us more specifically to the truth, but maybe I am just sore cause I did not guess the killer. I'm usually really good at predicting this stuff, so this is a damper on my own ego.

I really enjoyed this season of The Afterparty, and though I believe it suffered from a bit of a slow start in the beginning, it became a very delightful weekly load of entertainment, that is also really funny. Also, they revamped Haddish's detective with more layers this time around and she gets another backstory episode this season that added an extra load of flair and panache to her character which I believe lacked the previous season. As it stands, very much looking forward to a potential third season, and seeing where else Phil Lord and Chris Miller will take this funky humouristic little murder mystery next, as in a market that is now really saturated with the whodunnit genre, The Afterparty still manages to stand out with its own distinct flavour.

Overall score: 7/10

[star-going-supernova]

Thanks for answering, I loved the story! :D mechagodzilla and Madison! how niceAnd about the other request, I ask you for a little story (2 chapters or 1) of Madison and Rodan in AO3, the Firebird deserves love too (since Godzilla and guidorah are more popular)Rodan and Madison would be very nice (how it develops I left it to your imagination :3 I hope you can answer)

You're welcome! And thank you! It's not a full chaptered story, but here's a fluffy little ficlet of the two of them. I agree, Rodan deserves more love!

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“‘She obtained the situation of companion to Miss Barton, calling herself Amy Durrant. She engaged a room and put some furniture into it so as to create more of a personality for herself. The drowning plan was a sudden inspiration. She had been waiting for some opportunity to present itself. Then she staged the final scene of the drama and returned to Australia, and in due time she and her brothers and sisters inherited Miss Barton’s money as next of kin.’”

“Why,” her dad’s voice interrupted Maddie, “are you reading about murder to Rodan?” 

She looked up from the rocky ledge she was comfortably perched on. In the volcanic pit beside her, Rodan cooed gently at the break in the story. 

“What, worried he’s gonna find inspiration?” Maddie asked, grinning. Sitting up a bit, she lifted the book, making sure to hold her page with her thumb, and presented the cover of Miss Marple: The Complete Short Stories to him. “He likes mysteries.”

Using the distraction to drink from her much-needed water bottle—just because it was safe in the base didn’t make it any less hot—Maddie watched her dad shake his head. 

“Maybe I should be worried about you getting ideas,” he muttered, leaning on the railing above her. 

“It is a pretty good ‘what not to do’ list,” she said. 

Rodan shifted, moving his head closer, the side of his beak bumping against the outcropping. She reached out to pet the warm skin beneath his eye, which rolled back a little. Not unlike a dog very happy about being scratched in just the right place. 

“Do you read to all of them?” her dad asked. “The Titans, I mean.”

“Nah. G falls asleep if he’s laying down for more than five minutes, and Mothra prefers movies.” Maddie swirled the ice in her water bottle. “Me and Rodan are book club buddies. Dr. Stanton suggests stuff for us sometimes, too.” 

Rodan—and there was no other word for it—purred. It was a much softer rumble than Godzilla’s with a definite cat-like trill to it. He liked their little two-person book club.

“Rick reads Miss Marple?” Instead of sounding doubtful, her dad sounded vaguely horrified. “Rick reads the ‘what not to do’ list?” 

Maddie sucked air in through her teeth, faux apologetic. 

He sagged in place with a groan. “I’m gonna start locking my door when we’re at Castle Bravo.” Looking over his shoulder, he appeared to watch someone for a moment before nodding. “All right, they still need me topside for a while. We might end up staying the night.” 

“Works for me,” Maddie said, settling back into place. “We still got some mysteries to solve. Don’t we, Rodan?” 

Rodan made a motion not unlike fluffing up, just minus the feathers. A short, soft screech of delight echoed through the chamber. 

Her dad turned and walked away, chuckling, as Maddie reopened the book. “Now, where were we? Ah, yes—‘A very bold and perfect crime,’ said Sir Henry. ‘Almost the perfect crime.’”

[anoseforrottenapples]

🛏️ Miss Marple + Ben Tallmadge

@honorhearted

The suggestion only earned a laugh from Jane as she picked up her teacup. “I’m nearly seventy years old, dear. I think I’m rather too old to be worried about attentions from handsome young military officers.” Stirring her spoon through her tea, Jane paused and then added thoughtfully. “Of course, I do have a lovely niece named Lorraine who lives in America—she’s looking for a nice husband herself. Perhaps I should attempt to set up a meeting between them.”

[thenakedreviewer]

🔰🔰 Book Review 🔰🔰

Title: A Caribbean Mystery

Author: Agatha Christie

Genre: Mystery / Detective / Whodunit

My Rating: ✳️✳️✳️✳️

I read this story after about two decades, and thankfully the ending escaped my memory. So it was a reread in the true sense of the term.

Miss Marple is enjoying a quiet holiday in the sun in the Caribbean., when one of her fellow travelers, full of boisterous stories, dies. Miss Marple is vaguely uncomfortable that his death was brought about by one of his stories, one of a murderer, whose photo he boasted he carried in his wallet. The photo goes missing, and Miss Marple is worried another murder is soon to take place. Her premonitions are proved right, and she fights against time to catch the murderer before an innocent life is lost.

This story, unlike many of Agatha Christie's stories made clear who the murderer was after a point. However, the murderer has been portrayed in such a sympathetic light, that the reader seriously doubts their own intuitions. The story is an entertaining whodunit. It portrays the characters well, looks into the nuances of human nature, which is a characteristic of Agatha Christie's writings.

I was very interested to find the mention of queers in this story as well - albeit in passing. My 20-year-younger self had not noticed the fact, being unaware of queers, especially in our country, as a kid. It is not clear what the author's stand was on the subject. It is, however, refreshing that she accepts queers in society as a fact.

Overall, this is a trademark Agatha Christie whodunit. You will definitely enjoy it as a lighthearted read. I, being an ardent fan of the author, absolutely loved it.

QOTD: What's your favorite whodunit series/standalone?

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#bookrecommendations #bookblogger #bookrecs #bookrecommendation #bookreview #review #agathachristie #acaribbeanmystery #bookphotography #bookworm #booklover #bookaesthetic #bookish #book #books #bookstagrammer #booknerd #bookstagram #bookaholic #bookaddict #booklove

[bluesfortheredj]

Hitsuzen.

Hitsuzen - A naturally foreordained event. A state in which other outcomes are impossible.

Chapter 8.

Monday morning always came around a little too quickly for your liking, but on the plus side you’d heard that Adam had called in sick so you could go about your day without having to suppress the urge to punch him in his smug face after his comments at the pub. You almost skip down the corridor at the school to your classroom and you can hear Sarah’s laugh behind you as she watches you full of enthusiasm for the day. The students question Adam’s disappearance but you quickly make the excuse that he has the flu and it’s as if he was never needed in the first place as you get on with your day leading the classroom once more. The smile barely fades from your face even at the last lesson of the day and you’re sat there beaming when the final student leaves the room; proud of what you’re achieving with Adam out of the picture.

“You coming?” Sarah asks as she pops her head around the door while you’re tidying up the classroom.

“Yeah, I’m just going to set some things out for tomorrow then I’ll be off. You go ahead and I’ll meet you at yours,” you grin.

“You’ve really taken to this like a duck to water haven’t you?”

“Well, I’m not one to brag but… yeah, I feel like this is what I was meant to do,” you agree.

