#but there is specificity in physical and cultural descriptions in the books)

[najia-cooks]

[ID: A wide cylindrical pile of rice, eggplants, and 'lamb' on a serving platter, garnished with parsley. End ID]

مقلوبة / Maqluba

مَقْلُوبَة⁩ ("maqlūba," "upside down" or "turned over") is a Levantine casserole in which spiced meat, fried vegetables, and rice are arranged in a pot and simmered; the entire pot is then inverted onto a serving tray to reveal the layered ingredients. Maqluba historically uses lamb and eggplant, but modern recipes more often call for chicken; tomato, cauliflower, potato, bell pepper, and peas are other relatively recent additions to the repertoire.

A well-made maqluba should be aromatic and highly spiced; the meat and vegetables should be very tender; and the rice should be cohesive without being mushy. A side of yoghurt gives a tangy, creamy lift that cuts through and complements the spice and fat in the dish.

Maqluba emphasizes communal eating and presentation. It is usually eaten during gatherings and special occasions, especially during Ramadan—a month of sunrise-to-sunset fasting which celebrates the revelation of the Qu'ran to the prophet Mohammad. The pot is sometimes flipped over at the table for a dramatic reveal.

History

Many sources cite Muhammad bin Hasan al-Baghdadi's 1226 Kitāb al-ṭabīkh (كتاب الطبيخ لمحمد بن حسن البغدادي) as containing the first known reference to maqluba. However, the recipes for "maqluba" in this book are actually for small, pan-fried patties of spiced ground meat. [1] The dish is presumably titled "maqluba" because, once one side is fried, the cook is instructed to turn the patties over ("أقلب الوجه الآخر") to brown the other; the identical name to the modern dish is thus coincidental.

References to dishes more like modern maqluba occur elsewhere. A type of مغمومة ("maghmūma," "covered" dish), consisting of layers of meat, eggplant, and rice, covered with flatbread, cooked and then inverted onto a serving plate, is described in a 9th-century poem by إبراهيم بن المهدي (Ibrāhīm ibn al-Mahdī):

A layer of meat underneath of which lies a layer of its own fat, and another of sweet onion, another of rice, Another of peeled eggplant slices, each looking like a good dirham honestly earned. [...] Thus layered the pot is brought to a boil first then enclosed with a disc of oven bread. On the glowing fire it is then put, thus giving it what it needs of heat and fat. When fully cooked and its fat is well up, turn it over onto a platter, big and wide. (trans. Nawal Nasrallah) [2]

These sources are both Iraqi, but one story holds that maqluba originated in Jerusalem. صلاح الدين الأيوبي (Ṣalāḥ ad-Dīn al-Ayyūbi; "Saladin"), after capturing the city from the Crusaders and reinstating Muslim rule in 1187, was served the dish, and was the first to describe it with its current name. Before this point, the Jerusalem specialty had supposedly been known as "باذنجانية" ("bāḏinjānīyya"), from "باذنجان" "bāḏinjān" "eggplant" + ية- "-iyya," a noun-forming suffix.

[ID: The same dish shown from directly above. End ID]

In Palestine

Maqluba is often invoked in the context of Palestinian strength and resistance, in defiance of its occasional description as an "Israeli" dish. Palestinian magazine writer Aleeya Rizvi reflects:

In the wake of the recent [2023] war in Gaza, our culinary endeavors, particularly in crafting and sharing traditional Palestinian dishes like Maqluba, represent a conscious effort to contribute to the preservation and resilience of Palestinian culture. In a time when cultural heritage is under threat, preparing and enjoying these time-honored recipes becomes more than a mere culinary activity; it transforms into a deliberate act of cultural continuity and solidarity.

Maqluba also has a more specific association with physical resistance against the backdrop of increased settler and police violence against Palestinians, including regular Israeli raids and attacks on the جامع الأقصى ("Jāmi' al-Aqṣā"; al-Aqsa mosque), during Ramadan.

The holiest month in the Islamic calendar, Ramadan is given over to fasting, prayer, and reflection; people gather together in homes and mosques to break their fast after sunset, and spend entire nights in mosques in worship. Khadija Khwais and Hanady Al-Halawani used to serve maqluba for افطار ("ifṭār," fast-breaking meal) in the Al-Aqsa mosque, until Israeli occupation authorities banned them from the mosque for "incitement."

In response, starting in 2015, Al-Halawani and other volunteer مرابطين ("murābiṭīn," lit. "holy people," guardians of the mosque) stationed themselves on the ground outside the mosque's gate (باب السلسلة; Bāb as-Silsila, "chain gate") to prepare and serve maqluba. Those who were banned from entering the mosque broke their fast and prayed at the mosque's gates, and in the nearby alleys of the Old City. The same year saw Israeli security personnel and settlers attack Palestinian protestors and guardians outside and inside the mosque with tear gas and stun grenades.

For Al-Halawani, the serving of maqluba at the al-Aqsa gates symbolizes "defiance, steadfastness, and insistence on continuing the fast [...] in spite of the occupation’s practices." The "Maqluba at al-Aqsa" ritual "has become one of the most disturbing Palestinian scenes for the occupation forces," who associate it with the defense of "Palestinian heritage" and the intent to "motivate worshipers and murabitin to repel incursions into the mosque." (Al-Halawani has been arrested, threatened, beaten, and detained by Israeli police multiple times for her role as a defender of Al-Aqsa. She was among the prisoners freed in trades between Israel and Hamas in December 2023.)

In 2017, occupation forces installed metal detectors, electronic gates, metal barriers, and police cameras to surveil worshipers following a shoot-out at one of al Aqsa's gates. Hundreds of protesters refused to enter the mosque until the repressive measures were removed, instead gathering and praying in its courtyard; surrounding families bolstered the sit-ins by serving food and drink. When the gates were dismantled, over 50,000 people gathered to eat maqluba in celebration, picking up on the earlier association of the dish with Saladin's victory (and its resultant alternate name, "أكلة النصر," "ʔakla an-naṣr," "victory meal").

The name "maqluba," meaning "upside-down" or "inverted," may be associated with victory and resistance as well. Fatema Khader noted in 2023 that the method of serving maqluba was a "symbolic representation of how Israeli policies and decisions against Palestinians will be flipped on their heads and become rendered meaningless." It is also relevant that maqluba is meant to be served to large groups of people, and can thus be linked, symbolically and literally, to solidarity and communal resistance.

This year in Gaza, Palestinians show steadfast optimism as they paint murals, hang lanterns, buy sweets, hold parties, and pray in groups amongst the rubble where mosques once stood. But despite these efforts at creating joy, the dire circumstances take heavy tolls, and the holiday cannot be celebrated as usual: Israel's campaign of slow starvation led Ghazzawi Diab al-Zaza to comment, "We have been fasting almost against our will for three months".

Donate to provide hot meals in Gaza for Ramadan

[1] Also reprinted in Mosul: Umm Al-Rubi'in Press (مطبعة ام الربيعين) (1934), p. 57. For an English translation see Charles Perry, A Baghdad Cookery Book (2005), pp. 77-8.

[2] This poem, as well as one of Ibn al-Mahdi's maghmuma dishes, were compiled in Ibn Sayyar al-Warraq's 10th-century Book of Dishes (كتاب الطبيخ وإصلاح الأغذية المأكولات وطيّبات الأطعمة المصنو; "Kitāb al-ṭabīkh waʔiṣlāḥ al-ʔaghdiyat al-maʔkūlāt waṭayyibāt ʔaṭ'ima al-maṣno," "Book of cookery, food reform, delicacies, and prepared foods"), p. 99 recto. For Nasrallah's English translation see Annals of the Caliph's Kitchens, pp. 313-4.

In the 14th-century Andalusian Cookbook (كتاب الطبيخ في المغرب والأندلس في عصر الموحدين، للمكلف المجهول; "Kitāb al-ṭabīkh fī al-Maghrib wa al-Andalus fī ʻaṣr al-Mawahḥidīn," "Book of cookery from the Maghreb and Andalusia in the era of Almohads"), a maghmuma recipe appears as "لون مغموم لابن المهدى", "maghmum by Ibn al-Mahdi". For an English translation see An Anonymous Andalusian Cookbook, trans. Perry et al.

Ingredients:

For a 6-qt stockpot. Serves 12.

For the meat:

1 recipe seitan lamb

or

2 cups (330g) ground beef substitute

1 cinnamon stick

1 bay laurel leaf

Pinch ground cardamom

Several cracks black pepper

For the dish:

3 cups (600g) Egyptian rice

2 medium-sized globe eggplants

2 large Yukon gold potatoes (optional)

Vegetarian 'chicken' or 'beef' bouillon cube (optional)

2 1/2 tsp table salt (1 1/2 tsp, if using bouillon)

Vegetable oil, to deep-fry

Fried pine nuts or sliced blanched almonds, to top

Egyptian rice is the traditional choice in this dish, but many modern recipes use basmati.

I kept my ingredients list fairly simple, but you can also consider adding cauliflower, carrots, peas, chickpeas, zucchini, bell pepper, and/or tomato to preference (especially if omitting meat substitutes).

For the spices:

1 1/2 Tbsp maqluba spices

or

1 4" piece (3g) cinnamon bark, toasted and ground (1 1/2 tsp ground cinnamon)

3/4 tsp (2.2g) ground turmeric

3/4 tsp (1.5g) cloves, toasted and ground

3/4 tsp (2.2g) black peppercorns, toasted and ground

15 green cardamom pods (4.5g), toasted, seeds removed, and ground (or 3/4 tsp ground cardamom)

Instructions:

For the meat:

1. Prepare the seitan lamb, if using: it will need to be started several hours early, or the night before.

2. If using ground meat: heat 2 tsp oil in a skillet on medium. Add cinnamon stick and bay leaf and fry for 30 seconds until fragrant.

3. Add meat and ground spices and fry, agitating occasionally, until browned. Set aside.

For the dish:

2. Rinse rice 2 to 3 times, until water runs almost clear. Soak in cold water for 30 minutes, while you prepare the vegetables.

