#dashiel quicke

[megaeralwrites]

I'm on a drawing kick again, which is nice! The scene where Hermann and Dashiel dance to "What Is This Thing Called Love" is one of my favorite romantic moments in The Shabti.

[jackson-imbecille]

Crushing an Egg

4k words, FFN AO3

Some description of gore, speculated and ectoplasmic.

Mr. Lancer goes back into the school during a ghost attack to rescue Daniel Fenton after realizing he did not evacuate with the rest of the school

When William Edward Lancer first started teaching at Casper High, he knew there was a risk of danger. It’s a horrible thing to think about, but there was a very real chance of an intruder, or even one of his students bringing a weapon with the intention to harm others. But never back then, had he thought the risk of harm to his students would be this large. 

Ever since the ghosts started appearing, the school had been subject to constant attacks. And now, the severity of the attacks had been steadily increasing. At first, it had just been pairs of humanoid ghosts, who were mostly uninterested in harming humans, using the school as their battleground. Then, every once in a while, the occasional low to mid-powered animal ghost would attack. But recently, more and more mid to high-powered animal ghosts had been seen rampaging the halls of Casper High. Trampling anyone in their path and blindly attacking anyone they deemed a threat, obstacle, or annoyance. 

Two students had already been hospitalized due to injuries received during one of these attacks. There was talk of installing a permanent ghost shield, replacing the temporary one already installed. Although it would use far more power than the school district could ever afford. 

At the moment, the best they could do was hope for the attacks to stop, and be ready for when they inevitably didn’t.

“Now, it’s important to view the story from all angles. It’s easy to understand the protagonist’s point of view, but what about the antagonist? Now, Nag and Nagaina planned to attack the family for the same reason Rikki destroyed their eggs: fear. Why do you think their actions were viewed as evil, while Rikki’s actions were viewed as good?” 

The class was silent. Some students stared blankly at his face, some out the windows, others at the clock behind him, counting down the minutes til the class ended. 

Edward sighed. “You don’t have to answer, I just want you all to really think about it.” He waited a couple seconds before moving on. “This story was written about a hundred years ago, but it can still relate-” He heard a sharp gasp and stopped in the middle of his sentence. Daniel Fenton was frantically scanning the classroom, as if he was searching for danger.

“Mr. Fenton, are you alright?”

His head snapped forward, and he visibly forced himself to relax. “Yeah, yeah I’m fine, but I really have to go.” He started anxiously tapping his fingers against his arm. “I, uh, forgot the, the, the book in my locker.” 

Edward looked to Daniel’s bag, trying to read the text on the book barely poking out. “I thought I saw the textbook on your desk a minute ago?”

Daniel reached over and zipped the bag closed. “Yeah, that was the science book. I grabbed the wrong one. They both say Pearson on the front, so I mixed them up. I’ll be quick, like, five minutes tops.” He started tapping his foot and quickly glancing between Edward and the door. Though it was very possible that Daniel had indeed grabbed the wrong book, he doubted it. But there was no use fighting against this. Even if he said no, Daniel would keep pestering him until he inevitably walked out without permission.

Edward sighed and ran his hand down his face before relenting. “Alright, please be quick.”

“I will, thank you.” Daniel grinned sheepishly and grabbed his bag before running out.

Edward scanned the room. It didn’t look like much had changed, but he attempted to engage the class anyway. “So, how does the conflict between the animals in this story mirror the conflicts we see in our modern day human society?” Surprisingly, he saw a hand slowly raise to answer the question.

“Yes Kwan?”

The boy looked towards his friend, Dashiel Baxter, as if waiting for something. Mr. Baxter waved his hand in a ‘go on’ gesture, and Kwan began to speak. “Well, the snake and the mongoose are at each other’s throats. The snakes are dangerous to the humans, so the mongoose wants to kill them. But then he kills, uh, breaks the eggs, which haven’t done anything wrong. Like, they had potential to be dangerous like the other snakes, but they were completely innocent. So I guess it’s sort of like-” Before he finished his sentence he was cut off by a loud blaring alarm.

“Attention all students and staff, a level 7 animalistic ghost has entered the building. All students and staff are to evacuate immediately.”

The class was panicking. Students were grabbing their bags and crowding to the door, knocking down desks and tables, and pushing others down to get to the front.

Level seven was high. So far, the detection system had only alerted to a few level sevens, all of which were humanoid. A ghost with that much power could easily kill a student. And with it being animalistic, it wouldn’t likely think to avoid doing so.

“Okay everybody please line up single file, stay calm, don’t push or shove, and stay together.” Edward tried to take control of the situation, but the students’ fear far outweighed their reasoning. He followed them out the door, helping up students that had been pushed down, and tried to move to the front of the group. Luckily, his classroom wasn’t far from the nearest exit. It wasn’t long before they were all safely hidden underneath the bleachers next to the football field, along with several other classes taking refuge there from the danger.

He took a second to catch his breath before counting his students. None of them were absent that day, so he shouldn’t have been missing any. He counted one short. He recounted and got the same result. He went down the list alphabetically and stopped once he got to the Fs.

“Where’s Daniel?”

The class fell silent. Some students began to search nearby crowds for their classmate, and Elena, one of his more observant students, stepped forward. “He left to get a textbook, remember?”

Edward froze. His head started to heat up and it felt like a rat was frantically trying to claw its way out through his chest. He grabbed his walkie-talkie and brought it up to his mouth. “I’m missing a student, does anyone have Daniel Fenton with their class?”

A couple seconds went by. He didn’t move, he didn’t breathe, he didn’t even think. He just listened and stared back at the school building, as if willing his student to suddenly burst through the doors and run towards them. The shield started to materialize around the building, trapping whatever ghost that was there inside. Every class had already made it out.

The walkie-talkie buzzed to life and emitted the one sentence he was dreading to hear. 

“Nobody’s seen him.”

His stomach dropped. All of the students knew to stay with a group, any group, when there was an attack. The only reason a student would be completely missing is if they were cornered by the attacker, which could only mean one thing. “Gone with the Wind, he’s still in there.”

The Fentons were fast, but even they would need time to gather supplies and get to the location of the attack. And by then it might be too late. Daniel Fenton was not an athletic child, he didn’t stand a chance against whatever was in there with him. 

“Star, you’re in charge. I want you to bring the class over to Mr. Falluca. Tell him the situation and don’t let anyone separate from the group. I’m going back inside.”

Star reached over and grabbed Paulina’s hand before nodding. “Okay.”

Edward looked towards the school, gathered his breath, and ran. He ignored the confused and concerned shouts of the students and staff, he ignored the burning sensation in his legs, he ignored the fear rising up from the pits of his stomach and the back of his throat. He needed to do this. His student needed him.

He passed through the shield, feeling nothing but a slight buzz as he went through, and threw himself through the doors before stilling and holding his breath. He needed to be smart about this. He couldn’t just launch himself into danger, that wouldn’t fix anything. He needed to be calm, careful, and quiet.

He slinked through the halls, careful to not make a sound, and searched through every unlocked classroom he walked by. He could hear shrill squealing from every possible direction, but it was the ceiling that shook and shuddered. The ghost was above him.

He hastened his movements, whisper-calling his student’s name into the doorway of every room, hoping to find him before he himself was discovered. No one answered. He went to the basement floors, raising his voice slightly, and running from room to room. Nothing. Maybe Daniel had found his way out of the building and away from the threat. Maybe he was putting himself in danger for nothing. He grabbed his walkie-talkie and raised it to his mouth once again. 

“Does anyone have Daniel Fenton with them?” 

He heard loud booms and crashes from above, followed by shouts and animalistic screeching. The shouting sounded human, masculine and young.

The walkie-talkie buzzed. “None of us have him.”

He knew where Daniel was.

He ran to the stairs and scaled them as fast as he could, not caring whether or not he made noise. If he did, it would certainly be masked by the squeals and screeching of the ghost above him. 

He tripped halfway up the second flight, but continued scrambling his way up. He couldn’t waste any time, his student was in danger.