“Looks like there’s more than just this that’s coming together in your life,” she winks.

Your phone begins to ring and you slip it out of your pocket to see Charlie’s name at the top of the screen, “speaking of which...” you chuckle.

Sarah gives you a wave before hurrying off to pick up the kids from the babysitter, then you answer your phone with a joyous hello.

“Ah! So your day went just as you imagined then?”

“It did indeed! Funny how everything runs so smoothly without Adam here.”

“Pretty difficult teaching a class from a cell,” he laughs.

“No! He’s there with you?!”

“Yep, came in last night, drunk again, and ended up falling into some poor woman’s front garden smashing a couple of plant pots as he went… she wasn’t best pleased so we took him in to sober up over night.”

“Shit,” you chuckle, “that’s bad. Not for me… but for him, definitely. How come he’s suddenly coming undone since this friend of his was found? What’s going on here? There’s something more to this, I just know it.”

“Alright Miss Marple, calm down,” Charlie teases, “leave it us, I don’t want you getting into any trouble because of this okay?”

“Okay,” you sigh, “how’s your day going anyway?”

You get up from the desk and begin to place worksheets on the students’ desks for morning, then head into the supplies cupboard where you kept donated lengths of fabric and other tools for the kids to use as you continue to chat to Charlie. You’re squatting down on the floor to find the spare glue gun sticks when suddenly the door slams shut and you hear the turn of the key locking you in the small space.

“What was that?” Charlie asks.

“Umm, I think I’ve just been locked in the cupboard...” you say quietly before calling out to the mysterious person, “hello? Who’s there? This isn’t funny, you need to let me out now.”

You wiggle the handle then bang on the door but the person hovering around outside doesn’t make a noise as they open up the vent just above the door frame.

“What’s happening?” Charlie questions, now panicked.

“I… Hey! What are you doing?! Let me out, now!” you demand as they poke a small piece of pipe through the vent, just out of your reach no matter how high you jump, “let me out! What are you doing?”

You throw your body against the door in an attempt to open it but it doesn’t budge, then as Charlie starts shouting down the phone at you, you begin to feel woozy from whatever was being fed into the air around you.

“(Y/N)! Talk to me!” he urges desperately.

“I think you need to get here,” you slur, “quickly.”

The phone drops from your hand onto the floor as you begin to slide down the door then your head hits the carpet and your eyes quickly close while your whole body becomes limp.

“We’re on our way! (Y/N), we’re coming!” Charlie reassures even though you can no longer hear him.

Him and John arrive within a matter of minutes, his long legs carrying him through the corridors to your classroom with ease, then he quickly unlocks the door to find you on the floor, your body completely still apart from a few shallow breaths. John rings for an ambulance as other officers arrive to inspect the scene then makes a quick phone call to Sarah to let her know you were being taken to hospital so wouldn’t be there to pick up Evie. Charlie attempts to bring you round and although there are some incoherent noises coming from you now that you’d been taken out of the enclosed space, you’re still not fully conscious.

“How long will the ambulance be?!” Charlie shouts exasperatedly at no one in particular.

“Nelson, it’s on its way” John says calmly as he kneels beside you and pushes your hair back from your face, “she’ll be fine.”

He was saying it to comfort himself as much as Charlie as well; you were like family to him and he was as concerned about you as he would be about his own daughter in all honesty, and Charlie could see it in his eyes, the worry and the pain at seeing you like this, knowing that someone out there had done this to you on purpose. The paramedics soon come hurtling into the room, ushering Charlie and John out of the way while they do a quick assessment of your vitals before getting you onto a stretcher and wheeling you out.

“You go, I’ll stay here,” John nods to Charlie before he bolts out of the room to catch up with you, “right, we need this place searched top to bottom; bins, drawers, everywhere! Does the pipe have fingerprints on? Where did the gas canisters come from? We need answers as soon as possible,” he instructs to the remaining officers.

Charlie remains by your bed side in the A&E department while they carry out tests to figure out what had got into your system, and your semi-conscious state is signified by quite a violent bout of vomiting with Charlie holding the bowl in one hand while his other one tries to scoop up as much of your hair as possible.

“Is she going to be okay?” he asks with a concerned frown at how much you’re being sick.

“This can be a normal side effect of inhaling so much isoflurane and nitrous oxide,” the nurse nods, noting Charlie’s utter confusion at the use of technical terms, “…otherwise known as anaesthetic gas.”

“Oh, right.”

“Luckily you got to her before she inhaled too much of it. She should be fine, but we’ll be keeping her in overnight as a precaution. I guess you’ll be informing her family?”

“I am family,” Charlie automatically says before clarifying, “I’m her boyfriend, I mean.”

“Then you’ll have to make sure to take good care of her when she gets home; she may be a little unsteady on her feet for a few days.”

“Of course,” he nods.

The nurse leaves with the now full sick bowl then Charlie’s phone begins to ring and he answers it to Sarah’s worried tone, “how is she?”

“She’s… uh, she’s okay. Not fully awake yet,” he says as he sinks down into the seat next to your bed, “she’s been sick a few times but can’t quite wake up.”

“Do they know what it is she breathed in?”

“Anaesthetic apparently, a mix of two gasses. She’ll be off work for the rest of the week.”

“Of course,” Sarah sighs, “at least it wasn’t anything more toxic. Uhm, can you speak to Evie? She’s getting a little anxious after we said mummy wasn’t well and I told her you were making sure she’s okay.”

“Yeah, absolutely, put her on.”

“Charlie?” Evie’s timid voice questions as Sarah puts the phone to her ear.

“Yes darling, are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m having dinner.”

“Oh, what are you having?”

“Pasta!” she says excitedly before turning serious, “where’s mummy?”

“Pasta sounds yummy, I’m sure mummy will want some when she feels a bit better. She’s at the hospital with me and some very nice doctors who are making her well again, she’s safe sweetheart, don’t worry,” Charlie reassures with a smile as he takes your hand.

“Is she coming here soon?”

“She will come there tomorrow Evie, I promise.”

“Will you come as well?”

“Of course! I won’t be leaving mummy’s side until she’s all better, okay? Tomorrow we will both come to Sarah’s and you can tell her all about the fun things you’ve been doing with Betty, yeah?”

“Okay. Can you give her a night kiss from me?”

“I sure will! And she sends one right back to you, and so do I.”

“Thankoo!”

With that Sarah takes the phone away and speaks one last time, “you look after our girl Charlie.”

“You know I will.”

He slides his phone back inside his pocket then pulls his chair closer to the bed so he can lean over and kiss your forehead.

“That’s from Evie,” he whispers, then kisses your lips softly, “and that’s from me. Evie’s at Sarah’s eating pasta and playing with Betty so there’s no need to worry about her. She knows you’re not well but she’s looking forward to seeing you tomorrow when I can get you out of here. Then I think we should all get some pizza in and watch a film of Evie’s choosing… what do you think?”

A small smile appears on your lips at the sound of Charlie’s voice and you nod in answer to his question even though you didn’t quite have enough energy to open your eyes and talk yet, but a quick squeeze to his hand is all he needs to know that you can understand what he’s saying.

You’re soon wheeled up to a ward where there’s a room waiting just for you, and Charlie flashes his badge as an excuse to stay the night with you even though he’s sitting in one of the most uncomfortable chairs he’s ever sat in before. It’s around 4am when you finally start to properly wake up and as your heart rate quickens with the sudden awareness that you’re in hospital, a nurse comes in to check you over and wakes Charlie in the process.

