#bloody memoir

[lapumpkinmusic]

BLOODY MEMOIR vol. II

[bargainsleuthbooks]

Surrender: 40 Songs, One Story by Bono #NewBooks #BookReview #AudiobookReview #Memoir #Autobiography

One of the greatest rock bands of all time is U2, and front man Bono opens up in a new memoir. I highly recommend the audio book! Surrender: 40 Songs, One Story by Bono #NewBooks #BookReview #AudiobookReview #Memoir #Autobiography #Bono #U2

“When I started to write this book, I was hoping to draw in detail what I’d previously only sketched in songs. The people, places, and possibilities in my life. Surrender is a word freighted with meaning for me. Growing up in Ireland in the seventies with my fists up (musically speaking), it was not a natural concept. A word I only circled until I gathered my thoughts for the book. I am still…

[j-august]

John, Lord Hervey, Memoirs of the Reign of George the Second from His Accession to the Death of Queen Caroline

[afsurgence]

Tags - character

🔪 》 　` a returning threat `　ＩＮ　ＣＨＡＲＡＣＴＥＲ

🔪 》 　` memoires of violence `　ＭＵＳＩＮＧＳ

🔪 》 　` man in purple `　ＩＭＧ

🔪 》 　` buisness notes `　ＨＥＡＤＣＡＮＯＮＳ

🔪 》 　` bloodied hands `　ＡＳＥＴＨＥＴＩＣ

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

reading update: july 2024

full disclosure: I started out July in a bit of a mental lurch, really feeling stuck in a rut. there are a lot of reasons for that, absolutely none of which need to be shared with the general populace of tumblr dot com, but suffice to say that I was feeling listless and reading was not a high priority. I was pretty content to accept that this was going to be another month where I didn't finish a lot of books. I was too busy for most of June, and now too unfocused and bummed out in July.

and then that ended up not being the case. I think I can chalk that up to three things:

very early in the month I realized that none of the reading I had been planning on getting to was grabbing my interest at all, so I did something drastically different: picked up a YA memoir that I bought at pride on the recommendation of a bookseller. not my usual kind of reading at all, but YA is very readable and memoirs grab me fast because I'm nosy, so I figured it might be great for getting out of a rut. and boy, was I right!

Akwaeke Emezi also has a new novel out, and if you don't know then please note now that I'm a person second and an Akwaeke Emezi fan first. their newest novel was a sinister joyride, non-stop twists and turns that I couldn't put down until I saw the characters through to their bitter ends.

and, of course, over in the Dungeon Meshi manga I got to Mithrun. I've only had Mithrun for a couple of chapters, but if anything happened to him I'd kill everyone in this dungeon and then myself. even if I hadn't been able to read anything else, that would have kept me running back to the library for more Dungeon Meshi.

all of which added up to a fairly voracious appetite for books being reignited in my brain, and my second most book-heavy month of the year so far (still haven't beat May, but there's time). sick!

so - what have I been reading?

Delicious in Dungeon Vol. 7-10 (Ryoko Kui, trans. Taylor Engel, 2019-2022) - mannnnn I know I'm not saying anything that hasn't been said elsewhere, but Dungeon Meshi is so. fucking good. the way that Kui starts to raise the stakes of the story and grow the world beyond the core band of adventurers is so conscientious and well-done, timed perfectly so it never feels like having an undercooked heap of fantasy exposition thrown at you all at once. instead everything proceeds at a perfect simmer, leaving me feeling like the frog in that pot of boiling water who didn't notice how dire things had gotten until it was very suddenly too late and I was screaming bloody murder at a book. things have gotten so dire that I'm yearning for the days when fighting a red dragon was our biggest problem - and yet, through it all, every character remains rendered with humanity and compassion, no matter how scary, dangerous, or outright alien they first appear. I'm not naming any spoilers, but I need [REDACTED] to fix shit ASAP in Vol. 11 and [SUPER REDACTED] is on my shitlist fucking forever. also Mithrun sweetie you're perfect, do as many crimes as you want.

Heart and Hand (Rebel Carter, 2019) - my romance novel of the month, as picked by my lovely patreonites! this self-published historical romance promised some messy f/m/m, following a biracial (half Black, half white) young lady, Julie Baptiste, as she responds to a marriage ad that takes her out west to the fictional town of Gold Sky, Montana. Julie's sort of a standard historical heroine - she doesn't care for the silliness of high society and vastly prefers the company of books, looking forward to becoming Gold Sky's schoolteacher - but her marriage has a twist: rather than marrying one man, she's agreed to marry two, a pair of friends who have been inseparable since they served together in the Civil War. this book is charming, for sure, but I can't help be more intrigued by what isn't there than what is, namely: are these men having sex with each other or not? Rebel? hey, Rebel? why is there no DP in this two husbands mail order bride book? that was, like, he bare minimum that I expected. for the love of god, why did those men never put both of their dicks inside Julie at the same time? why did we spend so much time on emotional conflict that could be easily resolved if anyone just talked to each other when Julie's two beautiful husbands could have been having sex in front of her? HELLO?

also, listen, this is such a nitpick, but I am FROM Montana and it feels personal: I know that the general poverty of frontier life isn't sexy, but god these people are WAY too well off. at one point Julie enjoys some fucking BANANAS, something that I goddamn assure you were not easy to come by in late 19th century Montana. a banana. as fucking if.

All Boys Aren't Blue (George M. Johnson, 2020) - as is proudly advertised on the back cover of my copy, in recent years All Boys Aren't Blue has been the second most-challenged book in America behind Maia Kobabe's Gender Queer. reading through All Boys Aren't Blue it was initially hard to see what exactly was so objectionable, until I realized that a queer Black person living their life with compassion and joy is the scariest thing some of these motherfuckers can possibly imagine. Johnson writes about their life growing up in the nexus of racism, homophobia, and masculinity with wisdom and endless compassion, directly addressing young people who may find themselves in similar positions to offer them assurance that they, too, can be okay. more than anything, All Boys Aren't Blue is a plea for young people to live their lives without fear and shame. it's a beautiful blessing of a book that I hope brings comfort to every innumerable kids who need it.

Little Rot (Akwaeke Emezi, 2024) - how do I even begin to describe Little Rot? definitely not for those who feel squeamish about sex crimes, I guess that's an important place to start. this novel starts with the breakup of a long-term Nigerian couple, Kalu and Aima, and follows both of them into a weekend that starts with drugs and sex parties and spirals increasingly out of control from there, drawing more and more characters into a complicated snarl of money and power. Little Rot has the seedy, lurid draw of an episode of SVU if SVU ever grew up and realized that cops don't do shit, reveling in the nastiest that Emezi's imagined city of New Lagos has to offer. cannot say this book is for everyone - few of Emezi's novels are - but god, it's a thrilling study in corruption.