He made it to the top of the stairs and looked down the hallway. It was completely still, silent. If it weren’t for the cracked floor tiles and walls he could almost pretend there hadn’t been a ghost here at all. It felt wrong, but he couldn’t dwell on that. He had to find his student. 

He ran into an empty classroom and searched, but found nothing. He peered out the door but saw no sign of the ghost. He ran to search the next classroom, ignoring the trail of glowing green beneath his feet. Empty, just like the last one. 

What if he was too late? Daniel was by no means a particularly strong or brave child. The boy was terrified of ghosts and would likely be too overwhelmed with fear to try to think of an escape route if cornered. 

He searched the next classroom, still no sign of the boy. Suddenly the animal ghost burst through the walls of the classroom, barreling towards him and roaring with anger. He scrambled to hide behind one of the tables that had been knocked over and braced for impact, but it never came. 

He heard an ear-splitting screech of pain followed by a large thud and the scraping of hooves against tile. The scraping gradually faded off and Edward was left alone again.

He took in a deep breath and quickly began to hyperventilate. He could have been killed. God, he nearly was killed. Maybe he was the wrong person to do this. Maybe he should leave and let the Fentons handle this when they arrived. Maybe he should just hide and hope he isn’t discovered.

But if he did that, what would happen to Daniel? As a teacher he had two main responsibilities, to educate his students, and to protect them. To protect them even if that meant sacrificing his own life to save theirs. 

Daniel was his student, and he wasn’t going to sit back and let his student die.

Edward stood up and left the classroom to continue his search. He sped from room to room, trying to ignore the furious screeches threatening to split his skull open, trying not to think about what might happen to him if he was caught by the beast emitting them, trying not to think about what would happen if Daniel was caught.

Distressing images flashed through his head. Images of his student, abdomen ripped open and organs spilling out, mouth open, eyes vacant and clouded over. Worse, head crushed underneath hooves, skull fragments and teeth scattered across the floor, a leg detached from the rest of his body, being gnawed on by the beast as if it were a dog’s chew toy. He shook his head and tried to get rid of them, but they refused to leave. 

Thrown down a flight of stairs, neck broken and skull cracked from the impact. Head bitten off by powerful jaws. Pierced through the stomach and left to slowly bleed out. Eaten alive, still thrashing and screaming, begging to be let go- 

He heard the yelling again, Daniel wasn’t dead yet. If he followed the sound, he would find Daniel. And if he found Daniel, he’d be able to help him escape. He ran down the stairs and sprinted to the west side of the school, the shouts growing louder and louder, and the inhuman screeching growing along with them. He forced himself to ignore the screeches, he needed to protect his student, he couldn’t run away from danger this time. But right as he reached the source of the screaming, he froze. 

The ghost, a ginormous and terrifying boar with tusks sharp as daggers protruding from its jaws and a single spiral horn erupting from its forehead, and a small body pinned to the wall, pierced through the middle by its horn.

The screams hadn’t been coming from his student.

It had been another ghost.

The phantom.

He shouldn’t get involved. He should just leave. This was a dangerous situation. He needed to leave and find Daniel. But one glance at the smaller ghost’s eyes and he couldn’t. His hands were shaking, his heart was accelerating, his breathing was getting faster and faster. He grabbed the legs of a desk and, with a strength he didn’t know he had, struck the boar in the face with it.

The boar screamed and fell to the ground, releasing the boy from its hold. It attempted to stand back up, but Edward struck it again and again. His arms felt like they could fall off, but he continued to strike the boar. His legs felt like they could no longer support his weight, but he continued to strike the boar. He couldn’t see, couldn’t hear, couldn’t think, but he continued to strike the boar. It wasn’t until his legs gave out and his arms refused to move the desk again that he realized that the boar wasn’t going to get up.

He knelt there, staring at the creature, breathing heavily and trying to understand what had just happened. The horn was broken off of its head and into two pieces, the core of it glowing green and sparking, yet gradually dimming as the seconds passed. The face was caved in, and there was ectoplasm everywhere. Had he really done that? The boar began to melt and bubble away, slowly simmering into nothingness.

“Are you alright?” Edward snapped his head towards the source of the question and winced when his eyes met the large wound in the phantom’s abdomen. It was larger than he had thought and gushing out ectoplasm.

“Shouldn't I be asking you that?” Edward replied. “Do you need help? I could get you a first aid kit if you’d like.” 

The phantom’s face scrunched up in thought. “Why are you here? Shouldn’t you be outside with everyone else? There was an evacuation, wasn't there?”

Edward jumped as he remembered what he was doing before. “I’m missing a student. He didn’t evacuate with all the others and I-”

“Daniel Fenton?” Phantom offered, then flinched slightly, as if he regretted saying anything.

“Yes. How did you know?” Edward looked at him curiously.

“I,” Phantom looked around the room, seemingly hesitant to give up the answer. “I helped him get out.”

Edward let out a relieved breath. “So he’s safe?”

Phantom looked down at his wound and paused before speaking. “Yes. he’s safe.”

It felt like a large weight was lifted off his shoulders. His student was alive. He looked back to the wound in Phantom’s abdomen and winced. “I’m going to go find a first aid kit so I can help fix your wounds. Don’t move from this spot, I’ll be right back.”

He ran out of the room and down the hall, quickly losing his breath. Now that the threat of imminent danger was gone, it seemed that his limits had been put back in place. He slowed to a halt and leaned against the wall next to him to catch his breath. He would have to walk.

He was almost to the nurse’s office when he began to hear hushed voices.

“...ectoplasmic readings…faded gradually… cut off like usual…could mean…not sure…”

He crept closer to the source of the sound, careful to not be heard, before realizing there was no danger in being observed. He began to walk normally, yet still relatively quietly towards the source of the sound, feeling rather silly for his earlier actions.

The voices soon became clear as he came closer, and before too long, he could see the familiar orange and teal jumpsuits of Jack and Madeline Fenton. “...Knew we should have brought the tracker.”

“There’s still an ecto-signature in the building. He has to be around here somewhere.”

Edward cleared his throat, causing the other two to jump and face him. “Drs. Fenton, might I ask what exactly you are doing here?”

Jack and Madeline both jumped before turning to face him, Jack looking confused and Madeline with a smile on her face. It was a sweet smile on the surface, he had seen this smile a million times on a million different faces. But rather than feeling warm and inviting like it usually would, it was cold, condescending. He felt insignificant under her gaze. “Oh, Mr. Lancer, we were alerted to an attack here. We just wanted to make sure everything was alright.”

Edward steeled himself and forced his emotions to remain hidden from her dissecting gaze. “And I do appreciate that. But, I do believe that the attack is over now. Am I correct?”

Her smile strained a bit, but she was quick to cover it up. “Yes, that ghost boy must have captured it. And we’ll be out of your hair as soon as we have him” Madeline attempted to step past him, but Edward moved to block her. Edward started to feel his temper slip and by the looks of things, the same could be said for both Jack and Maddie.

Edward crossed his arms and let out a breath to attempt to calm himself down. “I see, and is this ghost boy an immediate threat to the safety and wellbeing of the students?” 

“No, but he’s up to something,” Jack answered with fake enthusiasm. He was grinning from ear to ear, but somehow it seemed more like a baring of teeth. “We just know it. We need to capture and interrogate him, maybe do a bit of ripping apart if we can, and figure out what he’s up to, right Madds?”

“Exactly. We’re so close to figuring this out, and now we have him cornered. This might be our only chance for months. So if you would please excuse us-” She forcefully pushed Edward out of the way and along with her husband, began to march down the hall towards the room where he had left Phantom in.

“Mr. and Mrs. Fenton, I-”

Madeline turned her head to face him, the same perfectly condescending smile on her face. “Doctor Fenton.” She corrected.

“I’ll call you whatever I damn well please.” Edward nearly shouted. Every shred of subtlety was stripped from his demeanor. The pair froze in their steps and whipped around to face him. “The agreement here was that you lend aid when needed. That you help when a ghost attack threatens the lives of our students and staff and leave when the threat has passed. The agreement was not that you use this school as a trap to corner and shoot down children based on a hunch. You have no authority here, the only reason you are able to hunt the ghosts that attack here is because we allow you.”

