#bottlecap images

[curry-sause]

wow i actually make something??? with a background??? it must be a special occasionOH WAIT IT IS 😈 HELLLOOOOO @autoboros

close ups below cut because i worked WAYY to long on this

[secondhand-lions]

hiiiiiiii here's a wip of Sirenity made in Heroforge

what noooooo there's absolutely no inconsistencies with how my ocs faces look noooooooo that can't be true

[wizard-beast]

i built the dwarf!!! i chose to build her as my final project for this art college sunmer program i went to, and it was so much fun!!

wip pics and image ids under the cut!

[image id: two sets of several images, the first set being photographs of various angles depicting a homemade replica of the spaceship Red Dwarf, from the TV show Red Dwarf. The ship is painted red, and made out of different pieces of scrap material, such as nuts, hinges, metal bottlecaps, and other small pieces of wood, metal, and plastic. The ship also features modelled asteroids fixed to the underside, made of air dry clay and then painted to look like rocks.

The second set of images depicts the making process of the spaceship. The first image being the base ship, made out of cardboard, straws, hot glue, and paper mâche, it sits on a messy worktable. The second image shows the same base spray-painted black, with a few metal parts attached, it sits on the same worktable as the first image. In the Third image, the ship sits in a pale persons lap, in a different room than the first two, the lighting is dimmer and there is more scrap material glued on. The fourth and fifth images show the ship with all of the parts attached, yet unpainted. It sits, propped up on a bottle of Diet Coke, where both sides of the ship are visible, and you can see all of the parts that make up the outer layer of the ship.

end id.]

[chosos-mascara]

all my love, suguru

chapter 2

summary: after an unexpected night spent with your close friend, you find yourself pregnant, and unable to tell him so. will you be able to come to terms with this news, or will it destroy the delicate relationship you'd had left?

chapter warnings: pregnancy, mentions of declining mental health (suguru)

masterlist

⋆₊⋆⋆₊⋆⋆₊⋆⋆₊⋆⋆₊⋆

"Sugu, you look like you've seen a ghost." Satoru jokes, placing his cards face down on the table to lean onto his elbow. He rests his chin on the back of his hand, head tilted to the side as he examines Suguru's expression. 

"Is it really bothering you this much?" Satoru pushes, noting the worn eyes of his friend, an offish demeanour. The game of cards is painfully quiet despite being two drinks deep, a heaviness that Suguru found himself burdened with now leeching into the evening. "Just tired, that's all." He reaches forward to take another sip of his drink, tipping his head back and causing stray hairs to flail with his movement, before realising the bottle is empty. His face flattens, lips curved downward as he peers into the glass. His solemn expression voices the predicament to the others. He slams the bottle down with a little too much force. 

Shoko sighs, her weight resting in her hands, which are planted firmly within the carpet behind her. "I'll get more." She pushes her body upward, taking a second regretful glance at her friend. If she'd have known he would've been this upset over your question, she wouldn't have shared. 

Satrou watches her leave the room, taking a second before leaning a little closer to the other brunette still seated at the coffee table. His hair is messily slung back into the bun he'd tied three or four times this evening, small kinks caused by a frankly absurd amount of fiddling he'd done with the strands. Once he's sure Shoko is out of ear shot, he opens his mouth to prod further. 

"Suguru." The seriousness in Satoru's tone got through to him, brown eyes lifting from the stained table to meet blue. He watches his expression change slightly as Satoru reconsiders his actions, though he decides to push on. "Did you actually sleep with her?" There's a tang in his mouth as he asks, the words wading their way through stale air at an uncomfortably slow pace as Suguru doesn't reply for a short while. Eventually, he inhales sharply, closing his eyes before feigning a face of disgust. 

Suguru could count the amount of times he's lied to Satoru on one hand. Each time he remembers clearly, once when they were newly in Jujutsu High, the second time shortly following their graduation. Both times held a valid excuse, and ultimately served good, with himself eventually spilling the truth.  

