#it's siken what did you expect

[actual-changeling]

part 1 part 2 part 3 // richard siken

[acetone4veins]

Quotes + Mean Girls

associating angsty quotes (and some fluffy ones) to mean girls characters and dynamics, this is definitely longer than it should be and will probably be part 1 of many but anyways. lmk which were your favorites and which ones ruined you :) also shoutout to the cautionary tale discord who saw some of these already and ramble about these characters with me <3

posting under the cut so i don't clog anyone's feeds

Regina

"what a terrible thing to wound someone you really care for - and to do it so unconsciously."

Haruki Murakami

"and when nobody wakes you up in the morning, and when nobody waits for you at night, and when you can do whatever you want. what do you call it, freedom or loneliness?"

Charles Bukowski

"i am changing. i am trying to be better. it is slow; it is rough; it is repetitive, but i swear i am."

Abdulsamad S. M.

"i did not like to be touched, but it was a strange dislike. i did not like to be touched because i craved it too much. i wanted to be held very tight so i would not break."

Marya Hornbacher

"i was not a loveable child, and i'd grown into a deeply unlovable adult. draw a picture of my soul, and it'd be a scribble with fangs."

Gillian Flynn

"if only my heart were as cold as i pretend it is, maybe i could get over this."

Jessica Katoff

"i wasn't beautiful anymore. now i looked like what i was, a raw wound."

Janet Fitch

"i'm restless and harsh and despairing. although i do have love inside me. i just don't know how to use love. sometimes it tears at my flesh, like barbs."

Clarice Lispector

"i did not mean to be cruel. i swear i am good, i am good, i am kind. i have love inside me. some place far far away."

unknown

Cady

"how much can you change and get away with it, before you turn into someone else, before its some kind of murder?"

Richard Siken

"your worst sin is that you have destroyed and betrayed yourself for nothing."

Dyodor Dosteovsky

"what and how much had i lost by trying to do only what was expected of me instead of what i myself wished to do?"

Ralph Ellison

"my god, my god, whose performance am i watching? how many people am i? who am i? what is this space between myself and myself?"

Fernando Pessoa

"it was good for a while, being empty. i didn't hurt anymore. but as time went on, it was like i could hear myself from far away, begging for permission to come back."

Myra McEntire

"is it better to out-monster the monster or to be quietly devoured?"

Friedrich Nietzsche

"who's the real you? the person who did something awful, or the one who's horrified by the awful thing you did? is one part of you allowed to forgive the other?"

Rebecca Stead

"you're a mess of good intentions gone wrong. you strike a match on yourself to keep others warm, and now the whole goddamn world's on fire. you try to put it out, and you try so hard. the dam breaks, and the waters of your sorrow pour free. you are sorry; so very, very sorrow - and you will drown everyone to prove it."

unknown

Janis

"there are times when i am convinced i am unfit for any human relationship."

Franz Kafka

"i am eternally, devastatingly romantic, and i thought people would see it because 'romantic' doesn't mean 'sugary'. it's dark and tormented - the furor of passion, the despair of an idealism that you cannot attain."

Catherine Breillat

"but whatever came, she had resolved never again to belong to another than herself."

Kate Chopin

"there were two reasons i was scared to let people in; the damage they could do, and the damage they could find."

Chris McGeown

"perhaps its good for one to suffer. can an artist do anything if he's happy? would he ever want to do anything? what is art, after all, but a protest against the horrible inclemency of life?"

Aldous Huxley

Gretchen

"i want so obviously, so desperately to be loved, and to be capable of love."

Sylvia Plath

"she wanted to say 'don't leave me', but she couldn't do it, not again. she was so tired of begging people to love her."

Kristin Hannah

"he is charmingly telling me how much he does not love me...and i, - listening to him carefully, - am approving it."

Marina Tsvetaeva

"she's gonna forever say 'i got this' even with tears in her eyes."

unknown

"still there is this terrible desire to be loved. still, there is this horror at being left behind."

Michael Cunningham

"can you understand me? someone, somewhere, can you understand me a little, love me a little?"

Sylvia Plath

"i am trying to make myself digestible. i am trying to make myself easy to love."

I.B. Vyache

"do you think it is possible that some people are born to give more love than they will ever get back in return?"

Tyler Knott Gregson

Karen

"the sensitive suffer more; but they love more, and dream more."

Augusto Cury

"a lot of people tell me i'm a bit dreamy. but i like the idea of that. of being somewhere else."

Alam

"you cannot make everyone think and feel as deeply as you do. this is your tragedy, because you understand them but they do not understand you."

Daniel Saint

Regina and Janis

"the bear loved the deer, it was obvious. it ripped the deer's throat out, and then licked the dying deer with the most passionate affection. i thought of you and me."

David Cronenberg

"can you hate someone for what they have done, but still love them for whom they had been?"

Jodi Picoult

"love isn't soft, like those poets say. love has teeth which bite and the wounds never close."

Stephen King

"i love you as certain dark things are to be loved, in secret, between the shadow and the soul."

Pablo Neruda

"they will hook me up to a polygraph and ask me if i love you and i will say no but the needle will jump and sputter exactly how you laugh."

unknown

"there's a sickening feeling of familiarity, when the wrong person knows you too well and you know them too well. and they weren't always the wrong person."

unknown

"we don't mean to hurt each other, but we do. and perhaps no matter how right we are for each other, we'll always be a little wrong."

Beau Taplin

Regina and Cady

"i am intense darkness and you are a golden sunrise."

Arijit Singh and Pritam

"even before you touched me, i belonged to you; all you had to do was look at me."

unknown

"whether you come as a lover or an executioner, i am ready to receive you."

Agustin Gomez-Arcos

"for the longest time, i saw myself as a bad person. you don't know how much it meant to me when you looked at me and could see the good."

unknown

"but i have seen the best of you and the worst of you, and i choose both."

Sarah Kay

"i promised myself i would never fall in love with you. but it was 4 am, and we were laughing way too hard, and i felt happy for the first time in a long time, and i knew i was screwed."

unknown

Gretchen and Karen

"i would rather be with you - even the you that you seem to think is diminished - than with anyone else in the world."

Jojo Moyes

"it hurts, he realizes, to love someone who can't love themselves. like watching a work of art set itself on fire."

unknown

"how amazing it is to find someone who wants to hear about all the things that go on in your head."

Nina LaCour

"come love, make me better than i was. come teach me a kinder way to say my own name."

Andrea Gibson

"i wanted you to see a mess and still find me worthy of love, to tell me that you could still love me anyway."

Georges Bataille

"sometimes, love is as simple as watching the moon and sometimes its as difficult as counting the stars. but i love doing both for you."

unknown

Janis and Damian

"you may be born into a family, but you walk into friendships. some you'll discover you should put behind you. others are worth every risk."