The Persistent Desire: A Femme-Butch Reader (editor Joan Nestle, 1992) - this is a massive and fascinating historical document, assembled by Nestle as part of her work with the Lesbian Herstory Archives. within this collection are letters, interviews, academic essays, poems, and transcribed oral histories from all manner of self-identified butch and femme lesbians. while some of the contributors are recognizable names in the history of American queer activism (including Pat Califa, who's a bisexual trans man now lmao), others are women who were just trying to live their lives with as much authenticity, comfort, and dignity as was possible in their time. (although, notably, the vast majority of these women are white, and all but a very few are Americans. racial and cultural diversity is not one of the collection's strong suits.)

the personal narratives span all over the twentieth century, and I was really delighted to see the very frank discussions of what would be written off as "bad representation" by a lot of queer resources today: butches overdosing on toxic masculinity and getting in messy bar brawls, femmes committing outlandish acts of adultery, lesbian sexual awakenings taking place between fairly young children, and one extremely memorable instance of a butch getting unexpectedly pregnant and decided to do a little sex work on the side since she couldn't get more pregnant than she already was. I was particularly fascinated by the many, many accounts of "second wave" self-identified lesbian feminists who tried to do away with butch/femme identities and "politically incorrect" expression of lesbian sexuality altogether (that's everything but mutual cunnilingus, btw) in pretty eerie echoes of contemporary radfem arguments. at close to 500 pages it's definitely better suited to skimming and stopping to read whatever catches your attention rather than trying to read cover to cover, but I think this is a really invaluable piece of history.

American Mermaid (Julia Langbien, 2023) - this was a novel, for sure. American Mermaid is a novel about a broke, anxious high school teacher named Penelope whose novel, also called American Mermaid, is a runaway success that gets optioned for film. Penelope quits her teaching job and moves across the country to Hollywood to work on the script with two dude bros who don't really Get what American Mermaid is about, and set to work turning Penelope's weird, unsexy female empowerment novel into an MCU-style action romp with a hot young lead. the novel's strongest when it's deep in the spirals of Penelope's frantic mind, probing the conflict between her fairly desperate need for cash (she wants to be financially independent of her conservative father, she has good reason to suspect breast cancer is in her future, she wants to start a family someday) and the artistic affront she feels at watching her story be disrespected and dismantled. where it's weaker is in the extensive chapters of the story-within-a-story; while useful for context, I straight up didn't need to read that much of Penelope's novel. and the plot overall kind of felt like it fell off the rails near the end once Langbien finishes making her point about how Hollywood sucks. it's not bad, but it's also just... fine. it's fine!

How to Taste: A Guide Discovering Flavor and Savoring Life (Mandy Naglich, 2023) - how do I put this so nicely? this book is for people who are kind of dork ass losers about food, a group that I do very much count myself as a part of. I first became acquainted with Naglich's work when she appeared on a podcast called the Sporkful, which claims that it is "not for foodies, it's for eaters." I'm a fairly devout listener, and after listening to Naglich describe her efforts to become a master cicerone (one of the world's most elite beer tasters, a distinction that is taken Very Fucking Seriously) I thought sure, whatever, that's a book I can get behind. Naglich is maybe a big more entertaining as a podcast guest than a nonfiction author. in places the book can be dry or roughly constructed in a way that suggests another pass by an editor or maybe a co-writer would have helped. and straight up, there are just weird fucking typos in this book that are like. crazy to me, I cannot believe they got through. the cheap-ass cover art also suggests this was not exactly a high budget production.

but having been very mean about it, there are a lot of extremely interesting tidbits about the world of professional tasting here! it sounds awful and you couldn't pay me to do it, but here's the cool thing: Naglich is extremely aware that what she does is insane and she knows that the average reader doesn't want to learn how to identify where a coffee bean was grown just by sniffing the bean from across a room. what she offers instead are really approachable ways to be more conscientious about how you interact with and appreciate food! and she also shares some really cool info about tasting snobbery that IS bullshit, to help you sort out the stuff that actually matters and emphasize that fun and personal taste ultimately trump any "rules." it's a very dorky book but I, personally, did have a good time.

Sex Criminals Vol 3: Three the Hard Way (Matt Fraction and Chip Zdarsky, 2016) - every time I read another volume of Sex Criminals I find myself thinking "man, hang on, do I ever actually like Sex Criminals? am I enjoying this?" but then I end up placing a hold on the next one. I don't know, it's charming! it's like so very VERY 2010s in its dialogue, by which I mean it's like. you know. it's giving Joss Whedon before we all found out how bad he sucked and collectively booed him. but man, I love a story that's down to get weird, and Sex Criminals is sooooo about being weird. and yet also very normal where sex is concerned! considering this is a series all about people having freaky world-altering powers that activate when they cum, sex is treated as an incredibly ordinary thing, warts and all. I like that! I like seeing that! idk, I don't need every comic to be perfect, as evidenced by the fact that I'm actively enjoying Azrael: Angel of the Bat. sometimes the vibes are just good.

[starrynightsoversunflowers]

I made a rec list for Latin American books that have queer themes

*DISCLAIMER: "Queer" is not a theme per se. Sometimes it's about identity, sexuality, love, horror, violence, etc. All happening around queer characters.

Most of these deal with pretty heavy themes: prostitution, rape, violence, aids, death. Some representations can be considered "problematic" if you're boring. There are different ways to approach queerness.

Feel free to yell at me about these books/ask where to read them/make recommendations/etc. I definetly have favourites. Also some have movie adaptations.

Descriptions and warnings under the cut

La condesa sangrienta (The bloody countess):

The story of countess Erzebeth Báthory, a medieval hungarian countess know for committing more than 650 murders and inspiring the figure of the vampire. There´s no explicit queer relationships here but there´s absolutely some homoerotism in the narrations of torture. Pizarnik was a lesbian also. TW: disturbing, torture, blood, murder, you should not read this in one go.

El lugar sin límites (Hell has no limits):

The story about la Manuela, a homosexual transvestite that owns half a brothel in a small town. Her daughter owns the other half. The novel shows crudely the misery of forgotten towns and the day to day life of prostitution. There's also a movie. TW: prostitution, murder, homo/transphobia.

El mundo alucinante (A Hallucinations):

A fantasy and free version parody of the Memoires of Fray Servando Teresa de Mier. Known for the uses of magical realism and innovative prose.

Cobra:

Two stories meet. The first is of Cobra, a transvestite, and her transformation. The second of her initiation in a band of black jackers. Erotism and death.

Evita vive (Evita lives):

A controversial book around Eva Perón (after her death) who lives among prostitutes and homosexuals, having orgies and living a life of debauchery.

El beso de la mujer araña (The kiss of the spider woman):

The meeting of two prisoners living in the same cell. One, Valentín, is a political prisoner and the other, Molina, is a sexual deviant. During their weeks there, Molina narrates movies to Valentín and their relationship develops. There's also a movie.

Stella Manhattan:

During Brasil's military dictatorship, the apolitical Eduardo, a.k.a. Stella Manhattan, is expelled form his country for his shameful homosexuality. He returns to the surface as a brazilian counsil in New York and is immediately accosted by a military called Colonel Vianna, a sadomasichist known as the "Black Widow", and by the guerrillas seeking his befall.