"Satoru, she's like a sister to me." Guilt washes over him as he tries to desperately retain his ego, grasping at a flattering image he hoped Satoru held of him, though as he stares into the blue eyes he knows better than his own, his ego begins to crumble. It would only be a matter of time before his friend would find out that he'd shared those moments with you, especially with the divide of the group. For now, he would twist the truth and buy time, keeping that image clean.

Satoru can't deny the relief that coddles him, muscles he hadn't realised to be tensed finally released. 

"Listen, Sugu. I'll just use my six eyes when we meet her on Monday - problem solved." Suguru's brow raises, his chest tightening with the prospect of his plan, but before he can protest the idea Satoru is already raising his bottle to the air to toast his own intelligence. 

"Don't you think that's a little intrusive, Satoru?" Shoko returns, a six pack between two hands. They don't look chilled, probably stored within one of her cupboards, but today, Suguru doesn't care. She sits back at the end of the table cross-legged, tearing the cardboard before handing a beer to the others. 

"What would you do? Ask her directly and make her upset?" He puts a bottlecap on the edge of the table and knocks downward firmly. There's a clatter on the wood as the cap is released. "If you ask me, we're doing her a favour." The bottle is finally at his lips, and he takes a swig of lukewarm beer, trying not to wear his distaste on his face.

"Why don't you just call her if you're so concerned?" It's spoken under her breath, but the pair hear her anyway, and guilt resides in the pit of Suguru's stomach. He hadn't stopped to consider how you must feel regarding this scare, and how isolating it must be to go through alone.

He hasn't spoken with you since that night, having left you in empty sheets the next morning. Suguru admits to himself it was a difficult choice when you laid beside him so peacefully; you'd looked like you'd belonged on that half of the bed, chest rising and falling in syncrony with his own. In your sleep you'd held him, and for those short few hours Suguru felt at ease, your warmth shared with his coldness. However, the decision to distance himself is one he'd had to make for everyone's benefit; it's simply easier to remain friends. Even if it doesn't feel right, or it pains you.

"I'll give her a call." Suguru's voice is low as he adjusts himself to stand. The confidence he felt seems short lived when he leaves the room and pulls your contact up, his mind lagging behind his body. His feet are still moving until he's slipping into Shoko's room, closing the door behind himself to look back down at his contacts screen. Your name is right there, his thumb hovering over it, yet he can't find it within himself to press call. He contemplates for a while, throwing himself to sit on the edge of Shoko's bed and reading over your name again only to lock his phone and toss it beside himself. With his palms to cheeks, he sighs. When did he become so pathetic?

He's felt drained for months now. Life seems to pass by, and while everyone able to progress through the years, bettering themselves and their situations, Suguru feels himself stuck in the same place he was years ago, from the moment he graduated. Sorcery is tiring at best, though depressive at worst - if it's his destiny to help the weak, why does it anger him so?

You're the only person to ask if he's okay. That moment, with your hand over his face and eyes locked into his, he felt so vulnerable. Suguru likes to think he has some semblance of self control, yet for some reason, he'd been unable to help himself. To be cared for so openly by you had been something he couldn't ignore in that moment, and reciprocated it the only way he knew how.

He brings his hands from his face, focusing back on his surroundings before he lost himself to his mind yet again. There's a dresser before him, a scratched up, old wooden set with four drawers on the left and four on the right. Like the rest of her home, it was littered in mess; stray specs of tobacco, almost empty lighters, screwed up recipts, and these were just the things Suguru could make out at first glance. Between all of the rubbish, thoughtless pieces of trash tossed in absentmindedness, sits one item that sticks out to him.

A dulled silver frame, one he recognises to belong somewhere in his own home's storage, surrounding a graduation photo. The four of you, dressed in stupidly formal outfits that hardly matched your personalities, though your grins were wide. He stands to grab the photo between clammy fingers to take a closer look. Satoru stands beside Shoko, his arm draped over her, followed by yourself beside Suguru.

It's funny, he thinks, holding this and being able to reminisce. On that day, he'd felt so nervous. He couldn't sleep properly for nights prior, picturing the ceremony somehow going wrong, it'd all felt to be such a big deal. But now, he stands with just memories to reflect on, and he realises there was nothing to be scared of.