Adam Silvera

Regina and Gretchen

"but i am very homesick for arms that have never held me."

unknown

"i burned so long so quiet you must have wondered if i loved you back. i did, i did, i do."

Annelyse Gelman

"so i wait for you like a lonely house till you will see me again and live in me. till then my windows ache."

Pablo Neruda

"how do you tell someone that the reason you're sad is because you love them?"

unknown

[thefangirlibrarian]

How to Bear the Weight

Chapter 2: I take the parts

In which time travel Harry drags Quirrellmort shopping in Diagon Alley - from Voldemort's POV!

“You see, I take the parts that I remember and stitch them back together

to make a creature that will do what I say

or love me back.”

- “Litany in Which Certain Things Are Crossed Out,” Richard Siken

Sensing his master’s interest, Quirrell stammers, “A Malfoy is a good connection, I believe.”

Hagrid snorts. “For a snake, maybe.”

“You mean a Slytherin?” says Potter. “Draco was telling me about the Houses. He says his family have always been in Slytherin.”

“Aye, that they have,” says the giant. “Remember what I was telling you about ol’ Lucius Malfoy? There’s not a single witch or wizard who went bad who wasn’t in Slytherin, all the way back to You-Know-Who himself.”

A flash of irritation hits Voldemort. The cretin can’t even get his facts straight.

Potter is frowning. “Surely not every Slytherin went around killing babies and everything. Isn’t it roughly a quarter of the wizarding world? You can’t expect me to mistrust one in every four people I meet just because of their school colors.”

Voldemort could quibble with the phrasing—he did not “go around killing babies and everything,” he was responding to a prophecy that foretold his certain doom—but he finds the boy’s skepticism refreshing. He would have expected Dumbledore to raise the prophecy child with a fanatical sense of his mission, and yet it seems that not only is Potter only learning of their world for the first time, he is forming his own opinions as he goes.

[arcanespillo]

it says that ur into poetry in ur bio and thats so cool!!! i like poetry as well and am taking it as an elective at uni but i am actually not too good with poets so was wondering if you had any favourite poets? if not thats totally fine. maybe poetry recs? thanks ☆

poems

i'm not the river / nox by anne carson is tricky to find but there's a fragment here / PORTRAIT OF THE ALCOHOLIC WITH WITHDRAWAL / A BOY STEPS INTO THE WATER / SOME BOYS AREN’T BORN THEY BUBBLE / Thirstiness is Not Equal Division / EVERYTHING THAT MOVES IS ALIVE AND A THREAT–A REMINDER / A Man Said to the Universe / The Worm King’s Lullaby / Cortège / the triumph of achilles by louise gluck / the reticent volcano keeps by emily dickinson / the mirror by louise gluck / i go down the shore / the arrowhead / Brother / My Brother at 3 A.M / I would I might forget that I am I / the second elegy / stripped car / The Saints Come Marching In by Anne Sexton, How to Be a Dog by Andrew Kane, Angel of Hope and Calendars by Anne Sexton / I Remember / WHAT THE BIRD WITH THE HUMAN HEAD KNEW / THE TRUTH THE DEAD KNOW / In The Deep Museum / Lament / The Starry Night / A Curse Against Elegies / jesus suckles / start here / march is march / a bad day by mary oliver / Portrait of the Illness as Nightmare / lord knows / Town of Finding Out About the Love of God / fragments from Avalon Revisited (1963) by Margaret Atwood / from crush by richard siken 'the torn up road', from war of the foxes 'landscape with fruit rot and millipede', 'birds over the trampled field', 'the museum', 'self portrait against red wallpaper'/ from louise gluck's the wild iris 'clear morning' 'spring snow' 'scilla' 'the hawthorn tree' 'april' 'the jacob's ladder' 'matins' 'song' 'vespers' 'harvest' 'retreating light' 'lullaby' 'the gold lily' / from her vita nova 'the open grave' 'roman study' 'timor mortis' 'castile' 'mutable earth' 'inferno' / from faithful and virtuous night 'aboriginal landscape' 'utopia' 'the melancholy assistant' 'a foreshortened journey' 'the horse and the rider' / from meadowlands 'parable of the king' 'moonless night' 'departure' 'rainy morning' 'telemachus' guilt' 'meadowlands I' 'telemachus' kindness' 'parable of the dove' 'purple bathing suit' / from firstborn 'the cripple in the subway' 'seconds' 'letter from provence' 'firstborn' / from the house on marshland 'the pond' 'gratitude' 'abishag' 'the fire' / from descending figure 'the garden (2)' 'origins (4)' 'thanksgiving', from the triumph of achilles 'exile' 'seated figure' 'liberation' 'adult grief' 'horse'/ apostle town / the town of the sound of a twig breaking / strawberry moon by matthew dickman / the wolf god / this poem by mark bibbins (another year on the day/ of class photos/ i scratched at my face/ with a sharpened popsicle stick/ no blood just a few pink lines/ that didn't read/ what else./ i wanted a cast on my leg/i wanted braces and glasses/and my tonsils out/i wanted scars/i don't know when or whether i figured out the difference between wanting to be damaged and wanting to be healed) / ancient text by louise gluck

books

short talks by anne carson, waiting for god by simone weil, blue horses by mary oliver, dog songs poems by mary oliver, men in the off hours by anne carson, trances of the blast by mary ruefle, autobiography of red, red doc and norma jeane baker of troy by anne carson, richard siken and ocean vuong's books are famous honestly but try to read their stuff if you haven't checked them out yet (i don't like ocean vuong but i did like some bits of his first book) and also i suggest reading 'the journal of albion moonlight' if you find yourself particularly liking red doc, i hope you were not expecting old poetry because that really isn't really in my ropes

this is what i have noted on my journal :p if you can't find some stuff dm me but you can search for most poetry books on archive.org and it's free and legal

+ poems by Margaret Atwood ! i forgot, like this one

[astrronomemes]

RICHARD SIKEN : CRUSH STARTERS (PART II)

a collection of quotes, phrases, and sayings from Crush, a volume of poetry and prose by Richard Siken.

“Do you love yourself?”

“I don’t have to answer that.”

“I couldn’t find my cigarettes.”

“There’s nowhere to go. There’s nowhere to go.”

“You had a bottle of pills, but I wouldn’t let you swallow them.”

“Will you love me even more when I’m dead?”

“You didn’t show up. I kept waiting.”

“I had a Coke at the bar.”

“You’re still on fire.”

“I don’t really blame you for being dead, but you can’t have your sweater back.”

“Please keep him safe.”

“I can’t go through with it. I just don’t want to die anymore.”

“You want to die for love. You always have.”

“You saved my life. I owe you everything.”

“I took the bullet for all the wrong reasons. I’d just as soon kill you myself.”

“Let’s not talk about it. Let’s just not talk.”

“You say ‘I’ll give you anything’. But you never come through.”

“If you love me, [name], you don’t love me in a way I understand.”