3. Optional: to achieve a presentation with eggplant on the sides of the maqluba, remove the skin from either side of one eggplant (so that all slices have flesh exposed on both sides) and then cut lengthwise into 1/2" (1cm)-thick slices.

Cut the other eggplant (or both eggplants) widthwise into coins and half-coins.

4. Sprinkle eggplant slices with salt on both sides and leave for 10-15 minutes to release water.

5. Peel potatoes and cut in 1/4" (1/2 cm) slices.

6. Heat about an inch of oil in a deep skillet or wok on medium (a potato slice dropped in should immediately form bubbles). Fry the potato slices until golden brown, then remove onto a paper-towel-lined plate or wire cooling rack.

7. Press eggplant slices on both sides with a towel to remove moisture. Fry in the same oil until translucent and golden brown, then remove as before.

Fry other vegetables (except for tomato, chickpeas, and peas) the same way, if using.

8. Drain rice. Whisk bouillon, salt, and ground spices into several cups of hot water.

9. Prepare a large, thick-bottomed pot with a circle of oiled parchment paper (or with a layer of sliced tomatoes). Add ground meat, if using. Layer widthwise-sliced eggplants into the pot, followed by potatoes. Place longitudinally sliced eggplants around the sides of the pot, large side up.

10. Add rice and pack in. Fold eggplant slices down over the rice, if they protrude.

11. Pour broth into the pot, being careful not to upset the rice. Add more water if necessary, so that the rice is covered by about an inch.

12. Heat on medium to bring to a boil. Reduce heat to low, cover with a closely fitting lid, and cook 30 minutes.

13. If rice is not fully cooked after 30 minutes, lightly stir and add another cup of water. Re-cover and cook another 15 minutes. Check again and repeat as necessary.

14. Allow maqluba to rest for half an hour before flipping for best results. Place a large platter upside-down over the mouth of the pot, then flip both over in one smooth motion. Tap the bottom of the pot to release, and leave for a few minutes to allow the maqluba to drop.

15. Slowly lift the pot straight up, rotating slightly if the sides seem stuck.

16. Top with fried seitan lamb, chopped parsley, and fried pine nuts or almonds, as desired.

[taurusvenusian]

✶ how do you approach travel, philosophy, and your belief systems? ✶

PLANETS IN THE NINTH HOUSE

the house of belief systems, higher education, travel, philosophy

if you have planets in the ninth house, your life is noticeably influenced by the pursuit of knowledge, wisdom, and exploration.

Sun in the 9th House

You feel a sense of purpose when exploring or expanding your horizons. You love diving into philosophy, traveling, or pursuing higher education, and may view life as a journey of discovery, focusing on personal growth.

Moon in the 9th House

Exploring ideas, places, and cultures makes you feel emotionally fulfilled. You feel a sense of comfort when traveling and learning the unknown, which causes your restless spirit to seek meaning through adventure.

Mercury in the 9th House

You are mentally adaptable and quick to establish connections with other people. You enjoy learning, sharing ideas, and teaching, and are curious about philosophy and culture. You may have traveled a lot for health or work reasons.

Venus in the 9th House

You find beauty in new experiences, intellectual pursuits, and diversity. You find joy and fulfillment in travel, art, or learning. You fall in love with people or places from different cultures and are particularly drawn to relationships that involve growth and adventure.

Mars in the 9th House

You feel driven to pursue your beliefs and advocate for them passionately. You seek challenges through travel or study as you thrive on adventure, whether physical or intellectual. You may come off as forceful in promoting your opinions but stay open to change.

Jupiter in the 9th House

You are an optimistic and principled person who naturally inspires others through your wisdom. You are gifted with opportunities in education, travel, and personal growth. You express yourself well and may be skilled in speaking multiple languages.

Saturn in the 9th House

You may find yourself often thinking and contemplating about the unknown. You learn to be disciplined and patient in learning and developing your belief systems. Later in life, you can build a solid and practical philosophy that makes you a respected authority.

Uranus in the 9th House

You are rebellious and independent in terms of your beliefs which may cause you to rebel against traditional views. Unconventional ideas, philosophies, and forms of education appeal to you; you may have always felt the desire to pursue different or unusual branches of study.

Neptune in the 9th House

You seek a deeper connection to the universe and are drawn to spiritual, philosophical, or mystical pursuits. You have great imagination and insight which can make you a good teacher or counselor. You may have unrealistic expectations in terms of travel, belief systems, or cultures.

Pluto in the 9th House

You have a powerful desire to change the world with your ideas or teachings. You have philosophical views that may affect you or others intensely, and you seek deep and hidden truths in life. Traveling and people you meet in foreign countries may affect you deeply.

Reminder: these are just GENERAL descriptions. Your birth chart holds the key to understanding yourself better. For a more accurate and specific reading tailored for you, book a reading with me here!

[lurveinn]

I’m so curious about Wizarding fashion. JKR isn’t very physically descriptive- we just know that wizards wear robes, which are outlandish to muggles, and pointy hats, but what does that really mean? What kind of robe? Magical fashion clearly isn’t very gendered, since Harry remarks on a man at the Quidditch World Cup wearing a dress and insisting that it’s unisex (certainly not the case in Britain at the time), but we don’t have any other parameters. Keeping in mind the uniform from the movies, and the fact that in SWM, Snape isn’t wearing any trousers, here’s what I think wizards wear:

1. Flowing silhouettes and cloaks; clearly, wizards love a good statement cloak. Think tassels and frills (not like Ron’s Yule Ball fit!), massive extended sleeves and lots of draping.

2. Skirts: let’s be honest, just one singular robe, without any layering, doesn’t give us much to work with. Skirts go with the general silhouette, explain why the World Cup wizard thought muggle men wore dresses, and keep with the no-trousers thing from SWM. I’m South Asian, so I like to have a little fun with it and think of wizards in ghararas (my favourite item of clothing); the Wizarding World is quite insular, travel is relatively unrestricted (hello, they have magic!), everyone has a common enemy in muggles (and other species- goblins, house-elves) etcetera, so race probably doesn’t function the same way and I headcanon a lot of cross-cultural exchange. Plus, wizarding fashion isn’t restricted by weather- they have warming charms- so wearing clothes made for hot climates in England, for example, wouldn’t be a problem.

Plus, I actually think saris are a natural fancy dress option- flowy, drapey, colourful. Speaking of which-

3. If there’s one fanon idea that I hate (aside from fanon!Sirius, of course), it’s this image of wizards (specifically high society wizards) as reserved. Sorry, did we read the same books? Wizards, even posh, rich wizards, like the Malfoys and Blacks, are camp and very outlandish. They do house-elf taxidermy, they keep their wands in canes. Just because Hogwarts uniforms are black doesn’t mean that people dress like they’re in mourning all the time. People can be total snobs and obsessed with their image and still wear bright pink, insane robes, because guess what? They have different social conventions than we do. Men and women dress basically the same, so there is no reason to believe that a man wearing a flowing robe would be against the norm. I say this as someone who believes misogyny and homophobia are well and truly alive in Wizarding society, especially in pureblooded families where the emphasis is on continuing the line; they definitely exist, but they probably look different.

4. My personal obsession and headcanon: rich wizards wearing bones. Look, I might not think of them as racist in the traditional sense, but they are undeniably speciesist, if that’s a word? They think of themselves as superior, and other sentient magical species either work under (goblins) or are enslaved (house-elves) by wizards. We only see Veelas very briefly, but despite them being admired for their beauty, I doubt wizards treat them very well. So- show me blood-purists wearing corsets made of goblin bones and teeth. Show me Veelas being hunted for their blood to stain and dye clothes with. Show me exotic “magical creatures” that are humanoid and capable of reasoning and should have rights, like mermaids and werewolves, being hunted for their scales and pelts while also being ostracised for being ‘non-human’. It’s terrible, but that’s the kind of archaic jewellery and fashion the old families that the fandom likes to fetishise would like to wear.

[saltyspacecat]

Some thoughts about contrasting characteristics and diversion tactics in A Deadly Education (I have not yet read the other two books in the series)

Regarding El, she is described as feeling like its going to rain, and its understandable why people would see that and immediately think "bad", but rain isnt necessarily a bad thing. I think Novik chose that specifically because of the symbolism a coming storm can bring. Its destructive and scary, yeah maybe, but rain is cleansing, it brings new life/growth.

I have a hunch that is going to tie in quite beautifully with her character arc/what ever role she will grow into in the next two books.

And I feel like Novik does a lot of subtle misdirection like this, giving El a description we're meant to immediately interpret as bad, but that can actually be interpreted much differently if you stop to think about it (maybe the only reason people fear her is because they fear the unknown. she's not bringing destruction as death, she's bringing it as change. and people hate change, change is scary in and of itself). I notice this misdirection a lot with how Orion and her are being constantly contrasted. They are very much opposites in a lot of ways--physically: Orion is pale and silver haired and kinda more small of stature for a guy, El has darker skin, dark hair, on her way to being above average in height; socially: orion is well loved and well recieved, kinda socially oblivious tho (very autistic imo) doesnt realize all the structures benefiting him, whereas El is an outcast people take an automatic disliking to, is very socially speculative,extremely good at reading people, and very aware of how everything functions, the structure of the hierarchies, the systems in place and necessary procedures to make it through life at the school, etc. -- but if you stop reading into all the opposites that are being deliberately thrown at you and analyze their relationship and their characters, you see they have a lot of core things in common. like that they both have similar feelings of social isolation (even if it is in opposite directions), theyre both brave and self sacrificing. It almost feels like im not meant to realize that yet, because then i will realize how everything is going to end. (I have a fear that the self-sacrificing bit is reaaalllly going to hurt later on.)

There is also a prevalent theme of ballance in this book, and that ties into the comparing and contrasting of Orion vs El. They are extremely yin yang coded.