Madeline’s entire face turned red with fury while Jack stared down to the ground, barely suppressed rage clear on his face. Madeline marched forward towards Edward and spat out her retort like venom on her tongue.

“The reason we are able to hunt the ghosts who attack here is because we are the world's leading experts in ectoplasmic behaviour, biology, and most importantly for this case, extermination. It is not just a hunch. You’ve seen firsthand what he’s capable of and yet, he still has you fooled. Though with what I’ve seen of your intelligence, that shouldn’t come as much of a surprise. That thing is extremely dangerous and could turn on us at any moment. Can’t you see, he’s using all of us for his sick-”

“That’s enough.” Edward cut her off, face deliberately cold and expressionless. He looked down at her with the intent to instill the same feeling of insignificance she had given him.

She stomped her foot, seeming like a stick of dynamite with a fire almost to the base of the fuse. “No, I don’t want to hear any of your-”

“Please exit the building. If you don’t in the next five minutes I will contact the authorities. The same goes for if I see you lurking in the parking lot or circling the building.” 

And just like that, the flame sputtered before finally going out. She glared at him with a look that could break the bravest of men, turned around, and marched towards the entrance, followed shortly behind by her husband.

He watched as they passed through the door, entered their abomination of a vehicle, and left before he let out a relieved breath of air. If it were up to him, those two wouldn’t be allowed to enter school grounds, ghost attack or not. But now wasn’t the time to dwell on that. He continued on his way to the nurse’s office, grabbed a roll of gauze, disinfectant, and whatever else seemed useful, and made his way back to the classroom he left the phantom in.

He just couldn’t understand some people. Yes, it was good to be cautious, but never to this extent. To attack a child for a crime you have no proof he will commit, it was the coward’s way out. There had only been two instances where the phantom had been reported doing anything immoral, and both had been proven to be falsely incriminating. The Fenton’s had even confirmed this, however reluctantly they were to do so. It was extremely unjust, not to mention selfish, to attack Amity Park’s greatest ghost defence on nothing but baseless accusations and prejudice.

Edward forced himself to calm down. There was no use in getting so upset, especially now that the cause of the frustration had left. He reached the door of the room he had left Phantom in, took a deep breath, and opened it.

Phantom was nowhere to be seen.

He stood there for a minute, frozen, unsure what to do, before calmly looking around the room for the missing ghost. All he found in his search however was a sheet of notebook paper, torn at the edge with just two words written on it.

Thank you. 

He supposed he should have expected this. After all, he had never heard of anyone before ever getting that close to the phantom without capturing him first. It would make sense that he would flee to take care of his own wounds rather than stay to accept help. 

He left the medical supplies in the room. Just in case.

[girlfriendsofthegalaxy]

tuesday again 10/29/2024

new boot goofin. also a great book for the cowboyblogger crew and TWO cat photos

listening

afterimage by JUSTICE and Rimon was on a spotify autogenerated dance playlist and it is So soothing to my brain. sometimes described as heavy metal disco, it itches the same brain scratch as daft punk's interstella 5555. comforting and familiar road trip music where the road trips are in spaceships with a sort of clunky engine thrumming away in the background. you know that extremely early ass o clock in the morning road trip feel where it's very pale and a little misty out and you're only sort of awake? i feel like this is a very different kind of road trip music animal than than late-night road trip music. it's pulling you out the door. it's for beginnings, not for very tired almost-ends.

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reading

thank you mackie. very reading heavy week. im tryign to redirect myself into library books instead of election doomscrolling and im trying to read more physical books bc i have a tremendous pile of shit i genuinely do want to read and almost none of it is on my phone. first we'll talk about Navigational Entanglements by Aliette de Bodard, from randomly perusing the library stacks. really really really fucking loved this one.

Award-winning author of The Red Scholar’s Wake Aliette de Bodard comes for your heart with a compelling tale of love, duty, and found-family in an exciting new space opera that brings xianxia-style martial arts to the stars. Jockeying navigator clans guide spaceships through the Hollows: an area of space populated by the mysterious but deadly creatures known as Tanglers. When a Tangler escapes the Hollows for the first time in living memory, each clan must send a representative to help capture it—but the mission may be doomed and the hearts of two clan juniors may be in danger too.

first off: this isn't fucking found family. this is a group of coworkers. tor dot com loves to slap found family on anything gay.

politics is about control and inter-group dynamic politics are also about control. and grappling for control in your life when you grow up in a Young Leadership program. i really liked this, one of the least annoying examples of someone getting overstimulated and needing to lie down in a dark quiet room and how hanging out with some people does not impair rest and hanging out with some people is extremely extremely draining. the love interest is what if lee van cleef was a young vietnamese woman in the far future who can navigate faster than light travel.

very snappy little 160-pg novella that does not overstay its welcome. packs a genuinely surprising amount of worldbuilding and character work into its pages: i have a lot of trouble with ensemble casts post-Covid and keeping everyone straight (especially in hard copy form where I can’t easily search a book) but everyone is a fully formed person here and i had no trouble keeping everyone straight in my head. i will be asking my siblings to acquire a physical copy for me for christmas. i love a fucked up political mystery with spacewalks and space monsters.

the lead, nhi, reminded me a lot of friends at the table's brnine, a self-sacrificing perfectionist fish. hope that's useful information to all three of you i have bullied into listening to fatt

The Shabti by Megaera C. Lorenz. this finally came off my holds, hat tip to i think someone else's tuesdaypost? cannot immediately locate it. holler if it was you.

Can you flimflam a ghost? It’s 1934. Former medium Dashiel Quicke travels the country debunking spiritualism and false mediums while struggling to stay ahead of his ex-business partner and lover who wants him back at any cost. During a demonstration at a college campus, Dashiel meets Hermann Goschalk, an Egyptologist who’s convinced that he has a genuine haunted artifact on his hands. Certain there is a rational explanation for whatever is going on with Hermann’s relics, Dashiel would rather skip town, but soon finds himself falling for Hermann. He agrees to take a look after all and learns that something is haunting Hermann’s office indeed. Faced with a real ghost Dashiel is terrified, but when the haunting takes a dangerous turn, he must use the tools of the shady trade he left behind to communicate with this otherworldly spirit before his past closes in.

this keeps getting reviewed as cozy horror, which i do not agree with bc i hate the term and believe it oxymoronic. it is a fairly straightforward romance with paranormal shit happening in the foreground. a period piece not particularly for the folx end of the fag/folx gay book spectrum-- they happen to be gay but there's a lot of other shit happening. not a spicy romance as the tiktok girlies say. it is a period book that sort of elides over the worst parts of the 30s? eg there is no on-page or overt racism or antisemitism that the characters have to Confront. one of the lead's neighbors is a black nurse trying to start a NAACP chapter, but she's so fully fleshed out and such an enjoyable character it doesn't feel like the book is looking for moral points from modern readers. i also liked the general slow-build of the book and their relationship — i have no complaints about the intensity or pace of their relationship.

the one ding i have is that it is perhaps a touch too enthusiastic about period slang. it's fine when the two leads are talking to each other, especially bc their word choice is a large way they show their personality, but when there are more than two people in a scene it can grate a little for me. i do think the dialogue is generally the strong suit here, and the author particularly excels at two-person back and forths, so it’s not a frequent complaint.

i liked the contrast of the scam medium with the academic egyptologist, since many egyptologists were also scams. the scenes with the spirit are genuinely eerie, which is a very good contrast with the fairly straightforward, often sparse narration.

grudging respect for keeping a joke simmering on the back burner for four hundred pages before deploying it. this was a well-paced read i have no major complaints about.

i have to spin this book around in my brain and get a physical copy and flip back and forth and lot and make notes to myself in a separate notebook before i talk about this one here i think. same brain itch as a canticle for leibowitz.

i also read a bunch of comics but this section is already long enough goodbye

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watching

the first episode of the currently airing penguin tv show! at my bestie's house bc she has an hbo max subscription from something, unfortunately it is an emotionally fraught very tense show and we're kind of full up on those so i will have to finish this on my own. at no point did i say to myself "whoa that's colin farrell". both the prosthetic and accent work are off the charts.

i do Not like a piece of media about the mob. i will stomach it for batman. it's really wild how the accents they've chosen for gotham and her suburbs make me so so so weirdly homesick. one of the locations is an early McMansion and my bestie and i said almost simultaneously "are we in fucking Cherry Hill???" a jersey noveau riche town infested with notable McMansions.

i am constantly chasing the high of s1 black sails where everyone is frantically scheming and falling all over them fucking selves. this gets pretty close! it's big budget prestige tv with the storytelling chops to match so far. one of my favorite comic runs is The Long Halloween, partially about the fortunes of the Maroni and Falcone crime families of Gotham. this is loosely following that, but deviates enough to surprise me, which i enjoy. there have been enough faithful adaptations of that comic run imo.

optimistic about the rest of the season! i have such low expectations for batman media that it's refreshing to get like a genuinely good pilot episode out of the franchise.