Antes que anochezca (Before night falls):

Th 7th of december of 1990 the Cuban author Reinaldo Arenas, in a terminal phase of AIDS, would commit suicide, leaving behing this moving and political testimony, which he finished mere days before taking his own life.

Salón de belleza (Beauty salon):

In a large, unnamed city, a strange, highly infectious disease begins to spread, afflicting its victims with an excruciating descent toward death, particularly unsparing in its assault of those on society's margins. Spurned by their loved ones and denied treatment by hospitals, the sick are left to die on the streets until a beauty salon owner, whose previous caretaking experience extended only to the exotic fish tanks scattered among his workstations, opens his doors as a refuge. In the ramshackle Morgue, victim to persecution and violence, he accompanies his male guests as they suffer through the lifeless anticipation of certain death, eventually leaving the wistful narrator in complete, ill-fated isolation.

Bajar es lo peor (Going down is the worst):

With gothic resonances, Enríquez shows crudely the Buenos Aires of the 90's. The confinement and the paranoia of cocaine, sex as a means to escape or survive, political unbelief, mix with a romantic love that never reaches satisfaction. There's also a movie. TW: drugs, prostitution, rape, suicide.

Loco afán (Mad eagerness):

These "chronicles of aids" narrate stories of homosexuality in Latin America, focused on drag, transvestites and AIDS.

Sirena Selena vestida de pena:

Discovered by Martha Divine in the backstreets of San Juan, picking over garbage, drugged out of his mind and singing boleros that transfix the listener, a fifteen year old hustler is transformed into Sirena Selena, a diva whose uncanny beauty and irrisistable voice will be their ticket to fame and fortune. Auditioning for one of the luxury hotels in the Dominican Republic, Selena casts her spell over Hugo Graubel, one of the hotel's rich investors. Graubel is a powerful man in the Republic, married with children. Selena, determined to escape the poverty and abuse s/he suffered as a child, engages Graubel in a long seduction in this mordant, intensely lyrical tragi-comedy - part masque, part cabaret - about identity (class, race, gender) and "the hunger and desire to be other things."

Tengo miedo torero (My tender matador):

It is the spring of 1986, and Chilean dictator Augusto Pinochet is losing his grip on power. In one of Santiago’s many poor neighborhoods, a man known as the Queen of the Corner embroiders linens for the wealthy. A hopeless and lonely romantic, he listens to boleros to drown out the gunshots. Then he meets Carlos, a young, handsome man who befriends the aging homosexual and uses his house to store mysterious boxes and hold clandestine meetings. And as the relationship between these two very different men blossoms, they find themselves caught in a revolution that could doom them both. There's also a movie.

Adiós mariquita linda (Goodbye pretty pansy):

Chronicles of ire, delation, passion, resentment and loves. Stories of different cities and travels.

Sexografías (Sexographies):

In fierce and sumptuous first-person accounts, renowned Peruvian journalist Gabriela Wiener records infiltrating the most dangerous Peruvian prison, participating in sexual exchanges in swingers clubs, traveling the dark paths of the Bois de Boulogne in Paris in the company of transvestites and prostitutes, undergoing a complicated process of egg donation, and participating in a ritual of ayahuasca ingestion in the Amazon jungle--all while taking us on inward journeys that explore immigration, maternity, fear of death, ugliness, and threesomes. Fortunately, our eagle-eyed voyeur emerges from her narrative forays unscathed and ready to take on the kinks, obsessions, and messiness of our lives. Sexographies is an eye-opening, kamikaze journey across the contours of the human body and mind.

Los topos (The moles):

The son of missing persons of the Dictatorship casually meets a half-brother who poses as a transvestite to investigate ex repressors and cops.

La virgen cabeza (Slum virgin):

When the Virgin Mary appears to Cleopatra, she renounces sex work and takes charge of the shantytown she lives in, transforming it into a tiny utopia. Ambitious journalist Quity knows she’s found the story of the year when she hears about it, but her life is changed forever once she finds herself irrevocably seduced by the captivating subject of her article.

Falsa liebre (False hare):

The darkness at the port engulfs everything. Pachi and Vinicio go deeper into the beach, approaching an improvised party. They are looking for something to numb their bodies, something to finally erase themselves. Summer has been long, and that day was much worse. Not far from there, Zahir fantasizes about his next travel to the capital city or the northern part of Mexico, away from the aunt who keeps asking him for money, controls him through physical violence, and has driven his little brother, Andrik, to run away from the family home and end up in another: a man’s house, who caresses Andrik and then strikes him with the same hand. Now Zahir must not only convince Andrik to start a new life, but make sure they find a way out of that seemingly endless beach. TW: rape, prostitution, violence.

Ladrilleros (Brickmakers):

Oscar Tamai and Elvio Miranda, the patriarchs of two families of brickmakers, have for years nursed a mutual hatred, but their teenage sons, Pájaro and Ángelito, somehow fell in love. Brickmakers begins as Pájaro and Marciano, Ángelito’s older brother, lie dying in the mud at the base of a Ferris wheel. Inhabiting a dreamlike state between life and death, they recall the events that forced them to pay the price of their fathers’ petty feud. The Tamai and Miranda families are caught, like the Capulets and the Montagues, in an almost mythic conflict, one that emerges from stubborn pride and intractable machismo. Like her heralded debut, The Wind That Lays Waste, Selva Almada’s fierce and tender second novel is an unforgettable portrayal of characters who initially seem to stand in opposition, but are ultimately revealed to be bound by their similarities. TW: violence.

Cuerpo a tierra (Body to the ground):

We aren't always owners of our own decisions, sometimes we´re pulled by an irrecognizable impulse and, sometimes, the only truth is that of the body. Betrayal and deception, love and heartbreak, love and search are the protagonists of these stories.

Temporada de huracanes (Hurricane season):

The Witch is dead. And the discovery of her corpse has the whole village investigating the murder. As the novel unfolds in a dazzling linguistic torrent, with each unreliable narrator lingering on new details, new acts of depravity or brutality, Melchor extracts some tiny shred of humanity from these characters—inners whom most people would write off as irredeemable—forming a lasting portrait of a damned Mexican village. There will be a movie by the end of the year. TW: rape, paedophilia, prostitution.

Pelea de gallos (Cockfight):

Ampuero sheds light on the hidden aspects of the home: the grotesque realities of family, coming of age, religion, and class struggle. A family’s maids witness a horrible cycle of abuse, a girl is auctioned off by a gang of criminals, and two sisters find themselves at the mercy of their spiteful brother. With violence masquerading as love, characters spend their lives trapped reenacting their past traumas. Heralding a brutal and singular new voice, Cockfight explores the power of the home to both create and destroy those within it. TW: rape, incest, violence.