I feel like this isnt the kind of thing I'd usually be thinking so deep about in an average book, but this author has already proven that shes is very smart. The ways she writes about the different politics, the realistic characters (looking at you, trauma responses so realistic they triggered my own XD), the rich culture of the school and of the magic itself, etc., it makes it feel completely possible that she'd be doing all of these subtle things very on purpose. Immediately I think of the scene in the library, where the school is using distraction and misdirection to try to keep El from noticing the maw-mouth. And the thought of Novik using this kind of misdirection/distraction literally in the story (like the library scene) but also as writing device (where its not directed at the main character, but at us, the audience/4th wall) is soooooo cool to me wow.

Naomi Novik is a genius.

[remus-poopin]

What are your top HP fics based on writing? Like things that are just beautiful to read

Wow I think I’m answering this 3 months late sorry aghh. Again, I don’t read as many fics as I would like to, but I’ve been changing that recently and these are 4 that have really stood out to me in terms of writing!

Savour the Moment by - @evesaintyves

This fic made me both sad and hungry

This is a truly beautiful portrait of Molly and her relationship with Ginny. I really love how effortlessly this weaves in the food and cooking imagery with the emotions of the characters. The descriptions are so detailed and vivid that you can practically taste the cakes and pies off of the words alone.

Grief is hanging over this fic heavy, grief from Molly with her brothers and grief yet to come from Ginny. These two very different women, who also feel things very differently, have an extremely engaging back and forth of attempted connections. Both of them want it but aren’t able to easily get there with each other, and that struggle was very compelling to me.

Really such a great fic, I always find myself coming back to it

Favorite quotes:

“Molly has always tasted her memories. Perhaps that's why she's always been a bit thick round the middle: food relishes the good times, is the physical stuff of love. Ever since she was a little girl: plum pudding was Christmas and summers were cherry ice cream and chocolate flake. The time she broke her ankle jumping down from a tree, to this day, is the chalk flavor of Skele-Gro and a limp cucumber sandwich from the St Mungo's cafeteria. Her mother is sweet milky tea and her father is cottage pie with mushrooms, his favourite, flavoured with the smoke of his pipe in the air.”

“She learned to cook at her own mother's elbow and she is full of warm, creamy, ginger-flavoured memories of it. But Ginny's never liked being in the kitchen with her mum. She wants to be out with the boys, flying on broomsticks, getting jostled and scraped and braying coarse laughter through a mouthful of blood. That's why, when she thinks about Ginny, it's not the cream tea and swiss roll flavours she expected when she learned she was finally having a girl. It's rain-drenched popcorn at the Quidditch match and the salt of a kiss on Ginny's sweaty, gritty forehead.”

Sparkling Cyanide - @saintsenara

The house elf plot-line in the hp books leaves MUCH to be desired when it comes to fully and unequivocally condemning slavery. Due to this, you might find that me and my black ass are, shockingly, not its biggest fans.

However this fic is a brilliant look into elves’ oppression and enslavement AND their culture and agency.

This fic focuses on the death of Hepzibah Smith and the conditions surrounding and leading up to it. Specifically the subjugation of Elves and how that system encourages the idea of them as docile, unintelligent, and submissive (And how this perception can be wielded against the wizards that enslave them).

What I find so striking about this fic is how language is centered as a tool to illustrate the functions of colonial mindsets. I think this does a fantastic job at subverting the trope of “improper English = stupidity” that HP uses so frequently.

This was an extremely satisfying and moving read!

Favorite quotes:

“Come quickly and stop faffing,’ Mes Ebhsebbá says to Eokhí. She is clicking her fingers at Eokhí, like there is magic in her fingers. There is magic in Eokhí’s fingers. She is able to make the whole house fall to the ground if she is wanting to.”

“They is not knowing that we is knowing how to take the lives we is wanting from them. And that is why they is not thinking about how many weapons they is putting in kitchens.”

The Seven names of Mrs Zabini - @artemisia-black

And if I said that she did nothing wrong then what?

I’ve mentioned this fic several times before but I don’t think I’ll ever be over it. The way this is written is actually masterful; the attention to details, the poetic language, the characterization. I’m going to scream.

There is just something about this fic that entrances me. This is actually my favorite genre of story, the “good for her!” category, and whenever I read/watch these I go temporarily insane.

Because this is in first person we’re really getting into Mrs. Zabini’s mindset and the traumas that inform it, and this is extremely effective/convincing in making you stay on her side even while she is committing cold blooded murder.

Another thing I love about this is how the actual murders are so casually placed in the story, in comparison with how rich the rest of the imagery that Mrs. Zabini is describing. It’s almost like an afterthought. It makes her sound so much colder and more calculating than if there was a long depiction of each individual killing, so I thought that was a really brilliant writing choice.

If you love Gone Girl definitely give this a read!

Favorite quotes:

“There is a reason that Venus herself emerges from her half shell as a fully formed woman, blinking naively into existence. This is what men actually desire, a goddess who knows nothing of the world and so is more easily amused by the trinkets he throws at her. A divine being who is blissfully unaware of her own divinity. A being who had no thought but him and who cannot function outside of him.”

“I had gone to my wedding bed expecting a transformative experience where his penis would alchemise me from a girl into a woman. An expectation I had imbibed from a society that exalts the wonder of the male member. Instead, as I lay there shivering with his rotten seed running down my leg, I felt used and disgusted at the man I had been condemned to spend the rest of my life servicing”

“And as I rattled around our isolated country house, I believed him. Hiding myself from mirrors, starving my body in order to obtain the concave stomach and taut thighs that he so desired. But when I corrected one perceived flaw, he would find another. Peppering his insults with crumbs of tenderness that lured and trapped me in reality of his making.”

The Secret in the Heart of the Forest by @myrskytuuli

This one has it all: accidental cannibalism, ancient rituals, Snape sass, feral Lily, elf politics, generational trauma, fairy induced psychosis, and most importantly the Marauders + Sev and Lily + Regulus and Narcissa all teamed up. Oh yeah I’m eating this up

This one is longer than the others so I’m really going to try to make this as brief as I can but this fic is actually insane because it’s everything I’ve ever wanted in a hp fic and I think I could talk about it forever.

I was genuinely so giddy reading this. There were so many twists and turns and it remained gripping the whole time. This is a psychedelic fever dream, introspective character study, horror adventure and a beautiful tale of friendship all wrapped in one. I absolutely loved everyone’s characterization here, they’re all so beautifully flawed and you can really understand where they are coming from on a personal level but also on a sociological level, I think the author did a MASTERFUL job at this.

The worldbuilding is INSANELY good (the interlude chapters revolving around each of their mothers made me cry repeatedly. And Elieens chapter is just incredible, I have no words). And the pacing is just excellent, I never felt like any of the growth was forced or unearned.

This storytelling is also amazing, whenever there was a theme or reference brought up before in the story that got tied back in again, my mouth would physically drop because it was so seamless yet so meaningful and impactful.

(Sorry but I just need to talk about characterization for a brief minute because this has some of my favorite characterizations that I’ve ever read of some of these characters:

This is my absolute favorite Lily. Like ever. She feels so real here with her anger and flaws and quirks. She is neither villainized nor deified but a full fleshed out character. I just love her!

This is also my favorite James! James is usually a tough character for me to stay engaged with but this fic does an excellent job at balancing his strengths and flaws while keeping him compelling.

This Snape is PERFECT!!! I actually don’t think I can describe how much I love this depiction, all I can say is if you’re a Snape lover who enjoys him being a lil shit you should read this.

Also Peter is just incredible here, too often is he forgotten but this fic really does him justice.

Ok I’ll stop but just know that I could go on and on about all of these characters)

And seeing these characters who would normally hate each other come together to build meaningful bonds while they grow with their own issues is actually cathartic.

If you are a Marauder and Snape fan this is required reading, I really can’t recommend this enough!

Favorite quotes (there were way too many omg):

“Sirius had been angry for a long time now. Sometimes Sirius wondered if he had been born angry, if his first cry had never truly ended”

“Remus had said nothing after that. He was becoming a champion of saying nothing.”

“‘I’m sorry,’ he said.

‘I won’t forgive what you did to me.’ Severus said back with conviction.

‘Good.’ Sirius said with equal conviction.”

“At this point, Lily had arrived like the loyal shadow she tended to be around Snape, spitting out an angry ‘What the fuck?’”

“Sometimes he burned with the need to yank himself free of Lily and the blade of love hanging between them. To hurt her when she stepped over Severus' abused body like an avenging angel that looked down at him and made him look small, dirty, used and worthless. A worm crawling in the mud.”

Ok that’s all for now! I definitely think you should give all these a read!!

[girlfriendsofthegalaxy]

tuesday again 9/3/2024

having a lot of fun with toddler enrichment activities in this household, until we bit through the bag and the foil and the water and hated that experience

listening

fun citypop version of Good Luck Babe! by Amandumb and Sakura Wine, “ganbatte” scans to “good luck babe” SCARY well. this is both off a tiktok my best friend sent me and the spotify recommended weekly

-

reading

quite frankly this makes me nervous and i am backing up my blogs as we speak. i sort of believe them when they say that we won't see a difference on the front end, but this is a HUGE migration. SOMETHING is going to go not perfectly.

William Greenleaf's TIME JUMPER (1980, 224p) and Joe Millard (my beloathed)'s Blood For A Dirty Dollar (1980 European reprint of a 1973 American book, 156p). thank you philip. time jumper is from a thrift store somewhere (possibly from the free book shelf at the umass engineering library) and the cowboy book is from ebay. they lied about the condition and the heavy smoke smell so i ended up getting it for free :) in no world is that a Very Good condition book!!!

time jumper! i do not think the back cover blurb (below) is very accurate.