“Your boyfriend flashed his badge to get to stay here with you, y’know?” she smirks as she takes your blood pressure, “I’d say he was a keeper that one.”

“Yeah,” you chuckle, “he’s alright.”

“Must be strange for your daughter to not have mummy or daddy there tonight, but I bet she’s enjoying her sleepover,” she smiles.

“Oh, I’m not-” Charlie starts.

“Step dad,” you interrupt, “but yeah, she’s probably had a whale of a time without us and getting a load of treats!”

“Whenever my little boy returns from my mum’s house, he’s weighed down with sweets in his pockets!” the nurse laughs, “better check hers tomorrow, just in case.”

“Remember that Charlie, check her pockets,” you nod.

“I’ll pat her down, don’t you worry!”

The nurse leaves, shutting the door gently behind her, then you turn to Charlie with an inquisitive look on your face, “boyfriend?” you ask.

“Step dad?” he questions back.

You shrug, “quicker and easier than explaining the whole situation.”

“My thoughts exactly,” he winks.

He drags his chair nearer to you as he slips his hand over yours then explains the events that had happened in the lead up to the present moment, filling you on every detail down to what Evie was having for dinner, and even though you’re a little concerned about what happened to you, you know that you’re in safe hands with Charlie.

@lv7867 @lovemarvelousfics @fuckyou-imspiderman @aynsleywalker @timeandpixiedust @the-baby-bookworm @pink-lemo @chlobo6 @queenslandlover-93 @misslolasworld @killer-queen-87 @drivenbybri @itsametaphorgwil @what-wicked-delights

[darkhorse-javert]

True love partakes of terror

I'm going to worry about you now...the whole time! That’s what she’d said.  They’d laughed around it, mostly, that day  when she’d played truant from the MTC, when they walked the shore-front. But she found it was true. Maybe not the whole time, there were enough times when her whole concentration was taken up in driving, or playing the case over in her mind, trying to think how Peter Wimsey, Miss Vane or Miss Marple would consider it.

But there was also a lot of time, waiting for Mr Foyle, either out and about or in the station, when there was nothing more to distract her mind.

Then it carried her those few miles out of town towards the airfeild, and she wondered and fretted silently. Are you flying today? Where are you? Come back, Andrew, just come back.

There would be the roaring of the distinctive Merlin engine, just audible even indoors, and it took all of her self control not to run out and look up to the sky, to see them fly by, count them out, count them in again.

But that way surely lay madness, she couldn’t watch every second of the day. And what good would it do if a Spitfire was missing? It might not even be Andrew’s.

And if you saw one going down in smoke and flames, what could you do Sam Stewart? They’d be miles away by the time they reached ground level, be it land or sea.

if it wasn’t hearing the engines going on night ops just as she fell asleep, straining to stay awake to hear them back, straining to tell whether the number was the same, realising she couldn’t know how ever much she tried...

Yet mornings were the worst, dreading that one day Mr Foyle would come out tight-faced, hiding his emotions in a way that meant they were likely to over-power him... Or that she would be called off from fetching him, ‘because his son has been shot down’.

And only then would she know, because Mr Foyle was his next-of-kin, as she was not. And it would be over, over like a candle snuffed out by a sharp cold breeze. Andrew would never laugh, never smile, never annoy her again...

To think she’d once thanked the War for her escape from Lyminster, for this chance to live, to detect a bit as she’d dreamed of. Now... Now I wish it was over, and Andrew was safe at home every day. Please,God, Mary, and whoever the saint of flying is, spare him... Spare him from the jaws of the monster that is this War. i’ll take anything for myself, but spare Andrew Foyle... whom I love.

@gaslightgallows, I borrowed one of the prompts off your list.

[toughbookie]

7 Books in 7 Days

I Stumbled across a few YouTube videos about this “7 Books in 7 Days” challenge going on on the internet.

I got curious and after absolutely no research or further preparation, I decided to do that as well; I would have read seven books in a week.

Aaaaand here’s pretty much how it went.

DAY 1: The book I couldn’t find in English

Title: Storia di una balena bianca raccontata da lei stessa

Author: Luis Sepúlveda

Pages: 107

Rate: 5/5

Having started in the early evening, I had to pick a book that was short enough for me to finish on the same day. The choice fell on this tiny masterpiece by Sepúlveda, whose literature I wasn’t familiar with (boy, will that change during this reading challenge) aside from The Story of a Seagull and the Cat Who Taught Her to Fly, read years and years and year and years ago.

What I thought I was going forward was a nice, cute little novel.

I.

Was.

Wrong.

This actually kind of broke me.

Based on the story of Moby Dick - which in turn is based on the true story of the Essex, a whaler that left the island of Nantucket in 1819 only to be destroyed by the giant sperm whale the crew was after to acquire the oil to power lamps… Look, life sucked before we got electricity - this book is narrated by the giant white whale in the flesh. As you might have guessed by now, we’re not talking about the happiest story ever.

What starts as an observation from the young whale’s eyes of the resourcefulness and curiosity of mankind, quickly transforms into a condemnation of its cruelty and disrespect for nature.

Beautifully written, I definitely recommend this book to anyone who loves angst and can speak Italian or Spanish (I couldn’t find an English version).

I really had a good time with it. And also a good cry. I’m fragile.

DAY 2: The book about a murder

Title: The body in the library

Author: Agatha Christie

Pages: 215

Rate: 4/5

For the second day of this challenge, I’ve decided to throw myself into a novel featuring Agatha Christie’s Miss Marple.

In this crime novel, the body of a young woman is found in the library of Mr. and Mrs. Bantry’s house. The problem: nobody knows this girl or how she got in there. It’s going to be up to the police and, naturally, to Miss Marple, to find the truth.

I have discovered Agatha Christie only recently but it’s undeniable that she deserves all my love. It’s been fun to read this book and develop theories to find out who the murderer was and how and why they acted. It was like piecing a puzzle together. This is my first reading featuring Miss Marple, and I found her quite impressive. Unlike her “colleague”, Hercule Poirot, Miss Marple is not a detective, she’s just people smart, and it’s delightful to follow her around on her adventures.

Unfortunately the finale didn’t satisfy me that much, but it was still pretty good. Definitely recommended.

DAY 3: The long one

Title: The temptation to be happy

Author: Lorenzo Marone

Pages: 268

Rate: 3.5/5

Note: The more I think about this book, the more I feel like it doesn’t fully deserve its 3.5 rating. Consider it as an “almost 4”, please and thank you.

On the third day, I faced the longest book of the ones I had chosen. And, since life happened and I had other things to do around, I risked not finishing it on time (no worries, I managed).

The story is one of a cynical 77 years old widow: Cesare Annunziata. He doesn’t really care much about the people around him, except his daughter and son whom he loves even though of course he doesn’t know how to show it. Up until here, it’s honestly pretty standard and it has its cliches.

Everything changes when Cesare realizes that his new neighbor, Emma, is a victim of domestic abuse and lives in fear of her husband. The old man and the woman form an improbable friendship aaaaand I don’t want to get into spoiler territory, even tho the story is actually quite simple and sometimes predictable.

The best part about this, however, is not the story. The characters are what really brings the book to life, with a perfect balance of goofy and more serious personalities. It’s people we could meet every day, and that’s what really makes it good. Not full of plot twist, but it’s not meant to be.