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playing

i have Got to find a new game to play that i already own. genshin is such a good podcast game but i need Something New. surely the 576047357649857689 games across five libraries will save me.

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making

so many things happened this week. cat neuter and constipation episode. helped take apart and put back together a children's' room. lot of running around.

crunchy! i almost left these docs at goodwill bc i don't have a super high opinion of the company or the quality of the boots. i have heard my ENTIRE life about how long-lasting they are and how people have had the same boots for years but i completely shredded a pair during eight months in 2019. like the soles were worn almost completely smooth to the point they were a slipping hazard, half the eyelets were broken, and the leather was genuinely disintegrating. that was one of the busiest and most active periods of my life (classes at other campuses both semesters, a summer in new hampshire, the beginning of the makerspace) but i did expect them to hold up a little better or a little longer. they only got to experience about a month and a half of salt at the beginning and were regularly cleaned. yes i did buy them straight from the company.

anyway. these extremely ugly docs industrials had almost all their tread and magically fit me. like the rest of me, my feet are large and wide and difficult to fit. they are by Far the ugliest shoes i have ever owned. however. they will be the boots i will wear for when i need to be okay about potentially destroying my footwear.

hit em with some saddle soap and polished the toes, i seem to be flat out of leather conditioner so i was only able to hit the heels and one tongue. the laces are in the warsh.

they're real leather and were twelve dollars and miraculously fit me. you know that quote about americans being temporarily embarrassed millionaires? i still, in many ways, think of myself as a temporarily embarrassed abled person. i am slowly giving up on the idea of another remote job, bc they seem to all be fake, and going harder on city and county jobs. while i would rather wear my beloved CAT steel toes with the nice padded cuffs any day of the week, maybe these will be good for tromping around somewhere inspecting something. would Love a weights and measures inspection job if their office would return my polite messages.

also ruby goes home tonight! goodbye ruby!

[teanderthalrex]

The Shabti by Megaera Lorenz

This book is The Mummy if it was a cozy 1930s horror with Aziraphale and Crowley from Good Omens.

I loved it.

Readers follow the story of Dashiel Quicke, an ex-spiritualist-turned-debunker who is enlisted to help small town Egyptologist Hermann Goschalk with the matter of his (definitely not really) haunted Shabti doll. Shenanigans ensue.

Lorenz character dialogues really capture the turn of the century atmosphere (without feeling silly) and the relationship between Dashiel and Hermann was beautifully written.

Is cozy horror a genre yet? It should be. I could read another Hermann/Dashiel story right away. Definitely a great end of summer read and an excellent addition to the shelves. I especially would recommend this to any library with an LGBT book club.

4/5 stars

[arwainian]

Reading This Week 2024 #30

This week took me to the very final page of the notebook I have been keeping my reading journal in since last October! which is very convenient, but also now i have to dig around my book shelf to find what half used notebook i want to convert toward this purpose. As a heads up I skimmed some articles this week I wont be including, but there will be a subsection in started/ongoing on books from the library that I've tested (lots of holds coming in at once) and whether I'll pick them up again or not

quick question, this log jumps between different genres pretty wildly [academic work on sexual violence to cute romance manga back to academic work on sexual violence]... would anyone prefer if i also sorted by genre/type? or are we cool with me mostly sticking to the timeline that i actually finished reading stuff? because my life and reading experience really does flip back and forth between these things

Finished:

settle the tab by blacksatinpointeshoes on ao3 reaching a point where I can return to friends at the table fanfiction after the post-project break is such a godsends bc there is so much good fic to catch up on! this fic by bsps (if you remember, an author i really loved during the reading project) is about Grand Magnificent being miserable and drinking martinis, a drink for people who hate themselves

The Water Outlaws by S.L. Huang, audiobook read by Emily Woo Zeller this book was blurbed by Shelley Parker-Chan, author of She Who Became the Sun which I am obsessed with, so I picked The Water Outlaws up on a whim when I saw it at the library a few weeks ago. i ended up having an easier time starting the audiobook just because it fit well with my chores and errands after I returned from visiting family. if you like badass women and chinese-inspired historical and fantasy action, go check this out! I had a good time

"Toward Acknowledging the Ambiguities of Sex: Questioning Rape Culture and Consent-Based Approaches to Sexual Assault Prevention" by Tuulia Law, Ch.12 in Violence Interrupted: Confronting Sexual Violence on University Campuses a really loved reading this. it gives a good history of various feminist approaches to sexual violence, and says some things that have been on a mind in my research. love to have a place where i can justify and cite my opinions (btw, cause the title is ambiguous, its about acknowledging that Obtaining Consent(tm) does not always prevent sexual harm for various reasons, and consent-based approaches often individualize the broad social issues at play

A Sign of Affection, Vol. 1 by suu Morishita, translated by Christine Dashiell shojo romance between polyglot boy and Deaf girl. not really feeling the chemistry between the leads, but I finished the first volume for the lush art and how sign language is represented in static images. not sure if i'll continue with further volumes but i might check out the anime

"Thinking Woman-to-Woman Rape: A Critique of Marcus's "Theory and Politics of Rape Prevention"" by Kelly Anne Malinen a very incisive critique, a great and critical literature review on different feminist theories of rape (including radical feminist text with their gender essentialism). i will definitely be using this in my writing!

"The Font of Liberty" by Elizabeth Porter Birdsall, narrated by C.J. Lavigne on the Lesbian Historic Motif Podcast i kinda forgot what this is about.... newspapers in Les Miserables era France?

Go For It, Nakamura! and Go For It Again, Nakamura! by Syundei, translated by Amber Tamosaitis the art style for this is charming, the disaster gay is at absolute maximum disaster for comedic effect, and it really does get you shouting "just make a move! you have a good chance!" at this shy teenager's crush on his outgoing classmate/friend

"Sex Wars and the Contemporary French Moral Panic: the Productivity and Pitfalls of Feminist Conflicts" by Cornelia Möser provides a much needed outside perspective on the U.S. feminist "sex wars" between "pro-sex" and "anti-porn" camps, and reminds me of the need for a multiplicity of approaches: what feels empowering for some overlaps with what feels oppressive for others

Refusing Compulsory Sexuality: A Black Asexual Lens on Our Sex-Obsessed Culture by Sherronda J. Brown, audiobook read by Yu-Li Alice Shen if you are not, like me, a graduate student familiar with writing on anti-black oppression and on asexuality, a lot of this stuff might be new to you. but me as I am a lot of this felt like fairly obvious comparisons/parallels/intersections, so reading it was a bit tedious. however those chapters were worth getting through for Chapters 10 and 11. Ch.11 gives a pretty thorough amateur history of different namings of asexual experiences in theories of asexuality prior to the internet age (its not new!), and Ch. 10 does a really beautiful and compassionate re-reading of the lives of Langston Hughes and particularly Octavia E. Butler through asexuality and aromanticism

Gyo: The Death-Stench Creeps by Junji Ito, translated by Yuji Oniki the volume I read also included "the enigma of amigara" fault as a backup story! excited for the shelved by genre episode on it. made me go eugh.

You've Always Been There by kingofwickedskulls on ao3 if you really wanna leave, I'll never make you stay by hornyonside (birdlord5000) on ao3 first is pickman/collette hookup, second it jesset/brnine hookup, both are nice!