Sitting himself down again, his phone between his fingers and the newfound drive of his younger self's ambitions, he goes through with his plan. It rings once, and twice.

You're laying on the couch, head resting at an awkward angle on the arm and a half eaten bag of chocolate on your stomach, when your phone vibrates. At first glance, the caller's name doesn't stick out, your attention diverted back to the flat screen. There's a few seconds in which you ignore those buzzes, but within that time you mull over the six letters that had accompanied 'accept', and double take.

You sit up, heart pounding with your phone clutched between suddenly weak fingers. No thought goes into answering, though when you do, you realise you're breathless.

"Hey."

Even over the phone his voice is smooth, eliciting a stirring within your stomach with only one commonly spoken word. Ten years of friendship and you still get butterflies at any one on one interaction with him. "What's up?" You don't want to sound too eager, the uncomfortable tension between the pair of you at the forefront of your mind. Yet, you still wish to squeal like a teenager.

"I just wanted to ask..." He trails off and the uncontrollable smile quickly begins to fade, an unsettling twist at your chest replacing those butterflies. He's quiet for a few seconds and you're unsure if the line has cut off, or if he's ruminating on his question.

"Sorry," He pauses, and you hear him breathe out. "I wanted to ask if you're okay?" You crease your brow in doubt. "I'm okay, are you?" You've never felt so distant from him during a conversation, waiting for his uncertain responses feels a bit like pulling teeth. Never has Suguru called just to ask how you are, and this weirdly uncharacteristic gesture is more unsettling than it is comforting. 

"Yeah." He's lying, you think. There's stale air, and you're unsure whether or not to try and fill it. Really, you don't think you have anything you could say to him that would be natural, not when your mind is plaguing you with the weight of your actions. What if you slip up and mention something to do with the baby?

"Shoko has that photo of us framed, from graduation. Remember? We all look so young." Just like that, for the first time during this call, Suguru seems to be speaking genuine words rather than sparse replies or attempt at dry conversation. You relax a little into your couch. "God, life was so easy back then, wasn't it?"

You huff through your nose, a sarcatic chuckle through your frown. "Yeah, it was." Most of your school years were a blur in your mind, your graduation no exception, but one fragment sticks out in your mind from that day, clearly.

"You scared?" Satoru teases, and you shake your head with a glare toward his snide expression. He laughs at your seriousness, grin wide when he sees the pout on your lips. "Oh yeah, why are you shaking then?" 

You immediately look downward, holding your hands at eye level to assess your physical state. You allow a few moments to pass as you stare at them, ultimately concluding in their stillness that Satoru was teasing you. "Leave her be." Suguru wanders out from the en-suite, his hair tied neatly back with black kimono covering the button down he'd worn earlier. He places onelargehand over your shoulder, a tender squeeze over the skin. "If you're nervous, it's not obvious."

His words of reassurance bring you back down from your heightened sense of anxiety, and you're a little less concerned over your appearance. You look to your side, beginning at the hand now slipping from your shoulder, and ending at the pair of brown eyes you hate to admit you love. They're gentle, and you feel warmth prickle at the skin on your arms, a blanket of comfort enveloping you. Suguru was your home, your comfort. 

"Satoru always teased you, though. At least that's lessened with age."  You wonder if Suguru was also thinking back to that moment, and your smile returns, even if it's much smaller that it was before.

"Nah, he hasn't changed at all." You sigh, just as lovesick over him as you were back then. As you adjust yourself on the couch, you realise those little chocolates had spilled from the bag, though you can't find it within yourself to care. Instead, you pass the time by putting them back in, one by one. Suguru laughs down the phone. "You're right, he hasn't, has he?"

For a brief few moments, you're offered reprieve in the presence on the other side of the line, forgetting the complications between you. But of course, the ease is soon offset by the daunting rememberance that this will all come to an end, and that things will never be the same as they once were. 

"How's the night going?" The question isn't really something you'd actually cared to know, you just didn't want him to hang up yet. This may be the last positive interaction the two of you have, and you're not ready to let this turn into another distant memory.