Las aventuras de la China Iron (The adventures of China Iron):

1872. The pampas of Argentina. China is a young woman eking out an existence in a remote gaucho encampment. After her no-good husband is conscripted into the army, China bolts for freedom, setting off on a wagon journey through the pampas in the company of her new-found friend Liz, a settler from Scotland. While Liz provides China with a sentimental education and schools her in the nefarious ways of the British Empire, their eyes are opened to the wonders of Argentina’s richly diverse flora and fauna, cultures and languages, as well as to the ruthless violence involved in nation-building.

Mandíbula (Jawbone):

Fernanda and Annelise are so close they are practically sisters: a double image, inseparable. So how does Fernanda end up bound on the floor of a deserted cabin, held hostage by one of her teachers and estranged from Annelise? When Fernanda, Annelise, and their friends from the Delta Bilingual Academy convene after school, Annelise leads them in thrilling but increasingly dangerous rituals to a rhinestoned, Dior-scented, drag-queen god of her own invention. Even more perilous is the secret Annelise and Fernanda share, rooted in a dare in which violence meets love. Meanwhile, their literature teacher Miss Clara, who is obsessed with imitating her dead mother, struggles to preserve her deteriorating sanity. Each day she edges nearer to a total break with reality. TW: violence, cannibalism.

Las malas (Bad girls):

A trans woman's coming-of-age tale about finding a community among fellow outcasts. Born in the small Argentine town of Mina Clavero, Camila is designated male but begins to identify from an early age as a girl. She is well aware that she's different from other children and reacts to her oppressive, poverty-stricken home life, with a cowed mother and abusive, alcoholic father, by acting out-with swift consequences. Deeply intelligent, she eventually leaves for the city to attend university, slipping into prostitution to make ends meet. And in Sarmiento Park, in the heart of Córdoba, she discovers the strange, wonderful world of the trans sex workers who dwell there. Taken under the wing of Auntie Encarna, the 178-year-old eternal whose house shelters this unconventional extended family, Camila becomes a part of their stories-of a Headless Man who fled his country's wars, a mute young woman who transforms into a bird, an abandoned baby boy who brings a twinkle to your eye. TW: rape, prostitution, transphobia, murder, child death.

Nuestra parte de noche (Our share of the night):

A young father and son set out on a road trip, devastated by the death of the wife and mother they both loved. United in grief, the pair travel to her ancestral home, where they must confront the terrifying legacy she has bequeathed: a family called the Order that commits unspeakable acts in search of immortality. For Gaspar, the son, this maniacal cult is his destiny. As the Order tries to pull him into their evil, he and his father take flight, attempting to outrun a powerful clan that will do anything to ensure its own survival. But how far will Gaspar’s father go to protect his child? And can anyone escape their fate? Moving back and forth in time, from London in the swinging 1960s to the brutal years of Argentina’s military dictatorship and its turbulent aftermath.

Tesis sobre una domesticación (Thesis about a domestication):

A single transvestite is enough to undermine the foundations of a house, to untie the knots of compromise, to break a promise, to give up a life. The familiy clings to brief moments of happiness without noticing it´s been defeated since the start.

La hija única (Still born):

Alina and Laura are independent and career-driven women in their mid-thirties, neither of whom have built their future around the prospect of a family. Laura is so determined not to become a mother that she has taken the drastic decision to have her tubes tied. But when she announces this to her friend, she learns that Alina has made the opposite decision and is preparing to have a child of her own. Alina's pregnancy shakes the women's lives, first creating distance and then a remarkable closeness between them. When Alina's daughter survives childbirth – after a diagnosis that predicted the opposite – and Laura becomes attached to her neighbor's son, both women are forced to reckon with the complexity of their emotions, their needs, and the needs of the people who are dependent upon them. TW: child disease, family violence.

Huaco retrato (Undiscovered):

In an ethnographic museum in Paris, Gabriela Wiener is confronted with her unusual inheritance. She is visiting an exhibition of pre-Columbian artefacts, the spoils of European colonial plunder. As she peers through the glass, she sees sculptures of Indigenous faces that resemble her own - but the man responsible for pillaging them was her own great-great-grandfather, Austrian colonial explorer Charles Wiener. In the wake of her father's death, Gabriela begins delving into all she has inherited from her paternal line. From the brutal trail of racism and theft that Charles left behind to revelations of her father's infidelity, she traces a legacy of abandonment, jealousy and colonial violence, in turn reframing her own struggles with desire, love and race. Seeking relief from these personal and historical wounds, Gabriela turns to the body and desire as sources of both constraint and potential freedom.

Sacrificios humanos (Human sacrifices):

An undocumented woman answers a job posting only to find herself held hostage, a group of outcasts obsess over popular boys drowned while surfing, and two girls suspect sinister behavior from the missionaries lodging in their home. Simultaneously terrifying and exquisite, Human Sacrifices is "tropical gothic" at its finest. Ampuero considers the decay and oppression beneath the surface of our humid and hostile world, where those on the margins must pay the price for the comfort and safety of the elite. These twelve stories contemplate the nature of exploitation and abuse, illuminating the realities of those society consumes and leaves behind.

Soy una tonta por quererte (I'm a fool to want you):

In the 1990s, a woman makes a living as a rental girlfriend for gay men. In a Harlem den, a travesti gets to know none other than Billie Holiday. A group of rugby players haggle over the price of a night of sex, and in return they get what they deserve. Nuns, grandmothers, children, and dogs are never what they seem. These 9 stories are inhabited by extravagant and profoundly human characters who face an ominous reality in ways as strange as themselves.

Las indignas (The unworthy):

A searing, dystopian tale about climate crisis, ideological extremism, and the tidal pull of our most violent, exploitative instincts. TW: death, animal death, rape, cults.

[girlactionfigure]

THURSDAY HERO: Tadeusz Pankiewicz

Tadeusz Pankiewicz was a Polish pharmacist who helped the starving, suffering Jewish residents of the Krakow ghetto by providing them with medicine, food, and other lifesaving supplies.

Born in Sambor, Poland in 1908, Tadeusz studied at the prestigious Jagiellonian University in Krakow. In 1933 he took over the family business: a small pharmacy called Under the Eagle. Germany invaded Poland in 1939, but Tadeusz’s quiet life and successful small business were mostly unaffected, until 1941, when the Nazis forced the city’s 15,000 Jews into a ghetto.

Tadeusz’s pharmacy happened to be within the ghetto’s borders. The Nazis shut down other businesses and essential services in the ghetto to make it impossible for Jews to get food and other necessities, but Tadeusz refused to close his store. He bribed the Gestapo, using his own savings, to keep Under the Eagle open. Tadeusz was inspired by his Catholic faith to stay and help people however he could.

Conditions in the ghetto were horrific. There was never enough food, and every day residents died of starvation or illness; others were shot in the street by Nazi soldiers. Medicine of any kind was almost impossible to obtain, except from Tadeusz, who provided health care and pharmaceuticals for free to residents of the ghetto. He also provided them with lifesaving products such as hair dye to disguise their identity and tranquilizers to keep children quiet during Gestapo raids.