Just Sex? The Cultural Scaffolding of Rape, Second Edition by Nicola Gavey maybe the best book I've yet read on rape culture, and specifically on the gendered aspects of all kinds of sexual violence (pressure, coercion, etc) and let me be specific that the praise I am heaping on it is specifically for the 2nd edition, which in a completely new chapter contextualizes the way the arguments of the 1st edition were written and limited by its time of publication, as well as eloquently expanding on some of the arguments which had at first given me pause with reliable qualitative research. this makes me want to go out and write a gender based analysis of sexual violence against and among trans people, like Gavey calls for in her acknowledgement that a lot of her argument relies upon presuming she's talking exclusively about cisgender subjects

Started/Ongoing:

Camp Damascus by Chuck Tingle, audiobook read by Mara Wilson reading this for queer lit book club! currently on audiobook for the sake of doing chores and not reading everything with my tired tired eyes

How to Live Safely in a Science Fictional Universe by Charles Yu reading for sff bookclub which i have been absent from for a bit! this is short and written in an experiemental style, so I'm excited to get deeper into it

Boys Run the Riot, Vol. 1 by Keito Gaku, translated by Leo McDonagh, Status: DNF This is a manga about a closeted trans boy, Ryo, starting a fashion branad with his cool slack off held-back-a-year classmate Jin. It was very cool to see a manga with a trans protagonist, but I'm not interested enough in the fashion stuff to stick it through all the volumes, and the art style didn't grab me enough to want to finish this one... Juniper & Thorn by Ava Reid, Status: to be continued! the cover of this book was done by an artist i like so I'm checking it out, first chapter or so it promising fairytale inspired stuff Black Water Sister by Zen Cho, status: to be continued! looks popular, its queer modern fantasy i think? first chapter is intriguing

Reading Plans:

continue with book club reads more articles on sexual violence there's a book on feminism and foucault i need to read i have stone butch blues out from the library i am slowly crumbling to dust under a pile of books please help

[chocolatepot]

I'm very pleased to have written the first fic for The Shabti - and I hope more follow it! If you haven't read the novel, it's the story of a former spiritualist con man running into an actual spirit and falling in love with the professor he helps to deal with it. Order it or request your library get it today!

Rating: G | Words: 1,240

Relationship: Dashiel Quicke/Hermann Goschalk

Additional Tags: Domestic Fluff, Missing Scene, Undressing, Yiddish, Gratuitous Yiddish

Once Lucille and Agnes had helped Hermann get Dashiel into the passenger seat of his car, they’d gone off on their own, and almost immediately afterward Dashiel passed out. It gave Hermann a fright — he’d just put the car into gear and glanced over at the other man, expecting a reassuring smile, and was met instead with what looked almost like a corpse with a face drained of blood. He didn’t have Lucille’s skills, of course, but he imitated what he’d seen her do before, reached out (trembling more than she did), and rested two fingers on the inside of Dashiel’s left wrist. There was a pulse, reassuringly present if faint, and he let out a shuddering breath. Hermann gets Dashiel home and puts him to bed after the spiritualist meeting.

[evermorehqs]

CATCHING MY BREATH, STARING OUT AN OPEN WINDOW

Ming Lee is based on Ming from Turning Red. She is a 49 year old cursed human, museum director, and uses she/her pronouns. She has the power of shifting. Ming is portrayed by Lucy Liu and she is open.

CATCHING MY DEATH, AND I COULDN’T BE SURE

Is there anything more devastating in this world than letting down your own Mother? Such an experience so painful as to break her heart? Or a fear so great as to disappoint her? Maybe the only rival feeling is to become that, realizing too late that you've turned into the person you swore you never would. There are certain things Ming can live with, like your daughter having some unsavory companions and dreadful taste in music, but never ever did Ming expect her very own daughter to go behind her back to both lie, and disgrace the family. Perhaps Ming had been the issue, perhaps she had been too soft on Meilin, let her slip through the cracks and into a sea of temptation. However it was only at the very last moment, just as their mother-daughter bond was to be shattered forever, did Ming realise yes it was her fault. Fear is what drove Ming and Meilin apart, Ming was too scared to let her baby girl grow up and become a woman. Mei-Mei, too afraid to confide in her Mother and risk harsh judgment. Walls went up surrounding the two women until they were at war with each other, furious about the lack of trust and respect from both sides, not able to see just how alike they are. Not able to trust each other with the truth. It is a difficult thing to swallow your pride, and even more punishing to understand that perhaps, mother did not know best on this occasion. Saying sorry doesnt come naturally to parents who try so hard to protect their children, but Ming is trying her very best to repair the damage and make amends for the hurt she caused Meilin.

I HAD A FEELING SO PECULIAR

❀ Thomas O’Malley: Thomas makes it look so easy, adored by everyone including his children. Maybe he can share some of his secrets to a mother desperate to heal her bond with her daughter. ❀ Dashiel Parr: A troublesome little delinquent! Ming has never actually caught him doing anything wrong, but she just knows it's him rearranging the brochures in the museum! He’s just too quick! ❀ Eleanora Ashwin: Now there is a perfect example for a daughter! A polite, kind, respectful young lady who would never bad-mouth her guardians! Maybe Eleanora could help Ming teach Meilin a thing or two.

THIS PAIN WOULD BE FOR EVERMORE

[jojoblessed365]

Teach Me Tonight - Chapter 10 - jojoblessed365 - Gilmore Girls (TV 2000) [Archive of Our Own]

The last week of school is filled with determining the school council for next year as well as the cool off period for seniors who would be graduating that end of May. But Jess is more than happy since it meant that he survived an entire school year as a teacher and he had no hiccups related to the same. What was the icing on the cake, was the respect he had gained with both his fellow co-workers and students, as well as the sense of happiness he felt as both his new career change and family change, feeling a stronger bond with DJ than he has ever felt.

The only thing that was, or rather, felt incomplete, was his romantic trajectory. Even though, they were back to being friends, Jess felt himself pining profusely for Rory. Every conversation they had or every look they shared at each other, left Jess with the ashes of what- could’ve, would’ve, should’ve been. He should have been in a relationship with Rory, not in some vacuum of something which wasn’t exactly friendship or complete alienation. He was, as the French would call it, in exquisé- the pain of still caring for someone that you knew you can never have.

So, once school’s out for the day, Jess’s only home for as long as it takes to change into his running gear before he’s back out the door, the cooling spring, almost summer afternoon perfect for getting in a quick 5-mile run.

Or it would have been if his agent hadn’t called halfway through his run. Jess answers, because he has to – he can ignore text messages while he’s at work, but once it’s gotten to the point of either his agent or his editor calling him, there’s no ignoring his phone anymore. So, Jess slips his phone from his pocket, his ringtone cutting into the music that’s playing through his headphones, and slides across the screen to answer. “Hi, Birdie,” Jess says, slowing his pace down to a walk.

Birdie Lenora Cassopolis, one of the fiercest women Jess’s ever met, lets out a noise that almost sounds like she’s concerned about him. “Why are you breathing so hard?”

Jess rolls his eyes. “I’m in the middle of a run.”

“Hmm, well, sorry about that,” Birdie says, sounding the complete opposite of sorry. “Did Amir manage to get a hold of you?”

“Um, no?” Jess says. “Sorry, I got his text, but I was in the middle of teaching.”

Birdie lets out a sound of annoyance. “Sweetie, you do know you can still earn a living with these Bishop books, right?”

Jess sighs, given that he’s been touted as the next Dashiell Hammett meets Raymond Chandler hybrid with the Dodger Bishop series in the recent edition of the New York Times, maybe it isn’t so surprising – and he’s shaking his head even though he knows Birdie can’t see him. “I’ve told you, I’m not giving up teaching. I made the discovery that I love it too much.”

“Hmm, I know. Can’t blame me for trying, though.”

It’s an old argument, familiar and well-trodden with any of Jess’s lifestyle choices, and Jess lets it fade away. “So, why are you calling? What’s so urgent that both you and Amir are trying to get a hold of me?”

ENJOY!!!