Reading Lorenzo Marone was a pretty nice way to spend the day.

DAY 4: The other book about the murder

Title: A Caribbean mystery

Author: Agatha Christie

Pages: 230

Rate: 4/5 

Another day, another Agatha Christie’s novel. In this sunny and colorful environment, new murders have happened and new assassins have to be found.

Miss Marple, on holidays in the Caribbean, is having quite a good time, except not much is going on around here. Lucky for her - and honestly, only for her… I mean, good for you that you have a hobby but you should really not enjoy dead people so much - old Major Palgrave is found dead in his room. What looks like a natural death to most is actually a deeper mystery, and it’s up to Miss Marple to dig up the truth and save the day before the assassin strikes again.

Again, making up theories and analyzing the characters is a lot of fun, and I actually found out who the assassin was, which is pretty rare because I’m dumb at mysteries.

At the end of this book I started to feel a bit tired and I got a bit of a headache. I loved reading it, but with work I never really have the time for long, intensive sessions that go on for multiple days in a row.

Still, the pleasure of reading this book made everything more bearable.

 DAY 5: The big fail

Title: Loving sabotage

Author: Amélie Nothomb

Pages: 62 out of 124

Rate: 1/5

God, I hated this book. Pretentious, boring, just bad. It didn’t even seem like there was a plot or the author was talking about anything in particular, just words put down one after the other without any true purpose.

Really felt like a waste of time. It was awful to get though. So I didn’t. Which, given my holiday was over and I had to go back to work, gave me a bit of a time problem.

DAY 5: Sepúlveda strikes back

Title: Patagonia Express

Author: Luis Sepúlveda

Pages: 127

Rate: 5/5

To save the day at the last minute, came Luis Sepúlveda with this short account of his travels in Patagonia.

Starting in Spain and exploring the very edge of the world, this collection is filled with wild characters and hilarious episodes that made me enjoy every single page. 

That is, after getting past that one chapter about lamb castration.

That was a weird one.

I’ve never liked this particular literary genre much, but Luis Sepúlveda gives an incredible description of the places he visited, the people he met and their own stories, which are particularly bizarre and told with incredible talent. It’s a pretty short book, so I don’t want to spoil anything, but you get the drill.

Possibly my favorite book out of this challenge, Patagonia Express is a delightful quick escape from the ordinary.

 DAY 6: Guess who’s back

Title: The old man who read love stories

Author: Luis Sepúlveda

Pages: 135

Rate: 3/5

So, Sepúlveda wasn’t originally supposed to stick around for so long, but here we go again.

As for The old man who read love stories, it’s possibly the book I liked the least from Sepúlveda. Which isn’t saying much, I still like his work a lot.

The story is one of old Antonio José Bolívar Proaño, and guess what: he likes to read love stories. 

That makes two of us, buddy.

He’s also an expert of the forest nearby the small town of El Idilio, and forced to hunt down a female of ocelot, along with a group of men from the town.

Through some flashbacks we also find out the story of his life and how he became to know the forest so well. That’s my favorite part of the novel, by the way.

While the book started well, it felt like it got lost somewhere around the second half, which was supposed to be the important, life-lessons-packed part. You know, the part you don’t want to get lost at.

By the last pages I was almost falling asleep, and thinking back a couple of days later I don’t really remember much of the story as a whole.

In total honesty, a lot of it might have been because it was the sixth book in as many days, and my three brain cells had been up to a lot more than they can usually stand. Plus, long work hours got in the way.

DAY 7: Because it’s Christmas

Title: Hercule Poirot’s Christmas

Author: Agatha Christie

Pages: 209

Rate: 3.5/5

A millionaire asshole. His children and their wives. A nephew and a family friend. A murder on Christmas night.

It would have been offensive to read so much Agatha Christie without any Hercule Poirot, and so here comes my dear detective, ready for the grand finale.

Also, it’s Christmas!! Christmas book!! Christmas spirit!! Quite literally I mean someone got killed -

Hercule Poirot’s Christmas is an interesting novel, full of well done characters and mystery. I had a good time reading it, as I always do with this kind of novels.

But I do have to say - it’s probably just me and other readers liked it fine - the finale really ruined it for me. It feels pulled out of nowhere at the last minute, and even though it was certainly a big surprise, it felt added like a second thought just to make an even bigger plot twist than what could have been.

Aside from that, it’s a good book and given the settings I dare say it’s the perfect reading for when it’s cold outside, maybe snowing, and you’re cuddling under a blanket with a nice warm cup of tea.

Or hot chocolate.

Pick your favorite, I won’t judge.

Conclusions:

So finally we’re at the end of this 7 Books in 7 days Challenge. It was very enjoyable, but also towards the end it got pretty draining and sometimes stressful to keep up with the reading schedule while squeezing into the day everything else life throws at you.

Doing that on a week of holidays instead three days, when I could have focused only on the books, it would have probably gone differently, maybe even attempting to tackle longer novels. But you know, we’re talking about reading 1139 pages in a week, which is not something I thought I was capable of doing.

So overall I’m proud of how I did.

Not sure if I’ll repeat this but I’m glad I’ve done it, at least this once, and I honestly recommend it.

Also I don’t want to read anything else until 2022.

Bookie, signing out.

[lady-of-the-spirit]

Sparkling Cyanide

(featuring TenthDoctor!Donna and Companion!Ten)

This was not on my list of things to write, however, @deathly-shipper wrote me this lovely piece for my Doctor-Companion role swap AU and I started thinking about another kiss the Tenth Doctor received and this is the result of that. 

All of the companions are named John Smith, until I come up with a better way to distinguish them from each other (besides middle names). David Tennant as the plucky companion gets his Scottish accent because I said so. Also, some of my shipper side came out as I was writing this, but it’s not super noticeable so it should be fine. 

tagging @sonic-spoondriver, because they liked this AU!

…..

A murder, a mystery, and Agatha Christie - well, at least John was enjoying himself. The Doctor worried every so often that between the disasters they faced and the utter ridiculousness of her life, he’d one day get fed up with her and walk off. 

But he faced this challenge as he had faced all of them so far - headfirst and with enough enthusiasm for both of them (which was necessary, given that she was quickly losing her patience with these people - all of whom she was certain were lying at least a little bit, none of whom believed she could actually be a policewoman). Not that she could blame him. It was Agatha Christie, after all.

“Come on, Agatha,” John encouraged. “What would Miss Marple do? She would have probably overheard something vital by now because the murderer just thinks she’s a harmless old lady.”

“Clever idea,” Agatha said thoughtfully. The Doctor smiled at John as she took a sip of her drink. “Miss Marple, who writes those?”

“Copyright, John Smith,” the Doctor said, nodding towards John. When he shot her an astonished look, she shrugged and said, “What? Can’t I look after my companion?” 

John rolled his eyes fondly at her and turned back to Agatha. “Don’t copyright me. Well, if you want to, we can split it - John David Smith, there are too many John Smith’s in the world, don’t want to get things mixed up.”

“John.”

“What, you were the one who said-”

“John,” the Doctor repeated, her hand placed over her chest. “Something is inhibiting my enzymes.”

Without warning, she let out a loud cry of pain and jerked forward, nearly doubling over on herself as her whole body convulsed. “I’ve been poisoned!”

In an instant, John and Agatha were out of their seats and at her side.