“Stay in the room for now. Stay in the room for now.”

“This is the place where everything starts to begin.”

“It’s love, or it isn’t.”

“I’ve been in your body, baby, and it was paradise. I’ve been in your body, and it was a carnival ride.”

“Do not choose sides yet. It is still to your advantage to remain impartial.”

“Take off those wet clothes and come over here by the fire.”

“The radio is playing your favorite song.”

“Who do you love, [name]? Who do you love?”

“We love you. We really do.”

“Where did you get those bruises?”

“It’s yours. You deserve it.”

“I will come back from the dead for you.”

“He won’t tell you that he loves you, but he loves you.”

“Is that too much to expect? That I would name the stars for you? That I would take you there?”

“I wanted to hurt you, but the victory is that I could not stomach it.”

“What do you want, sweetheart?”

“We are all going forward. None of us are going back.”

[neembu]

“A ghost can be a lot of things. A memory, a daydream, a secret. Grief, anger, guilt. But, in my experience, most times they’re just what we want to see. Most times, a ghost is a wish.” 

― The Haunting of Hill House (2018) dir. Mike Flanagan 

“There are things that tie them to a place, very much like they do us. Some remain tethered to a patch of land. A time and date. The spilling of blood. A terrible crime. But there are others. Others that hold onto an emotion. A drive. Loss. Revenge. Or love. Those, they never go away.” 

― Crimson Peak (2015) dir. Guillermo del Toro

“There are such things as ghosts. People everywhere have always known that. And we believe in them every bit as much as Homer did. Only now, we call them by different names. Memory. The unconscious.”

― Donna Tartt, The Secret History

“What is a ghost, after all, but a repressed memory, the past demanding to be heard in the present?” 

― Alfred Mac Adam, Introduction of Jane Austen’s Northanger Abbey

“If that staid old house near the Green at Richmond should ever come to be haunted when I am dead, it will be haunted, surely, by my ghost. O the many, many nights and days through which the unquiet spirit within me haunted that house when Estella lived there! Let my body be where it would, my spirit was always wandering, wandering, wandering, about that house.” 

― Charles Dickens, Great Expectations 

“May you not rest, as long as I am living! You said I killed you — haunt me, then! The murdered do haunt their murderers. I believe — I know that ghosts have wandered on earth. Be with me always — take any form — drive me mad! only do not leave me in this abyss, where I cannot find you! Oh, God! it is unutterable! I cannot live without my life! I cannot live without my soul!”

― Emily Brontë, Wuthering Heights 

“What is a ghost? Something dead that seems to be alive. Something dead that doesn't know it's dead.”

― Richard Siken, War of the Foxes

[burningdarkfire]

For the book asks: 14, 4, 9!

hiii thanks for playing!

(send me end-of-year book asks!)

14. What books do you want to finish before the year is over?

the winners by fredrik backman is definitely the big one - it's a book i'm meant to be annotating for my book club that i've been hanging onto for months and months (because, quite frankly, i just haven't enjoyed it much so far), but i promise i will finish it! soon! maybe!

4. Did you discover any new authors that you love this year?

i've had my eye on ken liu for ages and i was so happy to finally read the paper menagerie and other stories this year; it lived up to all of my expectations wonderfully and i will definitely read more of his writing

i also finally got a taste of richard siken and loved it

and i guess anthony horowitz should get a shoutout because i did read 7 of his books this year and it's not like anybody forced me to do that 😂 he writes very readable mysteries!

9. Did you get into any new genres?

i read a lot more poetry this year, which has been an absolute joy and i think has made me a better writer of fiction. i've also been getting into mysteries again - it's an old comfort genre of mine but this year i really got hooked into some series in the way i haven't done in years

[im-a-ramblr]

Richard Siken line, you've discovered something you don't even have a name for, with Corjin?

Sooo uhhh this ended up a bit less Corjin and more #FreeKelridge. It is still Corjin of course, but I think to a really drive it home I would need more than a mini fic.

It was dark. Darker than Corin had expected. He'd never really thought the shield around Vaila had affected what the sky looked like; it was only to keep unpleasant weather or armies out. But apparently it had done something, because it was never this dark or this starry back home.

It made the glow of the fire stand out like a beacon. But this spot - just on the outskirts of a small town in the Unclaimed Lands - had been recommended by Lars, Keras had agreed that it be safe, and Derek had confirmed as much when they actually got here, so Corin was pretty sure they'd be fine. A soft nudge to his shoulder drew him out of his thoughts and he tore his eyes away from the sky.

"You okay?" Jin asked, voice soft as to not wake the others who were sleeping around them.

"Yeah. Just thinking." The enchanter whispered back. "I've never seen so many stars."

Jin hummed as he nodded, tilting his head up to start at the sky. "There are a lot out here. More than in Kel - East Edira." He corrected himself.

"Why do you do that?" Corin asked. "Say Kelridge sometimes, East Edira other times?"

Jin sighed and dragged his gaze from the syk to the fire. He grabbed a stick and started pouring at the fire. Sparkers flew out and he paused to watch them. As they faded, so did his smile. "Because my home is Kelridge. Everyone is happiest when we're allowed to express that freely. But... Well Edria isn't happy that it hasn't managed to take everything. Isn't happy that at our core, my poeple are still the poeple of Kelridge. That we have assimilated. That we won't. It's dangerous to refer to the nation as Kelridge. Marks you as a rebel, even if you have nothing to do with the rebellion."

"There's a rebellion? Why hasn't there been any news about that?" Corin cocked his head to the side, squinting at Jin. Something was different but he couldn't place it, so he simply continued. "That feels like the kind of thing there should be news about."

Jin gave a quite chuckle, that was underlined with bitterness. "Because, technically there hasn't been one yet. Edira is pretty sure something is being planned and there is. But nothing has actually happened yet. Probably won't for a few more years."

"But you're a part of it."

"I am a decent of the retainers of the Unbroken Queen." Jin replied, sitting up a little straighter.

That unnamable thing that was different about him was more pronounced. Corin wished he was able to place it, but he couldn't. It seemed so obvious, it was in the set of his shoulders, the look in his eyes, the way his hands held the stick, everything. But he couldn't place it.

His heart beat a little faster while he looked at the other boy, who was still priding the fire, still sitting tall, still radiating something. It was like the first time Corin has met Jin, when the Mesmer had just been an intriguing, quiet boy who had knocked on Corin's door, asking if he'd been a spider.

And just like before, Corin wanted to know more.

And luckily, he knew how to.

"Can I help?"

Jin turned to look at him, shock clear on his face, but Corin didn't let him say anything, choosing to plow on. "I understand if my help wouldn't be appreciated. But I know what it's like to have someone try to force you to be someone or something you're not. And I know this is important to you. I want to help."

Jin started at him for a moment, then a smile - wide and dazzling and filled with that unnamable thing that Corin was starting think he could name - spread across Jin's face.