COMBINED DESTINIES! One Earth of the far future, city dwellers live in a technologically advanced environment, while bands of nomads barbarically hunt and farm the plains. Hidden within the city is Erin, a crazed scientist, who is constructing a timejumper. On the plains is a nomad boy who quests after the city's secrets. Unknown to both, an evil force works to keep them apart, for it knows that if they ever meet, a new Earth destiny would be inevitable!

i looooove a bubble city. i love long lingering shots of technology and city-scapes and city politics. i would not call the nomads barbarians, bc they are a trading society who set up crop irrigation in their seasonal fields and have a giant traveling library with card catalogue. i would also not call Erin crazed or hidden, bc he is the richest man in the city. reclusive, yes. single-minded, yes. pretty sane though. he is a little person and i think the book handled this fairly deftly for 1980? most of his obstacles are physical and not societal. finally, the evil force is not working to keep them apart bc it doesn't even know about the outside kid. they mostly just want to stop anyone from leaving.

now that we know the back blurb is lies, what's the deal with this book? mostly wrestling with how automation leads to a loss of purpose and flattening of culture, breaking cycles, cyclical natures of histories thereof, and repeating old sins. however, one of the more frustrating endings ive ever read with the very last paragraph containing the suicide of a minor character. we simply didn't fucking need that last paragraph.

i found the dialogue a little bland but book overall quite evocative. it felt like a sixties scifi show constructed from castoff theater sets. it felt like this screenshot from rollerball. a lot of shapes. a lot of giant gardens. a lot of flattened textures.

i also liveblogged the cowboy book here. we've previosuly looked at the one with the balloon and the jailbreak but this is the one with the mad englishman and the imported castle and the missing scientists. i love a description of Legally Not Lee van Cleef Because We Don't Have A Royalty Agreement

-

watching

X-Men: First Class (2011, dir. Vaughn) was way more fun than i was expecting??? it's fun to watch these with my bestie's husband who is a fairly intense x-men fan and Will pause the movie for several minutes to explain why a specific character's death was fucking bullshit or answer one of my stupid costuming questions

-

playing

the new mesoamerican fire-aligned nation of Natlan is out in genshin impact! VERY beautiful region even though i think it is a crime, to me personally, to show me a village of observation balloons and then tell me i can't actually go there for six weeks until the next patch.

this is a little bit more of a frustrating experience bc my tolerance for the least little thing going wrong is at record lows. once you hit 100% on a map region it feels more like a true 100% ing the area, which is a little scary bc this usually means you have anywhere from 10-20% more Stuff to do and find and collect. one quest is straight up bugged for me (very unusual) and i cannot get a specific mechanic (the yunkasaur, the little green pokemon lookin motherfucker above, flame spitting) to fire with any sort of accuracy. why have a sight and a center pip if you CANNOT aim it.

some parts of the map look a little more seussical than others.

to whoever made sure this observation balloon lined up with the window when you entered this waypoint building, i see you. thank you.

-

making

fallow week.

[chronically-ghosted]

sam and diane, eat your heart out

rating: 18+

pairing: marcus pike x f!reader

word count: 3374

summary: after spending six months with FBI Agent Marcus Pike on a case almost-kissing, almost-flirting - almost - almost - almost - you decide to do something about that Unresolved Sexual Tension.

tags/warnings: thigh riding, marcus being a menace during a makeout session, marcus being a good agent first and an idiot second, i love marcus pike with my whole being (not a warning, just thought you should know), light cursing, reader is a journalist but no y/n or physical descriptions

a/n:  from @trulybetty 's request from my 100 followers celebration: "Going with psychography and this is hard… Let's see, I pick prompt no. 9 and Pedro boy of choice is Marcus Pike as he's one you don't have your master list yet! → “i’m so sick of this ‘will we, won’t we’ shit."I'll leave it to dealers' choice for smut vs. no smut on how it takes you!"

🤍Masterlist

“So, this is it? This proves the buyer knowingly purchased the artifacts illegally from the Belgian government.” 

His mouth twitches. “Yeah. I mean, I don’t know any court of law that wouldn’t uphold this as evidence.” 

“And then used the money to bankroll the opposite party? These tapes, Marcus – I don’t know how you got them, but –,”

“Wouldn’t have gotten them without those bank statements,” he smiles at you, fingers pressing down those specific documents on his desk. “I don’t even wanna know how you got into that personal server, but –,”

“I’ll keep my secrets if you’re going to keep yours.” 

“Fair enough,” he chuckles and the sound sends a cascade of warmth down the back of your neck. You turn your head away to hide your cheeks like some schoolgirl with a crush. Well, about half of that is right. A crush on the FBI agent you’ve been working with on the side to not only bring an end to one man’s hunt for cultural artifacts that do not belong to him – how stupid could you be? This is not the way to getting your first Pulitzer!

Besides, this is only going to end badly – for you. Because whether or not you were convinced that Agent Marcus Pike may in fact be interested in you, depended on the day, the weather, and if you were susceptible to crying and eating chocolate bar by bar. Your combined case against this wanna-be museum pilferer was more airtight than your little book of tells: “Marcus noticed my perfume today”, “Marcus didn’t mention my haircut” , “Marcus complimented my outfit today.” You plucked off hopes and disappointments like petals from the most pathetic daisy and when you found yourself staring at an empty stalk, you were no closer to finding an answer you were happy with. 

Because for every reason, every indication, every hint that no, Marcus annoyingly respected you only for your brains and journalistic integrity . . . he’d look at you like he’s looking at you right now and every semblance of dignity would go flying out the window faster than you can say defenestration. 

Marcus drops your eyes, mouth parted as if surprised by his blatant staring, and he brushes the lynch pin to your case with his fingers.

“This is, um, this is really good work. Your editors are gonna love it.”

You lean your hip against the edge of his desk, crossing your arms, elbowing your way back into his attention. Your thigh teases the space between his. His head down, you watch his tongue wet his bottom lip the longer he stares at your hip. 

“They’d love it more if the agent in charge went on record about the whole thing.” 

Like you burned him, he retreats, stepping back towards the corkboard that’s been hanging in his office for six months. He tugs at his tie and clears his throat.

“Mhmm, yeah, maybe for a follow-up piece.” Swallowing, he pulls at the knot of his tie, and slips it over his head once the hole is big enough, quickly stuffing it in his pocket. He looks at the board like it’s the most interesting thing in the world. 

You can’t stop the irate scoff. The hurt, the embarrassment, it burns you. It’s such a stupid crush and he’s making you look like an idiot for it, desperate for scraps when you deserved a whole fucking meal. Your self-confidence had been hard won, built up under years of duress and shame, and a need for a change in your life. If you aren’t happy with something, fix it, your father used to say. So you did and you weren’t about to let Marcus goddamn Pike make you feel small again.

“You know what, fuck this.” In two strides, you move away from his desk and snatch up your shoulder bag. You know you’re making a scene, your cheeks warm, nose flared, and this isn’t the best way to end the last six months, or even continue a potentially invaluable insider source that could benefit your career for years to come. But you can’t help it. You hate how Marcus makes you feel. “I’m such a fucking idiot for thinking you’d have the balls to reciprocate so, you know what, that one’s on me. Keep the tapes, Marcus, I have copies. I’m going home.”

He frantically sputters out your name as he intercepts you between the door to his office. All the blinds are shut, this case of the highest confidentiality, and at least there’s the small miracle that his coworkers can’t see you act like a jilted fourteen year old. Your hand squeezes the strap around your shoulder when Marcus reaches for you. 

“I’m sorry, but what are you talking about?”  

You grind your teeth together, your heart pounding in your chest. “I’m talking about us, Marcus. This thing between us that’s been going on for months. The thing that you refuse to acknowledge. I’m so sick of this ‘will-they-won’t-they’ shit. I’m a grown woman, Marcus, and if you’re not interested then just come out and say it. Just stop . . . messing with me.”

The hand outstretched to you curls in, fingers, fist, retreating. His mouth twitches again, his eyes fundamentally unreadable. He glances over your shoulder at the board, and then when he looks back, his gaze is . . . different. Like he swapped his usual soft, friendly brown eyes with a pretense that carries a little more heat to it. The spilling of too black powder in a dangerous, unstable place, where careless matches are liable to fly. 

Marcus shifts his weight, crosses his arms with the full strength of his back yanking on his blazer, and bites just below his lip on his left side, somehow making that bowed mouth even more pouty. 

“No, I mean . . . why did you think I’d never act on it?” 

Now it’s your turn to take a small step back, even though the low pitch to his voice is exactly what you’ve been all but begging for. The sound of it twists your insides, tugging arousal low in your belly. You swallow, suddenly blinding padding around for that righteous anger. 

“It’s been six months, Marcus. Three since you almost kissed me during the stakeout. Two since I saw you staring at my bra after the rainstorm. A-and last month . . . last month, when you invited me over for dinner, I thought . . . I-I thought . . .”

You thought dinner was going to end in something sweeter than chocolate pie for dessert, when a woman called him, furious that he hadn’t been answering his calls. Her screaming was audible and the sheer look of panic on his face was enough to confirm every terrible thing you thought you were so terribly correct about. 

“I told you about my ex-wife when we first met. I wasn’t hiding her. You weren’t the other woman.” 

“Yeah, but people usually go their separate ways after a so-called nasty divorce.” 

His eyebrow jumps at the unmasked condescension in your voice. You hold the strap across your chest like a lifeline. 

Marcus’s eyes stray to the corkboard again as he works his jaw, split between being rather irritated and . . . something else. 

That something else slams full force into your chest when he meets your gaze: heartbreak.

“Did you ever consider I tried to stop anything before it started, because I didn't want some asshole defense attorney to have any reason to blow holes in our case?” He shakes his head, this time overwhelming you entirely as he oversteps at least three professional boundaries by herding you back against a filing cabinet with just the sway of his body. The metal clangs as you crash against it, shoulders around your ears. “A reason like if the lead investigator and his CI were fucking?”

The messenger bag around your hips is the only thing keeping him from pressing up on you entirely. You are intimately aware of that when he tilts his head at you, eyes mournful and explorative as they draw a path over your cheeks, your nose, your eyebrows. Down the curve of your jaw and your neck. 