Tadeusz’s pharmacy became the go-to place for Jews to meet, plan underground activities and acts of defiance, and get lifesaving care and equipment. Tadeusz and his pharmacy employees Irena Drozdzikowska, Helena Krywaniuk, and Aurelia Danek put their lives at significant risk to help the Jews of the Krakow ghetto. Besides medicine, supplies and a safe place to meet, the brave pharmacist and his staff shared their meager wartime food rations, and hid Jews on the property during deportations. They were able to smuggle some Jews out of the ghetto and take them to hiding places where they would be safe.

Tadeusz actually befriended German soldiers to get information from them! He got them drunk and cleverly manipulated them into telling him about planned actions against Jews so he could warn them. Another service Tadeusz to the Jews trapped in the ghetto was acting as intermediary between them and the Poles with whom they left their valuables.

Among the people who met in secret in the pharmacy were prominent figures such as writer Mordechai Gebirtig and artist Abraham Neumann, who were tragically shot by the Germans in the ghetto in the infamous Bloody Thursday of June 4, 1942. Julian Aleksandrowicz survived the war to become a doctor and medical professor who specialized in the treatment of leukemia. Dr Abraham Mirowski, another Jew saved by Tadeuszm later said that the kind pharmacist was “living among us, was continuously exposed to dangers, but it did not make him scared. He was full of sympathy for our tragedy and wanted to help us with all his heart. Each death of a man or a woman was a traumatic experience for him.”

After the war, Tadeusz stayed in Krakow and, in 1947, he published his memoirs of life under German occupation. He continued working as a pharmacist. In 1957, some of the Jews he’d saved brought him for a visit to Israel as their guest. Tadeusz was honored as Righteous Among the Nations by Israeli Holocaust Memorial Yad Vashem in 1983.

Tadeusz Pankiewicz died in Krakow in 1993. His pharmacy is now a museum about the history of the Jews of Krakow, with special focus on the ghetto years. Tadeusz and his brave staff are also a featured museum exhibit.

For helping Jews in the Krakow ghetto, we honor Tadeusz Pankiewicz as this week’s Thursday Hero.

[darling--angst]

hmm I hope I did this right :'D

- Where's My love, SYML w/ Dazai :o + romantic !

Where's My Love?

Pairing: Dazai Osamu x Gn! Reader

Type: Oneshot

Genre: Angst

Warnings: major character death, implied suicide, blood descriptions, mentions of death, cutting, implied death.

Synopsis: Dazai always tries to find his lover and when he sees them, he only says a 'hello' but never did he say his goodbye.

A/n: Thank you for requesting! Reader is refered to as 'them' or 'they'. Hope you'll like this! Dw you did it correct! Italic for flashbacks

Event // Ada.Masterlist // M.Masterlist

There was nothing he could feel, he held the cold and lifeless corpse of his lover; just as he did to his dear friend a few days ago. Cold pulse, it was the only thing he could find; coldness, just as who he was before he met them. How hard he tried to find the love they once held in their eyes. He didn't mind his bleeding hand, he could only focus on holding them. His bloodied hand was mostly theirs and a small mix of his. The tears that dripped to his scarred hand made it sting; just like a wound topped with salt. He tried to make their heart beat once again but it was hopeless, they only held him dearly—as if they were fine and smiled before their eyes completely shut; never to open again. He screamed their name at the top of his lungs before he slowly laid their body on the floor, just like they were resting. He walked away, numb tears escaping his hazel eyes. The room was illuminated by the warm sun they once loved, and the crimson blood was oozing out of the three bullet holes on their chest. He tightly clenched his hand, not minding how much it hurt from the wound. The rain started to pour while the bright and orange sunset was covered with dark, thundering storms. He walked away, turning his back on everything, the Port Mafia, Chūya, his crimes, Oda and you.

"Dazai-san? Are you there? Kunikida-san called me and told me to go to work with you." Atsushi knocked on a small apartment room owned by the Agency.

Dazai sat up and looks at his hand again. It was clean, no blood was leaving his body through a wound that once was. A mark was left there, a memoir that the day he got that wound was the one where he failed to save you.

"That dream again.."

A few tears escapes his eyes and landed itself on his hand, just as that day. He wiped them away after hearing Atsushi knock on the door again.

"Yeah I'm here Atsushi-kun!" He said through the door, trying to sound as cheerful as possible though his voice came out dry and hoarse.

"Are you okay Dazai-san? Are you sick?!" Atsushi asks, his tone full of worry and franty.

"Nop! I just woke up so please wait for me in a few minutes Atsushi-kun!" He said in his usual cheery tone making Atsushi sigh in relief. Dazai's words soon registered in his mind, and he began to panic.

"But Kunikida-san will scold both of us for being late!"

"It's fineee! Its just going to be the same old Kunikida!" He tried explaining while ramaging through his drawer, trying to find his bandages.

"But—"

"I'm gonna be quick Atsushi-kun, I'm just going to dress! You don't want me to go to the agency shirtless do you?" He said in a spiteful voice, wrapping his arms, hands, neck and torso with leftover bandages.

"eww no!"

"exactly" Dazai replied before wearing his shirt and vest. He glances at the scar again before opening the door and throwing in his overcoat.

"Let's go Atsushi-kun!"

He skipped to the agency with Atsushi behind him. They got scolded by Kunikida but it the end he was the one that took his hour long lecture and Dazai got punished by him.

The day passed again, and the moon showed in the midnight sky. Dazai was laying in his futon, staring at the dark ceiling, bottles of sake throws across the floor. He turned his head beside and saw them, a worried look was plastered on their face as they looked at him. He knew that his mind was playing games with him, despite that he came to caress their cheek to feel their warmth; but they disappeared, and his hand only met the cold and empty sheets beside. He clenched his fists tight before standing up and grabbing his overcoat and leaving his messy apartment. Walking in the dark streets lighted by the faint moonlight, was something both of them used to do. He gently smiled at the small memory before continuing to walk, he arrived at a small greeny fields in the outskirts of the city.

"Darling! Osamu! Wait up!" They said before panting.

"You really need to run faster my love!" He turned around and saw them with furrowed eyebrows. He chuckled before going to them.

"You're so unfair! I'm on my slippers because you called me and told me it was an emergency!" They pouted, taking his assistance and grabbing his hand for support.

"It is an emergency! I was bored and I missed you!" He pointed out.

"Haii.. whatever.. Don't you dare try to lie to me" They sighed shooting him a worried look before caressing his bruised cheek, and he leaned on her hand.

"What do you mean love?" He sent them a cheeky smile, trying to feign innocence and ignorance.

"Osamu." They said his name in a serious tone, and he only laid his head down.

"I-its nothing" He quietly muttered, getting closer to them, trying to feel their warmth.

"Shh, it's okay. I'm here" The hand cupping his cheeks snaked it's way to the back of his head, as he leaned his head into their shoulder.