"It's... alright." He doesn't sound like he's smiling much anymore, and you find yourself in mourning for the friendship you had. "Ah, I'm glad it's going well." You know the call is coming to an end, and this is it.

Suguru swallows thickly. The weight that seemed to ease had suddenly dropped back onto his shoulders, and he breathes out slowly, closing his eyes. Was he really going to ask you expilicty? How would he bring it up - by the way, are you carrying our child?

His mouth opens, and closes just as quickly. He can't do it. There it is, that emptiness, the settling heaviness that he can't seem to shake crashing around him once more, unable to feel anything more than a numness encasing his head. He wonders what you're doing, and why he can't just let you in.

"I should probably get back to them." He voices through soured air, ashamed he's unable to build the courage to ask you what he so desperately needed an answer to.

"That's okay, thanks for calling me, Sugu." There's a twinge of guilt that he tries to ignore. You don't know the real, selfish reason he called, lacking genuine care for your wellbeing.

Before returning to the others, he places the photo frame back in it's place among the mess of Shoko's room. In a way, it feels a fitting home. 

tags - @animeisforkings @emikisses @boredwithwrath @karazorel7 @tomiokasecretlover @mrsoharaa @magey0412 @thisbicc @aemiliabruno @zeunys @sukunaspillow @caixgee @ssetsuka @pinkpunkdynamite @harlamarie @chilicopsticks @khoochie @hojoslutoru @karazorel

please let me know if you would like to join the taglist. please note, i will not add blank blogs. please show your support through reblogging.

[pageofpomegranates]

More Art Magic Ideas🎨🕯️

Draw or paint using your non-dominant hand to bring out your inner child

Create a mini oracle set out of bottlecaps or coins

Write odes to the tools, herbs, etc. that you use the most in your craft

Use only natural materials in a work of art- tea, coffee, dirt, plant parts, etc.

Decorate playing cards to act as talismans and keep in your pocket/wallet/bag (i.e. a money drawing card to keep in your wallet)

Bring your inner sacred space to life by drawing/painting/collaging/sculpting it

Use handmade images as offerings to spirits or deities; create personalized images of spirits or deities you're in contact with

Make a poppet of yourself and stuff it with petitions or pictograms of what you wish to embody

Create a powerful protection amulet to hang above the doorway of your home/sacred space. What does protection look like to you? Use materials that reflect the kind of protection that you're looking for.

Crochet or knit a blanket that is enchanted to bring good sleep, good dreams, or for inducing a hypnagogic state

[capcollector]

i feel like deacon would be good at sleight of hand tricks. like making a bottlecap disappear then reappear. card tricks. those types of things. i just have such a clear mental image of him showing a trick to bunny, in a playful teasing sorta way. one of his many early “you can’t trust everyone” moments, this time w visuals.

[bottlecap-press]

From Willow Gatewood's chapbook, Salt, available from Bottlecap Press!

[snootlestheangel]

Some Silly Shadow OC Stuff

Snootles is on something (not drugs just a weird wavelength of brainrot) so ignore her while she rambles aimlessly about her Shadow Company OCs ****Moose is @cod-dump 's OC not mine****

Flash has a beautiful singing voice (i've probably said this before but he's like angelic, okay). A song that screams Cole "Flash" Halley is "Selene by Imagine Dragons". Every time I hear it, I have this little mental image of our beautiful blonde bombshell just dancing around in his bottlecap covered jean jacket. It's funky and fun and just it's my little Flash boy

Flash started having his sexuality crisis after joining Shadow Company. He swears the two aren't related.