“What do we do?” John yelled, turning from Agatha to the Doctor and back again. “What do we do?!” His hands fluttered about, going from holding her hand as she thrashed and twitched to holding her as she nearly climbed out of her chair in desperation as her muscles spasmed. The Doctor grabbed his shoulder and held it so tightly he nearly cried out, but he grabbed her hand with his own and held on to it as tightly as he could. 

“Bitter almonds, it’s cyanide,” Agatha declared as she smelled the Doctor’s drink, a horrified expression on her face. “Sparkling cyanide.”

In any other circumstance the Doctor would have paused to laugh at the unintentional reference, but she nearly flew out of her seat, using John’s shoulder to propel herself forwards and out of the room, knocking over a lamp as she did so. She threw open the door and burst into the kitchen on unsteady legs - and heels, damn them - and nearly smacked into the wall, but managed to stagger forwards and grab onto the first person she saw - the footman, Davenport.

“Ginger beer!” She yelled, pulling on his coat. When he merely gaped at her, she groaned loudly, let him go and raced towards the shelves. She seized the bottle she needed as soon as she saw it, knocking over everything else on the shelf as well. 

John and Agatha ran into the room just in time to see her take a drink of the ginger beer and start pouring the rest out all over herself, splashing it onto her dress and hair. John hovered anxiously, his hands reaching out as though to hold her and looking more worried than he ever had (and wasn’t that saying something), while Agatha regrettably had to say, “I’m an expert in poisons, Doctor! There’s no cure, it’s fatal!”

The Doctor spat out her mouthful of ginger beer and backed into the table, using it to hold herself up. “Not for me! I can stimulate the inhibited enzymes into reversal! Get me protein!”

John spun towards the countertop, pushing past Agatha and grabbing a jar of walnuts. “Here!” 

He nearly shoved them into the Doctor’s hands and watched desperately as she poured several walnuts into her mouth. As she chewed and did her best to not choke, she started miming a salt shaker, unable to speak around the walnuts.

“I don’t know what that means - do it like charades! How many words?” John shouted, his Scottish accent thickening as his panic grew. He ran his hands through his hair and made it even spikier. The Doctor held up one finger. “One word? Shake - milkshake - milk?” The Doctor shot him a dirty look. “Okay, not milk, then - what does ‘shake’ mean? Cocktail shake? A cocktail shake? Really?”

“Are you joking?!” The Doctor screamed at him once she had forced down enough walnuts to speak clearly.

“You’re not being helpful!”

“I’m a little busy trying not to die, John!”

“What do you need, Doctor?” Agatha yelled, ignoring the bickering.

“Something salty!” The Doctor snapped, continuing to mime a salt shaker even as she started to hyperventilate.

John and Agatha raced back to the counter and John returned with a bag. “How’s this?”

“What is it?”

“Salt!”

“Too salty!’

“‘Too salty’?” John repeated incredulously, throwing the bag onto the table. Agatha returned with a jar. The Doctor snatched it and downed the contents with little thought. 

“What are those?” John asked her.

“Anchovies,” Agatha answered. They both stared as the Doctor, a piece of anchovy hanging from the corner of her mouth, turned and held her hands around her head, gesturing wildly.

“What is this?” John demanded, mimicking her gestures. “A song? I don’t know - Camptown Races!”

“Camptown Races?” The Doctor shrieked, reaching new levels of shrill.

“How should I know what this means?!” John mimicked her gestures once more.

“It’s a shock! A shock! I need a shock!”

“Like what, Doctor?” Agatha cried, grabbing the other woman’s arm as she doubled over once more. 

“I have an idea-” John started, and when the Doctor looked up at him he looked nearly out of his mind. “But I don’t know if- well, you might not like it, but -”

“John, if you tell me what you’re thinking it won’t be a shock.”

“Alright, then.” John reached out and pulled the Doctor up. “Big shock, coming up.”

Then he surged forward and kissed her.

He may as well have given her an electrical shock because it had the same effect as one. The Doctor’s hands raised to his sides then lowered to her own again, and her eyes remained wide open even as his shut.

He was remarkably gentle despite the circumstances and his panic, she noticed; his hands cupped the back of her head, tilting her head up while he leaned down, keeping her lips pressed to his but not forcing her into it. She had barely even staggered as he grabbed and held her against him. 

The kiss lasted about five seconds before John released her. She reeled back a few steps and threw her head back. A cloud of grey smoke was expelled from her mouth and dispersed into the air. The Doctor took one more step backward and sucked in a huge breath, finally able to breathe easily. She shook her head and gasped, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. God, she hadn’t felt so good in ages!

“Detox,” she said to John, who stood back next to Agatha against the counter, staring at her with huge eyes. “Brilliant! Must do that more often.” 

John blinked at her and she realized what that must have sounded like. 

“The detox,” she added hastily, a bit of heat rising to her cheeks. John nodded, still staring at her, and unless she was seeing things, he was blushing a bit as well. 

“You’re alright, then?” John asked hesitantly. 

The Doctor smiled reassuringly at him and said, “Thanks to you two.” She looked around at the kitchen and the mess and winced. “Sorry about the kitchen.”

“No need to worry,” one of the cooks dared to say from where the servants had huddled together to watch the spectacle. “We’ll put it all to right soon enough.”

The Doctor nodded, then looked down at her ruined dress. "And this was one of my favourites, too.” She sighed. 

“Oh, don’t go and complain about your dress when you just nearly died,” John groaned. He ran a hand through his hair and slumped back against the counter, closing his eyes and sighing deeply. 

“It was vintage! Authentic! And it was gorgeous!” She snapped back. She took a breath. “But you’re right - and more importantly, I’ve just come up with a way to weed out the killer!” She beamed at the author and her companion before bounding out of the kitchen, grabbing John’s arm and dragging him along with her. 

He followed her willingly, sighing once more in relief as the Doctor returned to her normal antics.

“God, imagine if cyanide poisoning had been what got me this time,” the Doctor said as she pulled him along. “How shaming would that have been?”

[peabodyandemerson]

In my mind, Emerson looks like this right now (I’ve just finished the first two books)

Please don’t come at me if you love Ramses. I have only seen him as a toddler so far! I will remain optimistic. The books are so good so far, I’m sure I’ll love them no matter how old Amelia and Emerson are. Besides, I love mysteries and I love Egypt. Emerson was just an unexpected bonus, ha!

It may be because Amelia and Emerson remind me of my husband and I that I don’t want to see them old unless they’re gonna still be crazy about each other in every sense of the word. My husband and I probably won’t have kids, so I guess the thought of passing the torch to the youth saddens me to a degree. I am still young though. And where I am in the series, Amelia and Emerson are still young as well. I guess I worry how soon they will age up? I’m fine with a Miss Marple-like Amelia Peabody, though I guess lol.

By the way, that picture is of Arthur Morgan in Red Dead Redemption 2. This is him aged down actually because he is slightly older and weather beaten in the game, which takes place in the late 1890s.

[x-whyareyoureadingthis-x]

Day 5 - 25. March 2020

I didn’t post yesterday, because i was too tired. But the day yesterday was very sucessful.

After the usual morning walk, i did some work out, and after breakfast i completed the origami flowers, and added stems.