You do the only thing you can think of and laugh at him: “A CI? Please, I think I was a little more integral than that.” 

Marcus hums as he gently brushes the arch of your cheek with the pad of his finger. 

“All the more reason to keep everything squeaky clean.” 

You finally understand why he’s been looking at the board over and over, as if it’s going to suddenly catch flames. You suppose it's only fair that he’s worried – does a blasphemer not worry about his own state of grace on holy ground? 

He’s knee-bucklingly close when you work up enough courage to look him in the eye and say what’s been looping around your mind like an unhitched railway car.

“But you said it yourself, the case is over, right?” There’s a corner of your mind that is keening with embarrassment at how breathless you sound, so you throw a shoe at her and drop your eyes to Marcus’s increasingly close lips. They’re wet when he runs his tongue over them. 

“Yes, I did say that.” Fireworks explode in your brain when he tucks his middle finger under the strap of your messenger bag up by your collarbone, and then proceeds to slide his hand down the strap, knuckles very intentionally rubbing between the valley of your breasts. You wish you had worn a push-up bra or nothing at all. His hand shakes as it stops just above your belly button. 

On a slow inhale, his palm changes directions, turning over to your stomach, heat blooming from where he touches you over your skin, to slide with a solid grip on your hip. A weight. The shifting of the scales. 

“Marcus–,” it sounds like begging and he’s hardly even touched you so you have to follow it up with something. You drop your head back against the metal, trying to even your breathing. “Marcus, w-we got the evidence. The case is closed, we d-don’t work together any more. We - we can–,”

“I want to,” he murmurs and you swear the heat from his breath across your collarbone tightens your nipples in your shirt. “God, I fucking want to. But this case can’t be jeopardized. The bureau has been after this guy for years and if we fuck it up on a technicality –,” 

“We don’t have to tell anyone,” you blurt out. The back of your head pinned to the metal locker behind you, you stare him down from the end of your nose, breathing hard and heavy. You squeeze your eyes shut before opening them to his gun-powder gaze. “We don’t even have to do this more than once, but . . . fuck, I’ve gotta get you out of my system, Marcus. I can’t think straight around you anymore.” 

Making a noise like someone popped him across the chest with their elbow, he shuffles closer, the bag between you digging painfully into your lower stomach. Both hands find their way to your hips. He squeezes you through your jeans, your panties a truly forgone mess at this point. You had men tease you before about how wet you got, like it was something shameful or embarrassing – giving so much of yourself away so quickly – but nearly pinned beneath him, you are quite sure Marcus would never have that inclination. Your own hands have latched onto his shoulders of their own accord. 

“We don’t have to tell,” you hiccup when his thumb barely brushes the bottom of your bra. “I won’t tell, Marcus.” He tilts his head, the rough hairs of his beard brushing against your temple and you shudder, so eager to be touched by him on your skin and not through your clothes. “Please. Please.” 

He groans again, eyes fluttering, head shaking. “Fuck, baby, don’t beg me like that–,”

His body presses you flat against the locker when he eagerly collides his mouth with yours. His broad hands cup your cheeks, holding you exactly where he wants you, your fingers digging around his wrists to confirm to him there’s literally nowhere else you’d rather be. 

Marcus Pike executed everything in his life with dogged determinism. From catching criminals, to shining his shoes, Marcus was meticulous and detail-oriented. It made him a great agent – and one hell of a kisser. 

His tongue rides along the bottom of your lip, then the top, not seeking entrance, but cataloging if the places on your mouth taste differently. He nips your plush lip and finds the sound you make is not exactly how he wants it. So he licks your mouth open, as forcefully as he politely shows a warrant before kicking open a suspect’s door. He finds that you like it when he’s a bit rough with his tongue, biting more at your upper lip to make you keen at that frequency he’s been craving. He does it again and you moan louder, fingers tightening around the curls at the back of his neck. He’s not satisfied with that sound alone, so he pushes even closer to you, seeking your heat with his thigh as if he could feel you pulse for him with just his mouth on you. 

But this goddamn bag –

“Get this–,” he scrambles over your hands as you both incorrectly fight with the strap and the weight of the bag, “what is even in this?”

You chuckle as he manages to yank it over your head without pulling out your hair. “My little pheromones to drive hot FBI agents berserk. Why? Is it working?” 

His moan is set between his teeth, sucking on both his own desperation and frustration at your teasing. Barrier gone, he shoves his knee between your thighs and slides it until it nestles against your crotch. It pushes the seam of your jeans against your clit and you rip your mouth away from his, gasping at the overly hot pleasure that roars up your middle. 

“Fuck, Marcus,” you keen and his mouth splits open, eyelids heavy, as he watches you writhe on this thigh. 

“You’re so warm, but are you wet? I can’t feel you.” His nose and mouth tucking into your neck, his wide palms tug and push your hips in a steady rhythm that has you fisting his jacket. “Couldn’t have worn a skirt?” 

“I didn’-t know – you’d want to – do this,” you breathe through this rapidly swelling pleasure, your clit throbbing. He presses up with his thigh just barely and you moan like a fucking pornstar, his cock rock solid and hot against your hip. 

“Can-can you do this?” He asks breathlessly, his own hips rolling in time with yours. “Can you come just on my thigh?” 

You bite your lip and nod, eyes shut and head back against the metal. “Y-yeah, I think I’m – God, yes, I am – I am so close.” 

“What do you need – to get you there?” He dips his head back to that spot on your neck that made your skin break out in goosebumps and he nips at your pulse point before soothing it with his tongue. You jerk at the sensation, your own pleasure ratcheting up to a soaring new height, the damp stripe of your panties almost soothing to your aching clit. You’re so sticky everywhere. You gasp, your hands curling into his shirt, shoulder digging into his jaw, neck arched to the side, as if your body is concerned how hard this orgasm is going to hit when he sucks a distinctive bruise into the hollow of your throat.

“Oh, God, Marcus –,” 

“Tell me, what do you need?” he slurs in your ear. 

You feel so empty, so wet and hollow, you want him to strip your pants down now and fill you as fast as you can. But you tremble on the razors edge – his cock anywhere near you is going to ruin you for the rest of the night – you just need to break through this one and then you’ll –

“Your fingers, Mar-cus, just put – them –,”

He huffs, grunting as he understands, and one of the steadying hands on your hips lurches to the front of your jeans. His knuckles dig into the skin of your stomach as he flicks open the button of your jeans, a low-heavy-drag whine as he finally feels the heat of your pussy, ready to suck him up inside you. He yanks down the zipper, cups you and that’s almost enough. It’s nearly enough and you gasp, your core fluttering, nails tearing into his shirt. 

“Yeah, you need more?” Marcus hums, his teeth scraping your jaw as he pins you to the wall with his full body weight. “Can’t let anything be easy, can you?”

All sense and shame dragged out of you with every swipe of your clit against his thigh, you shake your head and let out a loud whimper. 

He grunts something low and fast, heated and possessive, his hand shifting, knuckle peeling back your sticky underwear, fingers rubbing up against your puffy lips, and finally –

You toss your head back, a hot freeze locking your body up from your toes to your forehead, when he slides two fingers right up your cunt and curls them forward. A second later, heat crackles from your cunt up to your chest and you inhale, stars in your eyes and toes barely scraping the ground. 

As you sink back down into your own body, your brain plugging back in, you realize he’s whispering to you, muttering, his lips moving fast over your skin as he gently brushes your cheek with his own. 

“So good, baby, everything I thought you were going to be, you let me touch you, you make such pretty sounds, so good,” 

The high continues to drag you back down, down until you’re shaking in his arms, a lethargic weight pulling you into his chest. He cups your head into the curve of his neck, his own heart pounding into the vein of his neck. 

“For what it’s worth, I don’t think you’re messing with me anymore,” you chuckle into his skin and you feel him smile above you. “Okay, a little messing. A messing when asked.” 

“Good. I like messing when asked.” He kisses your cheek, lips lingering as he breathes out his nose. “But, uh, I know you said you weren’t going to tell anyone, but you weren’t exactly quiet about it.” 

You warm again, but this time with a bashful grin. 

“Yeah, sorry. I guess there are advantages to being a workaholic and staying in the office until ten at night.” 

He shakes his head, gently easing his knee from between your legs, careful to hold you until you are steady on your own feet. 

“Don’t need to apologize for that, pretty girl. In fact,” he picks up your infamous shoulder bag and loops it over his neck. The strap catches the fluff of his hair and it stands straight up. You didn’t think you had the energy, but your heart goes wild at the sight. “In fact, when I take you home, I’d like you to be even louder.”

Apparently you had a lot more stamina than you thought because your toes curl and you can practically hear your pussy throb. Your eyes flicker to his crotch.

“You don’t want . . . here?”

He pulls you into his arms, and kisses your forehead. “I do. I want very much. But the first time I’m inside you with anything but my fingers, it’s not going to be in my office. Won’t be able to concentrate.” He takes a look around what had been the epicenter of your investigation for months. “Actually, I might have to repaper the whole thing now.” 

You chuckle, leaning up under his arm where he’s damp and warm. “I think that might tip off someone to our little technicality.” 

He matches your smirk with an eyebrow raise. “Fair. Guess it’ll just have to linger here.”

You kiss his throat as he leads you out of the abandoned building, arm tight around you. Where he does take you home, where he does come inside you with something other than his fingers, and where you scream his name . . . yes, even louder. 

[shintoinenglish]

Review: The Essence of Shinto

I have written before of Yamakage's authorship of multiple antisemitic conspiracy theory books. That said, given that there are not a lot of English language books about Shintō, I find this book is often recommended. It should not be recommended to anyone, not just because of the authorship, but for its misinformation. There is very little actual information that can be salvaged from this trainwreck of a book.