Their hand slowly and gently patted the back of his head while he hugged them. The silent crickets are the only thing that was heard. He felt scared, he didn't want them to know his line of job in fear that they would leave him. They were a civilian and he was a mafioso—no an executive of the Port Mafia, the rulers of the night. He needed comfort, he wanted to tell them how his friend betrayed them and now the other was dead; but he couldn't, he was afraid of them abandoning him too. Nobody spoke a word, they didn't bother to ask him more, they just waited for him to open up. They gently hummed a tune as they waited for him, their voice was like a lullaby that comforted a scared and crying child.

The event plays on his mind, seeing illusions of that day in the fields, he could not remember what happened afterwards. He put his hands on the pockets of his overcoat as his fingertips got colder and colder. Walking to a small cliff near the ocean, a name was carved in a rock just near the edge, beside it, was a fresh bouquet of roses. He leaned against the grave as he closed his eyes, reminiscing the old memories.

"Hello love... I missed you" He gently smiled, feeling the cold breeze pass.

A faint voice whispered comfort in his ear.

"I missed you too.. tell me.. is that little girl, the one you told me about—Kyoka, I think—is she okay?"

He felt his hair ruffle, as if someone was playing it just like they did. He wanted to open his eyes to know who it was, but he knew that they would disappear just as he looks behind. He knew that he was just thinking how they would respond but he didn't mind it.

"Mhm.. the conflict was over and the Moby Dick returned to the ocean... Kyoka's now home with the agency" He whispered, trying to feel their warm.

"That's good.. How is the agency treating you.?"

"hmm.. Atsushi-kun is as usually kind.—" he faintly smiled.

"—oh, Kunikida tied me to a chair earlier and beat me up because I was late, it hurt a lot. Ouch" He dramatically whispered and they faintly laughed in return. Silence once again came, the howling winds and the clashing waves are the only things that can be hear besides his lone heartbeat.

"Come back to me please.." His voice cracked. He heard no response, he opened his eyes and looked behind to see nothing but a view of the night sky and the dancing leaves. A part of the cloudy sky was clear, showing the moon perfectly, as if it made way for someone to go high above.

"I'll go to you soon love.. and if the heavens forbid it... I'll fight against God myself just to return to your embrace" He sat up and glanced at the grave once again before finally returning to his apartment.

He closed his door and muttered a small "I'm home" hoping for someone to respond. Taking off his shoes and overcoat, he took a blade from his bathroom drawer, and then made himself comfortable in the bathtub. He rolled up his sleeves and sat up, positioning the blade just perfectly on the veins in his wrist. With one quick and deep slash, blood started gushing out of his left wrist. He winced in pain, taking the blade once again, he slashed his right wrist; it was less deep than the cut in his other wrist but nonetheless, it was deep. Blood started to drip to his garments and bathtub, his vision started to blur and he leaned completely to the wall, closing his eyes. At the last moments of his life, he remembered what happened after that day.

"Hey... If you don't want to tell me it's okay, but don't ever try to hide your emotions from me.." They smiled at him, their fingers playing with his hair.

"What do you mean? I don't hide them—" He left their embrace and tried to put on a facade.

"Osamu. You don't need to hide them" They said, walking upfront, their voice was full of calmness, just like a lullaby. Their arms was behind them, their right hand holding their left arm

"Fine... But let me ask you this then." He looked at their back with a serious tone.

"Why did you come in the middle of the night to a cliff just because I told you to do so?" He asked, his gaze following them as they walked forward to the edge, admiring the moon. They continued to hum before they responded to his question.

"Because I love you" They turned around and smiled at him. They put a strand of hair behind their ear, as the wind passed by.

"mmm.." He opened his eyes to see their illusion planting a kiss on his forehead.

"I..finally..found..you...." His voice slowly faded into nothing but air.

It was as if time stopped for a mere second. The pain that engulfed him whole was now only faint. Their warmness returned to him and his vision completely faded to black, submitting to the sleepiness he held after hearing them hum his favorite tune...

[aroaessidhe]

aro & ace books: nonbinary (adult/NA)

The Bruising of Qilwa - fantasy, nonbinary aroace MC

Our Bloody Pearl - fantasy, an agender aroace siren MC

Màgòdiz - postapoc/fantasy, one of the MCs is nonbinary/two spirit & aroace

A Milky Way Home - contemporary romance, nonbinary transmasc demiaro ace MC

Gender Queer - memoir, genderqueer & acespec author/MC

Werecockroach - scifi novella, aroace agender MC

Catastrophe Incoming - fantasy, one of the MCs is demi

The Thread That Binds - fantasy, 2 ace & aroace agender MCs

The Chronicles of Nerezia - fantasy, 2 nonbinary aroace MCs

She Who Became The Sun - a nonbinary acespec MC

The Unbalancing - fantasy, nonbinary demi MC, nonbinary aroace SC

Blasted Research - postapoc/scifi, nonbinary ace MC

Help Wanted - low fantasy, gender questioning (grey)ace MC

Tears In The Water - contemporary romance, gender-and-ace-questioning MC

The Wolf Among The Wild Hunt - fantasy, nonbinary aroace QPR-LI

#aspec books / aspec database / tumblr masterpost

[lapumpkinmusic]

[my-coven-is-claudia]

Daniel, Louis and their “strange alliance”

this quote from eric from a pre-season 2 interview has been rattling inside my brain for far too long so i want to break down a scene from season 1 that has gained some newly-found importance.

in 1x02 daniel and louis sit down to have dinner as louis recounts an experience of attending the opera with lestat and its bloody end. what’s most interesting about this sequence is less so to do with what happened at loustat’s opera date but more so this surprisingly touching moment between louis and daniel.

it starts off with louis mentioning how the dessert served for him and daniel is taken from a off-handed remark in daniel’s memoir.

this suggests A LOT. it seems to imply that louis has attentively read daniel’s memoir and likely has a genuine vested interest in daniel as a person outside of what he can do for him in relation to rejigging his jumbled memories. you can’t tell from this screenshot but he almost seems embarrassed that he went to such lengths with making sure to serve up this exact dessert that daniel mentioned. and the fact that it was an “offhanded remark” also drives me insane. he either read through daniel’s memoir and specifically noted down this mention about the dessert or realised that he wanted to share a meal with daniel and proceeded to scour his memoir in order to find mentions of food he likes. there is also the possibility that he asked one of his servants to read through the book again but we know for sure that louis read daniel’s memoir himself at some point. whatever the case louis went to the effort of making sure daniel would get to eat something familiar and that he most definitely liked. he did that to make daniel feel comfortable.

this is especially significant as louis chooses to eat this dessert alongside daniel, despite the fact that it tastes like “paste” to him. he is actively choosing to eat something that tastes like gruel to him essentially and for what?? to appear less monstrous? to comfort daniel? maybe show that he still has some humanity left in him. it’s important to mention that this is in the aftermath of daniel confronting louis about how human readers likely won’t be sympathetic to louis and lestat’s need for blood to survive. however, it doesn’t come across as a calculated move to appear more appeasing to potential readers. this seems wholly for daniel’s sake.