Then i did some studying, proofreading, realized the skript was not actually finished, finished the skript, and spent the rest of the morning playing Zelda (i love the game and the graphics, and i’m starting to get a real hang of the controlls finally. I totally advanced into a region i probably am not supposed to go into, but saving is my new favourite thing in this game, so...). After lunch i took a walk with the doggo, and a long nap. Then i finally came around to decorate the tin pot i wanted to do.

After that i played more Zelda, and after dinner i watched the live show Chris “Dos” Baker was doing on Instagram. Serisouly: grown men playing songs on the bass, songs they make their money with playing them, should not look so worried about the viewers liking it. Dude...

In the evening my sister, my mum and i had a sort of “ladies night”, watching Miss Marple and Poirot, while having Hugo. And since Poirot was on until very late, i was too tired to post. So that’s what i do now.

[regressionanxiety]

Dr. No (1964)

I am watching all of the James Bond movies, they are very bad and I love them. These are some of my thoughts as I watch, it’s basically a recap so you know, spoilers...

It starts with some murdering. James Bond is called into work, goes through the waiting room and meets with M.  He gets a new gun because M insists, he’s very proud that under his leadership 00-deaths have gone down. Moneypenny is the best as always.

James Bond arrives in Jamaica and is instantly spotted, of course he is, he is after all, the worst spy. He is looking for a Taxi, but there is a driver waiting for him. Not at all suspicious. Bond makes a phone call. Is being spied on. Then goes to the car, and tells the driver to “just take me for a ride.” I know he’s just stalling, but I will use this line as support for my argument that James Bond is a chaotic bisexual. 

Now Bond points his gun at his driver, questioning him, as he well should. The driver kills himself with cyanide hidden in a cigarette. Bond takes the car and drives to wherever he’s going, dead guy in the back seat. Tells a person when he arrives: “'sergeant, make sure he doesn’t get away.”

He  drinks and puts out snooper traps in his room before he goes out to investigate his case futher. Chatting with some men, being his very best Miss Marple her, non threathening, pleasant conversationalist, even when the topic is grim. He’s directed to a man with a boat, Quarrel, who doesn’t want to talk to Bond and gives him some sass (everyone should give Bond sass) and turns him away. Bond, of course, isn’t deterred and approaches the man just as he’s having a bear. Now he wants to talk, because it’s private. They go into a storage room of some kind. The man has a knife and the guy at the bar (I think), grabs bond from behind. Bond easily throws them both into some neatly stacked (and empty) Red Stripe cartons, product placement or just an attempt to convince us that we’re really in Jamaica right now?

Bond thinks he has the upper hand now, but no! The man from the airport (not the dead driver - this isn’t that kind of movie) with his sunglasses is there, and he has a gun! 

“gently, gently, let’s not get exited” the man says. With those sunglasses it’s hard not to mister. They are talking suits, like real gents. The other guy is CIA, and his name is Felix Leiter. They’re friends now, with drinks (and i’m sure fucking - those sunglasses can only mean one thing). Underneath the mango tree plays.

A woman takes their picture, now they need to get her. They question her a bit, Bond destroys her film, but gives her the camera back, they send her off. She calls them rats and says they’ll be sorry. 

Bond learns about an island Crab Key (?) owned by a Chinese guy, apparently Quarrel and missing guy Strangways went there to collect geological samples. Locals won’t go near it, some have and never came back. They know very little of the man, except that his name is the titular Dr. No.

Bond is exiting a taxi, and the men who dealt with Strangways earlier are back, sneaking around with a gun pointed at Bond, but a car roars by and they miss their chance at an easy assassination.  

Bond is talking to a professor Dent (one of the men he chattet with about Strangways before) about the geological samples from Strangways, he claims to have thrown them away because they weren’t anything. Bond is batting his eyelashes and being his best Miss Marple again. He knows the man is a liar!

Prof. Dent goes straight to a boat to get to Crab Key. These bad guys are really dumb. Anyway; crab key is guarded by men with big guns. 

Very dramatic room. The professor is being berated by a disembodied voice for coming during daylight hours, stricktly forbidden. This still isn’t that kind of movie, but Dr. No is clearly a vampire. There’s a spider in a cage on a table. If guns don’t work on Bond, try spider bites?

Bond is back in his room. Checks his intruder revealers and as expected they have been disturbed. He wants some vodka, throws ice in a glass, opens the bottle, thinks twice, sniffs it, then puts it back down and opens a drawer and pulls out another bottle. Uses this instead. I’m not sure why that bottle would be safer, unopened and sealed somehow?

Ruh roh! Someone feels a little spidey! Bond killed it, his first murder in this film! 

Bond gest a package, finds that the files on Crab Key are missing, sets up a date with a secretary (the stunning miss Taro) he caught eavesdropping. Business as usual. His package was a geiger counter? He checks some samples with his pals Leiter and Quarrel, and yes, they are radioactive. The professor is a liar! Gasp! Who knew! Now they must go to Crab Key, but in the night, after his date. But wait! there’s a note for him at the hotel reception. He calls miss Taro, she wants him to come to her and gives him some directions, a car starts following him, trying to drive him off the road? Oh noe, a crane or something is in the road, what will Bond do? His little car goes under, the bigger car that follows? Not so much, goes over and burns up. 

“How did it happen?” The man who has the crane thing asks. “I think they were on their way to a funeral,” Bond replies.

He finally arrives at Miss Taro’s, shes just out of the shower, drying her hair, while wearing a tight toweldress???? Clearly not expecting him. He kisses her, and she protests. 

The phone rings. She promises to try to keep him there. He really does seem to be a terrible kisser. They fuck. He pretends to want italian food so he calls a taxi, despite getting there by car. She is confused, he kisses her again to distract. Then the car comes, and she’s arrested. She spits in his face, which he deserves. He goes into her house again, creates a scene: pours some drinks, leaves his jacket, puts on a song (underneath the mango tree, again), goes into the bedroom and uses a pillow to make it look like someone is in it. Then he waits.

The professor walks through the door and shoots up the pillow. They have a chat. Bond shoots him. Then meets up with Quarrel to go on to the island. Makes a quip about it being a break from being a clay pigeon, but I somehow I doubt it. Leister is worried offers to go instead, but Bond refuses him. 

Wait, why is bond asleep on the beach? Was that the plan? Did I miss something?

Ah, the bikini. It isn’t a very good one is it? They’re hiding from guards with guns now. Bond promises he’s no threat to this woman, Honey Ryder, but we all know that’s a lie. They must hide, they’ve been spotted on radar. They get shot at, the woman’s boat is ruined so she has to tag along. They sneak up some kind of river I think. Almost get caught, but don’t, hiding under water using reeds as breathing tubes. Honey claims Dr. No killed her father, a marine biologist, who came to Crab Key to never be seen again.

Now she’s telling Bond about how she killed her landlord (who raped her) via spiderbite. It took him a week to die. Bond just pouts at her, probably knows he might have deserved that spiderbite earlier...

The rumored dragon is nearby, and Bond, who knows it isn’t actually a dragon, wants to see it. 

they’re captured, Quarrel is dead, and claimed to be contaminated. Geiger counters going wild! They need to be hosed down. Then they’re put in very nice quater and treated as guests. because why not. They have some coffee, it’s drugged and they pass out. Bond breaks a perfeclty good cup in the process - that brute. A mysterious figure, with shiny latexy gloves takes a look at Bond in bed. Dr. No presumably, he lifts the cover a little before we cut to the next scene. Sean Connery really isn’t that attractive Dr. just kill him already!