[0thefool]

"Do I dare disturb the Universe?" - Eliot

"We are the music-makers, And we are the dreamers of dreams, Wandering by lone sea-breakers, And sitting by desolate streams. World-losers and world-forsakers On whom the pale moon gleams, Yet we are the movers and the shakers of the world for ever, it seems" -Arthur O

"But all the magic I have known, I've had to make myself" -Shel Silverstein

“What matters most is how well you walk through the fire” -Bukowski

"I have measured out my life with coffee spoons" –Eliot

"'The time has come' the Walrus said, 'to talk of many things: of shoes--and ships--and sealing wax--of cabbages--and kings; and why the sea is boiling hot, and whether pigs have wings'" -Carroll

“Her lips were red, her looks were free. Her locks were yellow as gold. Her skin was as white as leprosy. The Night-Mare Life-in-Death was she Who thicks man’s blood with cold” –Coleridge (read in Interview with the Vampire)

"come away, O human child to the waters and the wild with a fairy, hand in hand, for the world's more full of weeping than you can understand" –Yeats

"This is the way the world ends not with a bang but a whimper." –Eliot

“instead, i will remember the kisses; our lips raw with love; and how you gave me; everything you had; and how I offered you what was left of me…and the warmth of you; who made me laugh again” _Bukowski

“Yes, I know it’s true that visions are seldom all they seem But if I know you, I know what you'll do. You'll love me at once, the way you did once upon a dream" -Walt Disney

"Whatever souls are made of, his and mine are the same" –Bronte, Wuthering Heights

"'Then tell Wind and Fire where to stop' returned Madame, 'but don't tell me.' –Dickens, A Tale of Two Cities

“I should have loved a thunderbird instead, at least when spring comes they roar back again. I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead. (I think I made you up inside my head)” -Plath

“I went to the woods because I wanted to live deliberately, I wanted to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life, To put to rout all that was not life and not when I had come to die Discover that I had not lived.” –Thoreau, Walden

"i do not know what it is about you that closes and opens; only something in me understands: the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses" -Cummings

"Tonight I can write the saddest lines.

I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too." -Neruda

“O Star (the fairest one in sight)…Say something to us we can learn

By heart and when alone repeat. Say something! And it says 'I burn.' But say with what degree of heat.” –Frost

“There are darknesses in life and

there are lights, and you are one of the lights, the light of all lights.” –Stoker, Dracula

“Jesus man! You don't look for acid. Acid finds you when it thinks you're ready” –Hunter S. Thompson

“It’s the tragedy of loving, you can’t love anything more than something you miss” –Foer, Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close

"She was Lo, plain Lo, in the morning, standing four feet ten in one sock. She was Lola in slacks. She was Dolly at school. She was Dolores on the dotted line. But in my arms she was always Lolita." -Nabokov

“The roar of it echoed through the mountains, and the mountains seemed to cry savagely ‘where are they, where are they, where are they?’ –Barrie, Peter Pan (Linda Goodman’s quote for the Gemini-Capricorn relationship)

"Oh- All That I've ever loved.." -Hugo

"You have been in every prospect I have ever seen since - on the river, on the sails of the ships, on the marshes, in the clouds, in the light, in the darkness, in the wind, in the woods, in the sea, in the streets. You have been the embodiment of every graceful fantasy my mind has become aquainted with. Estella, to the last hour of my life, you cannot choose but remain part of my character, part of the little good in me, part of the evil." –Dickens, Great Expectations

 “He was pointing at the moon, but I was looking at his hand” –Siken

"She was the still point of the turning world, man" -Eugenides

"So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past" –Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby

[englishflagcumrag]

all of them. all. of. them.

i literally knew you were gonna do this

How many books did you read this year?

41 (so far)

Did you reread anything? What?

no. not really a rereading things guy (though i would like to reread tlt) and besides that i have a lot of books i haven't read to get through.

What were your top five books of the year?

babel by rf kuang, though that's a cusp case since technically i started it last december

the haunting of hill house by shirley jackson

show us who you are by elle mcnicoll

yellowface by rf kuang

the little prince by antoine de saint-exupery

Did you discover any new authors that you love this year?

elle mcnicoll and rf kuang are the two i've gone into and properly read their other stuff (though not as much rf kuang as i would've liked). i've only read one book each from stephen graham jones and shirley jackson but i'd really like to read their other stuff at some point.

What genre did you read the most of?

if children's is a genre (i don't think it is) then probably that, because by volume theyre easier to get through and i work in a children's bookshop so i kinda have to. other than that probably fantasy.

Was there anything you meant to read, but never got to?

loads but there's no time limit on these things

What was your average Goodreads rating? Does it seem accurate?

they arent out yet but i do think i can be a bit generous with number ratings. number ratings annoy me anyway and on goodreads you can't do half-marks like on letterboxd so i have to err on the side of being niceys.

Did you meet any of your reading goals? Which ones?

my aim was to read 40 books and i did that - initially i think it was like half that but i realised i work in a childrens bookshop and i should allow for the possibility that i would spend a lot of the less busy days there sampling the stock. i'm also specifically not counting picture books unless they're really special (the skull john klassen you will always be famous) because then i'd get to 100 very easily.

Did you get into any new genres?

i made a conscious effort to read more non fiction, though it didn't really pan out

What was your favorite new release of the year?

probably yellowface by rf kuang

What was your favorite book that has been out for a while, but you just now read?

the haunting of hill house bby!!!

Any books that disappointed you?

we had magical boy by the kao out in the bookshop, i think as a pride month thing? the concept of a trans guy being forced to become a (extremely gendered) magical girl because of family bloodline stuff could have been interesting, but it just wasn't and it was trying so so hard to be a manga. i also was expecting a lot out of fun home by alison bechdel but thought it was just fine.

What were your least favorite books of the year?

again, magical boy. i also read the short story i have no mouth and i must scream and even though the listing on goodreads was for the entire collection which i did not read i had to go over there anyway to give it two stars because i was so mad

What books do you want to finish before the year is over?

crush by richard siken. might try and get something that may shock and discredit you by daniel m lavery done just because i'm slightly appalled that i started that perfectly nice 200-something-page book in april and still haven't finished it (see: attempts to read non fiction not panning out) but i'm not optimistic. same case with ten birds that changed the world by stephen moss.

Did you read any books that were nominated for or won awards this year (Booker, Women’s Prize, National Book Award, Pulitzer, Hugo, etc.)? What did you think of them?

i don't care about awards. i might well have but it wasn't on purpose.

What is the most over-hyped book you read this year?

again, i don't pay attention to that stuff

Did any books surprise you with how good they were?

the haunting of hill house! i have a very juvenile phobia of older books and the haunting of hill house called me a pussy to my face.