louis - for whatever reason - is intentionally presenting himself as approachable and human to daniel.

this is followed up by daniel seemingly picking up on louis’s offer for connection and opening up about the woman that’s on everyone’s mind currently: alice.

daniel details how he proposed to alice in paris in a cafe (which lines up with the story he tells in 2x02) and names the street that it was located on. louis recognises this and verbalises it.

this is yet another grasp for connection, of understanding, between louis and daniel. louis wants to show daniel that he’s genuinely interested in his story, in him as a person by showing that’s he actively listening to him.

now, what we’ve all been waiting for.

this moment is the whole reason why i want to tear this scene apart!! this is probably up there with daniel offering louis a break in 2x01 as one of the most sincere and vulnerable moments we’ve gotten from daniel, a typically cold and sarcastic character. whatever you think about the alice-armand parallels and who exactly he is truly talking about here, daniel is fondly speaking of someone now estranged from him. he remembers the little details about her, an insecurity that she was ashamed of that he completely adored! he loved her for who she was, imperfections and all.

and to top this all off daniel closes his laptop! he ends the session! he likely does this out of a mixture of embarrassment that he’s rambled about his ex-wife live on tape but also maybe a sign to louis that he’s taking this seriously. that he’s appreciative of him trying to meet him on his level. that this moment was real. by stripping away the symbol of the supposedly strictly professional nature of this reunion he may be signalling that this conversation is indeed important to him.

and the fact that daniel is able to even have this vulnerable moment with louis at all, reminiscing over his lost love (whilst louis is doing something very similar with lestat) is so intriguing! obviously louis and daniel are most definitely not strangers to one another but they aren’t best friends either. they haven’t seen each other in decades and for daniel especially this has been a very abrupt reunion. whether he likes it not, daniel likely relates on some level to louis’s complex feelings towards lestat, his lover. like louis, daniel may not miss his relationship with alice in relation to the toxic dynamic they shared (slight guess here but the revelation that she initially rejected his proposal suggests to me that their relationship was a bit rocky at least) but he most definitely misses her as a person and the memory of their time together.

finally, what closes off this scene is this… odd expression from louis. not entirely sure if i’m being too optimistic when i say that louis may be sympathising with daniel here but admittedly he does seem a little confused as well. but if this truly is meant to be a look of contempt i feel like it would’ve been more akin to louis’s more obviously disgusted reaction to the coven’s play in 2x02. instead, in this scene, i think louis simply did not expect daniel to so openly accept his offer of connection and is just stunned to hear this bristly old man reflect his own feelings so accurately. he’s finally found someone who understands his situation with lestat. someone who understands this dichotomy of longing and anguish all at the same time. obviously, their situations are not a 1:1 but this scene has always stood out to me as a parallel between daniel and louis’s previous relationships.

a key part about this whole daniel and louis form a “strange alliance” thing is that it seems to stem from the two men realising that they have a lot more in common than they initially believed. that’s why it’s “strange”: because it’s unexpected.

although in recent episodes they’re definitely at odds with each other, this scene combined with other sprinklings of subtle moments of connection suggest to me that daniel might become a genuine friend to louis. it is a strange friendship but they both want to get to the bottom of louis’s memories. no one else in dubai is able to tell louis how it really is and is able to actually push him to question the lies he’s been fed (and that he’s fed himself). intentionally or not, daniel is looking out for louis and is indirectly helping him to accept his past mistakes. maybe he sometimes pushes him too hard or says some stuff he probably shouldn’t but ultimately daniel is the catalyst for louis actually remembering the truth. without him louis would not have come as far as he as over the course of the series

[whencyclopedia]

Zheng Yi

Zheng Yi (also Cheng I, Ching Yih, Cheng Yao-I, Cheng Wen-Hsien, or Cheng Yud) was a Chinese pirate who lived from 1765 to 1807. Operating in the South China Sea, Zheng Yi famously led a 600-ship pirate confederation. This force of more than 40,000 men was divided into six fleets and it terrorized merchant ships of all nationalities travelling between Hong Kong and Malaysia.

Zheng Yi's personal fleet was the Red Flag Fleet, so-called because each ship flew a flag of that colour to distinguish it from other ships in the pirate confederation that flew flags of another colour. Looting cargoes of gold, silver, silk and spices, Zheng Yi's pirates also attacked coastal towns and villages and demanded protection money. Following Zheng Yi's death in 1807, the pirate confederation was successfully taken over by his widow, Zheng Yi Sao (aka Ching Shih).

Early Career

Zheng Yi came from a long line of pirates and so he fully appreciated the risks and opportunities of taking merchant ships on the High Seas from a young age. He seems also to have participated in wars involving rebels in Vietnam. In some European documents, he is described as a hunchback.

Returning to China in 1801, Zheng Yi selected Kwangtung Province as his base. He operated in the South China Sea from Vietnam to Hong Kong, taking advantage of the busy shipping routes from China to Vietnam and back again, as well as ships on the China-to-Malaysia trade routes. By 1802, Zheng Yi had established himself as the pirate chief in this area, a position formerly held by his cousin (or uncle) Cheng Chi (1760-1802). Targets ranged from small local fishing vessels to intercontinental merchant ships. The latter class of ships carried gold and silver as well as valuable cargoes like rolls of silk, spices, Chinese porcelain, cotton, and tea. The pirates made such frequent attacks on ships in the Canton area (modern Guangzhou) and around the small islands that dotted the Canton River Delta that European sailors called the area and the people who haunted it the Ladrones (meaning thieves or brigands). When the pirates could not find sufficient provisions on the ships they captured, they attacked and looted coastal villages.

The captured cargoes were sold on to merchants eager to get their hands on discounted goods while corrupt officials were given bribes to turn a blind eye to the illicit trade. Zheng Yi had no qualms about taking European vessels that were not too heavily armed. Their cargoes were just as valuable, and there was the added bonus of being able to ransom the crews. Although Chinese seamen were frequently tortured when captured to reveal where their valuables were hidden, or simply on a sadistic whim, there are no records of Europeans being treated in this way by Chinese pirates.

One European mariner, John Turner, was captured by Zheng Yi's pirates in 1806. Turner was the chief mate on the Tay, and he was held captive in terrible conditions for five months until a ransom was paid. He describes in one passage how a captured officer of the Chinese imperial navy had his feet nailed to the deck before he was beaten with a rattan cane, taken ashore, and dismembered. Not for nothing did Turner title his memoirs as the Sufferings of John Turner, Chief Mate of the Country Ship Tay Bound for China and Captivity Among the Ladrones, published in 1809. In another passage, Turner describes another brutal killing:

A man was here put to death with circumstances of peculiar horror. Being fixed upright, his bowels were cut open, and his heart was cut out, which they afterwards soaked in spirits and ate. Mr Turner did not witness this bloody execution, but he was shown the mangled body. He also understood that this shocking treatment is frequently experienced by those, who, after offending the Ladrones, should ever be so unfortunate as to be in their power afterwards.