I’ve always wanted an evil lair. Finally the elusive Dr. No is revealed. Are you a good Bond villain if you don’t have a physical disability? It appears that he doesn’t have hands, because of errors in his work or something. He finds Bond a worthy adversary or some such. Bond has Honey sent away from the dinner table - ostensibly to save her. Dr. No quickly realizes that Bond is in fact just a policeman, not smart enough to join his criminal gang after all, SPECTRE (Special Executive for Counter-intelligence, Terrorism, Revenge and Extortion) has no need for the likes of Bond, though if they did he’d prefer the revenge department. He is apparently being tortured, we don’t get to see that, but his clothes are ruined when we next see him in a cell he quickly escapes from by going into the pipes that keep this underwater facility with air. He falls down one of them and gets to take his shirt off. Oh no! Water rushes in and Bond must hold on! 

He gets out, finds his way into a radiation suit (stylish, with a very square hood, he looks like a Doctor Who villain in an episode where they ran out of budget) and infiltrates a control room! They’re talking about a vehicle and say the word radiation a lot. Bondis trying to figure out how to sabotage their sabotage (of a rocket launch). Big science words! No time to think for Bond, just punch everyone! Chaos! Alarms blaring, abort abort! 

Bond vs Dr. No. Bond wins and Dr. No goes down in what may be boiling radioactive water? Doesn’t seem like a delicious way to go. Everyone is fleeing the facility, Bond somehow finds Honey and frees her (she’s tied up on some ramp with water coming in, were they going to let the tide drown her? This is not how you kill people effectively). 

Lots of footage of people fleeing, flinging themselves into the ocean etc. Bond and Honey get a boat, the facility goes boooooooooooom! 

The boat runs out of fuel, and Bond and Honey settle in to wait for rescue, Leiter show up and start to give them a tow, but Bond lets the rope go so he and Honey can fuck. Leiter shakes his head and smiles at them in an overbearing manner. 

THE END

[socialdistance]

Lily, Day Seven

This morning I was sitting in the semidark in our kitchen, waiting to get on a Zoom call for which I'd specifically woken up hours earlier than usual ("usual"), and which had gotten pushed back at the literal last minute, when that Peter Bjorn and John song "Young Folks" came on the playlist I was shuffling through. Even if you think you don't know that song, you probably do know that song. It starts with whistling and it was everywhere around 2007, most specifically, and where I remember it from, is the pilot episode of Gossip Girl. And the whistling started in my headphones while I was still bleary from staying up too late watching Miss Marple and worrying and the morning light was filtering pale lavender through the front curtains and it suddenly hit me, like an almost physical blow of sorrow and bewilderment, how long ago and how far away that was. My mind can't wrap around this, any of this, I don't think anyone's can, I don't think it's what our brains were designed to do. The software wasn't programmed for changes this rapid, this dramatic, this apocalyptic. Or rather, as the strangling stunned feeling this morning when realization snuck through showed, the inability to really process this new reality is maybe not a bug but a feature, an airbag, an emergency brake mechanism. It's a new world and I'll mix all the metaphors I want. 2007! Or, I should say, it's 2008 that I'm thinking of because I was a late-adapter of Gossip Girl culture. 2008! Barack Obama was running for president! I had just started film school and was taking as few film-related classes as I could get away with! Matt and I were sending emails back and forth almost every day and sometimes we would include videos and in one of them he edited in Young Folks. I had an eating disorder! I didn't follow politics! I was about to be assigned a James Baldwin essay in a class I'd signed up for by accident and realize I was white! I could run a 5:20ish mile! I don't really know what else was happening in the world because that's! how! self-centered! I was! allowed to be! Last week, when we were still stuck in the horrible grinding sound a car makes when you take too long to shift gears and restaurants were open, I walked home across the Williamsburg Bridge. I didn't want to, I'd already run 15 miles, but I was avoiding the subway. The sun was setting. There were other people on the bridge, but not many because most people who can afford to live within walking distance of the bridge on either side were already working from home. It was 60 degrees and windy and the sun was yellow on the dirty East River and behind the bridges and I looked back over my shoulder at the bridges and the city and the Statue and the river and the sky and the light and I swear to you started crying and also laughing. It was just so beautiful, and so blatantly fleeting, and for one little instant real perception snuck through and I both understood the provisionalty of everything and for once could let that make it bigger and more vivid. James again: “Life is tragic simply because the earth turns and the sun inexorably rises and sets, and one day, for each of us, the sun will go down for the last, last time. Perhaps the whole root of our trouble, the human trouble, is that we will sacrifice all the beauty of our lives, will imprison ourselves in totems, taboos, crosses, blood sacrifices, steeples, mosques, races, armies, flags, nations, in order to deny the fact of death, the only fact we have. It seems to me that one ought to rejoice in the fact of death--ought to decide, indeed, to earn one's death by confronting with passion the conundrum of life. One is responsible for life: It is the small beacon in that terrifying darkness from which we come and to which we shall return.”

[my-52-weeks-with-christie]

(The cookies in the picture are garam-masala chocolate gingerbread cookies - I use a different recipe than the one Nancy Atherton put in her book because it required nuts and I'm allergic!)

Aunt Dimity & the Heart of Gold - Nancy Atherton

Did you ever wonder how Miss Marple honed her investigative abilities? Or in fact, how she remained so sharp in between each case?

I believe she kept her wits keen through continual practise. Miss Marple not only investigated the occasional murder that crosses her path - but all the little mysteries that popped up in her village of St. Mary Mead as well.

Now you shouldn't confuse the word little with unimportant.

As Miss Marple's learned the small mysteries (and therefore their solutions) are often analogous to the bigger mysteries, like murder and blackmail.

Which I think explains how Miss Marple was able to solve Colonel Protheroe murder in her first full-length mystery, Murder At The Vicarage. She'd already had decades worth of parallels to draw from and years of practice finding answers to prickly questions.

Now you might be wondering why on earth I am talking about Miss Marple in a review for an Aunt Dimity mystery.

The answer is this:  Lori Sheperd (our sleuth), in many ways, reminds me of  Miss Marple.

Go with me for a minute here.

Married with three children, an American and decades younger than the Grand Dame herself - I know superficially, Lori doesn't appear to resemble Miss Marple in the slightest. However, if you take a closer look at their traits, striking similarities start popping out of the text.

Both women are fixtures in their community, volunteer their time, help their friends, and enjoy a good chat with their neighbors.

This "chatting" is where we find one of the most significant similarities between these two extraordinary women - their marked partiality to obtaining and occasionally disseminating village gossip. This "newsgathering" allows them both to acquire a richer view of the villages in which they reside and a better understanding of human nature - which is essential in solving mysteries.

The other important trait Lori shares with Miss Marple is her love of solving little mysteries. Any curious puzzle that pops up in Finch - Lori wants to solve it. From a quilting bee that ends with a revelation of a widow's curse to a mysterious wishing well - very little can stop Lori from pursuing the truth.

And by keeping this murderless mystery series, Nancy Atherton has successfully avoided the Cabot Cove Syndrom which oftentimes plagues series of this length (24 books and counting). Meaning? We aren't left wondering why anyone would live in the small village of Finch if people keep getting shot, stabbed, poisoned or garrotted in it.