Flash unable to decide if he wants to be demolished by a bear or make sweet love with a woman

Ness is ace, Flash is the definition of a bisexual disaster, and Woody definitely experimented with his sexuality when younger

Flash is so lanky I can't- He's got the longest fucking legs and they're so skinny and so of course he rocks a nice pair of skinny jeans. Better yet, cuffed skinny jeans *dies cause he's too cute*

Truck: You fucked around *cocks shotgun* Truck: Now it's time to find out

Flash: Man, women are incredible! I fucking love women! I'm so straight *meets Gaz* Flash, panicking: Oh god, oh fuck-

Ness, to Woody: I fucked up Woody: How?? Ness: I was trying to explain something to the commander but I couldn't get the words out for the life of me and so I just started crying instead. Woody: ... Ness: I don't want a father figure, please help me fix this Woody: *bursts into laughter* Ness: IT'S NOT FUNNY! I DON'T NEED A FATHER FIGURE! Woody: *laughing harder* Ness: PLEASE! I'M TRYING TO IGNORE MY DADDY ISSUES, NOT MAKE THEM WORSE!! Woody: *choking from laughing too hard*

Flash, hanging out in Moose's office just rambling: Ya know, I'm definitely a tits kind of guy. Like, boobs are nice, but men can also have titties, ya know? And man titties are nice too Moose: *turns around slowly to stare at him* Flash, realizing what he said: Wait what-

Flash's mental image during that last conversation:

And yes, Flash would simply cease to exist if he ever met Farah and Alex. They'd be too powerful for his bisexual ass

[minophus]

I drew babypuppy gaby drinking mountain dew from a bottlecap. I gave him a straw too to be whimsical

i think this is one of the greatest images of him of all time. im never drawing him again. He has a straw to blow bubbles with dude

[blimbo-buddy]

hi blimbo....guess who made a bug world no mercy oc

this is dredge (i hope thats an ok name for an earthworm 😭), theyre a bug drug dealer (a bugdealer..?) inspired by that one post and he is also a very silly little lad, xey go by any pronouns. the little bag shi has was woven out of grass and they carry all their little mushrooms and plants in it. they're kind of an outcast in worm society but they honestly don't mind that, since i doubt the bugs have a form of currency she usually trades for little trinkets ae finds interesting...it's very fond of human made items, xey found a bottlecap once out in the wild and were ecstatic!

also i know realistically the poppy flower would probably be way bigger than it is the image but fuck that ok this is a series about talking colonies of bugs. let me live my life. anyways. silly little wormy i love he

Oh holy shit we got a bug drug dealer now lol, love that. Dredge's name is completely valid, since dredge is defined as an action of scooping/digging into something, which is what an Earthworm name can classify as!

I really like xeir eye paint, super cool to see it in colored form because I've only ever portrayed it in black and white so far! The Worm Empire definitely wouldn't see worms who offer up drugs in a good light mainly because it messes with their other senses so much, love a good outcast character who doesn't really care for their social outcast label, moisturized and in their own lane.

Also you'd be right! Bug society doesn't really have a "true" form of currency, they usually trade anything with anybody as a form of currency. The bug world loves trading and loves collecting, some kingdoms may even put heavy emphasis on collecting. And yeah, the size of the flower doesn't really need to matter, although if that's something you worry about then it could be funny if xey were actually wearing a tiny Baby's Breath flower this whole time because another bug tricked them or something. But, once again it doesn't matter, I really like Dredge and their design+their entire character, it's super entertaining to me that xey've stopped giving a shit about the Worm Empire's views about their lifestyle and keep moving forward

[priestessofall]

*Seeing neither Helios nor Hekate show up*

Fine, I'll do it myself... *she goes to her basement and casts a circle, offering the proper chants and invocations to summon the image of Dylan using some of his hair to see him on her scrying mirror*

Oh... there you are! *she sees him, he's at...*

(@gimmie-ur-bottlecaps)

[khizuo]

diy pins! made with bottle caps, mod podge, hot glue, printed pictures, and safety pins

[ID: Five handmade bottlecap pins, lined up on a wooden floor. From left to right the pins show:

The album cover of the Onward EP by Alement. It is a white cover with an image of three silhouetted figures framed by a stone gateway in the middle. On top of this image is the band's name "Alement" and below it is the name of the EP, "Onward".

The album cover of the Saccharine EP by Pinkshift. It is a bright pink cover with a graphic of a blue lollipop being stabbed with a knife and bleeding out.