Koshintō is not an ancient practice - it's a new religious movement; an attempt to imagine an ancient Shintō, which is, in my opinion, inherently paradoxical, as the concept of Shintō as the name of a religion (and indeed the concept of a religion itself) were consciously constructed as recently as the Meiji Era, which is the 19th century. The archaeological and historical truth is that we do not know what Yayoi or Jomon period peoples believed, and Shintō is likely very distinct from that, and that is okay. While I understand the impulse to try to reconstruct Yayoi or Jomon era religions, I find the impulse to remove foreign elements like Buddhism to contain elements of xenophobia, and have found the idea of Shintō as truly ancient to be misleading at best. We do not actually have an ancient practice handed down to us. Japanese religious practice, first, is diverse -- regions do things differently. Kyushu area graves, for example, bear continental Chinese influence and have 土神 enshrined at their sides. Secondly, while I do think there is a necessity to undo the damage that State Shintō has done, it is not helpful to do so in a way that, at best, ignores and at worst, contradicts history.

Secondly, Yamakage Shintō is barely attested outside of Motohisa's writings. Many of the practices allegedly specific to Yamakage Shintō are common Japanese New Age theories, along with some condescension of traditional practices. One way to recognize this is his repeated use of the word "spiritual" (which presumably was either written スピリチュアル in the original text). It's ironic, then, that he puts down "bizarre cults and sects" (p.13). The aforementioned paragraph should explain why I am so skeptical of the Yamakage school when there is no such thing as ancient Shintō by definition.

Crucially, there is some dangerous and typical New Age medical misinformation here. He claims that certain chants or practices can heal different physical and mental health symptoms, which is not something anyone should say, much less someone who claims to be a religious teacher. This is a sidenote, but I am hoping that Paul de Leeuw did not absorb any of this, but am concerned as he trained under Yamakage.

Yamakage states "...Shinto leaders have been at the forefront of campaigns to restore the forests..." As much as Westerners want Shintō to be the Green Religion that saves the world, I've had very little luck actually encountering any shrine websites or articles that back this up, outside of the traditional practices of keeping very small sacred forests known as chinju no mori. If anything, the opposite has been documented. See Sacred Forests, Sacred Nation for more on this subject. I would be open to correction on this, but Yamakage provides no sources whatsoever; in fact, he provides no sources throughout his book for any of his factual or historical claims. Presenting the Showa Emperor as a source does nothing but reinforce fascist rhetoric about the emperor being the religious head, as he was at the time of State Shinto, and likely says more about his personal convictions than his religious ones. There is something eerily dystopian and fascistic in Yamakage's description of the people cheerily following the Showa Emperor's example.

I have noticed a tendency in some Japanese people to do what I think of as self-orientalism; an exoticization of your own body and culture to appeal to whites. It seems to me that Yamakage is doing such a thing, while simultaneously appealing to Japanese nationalistic sympathies, by saying it is an ancient, mysterious religion untainted by materialism. Demonizing materialism, in fact, goes against the actual practice of most Japanese -- many, many businesses regularly pray for prosperity and dedicate lamps to shrines, or will get ritual decorations for prosperity known as kumade during the November Tori-no-Ichi festival.

"Ajimarikan" is a chant that is, at best, shoddily derived from Buddhism, as is his use of mudra hand gestures. At worst, he completely fabricated this chant and doesn't even attempt to provide a meaning for this phrase. The Five Great Vowels Chant and the Heavenly Counting Chant are both chants that do not exist outside of this book.

Yamakage Motohisa also repeatedly uses Okinawan/Ryūkyūan religion as examples as if it is a part of Shintō, which it most decidedly is not. There was forced assimilation because of colonization, to my understanding, but the practice is entirely different from Shintō.

This is kind of a briefer overview than I originally intended, but I hope this provides some information on why I dislike Yamakage and this book so much. My hope is that he stops being recommended as any sort of resource and a better one is translated soon.

[mostly-mundane-atla]

Real talk: i have been pretty absent from this blog (i wouldn't say slacking necessarily because it is first and foremost a hobby, a means of communication second, and i do not consider it a job to any degree). Do not worry, nothing bad has happened, and a big part of it is rediscovering my love of literature. Got my hands on a copy of Thomas Kinsella's The Táin, read The Handmaid's Tale, and recently finished Ivanhoe through audiobook.

I've already been singing the praises of the Táin Bó Cúailnge so i'll spare you having to read through that gushing. Ivanhoe is incredible and shockingly sensitive on the topic of antisemitism for something written by an early 19th century Christian author intended for a majority Christian audience. The scenes with Robin Hood also filled me with a childish glee and i think it was suppose to be a surprise that this guy is Robin Hood but he introduces himself as Locksley and wins an archery contest and leads a gang of outlaws in the woods, including a hermit who refers to Alan-a-Dale quite a bit so it's very obvious to a modern reader. Handmaid's Tale was also as good as i've heard it was, but there's a specific detail i want to discuss that feels relevant to how i think of this blog and how others use it.

I've read the reviews and the plot synopses amd analyses, i knew about the epilogue that frames the story as a historical document a century or so in the future. This did not surprise me. What did catch me by surprise, and something i feel is entirely overlooked, is that this story of an oppressive theocratic regime that uses Biblical precedence to excuse extreme atrocities of human rights violations and turned out to not even last very long, is contextualized as the topic of a discussion hosted by First Nations academics who study white people cultures. You can be pedantic and say "oh but technically they're only First Nations coded because it's presented as a transcript with no physical descriptions" and to a degree you would be right; but when you see names like Maryann Crescent Moon and Johnny Running Dog used for professors of a University of Denay (an anglo-phonetic spelling of Diné/Dene) in Nunavit, there isn't much room for speculating what ethnicity they're supposed to be.

There are so many little details in the book referencing Indigenous genocide. Details suggesting forms of genocide Atwood would be familiar with as a Canadian citizen. To only bring up religious fanaticism and patriarchal regressive politics in Middle Eastern nations like Iran and Afghanistan as well as the United States as inspirations for a surface level five minute summary is one thing, but to ignore all the anti-Indigenous policies that are also obvious inspirations (literally just read the passages about how the Narrator/Offred's daughter was taken from her, renamed, and given to a "proper home" to get what i mean, it's that blatant) when the iconic epilogue makes it as explicit as it can be without writing "THESE ARE NATIVE ISSUES" in big red letters? I won't lie to you, it feels like a slap to the face. Especially when the take away message of such a conclusion seems to be that Native peoples will outlive these regimes.

[theultimatekamehamehavoc]

Just a thought I wanna share but, the best thing about Byakuya's backstory for me is how much interpretation one can have. Like, there isn't much know about the Togami Inheritance system, how Byakuya won in specifics, if it was a battle of the body, mind, or some combination. Same goes with Byakuya's parents. There is like NOTHING for those guys. I know in the dubiously canon Danganronpa Togami books, his father is named as Kijo Togami, dunno if it is exclusively in those books where he's named. Not much info is on him though. Like, what does he look like? What is his main personality? How is his relationship with his son, Byakuya? Meanwhile, Byakuya's mother is a mystery too. No name, no physical description, nada. It makes sense for her in specifics though as she was probably just there to make the child before said child got shipped to a IRL battle royale. Though, it's not like that's set in stone. That's interpretable too like if she was a good mother whether it's in an interpretation where she only had her son for a small amount of time or if she was always there or hell, if she kicked the bucket and died in some shady ass well! Other things to factor in too such as the fact that Byakuya could be mixed or biracial or something due to Togami men having to have offspring with fancy women all over the globe. That's one interpretation I like a lot. Just makes sense to me. Like, sure, blond hair could be dyed, but it could also just be that European blood coursing through his veins. Or, whatever one sees. Depending on one's own interpretation, his life could be just relatively shitty with the uphill battle of becoming heir and the stress that comes with to potential abuse even, whether verbal or something else. Byakuya is already an individual with some problems after all with his mindset, general demeaner, and childhood or lack there of cus i REFUSE to consider what we know about his childhood to be a diggity dang childhood! Cus, no! That SOOOOO wasn't one. The limit with the interpretation is simply how much one wants to interpret about him like his secret in chapter 2 which never was revealed. Hell, even his list of likes and dislikes is a little vague or at least one of them that I constantly think back to like, what do you mean you like French, Byakuya?! Like, is it JUST the language? Culture? The food?!?!? Gasp Does he relate to the baguettes? Okay, I'm being a bit silly here but my point is that even his likes and dislikes can be fluid with interpretation. He likes coffee but it's open to what KIND whether it be black coffee or a Frappuccino at Starbucks with excessive amounts of whipped cream (I say this like I've actually seen a Starbucks coffee in person and have walking into an establishment). He dislikes microwaved food. Well, how far does that dislike go? Pure hatred even? Would he refuse to eat a reheated meal that he likes out of spite because it was reheated in a microwave even if he's literally about to starve to death or would he cave and eat the food? Or, does he hate the microwave ITSELF more than the food products designed for it? Then my brain loops back to the important biz! What does he find funny?! How would one hypothetically get him laughing?! Dang! Sometimes I wish there was an ACTUAL concrete answer to this though, who knows. If there was, I might not like the answer though that is delving into what-iffery. Dunno! I just overthink like this! I gotta dissect my muse! Besides, even if some of the interpreting can be annoying, even for me at times, it's not the worst thing ever. Not like he's the only character with this trait. It's just more apparent when you have some characters when you know all their family members or have actual CANON books about their backstory (Kyoko). And there are also other characters in which the vagueness is by design or just characters with vague spots like him cough cough Kokichi cough cough. Suppose it doesn't help that I am way too attached to this freaking loser T-T. Perhaps, there is some beauty to that.

[fortunatelychaoticphantom]

Yeah, so I finished Breaking Dawn.

General:

Holly shit. Holly fucking shit. Holly Jesus fucking Christ holly fucking hell god damn shit. THIS BOOK IS AMAZING.

I am serious. I am not being ironic or trying to be cool or contradictory or nothing. This book is absolutely batshit insanely fucking good. THIS IS GOOD FUCKING FANTASY.