How many books did you buy?

more than i should have

Did you use your library?

not really - the libraries in birmingham are mid and i don't like having a time limit

What was your most anticipated release? Did it meet your expectations?

yellowface by rf kuang again. it was very good but i was expecting something as good as babel and it wasn't that.

Did you participate in or watch any booklr, booktube, or book twitter drama?

not really idc about that stuff. certainly nothing i sought out on purpose

What’s the longest book you read?

think it might have been babel?

What’s the fastest time it took you to read a book?

i read a LOT of picture books but i don't count these for that exact reason so probably a few of the young readers books in the shop which i can usually get through in like half a shift.

Did you DNF anything? Why?

can't remember exactly but there were a good few i just put down and never really picked up again. not because they were bad i just have adhd.

What reading goals do you have for next year?

probably aim for 50 or so books. and more nonfiction.

[heartslobbf]

bbc ghosts, perfect day / richard siken, meanwhile / bbc ghosts, i love lucy

[suna-reversed]

Talking to the moon🌙

Gojo Satoru x fem!reader

minors DNI‼️

3k+ words

(quote^^ by- Richard Siken)

warnings/tags- blood and violence. oral (f.recieving), vaginal sex, anal, dacryphilia, slight praise, slight degradation, fingering. age gap. toxic relationship. mentions of harassment. yandere themes implied. heartbreak, moving on. fluff. angst. hurt/comfort. (all characters are aged up!)

Gojo Satoru is the moon. Ever changing and radiant. Beaming with light, even when he doesn't have any of his own. And much like the moon, parts of him stay hidden in an ominous darkness as he leaves you cold and alone in the tangled mess of sheets, wondering why your lover disappears at the crack of every dawn.

You had met him a while ago when he had first come into the bakery you worked at part-time, dazzling pearls on show as he ordered every single flavour of mochi off the menu. You didn’t know where it started; how the simple exchanges turned into conversations that lasted up to hours, your manager practically having to shoo him away so that you’d stop getting distracted.

You got used to him visiting you in the day during work, sitting on the barstool near the bakery counter, talking your ear off about the most random of things while he stuffed his face with mochi. You sometimes wondered how you happened to have so much in common with a man so much more older than you. 

You couldn't exactly remember how those innocent conversations turned into you being splayed across the marble kitchen countertop of your apartment at 3 am, the joyous man now turned into a ferocious beast as he devoured you whole, holding your legs apart, tongue licking in between your folds with such fervour that made it seem as if it was the last meal of his life. 

In all honesty, you didn’t know a lot about him, except for the fact that he worked at a private institute and often travelled overseas. He’d be as silent as a mouse as he slipped out of your place before sunrise each time. He never told you why, and eventually you stopped asking- the warmth and comfort of his body too addictive to have to give up for the question of ‘what are we?’ being answered.

On days that you’d find yourself waking up early, you’d simply let your eyes roam over the muscles of his back, adoring the dimples at the bottom of his spine, memorising each blemish, scar and mark as if you’d never see it again. You sometimes found yourself wishing he’d take off the peculiar fabric covering his eyes- your mind could barely fathom the shade of his orbs.

You knew that he was always aware of you being awake. But he didn’t acknowledge it, whether by accident or choice, you could never tell. So every time he’d finish pulling his shirt over his head, you’d roll away, focusing your mind out the window on the half disappearing moon instead of the crushing weight on your chest. 

Perhaps, this was the love they never told you about. The love that wasn’t afternoon picnics and obnoxious public displays of affection. The love that wasn’t late night grocery runs and feeding each other food at cafes.

Instead, this was the love that had you deleting messages and cleaning up the strands of ashy hair from your shower drain. The love that had you lying to your friends about the marks on your neck and pretending like he didn’t just have you pinned down beneath him the night before as you served him coffee.

Every morning that you woke up alone in bed, sore and unclothed from the events of the previous night, you found yourself thinking of ways that you’d turn him away the next time he showed up at your door. But then the bell would ring, and your feet would be carrying you to the half broken man covered in bruises and blood before you could think of it.

This time, you’re sure you tell him to go away, to stop treating you as if you were some toy, slamming the door in his crestfallen face. But then why do you find yourself clutching onto his scarlet stained jacket in the bathroom? The first aid box discarded to the side as you sob into his chest, a hand stroking your hair as he assures you he’s fine. 

That night, you find him buried deep inside of you, your heavy breathing filling the silence of the air, your back to his chest. The arms around you feel unbearably tight as he pulls you even closer to him. Why is he trying to snatch all the warmth from your body?

The hot breath of his mouth is right next to your ear. He’s telling you he wants to be tender and merciful while his teeth are digging into your jugular, the hand around your throat tightening as his hips rut into you harder. He does not wipe away the tears flowing freely down your face.

The next morning, you find a burning sensation rising in your chest as you stare at the empty space next to you; his underlying scent of strawberries and citrus still lingering.

What had you been expecting? Why would this night have been different from any other?

That question is answered when you realise the unfamilair feeling of a cold metal wrapped around your ankle while climbing out of bed. Looking down, you see that it's a thin silver anklet with two charms hanging off of it.

His initials and a crescent moon.

You can’t help the smile that’s on your face for the rest of the day.

--------

You're panting, the drumming of your heartbeat echoing in your ears, vision blurring as you try to make it back home. You’re gripping onto the walls to keep yourself from falling, the pain in your body near unbearable as you somehow manage to unlock the door, not even making it past the entrance as you crumble apart right there, curling in on yourself as broken sobs leave your chest. 

The sound of footsteps has you shutting your eyes, flinching from the pain and fear of knowing you can’t fight. The terror of your attacker being in your home makes your cries even louder.

Instead, you find your senses being flooded by the familiar scent of strawberries and the cologne that you bought him- warm muscular arms come to wrap around your figure, lifting you up. You’re still crying as he settles you down onto the bed, gently pulling your hands away from your face.

He lifts your shirt to reveal the expanse of wounds littered across your abdomen. An unreadable expression remains on his face as he skillfully cleans off the blood, fixing you up like you’ve done for him a dozen times. You don’t remember telling him where you were injured. Could the blood be seen through your shirt? None of it matters as he pushes you back down onto the plush mattress, your eyes fluttering close you as fall into a deep fitful slumber. 

It’s a full moon tonight, the light cascading through your window providing you an odd sense of comfort. You turn over in the dark, gasping a little as your eyes lock onto a pair of strange azure ones. Your mind is still heavy from the medicines you took, perhaps that’s why you don’t react, simply staring into the unfamiliar eyes on a face that you recognised better than the back of your own hand.

His slender pale fingers are trailing over the skin of your abdomen. Shouldn't it hurt more? A hand comes up to your face, gently cradling your chin as he examines the scratch on your jaw. Your heart skips a beat as his soft lips press a chaste kiss onto your brow. His voice is low and tense, anger barely restrained as he asks,

“Who did this to you?”