Here's the fashion moodboard in order to visualize Jess, Rory and DJ's outfits and primary inspiration-

[writer59january13]

What happened to my sex drive?

(sung – in a round pussy willow warble - to the tune of --

Oh Where Oh Where has my little dog gone).

Once pronounced libido of mine

took kamikaze nose dive,

whereby about two thirds of mein kampf ago, I yearned to be sought after beaux

yet as severely socially

anxious and withdrawn lad

present day ofttimes repeated laments find me to crow slamming self NOT losing

my virginity at a precocious ago,

cursing lack of tangible results courtesy

feeble attempts delivered deathblow

to a fragile ego,

and now only

as a married celibate sexagenarian

dearth of rutting thoughts

along the unforgettable lines sketched out

by storied author Eugene O'Neill

includes lustful and romantic desire,

largely illustrated by the relationship

between Eben and Abbie

hashtagged within tragedy

Desire Under the Elms

ricochets with salient significance

an attempt by O'Neill

to adapt plot elements

and themes of Greek tragedy

to a rural New England setting

inspired by the myth of Phaedra,

Hippolytus, and Theseus,

which story of five characters on a rural farm

in 1850s' New England, how their lives both pushed together and pulled apart by their conflicting desires

such aboriginal, primal,

optimal, animal, et cetera characteristics

once figuratively bounces

hither and yon, to and fro within testosterone

powered windmills in my mind.

With a flame boy hunt

deft jais nais sais quois

firm lickey split tongue

and two bell yule yar pissant

little nippy nappy noopy ruck berry

filled up paul ling sacks

viz peppy la pew doth not peter out,

and weathers clawed rained swipes

from hello kitty when faux pas gets swung

assisting climbing Jacob's ladder

(without pussy footing,

orb bing a putz like the president)

advancing quick to attain orgasmic rung

while heading into a slippery sloping sluice

(with prickly endeavor emitting cleat trill

smooth sailing along a cunt

re coarse upon phallic shaped pung

crossing la brea tar pits (peppered

with lai bee ha tricky

bridge over the River Kwai)

comprising ideal place de la resistance

to woo tang clan foreign nee Kate,

where two puckered

rill lee fleshy ruffling rills

tinged pinkish lips overhung

a challenging escarpment,

where many a brave

Tom, Harry or Dick get hung

up, particularly while searching

for fabled “G” spot,

Fear of Flying (a bildungsroman

whose central theme couched

in the search

for self-discovery) by Erica Jung

cuz portcullis hamstrung

even the most fiercely determined

Engelbert Hump per dink

necessitating the moist risky ski maneuver

as most studs know tubby gelandesprung

though booby prize

wool worth any slimy setbacks,

where sticky gook gets flung

from angry cat,

who does not in the least find amusing,

and if further pricked with rage

not averse to hurl dung

gar (with) ease at snaky,

retractable hardened foo fighting

beastie boy twill clung

for dear life and limb

(er, or twig and berries),

while applying crampons (bivouacked

within his maxipad), viz bung

gull low, essentially a ball peen size cove

screwed and hammered out by Dashiell Hammitt, where coiled,

kinked follicles strewn tightly inlet among

pheromone laced verboten fruit.

[megaeralwrites]

I'm still buzzing from The Shabti's time among Amazon's top 100 Paranormal Fantasy books (and top 50 in the Kindle Store!) over the past couple of days! :D Thanks so much to everyone who bought the book and/or spread the word about it. It means the world to me!

[jamieroxxartist]

One of my Favorite Authors! And a Fantastic Quick Video that illustrates so well, Dashiell Hammett’s Philosophy of Life:

RIP Today, Jan 10, 1961 – #DashiellHammett, American detective novelist and screenwriter (b. 1894) walked on.

(https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dashiell_Hammett)

[fumikomiyasaki]

❰❰ WALL ❱❱ sender pushes the receiver against a wall

Dashiell & Julian

Self-Indulgent

Being in his dorm all the time was boring to him. Like sure it was fun to bother the boss or show off to his dorm mates, but he needed his freedom to just go out and do his own thing. Eventually he didn't feel like doing club activities and so just watch training of the basketball team for a certain player he wanted to cheer for. And cheer for her he did. It was like he was Dashiells personal cheerleader for this. After training he got approached by him a tad annoyed.

"Shouldn't you be at your dance club?"

"Mythra can do a day without me and also, I brought you your favourite~"

Teasingly bending forward he handed him a warm can of coffee just like he wanted to, yet Dashiell put it next to his bag and dragged Julian away from the public crowd to a place that could hardly be seen by other students and pushed him against the wall.

"What are you playing again?"

"Playing? Oh trust me I am serious about winning your heart over, handsome."

"Tch... you really try to hard you know."

Julian smirked and put his hands on his cheek.

"Well you could at least thank me for the coffee, you look like you need it."

With a swift grab he was lifted against the wall for a kiss, an aggresive kiss that even left some blood of Julians lips, just like he likes it... a bit of pain with sensation.

"If you tell anyone again we are dating, you know I won't give you something like this right."

"I know, but there is nothing wrong with cheering for a 'friend', right?"

"*sigh* Fine whatever."

Before he could leave Julian left a small kiss on his neck with a bright grin.

"Hope you finish them off now that you got more energy. I will get back to dance so I can make you mine the next time we are alone."

Dashiell waved him off and got back to his backpack.

"He really is an annoyance but.... at least he does know what he is doing."

Drinking his coffee he was quick to do well the rest of club activity... even if a certain demon didn't leave his mind.

[casspurrjoybell-19]

CLAIMED - Chapter 34

*Warning: Adult Content*     

After triple-checking over his shoulder to ensure that no one else was watching, Head Warrior of the Crescent Moon Pack, Corey Cahill shoved his hand deep into the back of his bedside drawer. 

He blindly rooted around in the semi-organized space until his fingertips found the shape of the item he was looking for. 

Then, quickly, he slid the object into the pocket of his jacket, closed the drawer and made his way out of the room he shared with his Mate, Beta Jaxson Ortiz. 

Corey made quick work of the sweeping staircase in the center of the Pack House before navigating back to the sitting room from which he originally came. 

When he crossed the threshold, the sight before him was one that he would gaze into for eternity if only he were afforded such a privilege.

There he was.

 There they were.

"Dude, this stuff is gonna make you so jacked. Make sure to drink a lot, not enough so that you poop all over me again like last time but just enough so that you get big and strong and that I can teach you how to kick some as..." Jaxson paused, eyes widening with recognition at the curse word that he was about to use,."Sorry, not ass, I mean to say butt," the Beta’s eyes widened even more to a size that almost resembled a certain, yellow-haired Faerie. "Oh fuck, I still said it."

Corey chuckled. 

"Almost there, Gift. You're already doing better than last week," the Head Warrior praised, leaning over to press a kiss to Jaxson's soft lips before bestowing one on the top of baby Theon's sleepy forehead as well.

Corey wished that he could freeze an image in time, to brand the picture of Jaxson swaying Theon back and forth in the rocking chair as he fed him into the Warrior’s heart until the end of time. 

It was so idyllically perfect in such an imperfect way, the simple, domestic pleasure of seeing his Mate take care of their baby igniting certain desires that Corey did not even recognize as a component of his being until now.

He mentally pinched his Wolf, Dashiell as he drooled across the front of his skull, reminding him that this was not the time to pump his Beta/Omega full of pups. 

That could wait until approximately twelve o'clock, after their errands were finished.

"Thanks for the encouragement but I'm pretty sure I'm a lost cause," Jaxson sighed, shoulders drooping but he still held Theon as gently as ever. "This potty mouth is here to stay, let's just hope Theon doesn't catch on too quickly." 

Then, the Beta finally looked up at his Mate, a smile stretching the spattering of freckles that also dotted the skin of his pink lips.

"Don't you have shit to do today? Wait, fuck. I did it again."

 Corey just laughed again, nodding as he shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket, his left one clenching around the object that he had just placed there.

Lying to Jaxson was like tearing off a limb and still having to pretend that everything was intact. 