Look. I've read and watched plenty of reevaluations of the series in the past couple of years, and I think we all know by now that it is far from perfect and there's a lot to criticize, but that the criticism and cultural uproar at the time was just pure misogyny and hatred to anything that girls like (a day will come when we talk about Justin Bieber and how the entire world decided its number one enemy was a 13 year old boy who wanted to be a pop singer and was beloved by 13 year old girls but it is not this day), and that Meyer is actually a very good world builder. This reread really solidified this for me, but even more so then before. I really do believe she is a good writer. NOT GREAT, but good. Until Breaking Dawn.

I am not joking when I tell you that this is one of the most incredible books I have ever read in my life. It is leaps and bounds better then any other book in the series. I think the other books are fine and enjoyable, they definitely don't hold the same charm over me as they did when I was 16, but they are absolutely entertaining and even truly touching (New Moon specifically). But this... this is just a different league altogether. This book is mature, and brutal, and aggressive, and disgusting, and horrifying, and reached fucked up territories that few writers dare to explore and I absolutely admire Meyer for this.

Part One - Bella:

It's a pretty short section of the book so there's not much to say about. It's sweet and fun but nothing much more.

Horny Bella is the best Bella. Get some girl.

Part two - Jacob:

Anyway, this right here is what brilliance is made of. I need to find a way to articulate it properly. It's the first time I have ever been so acutely aware of the narrator because the entire narration is in first person and so all the sections that are supposedly general descriptions are an active thought of Jacob that in almost every single moment are being experienced not just by me but by his pack(s) and by Edward and are commented on in the story. I don't even know how to explain just what an unbelievably wonderfully complexly imaginatively fucked up this is. Just. Amazing.

LEAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!

I'm okay I swear. But seriously. Leah's story is amazing as is, but it's the room Meyer gives her to be both filled with sorrow and with just pure spiteful rage. I love that she is not perfect, she is not currently nice, because she can't be nice, but a day will come when she might be better, be in a better place, and that's okay because we understand her. I just love her so much.

Speaking of which, I love the new bond between Rosalie and Bella but I also love that it's not entirely a good things? Like, there is a very clearly stated undertone that Rose cares more about the fetus than she does about Bella, and I just respect that? She isn't just magically sweet and kind, it's twisted and complicated and good storytelling (I forgot to mention in the Eclipse post Rosalie's backstory, but obviously that's also amazing).

Seth is also the most wonderful and pure cinnamon role in history and I will die for him.

6. this:

Leah: Mom dropped him a lot when he was a baby. Jacob: Oh his head, apparently. Leah: He used to gnaw on the crib bars, too. Jacob: Lead paint? Leah: Looks like it.

7. This section is just so fucking brutal. The physical toll of carrying the baby for Bella, Edward's agony, Jacob's suffering, Leah's everything, the coming attack from the wolves, the birth... Immaculate.

Part three - Bella:

If there was one Mary Sue I would stan, it was Bella. You're doing amazing sweetie!! You go and be an awesome newborn. We believe in you!!!

All the vampire descriptions are just so fucking good. The whole distractability, the way the new senses literally overwhelm you. I love it all.

You know what? I really don't mind the imprinting. Meyer goes to great lengths to say that it's in no way romantic. It's not the Greatest Thing, but, I mean, I'm reading a fantasy book... my suspension is very much suspending...

Jacob's being an ass again, only caring about what he wants, but it's only for like two chapters so it's fine.

I can't help but love the congregation of vampires, it's just so fun and interesting, and even though we spend so little time with them they are all so distinct.

It's a great showdown. I love it way more then I did the first time. I am still fond of the What-The-Fuck-They-Are-All-Dying???? scene from the movie, but it's intense even without it.

and this:

Garrett: If we live through this, I`ll follow you anywhere, woman. Kate: Now he tells me.

Good job all around. Now I need to go buy Midnight Sun.

[dinosaur-ears]

!!! I finally found a description of gender that makes intuitive sense to me. I've spent a lot of time trying to make sense of gender, and Nick Walker articulated it beautifully in her book Neuroqueer Heresies (all emphasis mine):

"... Some prominent thinkers in the field of Queer Theory do reject essentialism completely, taking the position that gender is 100 percent socially constructed and socially instilled. My own position, which informs my conception of Neuroqueer Theory, is that both the essentialist and social constructionist models are overly reductionist when taken entirely on their own. I prefer a more complex hybrid understanding which incorporates elements of both models, and which probably boils down to something like 80 percent social constructionist and 20 percent essentialist. This hybrid understanding is based in the premise that although gender roles and the rules of gender performance are socially constructed and instilled, each individual human does also have their own unique set of more-or-less-innate tendencies and potentials (tendencies and potentials which have nothing whatsoever to do with the shape of a person’s genitals or with so-called 'biological sex').

"The gender essentialist belief that heteronormative gender roles are innate and 'natural' is patently absurd. First of all, the prevailing norms of gender role performance vary considerably from culture to culture, place to place, and historical period to historical period, with nearly every culture regarding its own current local norms as the one 'natural' way to do gender. And second, if these norms were innate and 'natural,' cultures wouldn’t have to put nearly so much effort into instilling and enforcing them.

"On the other hand, the idea that a person’s gender is entirely instilled by the external social world, with innate qualities and proclivities playing no part whatsoever in the shaping of an individual’s experience and performance of gender, also seems rather implausible. Given the sheer intensity and pervasiveness of the heteronormative gender conditioning to which all of us are subjected from birth, surely few people would grow up to be gay or transgender if they didn’t have some manner of internal disposition that was strong enough to make itself manifest even against the relentless tide of external social pressures.

"Anyone who’s spent time with babies knows that each one has their own distinct personality from birth. Not a fully-formed personality by any means, but at least an individual style comprised of a unique collection of personal inclinations. These innate inclinations, further shaped and developed through the infant’s interactions with the physical/sensory world, constitute the inner foundation that child psychology pioneer D.W. Winnicott referred to as the True Self. Protean, malleable, and readily shaped by the external world as the young developing bodymind is, the distinctive tendencies, inclinations, and potentials of this core True Self nonetheless exert a significant influence on each individual’s unique development—including a significant influence on how the social inculcation of gender roles is received, integrated, and expressed by that particular individual.

"Consider the binary heteronormative masculine and feminine gender role performances that are commonly inculcated by the dominant cultures in the modern world. These gender role performances involve an extensive set of specific norms of embodiment (e.g., distinctive ways of walking, standing, sitting, moving, gesturing, speaking, dressing, engaging with and expressing emotions, doing sex and sexuality, physically interacting with the world and with others). None of these norms are genetically predestined or neurobiologically 'hard-wired'; they’re all culturally determined and socially instilled. The individual tendencies and inclinations that constitute the Winnicottian True Self, however, not only contribute at least some measure of unique style to a person’s performance of the norms of their socially assigned and instilled gender role, but also determine how good a fit the assigned gender role and its norms are going to be for that particular person.

"What I’m suggesting here is that although no one is born a straight cisgender heteronormative girl or woman, boy or man, some people are born with a collection of inner tendencies and potentials that are at least somewhat compatible with their local culture’s norms of heterosexual feminine or masculine gender performance—thus enabling them to readily internalize those gender norms, to live within the parameters of those norms, and to come to experience their own socially instilled normative gender performance as 'natural.' When we describe someone as cisgender, we’re referring to this condition of relative compatibility between the True Self and the social performance demands associated with their assigned gender."

She also relates discusses trans and nonbinary experiences in this framework, acknowledges cultures with additional genders, and frames cis-het gender performance as part of neurotypical performance.

[unwhitewashthebadbatch]

Hello, really appreciate the work you're doing to bring awareness! I was wondering if you have thoughts/resources/suggestions etc. for fic writers who want to portray the clones well. I'm genuinely thinking that adding an author's note might be a good idea, but I'd love to have thoughts on respectfully mentioning the clones' appearance within fic itself. Thank you so much for all you do!

Hi, and thanks!

When it comes to writing, it's sometimes easier to come up with a list of "Dont's" than "Dos". This guide from NaNoWriMo is pretty straight forward!

Of course, there are some caveats: unless this is a modern AU, you can't directly say the clones are Māori because that term doesn't exist in Star Wars. However, this doesn't mean that their features don't! From another character's PoV, you could say they have even brown skin, dark eyes, and dark curly (not coily) hair with broad noses. You can tweak these for your level of prose, such as saying "warm" brown skin or coal-dark eyes/hair--but do NOT use food descriptions, as this is objectifying and dehumanizing. So no "chocolatey" (I have seen this) or anything like that.

Some authors like to code their characters as being from a certain culture, race, or ethnic background. Think of how Temuera Morrison portrayed Boba in The Book of Boba Fett and the Mandalorian, where he proudly put his Māori culture at the forefront of his fight in the latter show. I'm much less versed on the basics of Māori culture and ways of life than I am other cultures, so I personally don't know how to code the clones in the GAR as such. This is where research is important, both in terms of doing your own reading and reaching out to Māori cultural experts if they are willing to explain something.

One thing that I've seen that's quite popular in fics/art is Tā moko, which are the tattoos you may see some Māori with, like this:

However, Tā moko is sacred and, from what I understand, relates specifically to one's ancestors, whakapapa (genealogy, loosely), and rank within society. Non-Māori can use kirituhi. @/tu_edmonds on TikTok/Instagram is a Māori bassist for Alien Weaponry who has Tā moko and also has a video explaining the difference between that and kirituhi. He's also got loads of other good explainers for Māori culture and language.

Physically, don't be scared to make the clones short! Temuera Morrison himself is only 5'7". I don't know why they made the clones six feet. Morrison also has a stockier build, the way a lot of Māori do, so don't be afraid to describe them being bigger and less cut/lean than the 180 lbs they supposedly are in canon (although I refuse to believe that's true because that is incredibly thin).

This might be more than you bargained for, whoops! But these are the basic things I could come up with for describing clones in fics!