You try to form a response, but all you can hear is the shallow echo of the beating of your half-dead heart. Your chest feels hollow as words finally rise to the tip of your tongue, eyes dry as you tell him all of it. How a strange force had pinned you against a wall when you were walking back home, how the man who appeared from the shadows of the dark alley didn’t even lift a finger, yet it felt like each bone in your body was being cracked apart. How you barely felt the pain of the broken bottle that impaled your flesh as you were thrown aside, the stranger parting from you with just four words,

“Consider this a warning.”

You don’t care how crazy you sound as you explain the bizarre events that occurred. You don’t care that his orbs are as blue and twice as deep as the mariana trench. You don’t care that for once, his eyes hold something other than just lust as he looks at you.

Your throat feels raw by the time you finish, and it hurts to look at his pitiful face so you roll onto your side, fixing your eyes on the shimmering celestial body outside your window. You both lay in silence for a while.

“I liked thinking of you as the moon at times.”

The calm in your voice startles Gojo, but he remains quiet, wanting you to continue. It doesn’t matter if it's gibberish, doesn't matter if it’s words of hatred, of doubt, of regret; he’ll take it as long as there’s something- as long as you’re speaking. His arms tremble around you a little as a bitter laugh escapes your chest. 

“But at the end of the day,” you pause, taking a deep breath, “...all I am, is a mere star in a galaxy full of constellations.”

The raw sob that rips from your chest is a surprise to both you and Gojo.

“Tell me who cares about a star that burns out and explodes?” your voice is barely above a whisper as you turn around to face him.

For once in his life, Gojo Satoru can’t joke, fight or fuck his way out of a situation. A strange weight has been on his chest ever since he saw your eyes. The light and joy stripped out of them as he found himself staring back at his own reflection. 

His eyes glance down at the dip of your collarbone, the arch of your shoulder that he wanted to reside in forever, now covered in small scars. He knows who hurt you. 

He pulls you closer to him, tangling his feet with yours, the strip of metal around your ankle clinking at the movement. Perhaps it was a huge mistake to have bought you something so carelessly, knowing that the eyes of a few dozen enemies followed him wherever he went. 

He finds himself at a loss for words, opting to convey his emotions through touch instead as he melds his lips with yours. You sigh into his mouth and he kisses you even deeper, almost desperately as if trying to pass over his own breaths to you- as if trying to bring you back to life. He finds the taste of salt on his tongue and the wet drops falling onto his cheeks makes his flesh burn. He doesn't know whose they are as he continues to try and cling onto the shell of what was once a whole person. 

“Please” he finds himself mumbling as he pulls you even closer, heart cracking as you continue sniffing into his chest. 

“It hurts- it hurts- so much” You’re sobbing now, his own body shaking in tandem with yours.

Who is he to deny you when you look up at him, the broken plea leaving your mouth, 

“Make it stop please.”

---

Gojo finds the cold metal of his own initials pressing against the side of his face as he hoists your legs over his shoulder. His fingers are pressing down against your sensitive nub, spreading around your slick before he pumps two of his fingers into you. You buck your hips up, cries escaping you as his tongue licks your clit, suctioning it into his mouth as he increases the pace of his fingers.

You’re cumming undone within seconds, begging him to fill you up. He’s never so easily given in to your demands, but tonight, it’s as if he’s only there to serve your wishes. The sickening thought of getting hurt again just so that you’d get this treatment creeps up in the back of your mind. 

You moan as you feel him line his thick girth with your entrance, the tip catching onto your sensitive bundle of nerves as he rubs it between your dripping heat. He leans forward, pushing your legs up and safely tucking them against your chest, before crashing his lips against yours. It’s messy and rushed; tongue against tongue, spit drooling out as he pushes himself inside of you in one long stroke. The burn of it has you groaning into his mouth, hands moving to tangle into his hair. His thrusts are deep and angled, the feeling of it settling deep in your belly. 

“Fuck- you look so-fucking-pretty underneath me like this”

His words of praise are muffled against your lips, further drowned out by your moans as one of his hands moves down to play with your clit. You’re screaming his name as the coil in your stomach snaps, his own restraint breaking as he finishes, painting your walls with his seed. 

It’s not the first time you find yourself screaming and moaning that night. His cock is inside of you in one way or the other through the entirety of the next few hours- whether it be deep down your throat as his hands pull your hips down to his face, moaning at the taste of himself leaking from your cunt - or stretching the walls of your puckered asshole, the lube he pumped in with his slender fingers dripping out as he presses you to the shower wall, a hand coming forward to fondle your tits as his face falls onto your shoulder, grunting into your ear while he pistons in and out of your tight hole. 

You can barely move a muscle by the time you’re done, body and mind numb from both the exhaustion and overstimulation as he pulls the covers over the two of you, limbs entangled with each other’s, skin against skin, his hands rubbing circles onto your spine.

“No one’s ever going to hurt you again.” 

You’re barely conscious as he whispers that, humming and burying your face deeper into his cozy heat as he presses a kiss to the top of your head. You do not notice the solemn drop of moisture that escapes his eye, falling onto your cheek, a thumb brushing it away just as quickly, as if it was never there. Just as he wishes he could brush away his own existence from your life- no- just as he was going to.

“...I promise.”

---

When your eyes flutter open, they are not met with the moon.

Instead, the light of the rising sun casts a rosy hue across your room. And for once, you do not feel cold as you spread out your legs to take more of the space on the expanse of your empty bed. The sunlight does not feel like a curse anymore, even if the nostalgia of the moon’s glow stays buried somewhere deep in your heart. 

But at least there’s no more crying going to bed alone each night; no more hours of scrolling through social media looking for someone who doesn’t exist; no more one night stands and low grade hookups trying to fulfil the ever-growing void in your heart. 

In fact, you find yourself going out more, singing along to songs in the shower once again, even making friends with a regular trio that starts coming into your bakery every other day. They told you they’re college students too, all around your age, and you find yourself smiling a little more than necessary at one of them, even if a pair of ocean eyes floods the back of your mind each time that you do. You’re still hurting and healing, but at least you are moving forward. 

“At least he kept his promise”  You find yourself thinking as you climb out of bed, sighing in disappointment at the clinking of charms around your ankle. 

—-

“At least I kept my promise.” 

It had become Gojo’s new-found mantra. Every time he saw you drunk out of your mind at a bar, deftly bribing the bartender to replace your ordered shots with water instead. Every time he saw a random body pressed to yours, their tongue exploring your sweet mouth as you pushed them into your apartment. And especially that one time he found himself standing over the half-beaten body of the man who had tried to grope you on the bus. 

“At least I kept my promise- at least she’s safe.”

He knew his actions were of a mad man. Even though he took care of the problem which had hurt you in the first place, he still found himself paranoid. Following you around every other night, making sure you were still here- still alive under the same sky as him, under the same sun and moon and stars. He told himself he was doing it for you- even if he found his heart swell every time he saw the familiar glint of the silver trinket around your ankle.