The album cover of The Loved One by Strange Boutique. It is a picture of the bottom of a pale face in three-quarters view against a black background, with thin green text to the top left reading "Strange Boutique / the loved one".

A photograph of a black and white feather star swimming through a blue ocean.

A photograph of the band Re-TROS. The three band members are standing in profile, facing left. They are all thin light-skinned Chinese people with short black hair, and they are all dressed in black clothes. They are standing against a very light gray background.

/end ID.]

[finishinglinepress]

FLP CHAPBOOK OF THE DAY: Some Wild Woman by Esther Sadoff

On SALE now! Pre-order Price Guarantee: https://www.finishinglinepress.com/product/some-wild-woman-by-esther-sadoff/

Some Wild Woman is a series of portraits that capture the messy and delicious chaos of #family #life. The #poems focus on the poet’s mother who is a veritable force of nature: a source of joy, of mystery, and of nourishment. We meet the mother in a kitchen brimming with fruit, a car fumbling around the roundabout, a piano lesson where she reigns supreme. Wherever this mother goes, she leaves a little bit of herself, transforming her world. Yet running through each poem is the question of the self. How to make it in this rough-and-tumble world? By attempting to make sense of her mother, the author seeks to make sense of herself. The mother of Some Wild Woman will make you want to (in the words of the author), “show up show up show up.”

Esther Sadoff is a teacher and writer from Columbus, Ohio. Her poems have been featured or are forthcoming in Up the Staircase Quarterly, Hole in the Head Review, Little Patuxent Review, Jet Fuel Review, Cathexis Poetry Northwest, Pidgeonholes, Red Ogre Review, South Florida Poetry Journal, among others. She is the author of several forthcoming chapbooks: Serendipity in France, Finishing Line Press; Dear Silence, Kelsay Books, and If I Hold My Breath, Bottlecap Press. She was nominated for a Pushcart in 2023 by Hole in the Head Review.

PRAISE FOR Some Wild Woman by Esther Sadoff

In Some Wild Woman, Esther Sadoff invites us to enter the mysteries of the everyday life of a parent, a family. In this brilliant collection Sadoff gives us a microscopic glimpse of the quotidian, as when her grandparents go to a McDonalds “where they unwrapped/the yellow-gold paper around their sandwiches” as if unwrapping a precious jewel. Sadoff’s poems, consistently ordinary and extraordinary from beginning to end, may help us to consider the complexities of our own mother, our own family, and our own self.

–Bill Shulz, Founder and editor of Hole in the Head review and author of Dog or Wolf

The poems in Some Wild Woman teem with images of fruits and meat, of rigorous piano chords and varying forms of water. All the while, a portrait of an enigmatic mother develops within the core of the family surrounding her. The mother from “My mother cracks watermelon into halves” is generous: “She cracks open a watermelon for me/as if I only came for its sweetness, the gem of its red heart.” The mother from “My mother wakes up fuming” is tough: “My father says she has the bite of a junkyard dog./Once she holds on, she never lets go.” The mother from “On my father’s birthday my mother cuts meat from the bone” savors life with a menacing intensity: “my mother suddenly/lifts the entire bone to her plate. I don’t know/if or how long she held the bone to her lips/to eat the remaining slivers because I’ve seen my mother/pick at so many bones.” In this sumptuous collection of poems, Sadoff lays bare an intimate collage of family moments in all their mess FLP CHAPBOOK OF THE DAY: Some Wild Woman by Esther Sadoff

On SALE now! Pre-order Price Guarantee: https://www.finishinglinepress.com/product/some-wild-woman-by-esther-sadoff/

Some Wild Woman is a series of portraits that capture the messy and delicious chaos of #family #life. The #poems focus on the poet’s mother who is a veritable force of nature: a source of joy, of mystery, and of nourishment. We meet the mother in a kitchen brimming with fruit, a car fumbling around the roundabout, a piano lesson where she reigns supreme. Wherever this mother goes, she leaves a little bit of herself, transforming her world. Yet running through each poem is the question of the self. How to make it in this rough-and-tumble world? By attempting to make sense of her mother, the author seeks to make sense of herself. The mother of Some Wild Woman will make you want to (in the words of the author), “show up show up show up.”