Luckily Corey’s inherent lack of facial expressions made it a little easier to hide his unease regarding the fact that he was about to intentionally mislead his soulmate regarding his plans for the day but not by much. 

So, with an incredibly deep breath and a quick talk down from the ledge, he finally responded.

"Yes. Warrior... stuff," Corey lied all-but-smoothly, palms and soul itching with the need to pull Jaxson into his arms, informing him of the truth behind his sinful, treacherous deception and then promptly beg for his forgiveness.

The Head Warrior quietly added that to his to-do list, right underneath 'fuck mate at approximately twelve o'clock.'

Jaxson just grinned wider, chirping a quick... 

"Okay, have fun. Love you." 

Before turning his attention back down to Theon. 

"Alright, lil' dude. Wanna hear about the time I accidentally set twenty-three live chickens loose inside the Pack House? See, it all starts with acquiring the goods. My personal place of choice was our local KFC..."

Corey shuffled a little in his spot, absolutely not trying to stall at all.

"Are you sure that you will be okay?" he suddenly blurted after a few moments of nervous hovering.

Since Corey’s incident, it had been harder than ever to separate himself from his Mate. 

Leaving Jaxson alone was like ripping his heart out, giving it les, and letting it walk around completely unguarded.

In other words, it was hell.

Jaxson looked back up, pausing his intricate story and raising a curl-obscured brow.

"Corey..." he started, voice soft and knowing. "I'll be fine, and so will Theon. Plus, I've got that lil' worm over there helping me out today." 

He points and Corey turns, following the invisible line drawn by the gesture. 

On the other end of it was a male Omega with gigantic, round glasses, a button nose and cheekbones so high and round that they honestly made him resemble a cartoon character. 

He waved with a wide smile, introduced himself as 'Evie' and promptly turned back to the game that he was playing on a handheld device.

"See? We're gonna be fine," Jaxson assured, tilting his head in a way that made Corey’s heart do a quick Olympic backflip. "Now, go do your thing so I can get back to teaching Theon how to become a legend."

‘Jaxson was right. It was time to go. Time to go. Time to go.’ 

Corey repeated the phrase a few more times. 

Around the fifteenth or so time, his feet finally decided to unstick from the hardwood and head out of the front door.

The air was a little chillier now, the fall breeze shifting the branches of trees whose leaves were beginning their shift from green to yellows and oranges.

This was the Head Warrior’s favorite time of year, when the browned-out colors of the world reminded him of book pages and it was warm enough for light layers but still cool enough to make you crave a cup of something hot.

And just like the leaves, it was a perfect time for change. 

For transformation.

His talk with Alpha Oasis Amador had gone well. 

After presenting his wish to begin his own pack, to rebuild on the land that his Parents once owned, he found that the Alpha also shared similar desires. 

Apparently, Alpha Oasis had long been looking for a way to pay tribute to the wrongs that his father had committed upon Corey’s Parents' Pack.

So the plan was immediately greenlit, the title on the land signed into Corey’s name along with a promise from Alpha Oasis to support them in whatever ways they needed as they established their family name once more.

They would be two packs but one in heart.

There was only one issue, which was that, as of yet, Jaxson was not exactly... aware of Corey’s plans.

The Head Warrior knew that he needed to tell his Mate and he certainly planned to. 

After all, if Jaxson said no, then Corey would not think twice about staying right where they are now. 

But fear weighed Alpha Corey Cahill down as he wished with everything in himself that the Crescent Moon Beta would want to share this dream with him, that his lover would stay by his side as both his Mate and his Beta.

Fallen leaves crunched underneath his heavy, black boots as he continued his trek. 

He had long since entered the backwoods, stepping over various logs and ducking under low-hanging branches on the way. 

He could have easily driven to his destination in a quarter of the time but for some reason that felt wrong. 

At least, for this particular occasion.

Regardless, he needed a little time alone to slow his steadily racing heart.

Squeezing the object in his left jacket pocket in a tight fist, Corey thought of Jaxson.

It was almost surreal to think about how he was provided with privilege enough to love and be loved by the most beautifully resilient man to ever exist within the boundless confines of this universe. 

Every morning that he woke up to a face full of those soft, springy curls, Corey immediately thanked the Goddess for her generosity with a ferocity enough to drive me to tears.

Jaxson Ortiz was it for him.

The Pack Beta had always been and always would be, from the very first moment that the Head Warrior’s soul made recognition of his transcendentally bewitching yet delicately vulnerable existence. 

Corey would walk through the gates of hell, fight the world until his knuckles bled and even give up his own life if it meant ensuring his Mate’s happiness.

The ground beneath his feet gave way to softer soil when a large pond finally revealed itself from behind a thick cover of red and brown foliage. 

The water was uncharacteristically calm, with barely a ripple to be glimpsed along its clear surface and Corey approached it’s bank with mindful steps.

This pond was one that he often found Jaxson lingering around during his patrols. 

It only took a few instances of noticing his behavior for the Warrior to finally give in to curiosity and inquire into the Beta’s preference for this particular body of water.

Jaxson’s answer made Corey’s soul ache.

"Mom used to bring me here," Jaxson explained, arms wrapped around his own waist in a self-soothing gesture as his lips pulled into a tight line that was initially intended to be a smile. "When things got really bad... We would come here and count the tadpoles," he recalled the memory with an aching fondness, the volume of his voice lowering to a whisper. "Some of her ashes rest here, too."

Corey settled down onto a smooth, dry boulder just to the right side of the bank.

He had always prided himself in his uncanny ability to handle difficult situations. 

After all, he was an Alpha, he was quite literally genetically built to do such a job. 

But now, sitting here and staring out into the water, he was suddenly face-to-face with the most esoteric, nerve-wracking challenge of his life.

All of the romance novels in the world couldn't have prepared him for this. 

But there was only one way to get to the other side and that was through it.

So, he sucked in a deep breath of leafy, fall air and held it for a few seconds. 

Then, he released it all in one go... and began... But when he opened his mouth to speak, he instead found himself flushed when no words formed upon the nervous apex of his lips.

It should have felt strange, his sudden lack of reconnaissance to words that usually flowed through him like a calm river. 

But this time, his inability to create meaning from the depths of his never ending well of emotions made complete sense.

Corey’s love for Jaxson was not one that could be accurately described through the trivial confines of any language. 

It was so much more than that, a force that would continue on far past the time that they both were rendered to ash and returned to the earth.

His Mate’s radiance was timeless, reflected in so much more than his physical beauty alone. 

Jaxson was resilient, he was determined and he was so delightfully and unapologetically himself in every moment of every day.

Corey admired his lover’s outlook on the world, seeking to imprint every little moment that they spent together into the empty gallery spaces of his heart and fill them with his glittering sort of light.

His Mate’s existence fit together with his like the most talented pianist's fingers fit to keys. 

And together, they were a symphony.

The object in Corey’s pocket sizzled against his calloused palm in the best way, a reminder of the weight of it all, of the importance of what he was about to do.

He just had to do it.

He could do it.

With a square jaw and a bite back at the nervousness that threatened to shake him down, Corey Cahill finally spoke.

"Hola..." he paused, hesitating as he contemplated the best way to begin this conversation. 

He ran a hand through his hair, acknowledging the way that his hand trembled in the process. 

"Ms. Evita. I am your son's Mate. It is beyond a pleasure to meet you, ma'am." he finally finished his greeting, using the name that Jaxson had confided him with only a few months back.

There was no script for this, no speech that he had planned. 

He needed her to know that his devotion was true, that it came from a place of truth, a truth that rendered his voice to a tremor, the slightest of quakes noticeable in its vulnerable tone.

"My entire life I have waited for my destined, Ms. Evita. And your Jax... It's unexplainable. He just makes me feel so at peace while also somehow setting my soul aflame." 

Corey squeezed the object in his palm, drawing strength from the profoundness of its meaning. 

The water remained calm at his feet, only disturbed by the faintest ripple from the shifting of the wind. 

He could only pray that Ms Evita would hear him as he unearthed himself.

"Jaxson is the definition of everything that I could ever desire. He is all that my soul has ever prayed for. I dream of him even when I am awake..." 