(Turner, 19)

Continue reading...

[tallmadgeandtea]

Getting mad at Benjamin Tallmadge for not writing shit down again. How do you have a whole battle with Bloody Ban and not include it in your memoirs. Insane individual.

[lavenderpanic]

"The summer I turned sixteen was a hazy dream, filled with flavored ice and nights spent stargazing. My Ma had died a few months prior, and the only thing keeping the overwhelming grief at bay was the novelty of sharing an apartment with Bucky. He’s always been neater than me, cleaning up every mess, literal or figurative, I ever made, whether it be bloody noses from back alley fights or graphite stains in my favorite shirts. He’d urge me from bed in the mornings, made sure I ate something other than the loaves of wonder bread that stocked our pantry, and every night after we got home from work, he’d hold me as I sobbed about my mother. He sat with me in my grief, for once he knew that this wasn’t something to be tidied or fixed.

We’d sit alone on the fire escape, knees to our chests, and listen to the secondhand radio he bought me for my fifteenth birthday. He’d make up myths behind constellations until I calmed enough to breathe right again (of course, I had no clue he was just entertaining me with fanciful stories, I took every word Bucky ever said as Gospel) and once he caught me drifting off, he’d carry me back through the window and lay me in bed. Then, I’d listen as he’d wash his face or change into a pair of sleep pants, and he’d flick the light off and climb into bed with me.

I’d pretend to be asleep, almost every night, so that I could listen to him murmur to me as he fell asleep. He’d offer sweet reassurances meant to permeate my dreams and instill in my nights a peace that could no longer be found in my days.

One night, however, he must’ve not shaved in a while and his beard was just long enough to tickle the back of my neck as he cradled me in his arms and whispered whatever gentle words he thought I needed to hear. I giggled, just slightly, and he let out a laugh of his own. He asked me if I was awake, and I answered truthfully. He asked if I always listened to him at night, and again I responded with the truth.

That was the first night we kissed."

I've been thinking a lot about whatever the fuck Steve meant at the beginning of Civil War about feeling like a sixteen-year-old boy when Rumlow said Bucky's name, and I just remembered I wrote this a while ago. It was meant to be like an excerpt of a rough draft of a memoir Steve was writing, I can't remember if it ever made it into a fic.

[sea-salted-wolverine]

The worst part of wild game processing is not the stalk or the kill or the cleaning or the skinning or the gutting. It is not the washing or the washing or the washing or the endless washing or the asking yourself just how much organ meet you're actually going to eat, or even the industrial grade sanitization and the Sharpening Of The Knives.

Its when you finish all that, you've been as meticulous as it is possible to be and you could probably preform successful orthopedic surgery on a hare because you have been that precise in the careful process of butchery. When every surface and object in your kitchen has been bloodied and washed and sanitized and bloodied again. It's when you are packaging your finished product for the freezer, a store for future days, memoirs of successful hunts and days spent in the wild, and you look down at this meat that will feed you and some fucking how there is still a tuft of fur stuck to it.

[94badbye]

Gotham mourns the day of Jason's death, and Tim Drake should too, but he can't.

It's a day of pain and sorrow in many, many ways. Bruce wakes up earlier and leaves earlier, and Alfred speaks softly and quietly, as if there's real grief in the air.

(There is. Tim knows. He remembers finding out about Robin, about Jason Todd, and then realizing the bitter truth behind it all. Robin is dead.)

In the beginning, people used to call Jason a street kid, a rat. Tim's memory has always been fantastic, and he remembers people's harsh words about that young, young boy, and how Bruce Wayne was fraternizing with poverty, while others were kinder, gentle and sweet, because if even a rich man like Bruce can do such a thing, then there's still hope. It was stupid, and Tim still can't understand how people can be so shallow.

Such a young boy, and Mr. Wayne was a hero by adopting him, by taking him under his wing, by treating him like his son.

It's been months, and yesterday Wayne Enterprises made a big donation to some shelters of homeless kids that is definitely going to be in the news, something about Bruce Wayne remembering his dead son's life.

Bruce took the day off.

It's weird. Every year, Bruce will mourn like Jason was just killed again.

Maybe. Maybe the Jason Todd he knows really is dead forever, and this version of him is what was left, something different and twisted.

If Tim tries hard enough, he can feel the scar on his scalp, the ugly pattern on his skin, close to his nape. And he can hear the shouts. And the screams. And the sound of broken glass being stepped on. Everywhere. And blood blood blood, a red mask standing over him, fists clenched and hoarse voice.

He feels like throwing up when he thinks about it. It's kind of hidden in his mind, but not exactly—a blurry memory.

Sometimes, he closes his eyes and has a flashback of a bloody uniform. A memoir. The uniform of a young soldier.

For some reason, the second Robin was known for being ruthless. Sometimes, in the past but not that long ago, Bruce would call Tim by Jason's name, and wouldn't even notice his mistake. Tim wouldn't correct him either.

Today, on day of Jason's death, Red Hood is nowhere to be found.

Big boots, strong arms, a gun. Sticky blood.

Replacement, Replacement, Replacement.

Now, they're in the Batcave, high-tech equipment everywhere around them. Tim is standing but Bruce is sitting down, typing something in one of the computers, because a day off as Gotham's bachelor doesn't mean a day off as Batman.

"B," Tim says. Soft but not too soft, because Tim isn't supposed to talk about today, not like that, not like it's easy.

Robin was created to save and to smile, never to suffer or to die.

"Hm."

"Are you okay with patrolling on your own?"

Say no, so I'll stay. Please. I'll sleep here, in my room, and we'll wake up tomorrow like this day never happened.

Please.

"Of course. You should go, Tim. It's late."

Never too late. He wants to stay. Bruce is big and tall and Tim wants to hug him and tell him about the scar that is never going to fade away and the blood and the glass.

Look what he did to me. I mourned too, but look what he did.

Anger is something no Robin should feel, and yet—

Tim's cheeks are suddenly warm and he looks away from Bruce.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. Alfred can give you some food so you can eat when you get home."

"I'm not hungry. And I can cook, you know?"

Blue eyes, just like Tim's and Jason's, but Jason's are also kind of green. Tim wonders how much of a father figure Bruce used to be—did he buy Jason books and toys and watch movies with him? Did Jason have nightmares just like Bruce still has? If so, did Bruce hold him through it?

Tim's parents are traveling. They're coming back next month.

Bruce isn't there to hold him when he wakes up in the middle of the night, but why would he be anyway?

And Tim knows Bruce asks his next question more because he needs to than because he wants to, "You know you can stay the night whenever you want, right?"

Even tonight?

"Yeah. Yeah, I know, B. But I have school tomorrow, so… I should—I should go. See you tomorrow, kay?"

Tim doesn't even talk to Alfred about the food. He just leaves.