Esther Sadoff is a teacher and writer from Columbus, Ohio. Her poems have been featured or are forthcoming in Up the Staircase Quarterly, Hole in the Head Review, Little Patuxent Review, Jet Fuel Review, Cathexis Poetry Northwest, Pidgeonholes, Red Ogre Review, South Florida Poetry Journal, among others. She is the author of several forthcoming chapbooks: Serendipity in France, Finishing Line Press; Dear Silence, Kelsay Books, and If I Hold My Breath, Bottlecap Press. She was nominated for a Pushcart in 2023 by Hole in the Head Review.

PRAISE FOR Some Wild Woman by Esther Sadoff

In Some Wild Woman, Esther Sadoff invites us to enter the mysteries of the everyday life of a parent, a family. In this brilliant collection Sadoff gives us a microscopic glimpse of the quotidian, as when her grandparents go to a McDonalds “where they unwrapped/the yellow-gold paper around their sandwiches” as if unwrapping a precious jewel. Sadoff’s poems, consistently ordinary and extraordinary from beginning to end, may help us to consider the complexities of our own mother, our own family, and our own self.

–Bill Shulz, Founder and editor of Hole in the Head review and author of Dog or Wolf

The poems in Some Wild Woman teem with images of fruits and meat, of rigorous piano chords and varying forms of water. All the while, a portrait of an enigmatic mother develops within the core of the family surrounding her. The mother from “My mother cracks watermelon into halves” is generous: “She cracks open a watermelon for me/as if I only came for its sweetness, the gem of its red heart.” The mother from “My mother wakes up fuming” is tough: “My father says she has the bite of a junkyard dog./Once she holds on, she never lets go.” The mother from “On my father’s birthday my mother cuts meat from the bone” savors life with a menacing intensity: “my mother suddenly/lifts the entire bone to her plate. I don’t know/if or how long she held the bone to her lips/to eat the remaining slivers because I’ve seen my mother/pick at so many bones.” In this sumptuous collection of poems, Sadoff lays bare an intimate collage of family moments in all their messy tension.

–Kerry Trautman, Author of To Have Hoped, Unknowable Things, and Irregulars.

Please share/please repost

#flpauthor #preorder #AwesomeCoverArt #poetry #chapbook #read #poems

FLP CHAPBOOK OF THE DAY: Some Wild Woman by Esther Sadoff

On SALE now! Pre-order Price Guarantee: https://www.finishinglinepress.com/product/some-wild-woman-by-esther-sadoff/

Some Wild Woman is a series of portraits that capture the messy and delicious chaos of #family #life. The #poems focus on the poet’s mother who is a veritable force of nature: a source of joy, of mystery, and of nourishment. We meet the mother in a kitchen brimming with fruit, a car fumbling around the roundabout, a piano lesson where she reigns supreme. Wherever this mother goes, she leaves a little bit of herself, transforming her world. Yet running through each poem is the question of the self. How to make it in this rough-and-tumble world? By attempting to make sense of her mother, the author seeks to make sense of herself. The mother of Some Wild Woman will make you want to (in the words of the author), “show up show up show up.”

Esther Sadoff is a teacher and writer from Columbus, Ohio. Her poems have been featured or are forthcoming in Up the Staircase Quarterly, Hole in the Head Review, Little Patuxent Review, Jet Fuel Review, Cathexis Poetry Northwest, Pidgeonholes, Red Ogre Review, South Florida Poetry Journal, among others. She is the author of several forthcoming chapbooks: Serendipity in France, Finishing Line Press; Dear Silence, Kelsay Books, and If I Hold My Breath, Bottlecap Press. She was nominated for a Pushcart in 2023 by Hole in the Head Review.