Similarly, Agatha Christie was able to neatly sidestep this Syndrome by only penning twelve full-length titles and of those she set a fair few of those outside the borders of St. Mary Mead. (Atherton's done this as well only her mysteries are set outside Finch - though wouldn't it be fun if Lori visited St. Mary Mead? Or is that to on the nose you think?)

The most notable difference between these two ladies that I think needs addressing is their outlook on life. Miss Marple's take on the world is one of pronounced pragmatism. Over the years, Miss Marple's heard a plethora of rumors and solved a multitude of crimes. This knowledge has lead to the understanding that while not always pleasant, the dimmest view of someone's motives is often the most accurate. While Lori, who hasn't seen nearly as much, holds a far more upbeat vision of the world and the people in it. Perhaps in time, Miss Marple and Lori's world views will align, but only time will tell.

Until then Lori will continue to hone her skills (much as Marple did) solving every niggly little puzzle that creeps up in Finch.

Such as the latest installment, Aunt Dimity & The Heart of Gold. A lovely mystery which uses Christmas/winter as a backdrop/springboard to propel this mystery forward. Where a mysterious motorist crashes a Christmas party, then discovers a Hindu alter hidden in a priest hole no one, including the homeowners, knew was there!

Lori really has her hands full in this one...

I thoroughly enjoyed every page in this book. Atherton does a great job in balancing the mystery with the Christmastime theme. Happily, she never succumbs to the syrupy sweetness that often plagues book set in December! Again using the time of year to move the mystery forward - not stall it under a ton of garland.

Now, if Atherton's backlist daunts you, don't worry. So long as you understand you are not starting with the first book and are willing to roll with it, you'll be fine. As it was, I was a few books (six) out of date and had no problems picking up the thread of the series again. Now I normally recommend you start with the first book first, so you understand the hint of magic eddying around the fringes of this series, but it's not required.

All that being said, I must say I couldn't put this book down until I finished the very last (and highly satisfying) page. And the only reason I didn't finish it in one sitting is that I needed to get some sleep!

I would recommend this book to anyone like me who loves a great mystery and/or enjoys reading Christmas books in July!

Don’t forget to check out my other blog - Finder of Lost Things!

This week, Dourwood decided it’s time to execute The Brace Affair...what could go wrong?

[sunlit-music]

Why I like the Kingkiller Chronicles.

Look, I’d like other tumblr blogs to stop implying that KKC fans are sexist with bad taste for reading KKC. They’re entitled to their opinion, but I have to disagree with them. Let’s look at their arguments:

Question: Why don’t you and other KKC fans read female and people of color authors? Why is KKC everywhere on tumblr?

My answer: There are tumblr blogs that love kkc, female and poc authors. One well known tumblr blog that loves KKC, poc and women authors is bookcub. I think bookcub makes some of the defenses I’m about to mention - apologies if I’m repeating what she or other tumblr bloggers have already said.

The KKC fandom bloggers on tumblr already read diverse authors from what I can see. To be fair, I’m fairly new to tumblr, so I don’t know everyone in the KKC fandom on tumblr.

Also, the KKC fandom is really small on tumblr, so I’m not sure why you think KKC is everywhere on tumblr blogs?

I do read female and people of color authors. I’ve posted a lot about Sarah Rees Brennan’s books, The Lynburn Legacy and the Demon’s Lexicon trilogy, and J K Rowling’s Harry Potter books.

Apologies if I make crappy spelling mistakes, my spellcheck is atrocious.

I’ve read women and poc authors, such as: Any mystery novel by Agatha Christie, especially the Hercule Poirot books and the Miss Marple series.

Lgbt authors and poets I like - I have so many, but my favourite ones are Scott Ryan Tracey (author), Malinda Lo (author), any poetry by Sappho (Ancient Greek poetess), and Oscar Wilde’s The Picture of Dorian Gray. I also don’t like Lord Byron’s sexism towards women writers, but I like his writing.

Other female and or poc authors I like: Anything by Emily Rodda - especially Deltora Quest, Rowan of Rin series and the Teen Power Inc books.

Ten things I hate about me. By Randa Abdel-Fattah, who is Palestinian Muslim.

Tahereh Mafi. Iranian American author. Shatter Me series.

Cecilia Dart-Thornton. The Bitterbynde Trilogy.

Diana Wynne Jones, The Christopher Chant books.

N K Jemisin’s 100 thousand kingdoms trilogy books. I’ve already read and loved this trilogy prior to 2014. The last book in the series was published in 2011.

Cassandra Clare. Shadow hunter series - City of Glass. The Dark Artifices. Magnus Bane books.

Holly Black - Spiderwick Chronicles.

Malinda Lo - Ash, Adaptation, Inheritance, Tremontaine.

Robin McKinley - Beauty.

Ursula K LeGuin - Wizard of Earthsea, The ones who walk away from Omelas.

Ellen Kushner - Swordspoint and Privilege of the Sword.

JK Rowling - Harry Potter books.

Stranger (The Change series) - science fiction and fantasy young adult apocalyptic fiction, by Rachel Manija Brown and Sherwood Smith.

Crown Duel - fantasy, by Sherwood Smith.

Song of the Lioness, The Immortals, anything else by Tamora Pierce.

Question: You shouldn’t read Patrick Rothfuss because there’s better women writers and poc writers than him.

My answer: Actually, I can read what I want. My spare time, my hobbies, my decision. I agree it’s important to read women and poc authors too. ❤️ But that shouldn’t prevent me from reading KKC.

Question: Can’t you stop blogging about KKC? I don’t like KKC.

My answer: No, sorry. You’re entitled to your opinion, and I’m entitled to mine. If you don’t like my KKC posts, you can either scroll past them or stop reading my tumblr blog.

Question: aren’t you bothered that Patrick Rothfuss writes sexist parts in his books?

My answer: Yes. I like The Name of the Wind, but I was bothered by the lack of women in the first few chapters, and the constant tactless jokes made by Kvothe and his friend Sovoy about sex workers.

And Wise Man’s Fear is way less sexist than The Name of the Wind. Patrick Rothfuss takes on constructive criticism really well, hence why he has way more female characters who appear more often and have much more skills and knowledge than Kvothe.

Sexism in fantasy books is not solely a Rothfuss problem. Sexism appears in a lot of books by men, women and gender queer people, and I agree we should work hard to not write books with sexist messages, and include more equal number of well written female characters. 💕

Kvothe even gets female martial arts teachers from the Adem mercenaries. There are plenty of brave, smart, kind and interesting female characters, like Auri, Devi, Denna, Fela, Mola, and Kvothe’s mum Laurian.

Laurian was brave enough to leave a loveless arranged marriage and unsupportive family to marry Kvothe’s dad Arliden. And the antagonist Cinder said Laurian was tougher than Arliden.

Plus you get a book from Auri’s point of view, The Slow Regard of Silent Things.

I come across other authors who are really bad at taking constructive criticism from readers and even have the nerve to bully and sue readers who disagree politely. Authors who sue people for writing fanfiction. At least Patrick Rothfuss never does that.

I’ve read across plenty of books that are incredibly racist and frustrating. I’ve also been disappointed by books with negative and cruel portrayals of musicians. Say what you want about Rothfuss, he’s strongly anti racist and he respects musicians.

I’m a poc of South East Asian descent and I have relatives who play in a band and other relatives who play music in their spare time. I play piano as a hobby. I don’t have to worry about seeing racist rubbish or insults to musicians when I read any book by Rothfuss.