It was then that Corey broke, suddenly aware of the blur in his vision and the tears that had begun to form a pond of their own along the sharp line of his jaw. 

He tried wiping them away with the sleeve of his jacket, only to find another fresh wave of wetness assuming their place.

He rubbed at his chest where it tightened and before he could stop himself, a strangled sob tore its way out of his chest.

"I... I..." Corey forced out through the sudden flash flood of tears, taking in jagged breaths in an effort to soothe his suddenly spasming lungs. "I love him forever. I love him madly. I have waited lifetimes for him, Ms. Evita..."

The object finally became too scorching to bare within the downy confines of his jacket pocket, so he pulled it out, running his fingers gently across it’s smooth exterior. 

He didn't dare look yet, though. 

Not until he had finished his vow.

“I promise to show him how much he means to me every day, ma'am. I promise to uplift him always. I promise to ease his burdens, to shower him with all of the endless, unbounded adoration that he deserves," Corey sealed his worlds with the most powerful vow, the kind that one made to oneself. 

It was only then that his thumb flicked up and he finally glanced down at the uncovered object that he clenched in his palm so tightly that his knuckles were rendered a pale white.

The ring was perfect, the golden band adorned with an emerald gemstone so bright and enrapturing that it almost held a light to Corey’s beloved's own irises. 

It rested within a glass box, one that was custom fitted to the jewelry inside.

The Head Warrior’s hand shook violently but he still held it tight, determined not to let his sweaty palms fumble such a precious item.

His breath caught somewhere on the way down to his lungs and he could only hope that Jaxson's mother was there with him and that she approved.

"So, Ms. Evita... I pray that I will be granted the honor of receiving your blessing." 

Corey stalled, running the back of his palm across his eyes once more to wipe at the never ending waterfall of tears that had taken up a seemingly permanent tenure there. 

"Just as I pray that I will be bestowed with the honor of calling your son, my husband."

[byneddiedingo]

The Thin Man (W.S. Van Dyke, 1934)

Cast: William Powell, Myrna Loy, Maureen O'Sullivan, Nat Pendleton, Minna Gombell, Porter Hall, Henry Wadsworth, William Henry, Harold Huber, Cesar Romero, Natalie Moorhead, Edward Brophy, Edward Ellis, Cyril Thornton. Screenplay: Albert Hackett, Frances Goodrich, based on a novel by Dashiell Hammett. Cinematography: James Wong Howe. Art direction: Cedric Gibbons. Film editing: Robert Kern. Music: William Axt.

I have seen W.S. Van Dyke’s The Thin Man several times, and I’ve read Dashiell Hammett’s novel, but I still can’t remember whodunit. Which is, I think, because it doesn’t really matter: The mystery is secondary to the banter of Nick and Nora and the eccentricity of the characters they encounter as her world of privilege marries with his world of cops and lowlifes. Most of the best mysteries, by which I mean those of Hammett and Raymond Chandler, are about atmosphere rather than crime: Those who want to try to solve the mystery along with the detective should read other writers who are more involved with planting clues and red herrings. The Thin Man may have benefited from MGM’s lack of interest in the project, which could have been swamped with the kind of second-guessing from the front office that often stifled the studio’s films. Instead, it was treated as a routine programmer whose stars, William Powell and Myrna Loy, were second-tier and whose director, known as “One-Take Woody” Van Dyke, was known for getting things done quick and dirty – filming took only 16 days. But Powell and Loy became first-tier stars, and the movie earned four Oscar nominations (picture, actor, director, and screenplay) and was followed by five sequels. Powell has often struck me as a surprising star, with his big nose and his dubious chin, and I used to have trouble distinguishing him from Melvyn Douglas. Even now, if you asked me to say without hesitating whether it was Powell or Douglas in My Man Godfrey (Gregory La Cava, 1936), or Douglas or Powell in Ninotchka (Ernst Lubitsch, 1939), I might stumble a bit. But he had undeniable chemistry with Loy, so much so that they got re-teamed in movies outside the Thin Man series like The Great Ziegfeld (Robert Z. Leonard, 1936), Libeled Lady (Jack Conway, 1936), and others. The Thin Man also has a little more zip and zest than some of the films made after the Production Code clamped down, though Nick and Nora, like other married couples, were forced into twin beds. They still drink to an unholy excess, of course.

Al Hirschfeld's stunning THE THIN MAN cast

[byneddiedingo]

Myrna Loy and William Powell in The Thin Man (W.S. Van Dyke, 1934) Cast: William Powell, Myrna Loy, Maureen O'Sullivan, Nat Pendleton, Minna Gombell, Porter Hall, Henry Wadsworth, William Henry, Harold Huber, Cesar Romero, Natalie Moorhead, Edward Brophy, Edward Ellis, Cyril Thornton. Screenplay: Albert Hackett, Frances Goodrich, based on a novel by Dashiell Hammett. Cinematography: James Wong Howe. Art direction: Cedric Gibbons. Film editing: Robert Kern. Music: William Axt. I have seen W.S. Van Dyke's The Thin Man several times, and I've read Dashiell Hammett's novel, but I still can't remember whodunit. Which is, I think, because it doesn't really matter: The mystery is secondary to the banter of Nick and Nora and the eccentricity of the characters they encounter as her world of privilege marries with his world of cops and lowlifes. Most of the best mysteries, by which I mean those of Hammett and Raymond Chandler, are about atmosphere rather than crime: Those who want to try to solve the mystery along with the detective should read other writers who are more involved with planting clues and red herrings. The Thin Man may have benefited from MGM's lack of interest in the project, which could have been swamped with the kind of second-guessing from the front office that often stifled the studio's films. Instead, it was treated as a routine programmer whose stars, William Powell and Myrna Loy, were second-tier and whose director, known as "One-Take Woody" Van Dyke, was known for getting things done quick and dirty -- filming took only 16 days. But Powell and Loy became first-tier stars, and the movie earned four Oscar nominations (picture, actor, director, and screenplay) and was followed by five sequels. Powell has often struck me as a surprising star, with his big nose and his dubious chin, and I used to have trouble distinguishing him from Melvyn Douglas. Even now, if you asked me to say without hesitating whether it was Powell or Douglas in My Man Godfrey (Gregory La Cava, 1936), or Douglas or Powell in Ninotchka (Ernst Lubitsch, 1939), I might stumble a bit. But he had undeniable chemistry with Loy, so much so that they got re-teamed in movies outside the Thin Man series like The Great Ziegfeld (Robert Z. Leonard, 1936), Libeled Lady (Jack Conway, 1936), and others. The Thin Man also has a little more zip and zest than some of the films made after the Production Code clamped down, though Nick and Nora, like other married couples, were forced into twin beds. They still drink to an unholy excess, of course.

[fakesurprise]

I sat in the seat across Wren once we got on the bus. Dashiel was checking his phone, and the few other passengers on the second floor and drunk from the sounds of things.

“Few humans or changelings see a waer fight,” I said.

“You were – fast. You would have ...” Wren trailed off, gulping softly and looking Wren, not hiding onyx eyes or the flecks of furred scales on their skin.

“If it would have saved our lives, yes. You and Dashiel know about magic: I don’t. Knocking the woman out stopped the spell. She is a mage, and disguised as the fae; had I killed her, I doubt forensics would have led to me. Had she been just an ordinary human, murder was not an option unless she killed someone.”

“You considered all of that?” the changeling asked, some of the fear fading slightly.

“In a confined room, there is no human I could not murder in moments. Waer know how fragile humans are, and also how deeply they deny that. We try and avoid creating ugly incidents that can be avoided.”

“I don’t know if I could kill anyone?”

“Good. I hope you never mind out,” I said.

“But –.” Wren was silent, finding words for a few moments. “But you’re strong.”

“I know how strong I am, yes. I’ve had to learn that, for reasons which are my own. Which doesn’t mean I still don’t surprise myself at times, but I have a very good idea how how quick and strong I am. I have killed before. I will likely have to again. I take no pleasure in it.” I sat back into the bus seat. “That’s not a kind of strength to envy. I envy people whose life choices have never led them to learn the things I know, or have to do the things I can do.”