-----

“No way!” You find yourself laughing around a mouth full of mochi.  

“No- I swear he likes you, he just doesn't want to admit it, you know how he-” 

“What are you two talking about?”

You both immediately snap your mouths shut as he returns from the restroom, sliding into the seat on his side of the booth. 

“Nothing!” you reply in unison. 

“Anyways, do you want me to get you anything else? Something that this idiot wouldn't shove into my mouth?” You joke, tapping your pen against the notepad. 

“Hey! I just wanted you to taste how delicious the mochi was!”

“I know- I made it!”

A loud cough breaks your banter with the light haired boy, 

“I-I do actually want to ask for something”

“Of course, what can I get you? The ginger tea you like?”

“Well- what I want is-” he pauses, and you don’t miss the mischievous glint in the eyes of his friend sitting across the table. 

“I’d like to take you to the festival at the park.”

You’re halfway through writing it down on the notepad before you realise what he’s asked, your head snapping up to see the slightly flushed tint on his cheeks as he glares at the howling boy across the table. Your own face heats up as he looks towards you expectantly. 

“You don’t have to if you-”

“Pick me up at 4”

“Oh” butterflies race in your stomach at the smile that he gives you, “...okay, 4 it is.” 

------

Weeks go by and you don’t realise the slow mending of your heart. Your broken pieces coming together each time he holds your hand, each time he presses a kiss to the tip of your nose, each time he whispers words of affirmations into your ear, and each time he comforts your shaking body, apologising for kissing your brow- even if he doesn’t understand why it made you cry. 

Eventually, you learn to not mind being just a mere star in the vast expanse of the cosmo.

You didn’t care because he looked at you like you held the universe in your eyes, cradling your face with such gentleness as if you were precious china. You didn’t care because when his lips came down onto yours, it felt like the collision of stars- your own little supernovae in the curve of his cupid’s bow. You didn’t care because when you woke up, you’d find him peppering kisses across the purple constellations he left the night before. 

You didn’t care because you never woke up cold and alone anymore.

------

“I’ll be back in just a second.” 

You find yourself saying as you move your head off his lap, waving to your other two friends, their own counterparts lounging beside them. 

“Is everything okay?’ 

He’s always so tender- except for when he has you splayed across the bed on your stomach, hips thrusting into yours as he tells you what a good slut you are for him- just for him. Heat crawls up your face at the memory from a few nights ago. The fingers wrapping your hand snap your mind out of its perverse refuge. Looking down, you find concern-filled eyes staring back at you. 

“Yeah, I just want to take a walk alone by the beach- get some air.” You reply, leaning down to press a chaste kiss to his lips.  

The sound of the waves lapping against the shore in the dark and the fresh sea breeze on your face is refreshing. You make a mental note to thank Nobara for dragging you onto this trip. You stop as you find a cozy spot in the sand, giving you a perfect view of the moonlit sea.

You don’t know how long you sit there, thinking of a particular set of emerald eyes and long lashes, your smile faltering as the promise ring on your finger grazes the forgotten metal on your ankle. Your face remains neutral as you unhook it, even if it feels like cutting your own hand off, but that’s all there is to it - familiarity and nostalgia. There’s no blackhole in your chest, ready to open up and swallow you whole, there are no tears shed as you bury the piece of junk into the sand, and there is no looking back as you walk away, back into the arms of your precious ‘gumi. 

Gojo stands at the rooftop, one hand clutching the sand covered jewellery, the other pulling down a side of his blindfold as he watches you entangle yourself in the arms of another, laughing as he places a kiss on the top of your brow. You’re happy, that’s all that matters- still, the irony of the situation pricks at him - especially after all he did to keep you away from his world. 

He had initially found himself at a loss for words when you had told him that he was the moon, and you, just a star. If you were to ask him again, Gojo would agree, but with only half of it.

He may have been the moon, but you were a galaxy full of stars and planets that harboured dreams and wishes he could never fathom. His mind kept flickering back to the constellations he littered your body with as he now watched his own disciple press kisses into the crook of your neck. 

Nonetheless, he found his own lips twitching upwards- almost tragically, but the warmth in his chest was real as he saw the joy on your face. You were right; he was the moon after all. He had shone as bright as the sun itself despite not having any light of his own. Now he stood there watching the same light reflect off the dark-haired boy who held you in his arms, and suddenly, it all made sense.

Perhaps he should have found another way back then. Perhaps he shouldn’t have underestimated his ability to be able to protect you. Perhaps- 

it didn’t matter now. 

perhaps at the end of the day, the moon was nothing but a dreamer.

© suna-reversed — all rights reserved. please refrain from modifying, translating, reposting of any kind. plagiarism will NOT be tolerated.

[swinging-stars-from-satellites]

not to project onto Scully too much but sometimes I think about how she grew up with a parent in the military and how that canonically shaped her in a lot of ways (the need for approval and structure, attachment issues formed probably largely from moving a lot among other things) and how throughout the course of the show she seems to be, and to assume she will be, the first one to leave. in moments of deep intimacy (the parking garage in Little Green Men; the opening of Paper Clip; Paper Hearts; the hallway scene in Memento Mori; multiple times in Elegy; even at Mulder's apartment in FTF) Scully is the one who walks away first. it's like she expects it of herself, even, and maybe she does: she has attachment issues that in a way come down to a fear of being left behind. she (like me) has almost always been the one doing the leaving: moving around growing up, leaving the way she talks about in All Things (which touches a lot on her constant movement, actually) bc she thinks it's the best thing to do, and it does a lot to how she reacts to people coming and going — even as early on as Beyond the Sea, with the loss of her father.

she has the expectation, particularly in her relationship with Mulder, that she will be the one leaving — whatever way that means. their exchange in Paper Clip (just before Scully walks away!!) is really telling: "I told your mother you would be alright" / "How did you know?" / "I just knew". at face value it's just... a lot of hope and trust and faith, but at the same time there's this layer of... almost denial?? that i think is touched on more in those deleted scenes with her mother and Melissa — she doesn't want to accept that Mulder is gone and she's the one left. I would even go as far as to say that her abduction and then later her cancer affect this. both those times, Mulder is the one who is and will be left behind, and particularly where it comes to the cancer arc, that affects a lot of how she acts about it. she's obviously afraid to die, but there's also this sense of acceptance in her; but with Mulder, she's so much more openly concerned for him and what will happen to him once she — in her way of thinking — leaves him. there's a sense of slight guilt there and I think it's a part of why she keeps him at arm's length for much of the latter half of s4.

btw I'm not really taking into account more circumstantial instances of leaving/being left here — Mulder ditches Scully so many times we all kinda just keep a tally, but that's not the times that really... matter as much? it's the weighty, meaningful times; i keep coming back to Paper Hearts, for some reason. maybe it's just that it's never sat completely right with me that Scully just... walks away? and it's a very obvious instance of this odd little thing: in more trivial, case-related circumstances, Mulder ditches her a lot; but in moments that really, deeply matter, Scully is often the one to leave first.