PRAISE FOR Some Wild Woman by Esther Sadoff

In Some Wild Woman, Esther Sadoff invites us to enter the mysteries of the everyday life of a parent, a family. In this brilliant collection Sadoff gives us a microscopic glimpse of the quotidian, as when her grandparents go to a McDonalds “where they unwrapped/the yellow-gold paper around their sandwiches” as if unwrapping a precious jewel. Sadoff’s poems, consistently ordinary and extraordinary from beginning to end, may help us to consider the complexities of our own mother, our own family, and our own self.

–Bill Shulz, Founder and editor of Hole in the Head review and author of Dog or Wolf

The poems in Some Wild Woman teem with images of fruits and meat, of rigorous piano chords and varying forms of water. All the while, a portrait of an enigmatic mother develops within the core of the family surrounding her. The mother from “My mother cracks watermelon into halves” is generous: “She cracks open a watermelon for me/as if I only came for its sweetness, the gem of its red heart.” The mother from “My mother wakes up fuming” is tough: “My father says she has the bite of a junkyard dog./Once she holds on, she never lets go.” The mother from “On my father’s birthday my mother cuts meat from the bone” savors life with a menacing intensity: “my mother suddenly/lifts the entire bone to her plate. I don’t know/if or how long she held the bone to her lips/to eat the remaining slivers because I’ve seen my mother/pick at so many bones.” In this sumptuous collection of poems, Sadoff lays bare an intimate collage of family moments in all their messy tension.

–Kerry Trautman, Author of To Have Hoped, Unknowable Things, and Irregulars.

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y tension.

–Kerry Trautman, Author of To Have Hoped, Unknowable Things, and Irregulars.

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[lesbianwhispers]

ANNOUNCING NEW QUEER POETRY

babes… i wrote a chapbook! 📖 i woke up one day and scrambled to meet a deadline i literally found at random on the internet. i sent my favorite works to a press in LA and… here we are!! if you need a stocking stuffer for that new lady friend of yours 👀 look no further! deadagain will capture the lesbian chaos and queer existential dread we all feel during holidays ❄️❄️❄️

deadagain is the first published work by Annie Conolly. It is a collection of poems, 35mm photos, and procreate drawings unintended to claim artistic identity. These poems fell out of moments lost in travel, sickness, or love. Written over a span of 10 years, these poems showcase the development of adaptability and emotional reckoning through the lens of queerness and gender exploration. Each image was curated in this collection by underlying threads of chaos, isolation, and caution. The title was inspired by a feeling of apophenia felt during the metamorphosis between careers.

As an experiment, deadagain aims to find the distinctions between artist and art. This art seems innately connected to its creator. However, this art does not evolve while its creator does. What is left between the stasis of publication and the life beyond its release? Pieced together slowly over 2023, this chapbook invites readers to seek out their hobbies and witness their unification into chaos.

Copies can be purchased through:

A Bottlecap Feature, Printed by Bottlecap Press in the United

States of America.

Copyright © 2023 Annie Conolly

[bottlebubbies]

hello everyone this is the mandatory ooc intro because uh trust its needed

this is orca !! (or bottlecap—orca’s the coroika name, also easier to type out)

i only have these images because. the others ones i hate and are keeping up for archive purposes

theyre around nineteen years old and worked in the deepsea metro as a kid, escaped that situation and fled to splatsville, joined a team (weather report) and IMMEDIATELY got put into another undesirable situation

oh yeah they also like using the reeflux and still trislosh. and uuhhh they do NOT take battles seriously i swear if you’re paired up with them prepare to LOSE

feel free to send em asks, be it for more of their lore, or if you just wanna mess around and be a little silly !!

[williamdavidebriophotocracy]

"Two randomly selected people", performing Giuseppe, Baronissi (SA) 2019.

"Arkadian, Arkadian," the Englishman mutters.

"Why, upon my soul, I believe I do! Small chap, very energetic, raised merry hell with the factory over a shipment of defective bottlecaps"

"No kidding!" Jones exclaims in amazement.

"Good lord, it's a small world, isn't it?"

Stanley Milgram (1967)

"SMALL WORLD EXPERIMENT" Portfolio 2020 ©All rights reserved. Using these images without permission is in violation of international copyright laws