There are other ways to support #UnwhitewashTBB, if you like. I've been looking at and supporting @end-otw-racism (highly recommend you support them too!) and people will change the title of their fics or tag there works with #EndOTWRacism, as well as bookmark them/add them to collections? I'm not sure how exactly it works.

But if you or anyone else understands how this works, and your work is explicitly non-racist in nature (and focuses on the clones) I don't see why you can't also tag your work or write an AN that says #UnwhitewashTBB.

Hope this helps!

~ Mod CH

[from-the-coffee-shop-in-edoras]

Hihi I don’t know where to find more about this (and frankly want your opinion more lol) so what are the genes like in Rohan? Is it possible there’d be darker browns and almost Numenorean blacks? And red-heads? I mean, could you specify with like percentages lolol and I would sooo love if you include like regional differences omggg

Well, race in Middle Earth is a topic that a lot of ink has already been spilled on, and by people who are much smarter and better qualified to opine than I am. So, up top, I encourage people to seek out those smarter voices.* But I guess I’ll say that my general take is that it is simultaneously true that a) Tolkien trafficked in some harmful race-based tropes and imagery and he used ideas about genetics (the high/middle/low man hierarchy he created) that are gross; but ALSO b) despite what some loud and hateful chuds would have you believe, there’s no real canonical evidence to support the claim that the people in the various communities of Middle Earth were all of one particular race or another. So there could and should be a whole variety of appearances and traits.

As to my personal opinion of Rohan…there are people of all kinds in the world, and so I imagine Rohan to similarly have people of all kinds. I know that’s not as specific an answer as your question posed, but I try to leave my writing open enough (like, I usually go very sparse on character physical descriptions) that a reader can picture people in a bunch of different ways, and if some people see Wídfara (for example) as Black and others as Asian or indigenous American or white or etc., I think that’s all valid and good. The more Wídfaras in the world, the better, as far as I’m concerned.

One of the things I like best about fandom is that we aren’t stuck with any one particular conception of anything. Lots of people have their own ideas about Rohan, and those different Rohans can exist side-by-side in the fanfic and fan art spaces so that we have a wealth of alternatives to like and admire. Some of my fave Rohan fan art has been pieces that imagine the Rohirrim as being of Mongolian heritage or that mix Rohirrim culture from the books with traditional Japanese elements, and I love that those exist alongside the art that hews closer to the Anglo-Saxon/Norse aesthetic that tends to show up most often in visual representations. (I would love to link to some of this art, but the Tumblr search function is not my friend and isn’t allowing me to easily pull it up now. One that I can put my hands on, though, is the work of Leia Ham, which is amazing and imagines Rohan (and other parts of Middle Earth) in an ancient Chinese context.)

So I guess what I’m saying is that I think anything is possible, and that’s a good thing.

*Mallorn, the journal of the Tolkien Society, has actually done a good job of giving space to those voices in the last few years, a positive development I attribute to the good influence of its editor Luke Shelton, who is to all appearances a Good Dude.

[vermakesthings]

Liam Nulyradon

Right now, this will just be a description of personality and physical appearance. A reblog of this post (once I get my computer back) will include his updated role in the world.

Physical attributes:

Black neck length wavy hair, usually with jewelry in braids. Preface, people in this world can have littererly any type of eye color. Each person (non-heterochromatic anyways) has two colors, one for outer rim of the pupil and one for the inner circle (the black part of our eyes.) Liam has red rimmed and blue inner eyes. He has entirely clear skin and is 6 foot exactly, or ~182 cm. Lanky build and pale skinned, upturned nose and square face. He is in world typically viewed as handsome.

He is extremely caring. Most of his interactions with family and friends is playful and caring for them, arguments with him are few and far inbetween. To strangers, he is friendly and seemingly carefree yet secretly he is judging you. Not harshly, but he make sure after a single conversation that he knows if he will like you or not.

He is not well mannered. Of course, he lived through the whole dark age which saw many nations and cultures rise and fall, so learning all those cultures ideas of manners is difficult, but he didn't even try. If they didn't make sense to him in a practical sense, he shunned it, unless he had genuine need to obey it (diplomatic meetings).

He hardly ever leaves things up to chance.every event that involves him is well planned out before hand if possible. He is the type to have a plan for the day worked out down to the minute before he even sleeps the night before. Meeting? He wrote the seating chart and studied his memories of the people involved, or asked around about those he didn't know.

HUGE book worm. Reads dozens of books a year. He built the most massive library in the world (that is without exaggeration), most of the books there being translated himself, or even written. He is a very good writer, though it isn't his passion.

His Skill (my next post will be an explanation about Skills) is smithing. He specifically loves jewelry, and is a well accomplished jeweler as well. The hair adornments I mentioned earlier were hand made. He makes tiaras, crowns, necklaces, anklets/bracelets, etc, most of them having a jewel or several crafted by him.

Prankster meter (look at freyas post if you don't know what that means): 4. Rarely does something, though not quite so rare as his wife, and when he does it usually doesn't work well for him. Mostly the limit to his teasing is just teasing.

Can sing and write music but not the best at it.

[girlfriendsofthegalaxy]

tuesday again 5/14/2024

googled "sample bon mot" in a fit of desperation, considered asking chatgpt to generate me some for 0.2 seconds before the visceral BLEUGH reaction plus remembered that every query is like pouring a 16oz water bottle out on the ground, and figured this series of events would be a better intro than anything else i could come up with

listening

miya folick's Pet Body was off last week's spotify rec playlist. i had liked some individual songs by miya folick (singer/songwriter/alt/indie/dance/electronica) but now i gotta really dive into her discography-- this particular very peppy and upbeat song with dire lyrics is really clicking with me lately as my body overreacts to texas pollen and engages in other known misbehaviors.

the chorus, my god

Proper care and feeding for my pet body

and this verse

I'm just a brain with a pet body Out for a walk until I croak I'm just an ordinary subject In an ordinary book

as my mother used to say, i'm real fuckin sick and tired of being sick and tired!!!

-

reading

ough i need to vacuum. i picked up Mrs Vargas and the Dead Naturalist by Kathleen Alcalá for a dollar last summer bc 0) killer title 1) it was a dollar 2) cool cover 3) autographed 4) endorsed by le guin.

kind of fascinating as an object: weird little lesbian (?) boutique press that's still around, idk ive ever seen a notice about steps they took to ensure the longevity of the physical book before?

i find myself bouncing off latin and south american magical realism a lot bc i am not in those authors’ intended audiences/i do not have the background to fully appreciate them. i have a bachelors of science. and that’s fine bc that’s the point! this is one of the very few times post-college where i caught myself thinking “man i gotta find a class to take about this”.

even if i do not understand the wider cultural context or the real-life figures she obliquely references in many of these short stories (i am convinced the bird-voiced singer is based on a real singer), i do appreciate alcalá’s craft: true short stories, she makes her point and then ends it. the twist in Reading the Road specifically— woof that’s gonna stick with me for a bit. a perfect little o henry twist of the knife. i wanted so badly to link this specific short story but apparently nobody has used it to teach anything and the book itself is not widely available/on the internet archive/etc. u will have to find this story of a roadside fortune teller (who is current on all her business permits) and one day's fortune telling, by yourself perhaps through your library

-

watching

the prisoner, the seventeen episode british sixties tv cult classic. let's yoink the description from wikipedia.

The Prisoner is a British television series created by Patrick McGoohan, with possible contributions from George Markstein.[2] McGoohan portrays Number Six, an unnamed British intelligence agent who is abducted and imprisoned in a mysterious coastal village after resigning from his position.[3] The allegorical plotlines of the series contain elements of science fiction, psychological drama, and spy fiction.

number six shares a lot of traits with my cat philip marlowe, as they are both hell fucking bent on escaping and all attempts to restrain them just sort of train them to be better at the next attempt? as one might expect from a heavily allegorical sixties show, kind of heavy emotional going so im watching an episode every day or two.

why am i watching this? it's free on my library streaming service (and tubi), and i don't have a lot going on. i love one-season cancelled shows, i love Dad Media, unfortunately i was a navy brat and i do love some cloak and dagger shit. i LOOOOVE a fucked up little town and bureaucracy-as-cudgel. i actually came across this when i wishlisted the game We Happy Few back in 2018, another entry in the "creepy little british towns" genre. have yet to play it

-

playing

the cosmology and general backstory of genshin is convoluted as hell (The Gods are real and live in the sky, but some lowercase-g gods are also rulers of the seven nations in-game) but they have been foreshadowing a grand showdown since the very beginning of the game. one player character cannot de- or re-stablize so many regions and engage in so many power struggles without someone taking notice.

i did NOT, however, expect one of the regional god-rulers (purple) to start planning for this divine war in a side cutscene in a seasonal event. a seasonal event around rock n roll rhythm games. absolutely devastated i missed the pink fox lady's rerun right after i had to give my work laptop back and before i got the PC fixed. this game will not run on my iphone 12 for love or money

-

making

bit of a depression hovel situation going on. we are slowly rolling that back tho. finally met my landlord during the HVAC replacement debacle, he said that he bought this apartment in 2009, lived here for ten years, and then his parents lived here for a couple years. i am the first non-family tenant, i think. all of the appliances and fixtures are from 2009. i think the fridge will be the next to go. ANYWAY. i asked him what the deal was with the lack of bathroom vents and HE said when he had an air conditioner put in in 2009 the HVAC guy then assured him he only needed the HVAC vents and closed up the actual vents. which is a load of shit. i am not really excited to live here for another year but i really super can't afford to move and finding an apartment in houston the first time was such a goddamn nightmare. i cannot do three years tho. hopefully something will have changed by august 2025.

i have also, through a special cashback bonus reward on my credit card, a sale, a gift card, and cashing in more cashback money, acquired a cat tree for philip. modeled here by mackie bc we did room swapping again as i was writing this. i cannot be bothered to install curtain tiebacks or properly fold anything, as you can see below