she even tries to do it again in FTF; she's upset, yeah, but she's extremely calm about essentially leaving Mulder. (to be fair: it was never about leaving him. she would never stay away for him for long, no matter either of their status at the Bureau, it was always about leaving the WORK, which Mulder wrongly interpreted as her leaving him entirely, as he often does; see also: Never Again) she's... resigned to it. prepared. it's not something she ever intended, but it's something she kind of knew would happen in some way: she was always going to be the one to leave first.

there's that Siken quote, "Someone has to leave first. This is a very old story. There is no other version of this story." and that's really what it comes down to. that is and has always been Scully's mindset, possibly (probably) in large part due to growing up in a military family. she's internalized that way of life so deeply that she fits herself into that role. she is someone who leaves first. this is a very old story. there is no other version of this story. until there is. there is another version of this story, and it shakes her to her core. she carries a very fierce kind of calm nearly all the time, and the quickest we ever see her walls stripped down to absolutely nothing is at the end of Requiem. it's a very, very sudden change going into season 8 because she's just so raw, split apart and incredibly open for once. she's constantly tearing up, more than we ever see before she loses Mulder (once, twice, how many times).

and like quite honestly I think him leaving in s9 was really the (beginning of the) last straw for her, because it was a conscious, intentional decision they both made. it was fully in their control. and like yeah they agreed on it, yeah they thought it was the only way to be safe and ever be together again, but he left. and that more than absolutely anything up to that point completely tore Scully apart. she spent so long expecting to be the one leaving, even the narrative of the show frames her as such very often, and now she's Not. and that can be and is devastating. the real (end of the) last straw, though, is William. bc it's another conscious choice to be the one who is left behind, and it's so much deeper a pain than... basically anything else tbh. and combined with Mulder leaving at the top of the season, it winds up being the absolute edge of how much she can handle. it truly is Scully's last straw and she cannot handle anymore.

WHICH IS WHY (and I didn't expect to get this far in this rant, it was supposed to be just one paragraph RIP) I think she leaves between IWTB and the revival. like... she is constantly afraid of being the one left behind, whatever that means in any given circumstance, and she's already reached her breaking before they're ever in the Unremarkable House. she sees Mulder disconnecting and hiding and it hits just enough of those fears of rejection and being left that she. leaves first. because (like that OTHER Siken poem) it's written down, memorized, all she knows. "I say the phrases that keep it going and everyone plays along," etc.

Scully is still, at any given point in the series, in some way at heart the daughter of a Navy captain. that's how she was raised, that's who she is, and that's... a lot. a lot a lot. someone has to leave first. this is an old story. there is no other version of this story. and given her upbringing, given the major events of her life and relationships (especially with Mulder), it makes so much sense that she seems to so instinctively expect to be the one who leaves first. it's easier for her; it's what she's familiar with and in a way comfortable with, so. she leaves first.

[olreid]

i am ALMOST done mountain goats posting 4 the day but mobile BRAVELY asks the question: what if jonah regrets being saved? richard siken voice i clawed my way into the light but the light is just as scary; i'd rather be sad, it's too much work / jd on transcendental youth voice i hide down in my corner / because i like my corner / i am happy where the vermin play / jean rhys voice why did you make me want to live? why did you do that to me? / at least when you're in the belly of the whale you are certain of yourself; you know you are going to die and there is nothing you can do about it. that is freeing; you are not obligated to try any more, because no effort would have any effect. jean anouilh voice:

there's nothing more you can do and that's great news, because trying SUCKS! after a life full of painful effort that scrapes you raw and leads you nowhere, the best thing you can be told is that there's nothing more you can do, that you're free to give up and no one will judge or condemn you for it. and conversely from an extremely mentally ill pov there is simply NOTHING worse than someone who forgives you your trespasses, because then you have to make it up to them by being a better person. you can't remain in the cycle of punishment and self-loathing and lashing out that is familiar to you; you have to return their gesture by getting better, even if you don't know how. you have to keep trying. and so what if jonah prays again to the lord, and he prays not for forgiveness but for condemnation? don't hold back your fury! send down the storm! because sometimes true freedom is in being allowed to be the worst, most damaged version of yourself, in not being expected to get any better.

[callmearcturus]

anyway my favorite song from the album is actually "Show Pony" bc in my opinion it best shows off my favorite part of the album, which is oddly enough the writing.

ILYSFM is Dave Bayley Does Richard Siken's Crush basically, by which I mean there is some quality of the words, the precision in their choice that mentally teleports me back to Crush and "Show Pony" is the best at it

there's something inside the perspective flip of I'll begin at the beginning: you met in new york city, he was sitting like a prince on the stairs of his old building and the next fucking line being like a judge's sentence handed down (when he kissed you, you were *finished*)

because you see (i say, tapping this perspective transition with my pointer) Bayley stated in the GQ interview that "Show Pony" was a bit autobiographical, so what this moment of "I'LL begin at the beginning" to "YOU met in NYC" feels like telling a story in second-person in the same way Siken does in Crush, when what he means to do is examine his own experiences with an insulating layer, and that layer is the "you" instead of the "I". Learning that Bayley wrote the majority of this album while burnt out and living by himself without even his dog is interesting flavor, but I already knew that was the emotion at play because

He always fell asleep right just the movie finished, BUT YOU DON'T, baby you're alone, echoes in your head, pressed into the floor, two-dimensional

It's such a specific tableau of loneliness, this expectation and longing for connection and then not getting it, like a missing step problem. what if you watched a movie with someone you loved but you never talked about it, never discussed how it made you feel, that conversation never happens and what if he's asleep for the entire relationship. you're sad for a while, but then you're just angry, and in "Show Pony" the revenge manifests as getting out of there and in front of new people and getting that connection finally, fuck that guy

also not for nothing but the last verse is some fucking magical shit

all those nights he left you and me, there was nothing left of you but he squeezed, all those times he did what he pleased, BOY THOSE SCARS MUST REALLY RUN DEEP, and all that hurt comes out in one scream and it pierced him like the paper receipt that you got that time you went for food, that first night that he saw you

fucking immortalize it in bronze. i point out the use of "boy" here because its ultra conspicuous in its placement, almost like a parenthetical aside lodged like shrapnel in the middle of the otherwise continuous complete loop of recollection.

look, there is some Gender Shit in this song and it's not even subtle about it. from the POV flip between the first two lines to now you're coming back to show us that girl to the above conspicuous purposeful "boy" and how the second person POV is not guessing, it's not asking the titular show pony how she felt because the narrator knows already. it's not two people, it's one person using the imperfect device of the POV as insulation.

it's looking back on something and figuring out what the HELL happened because I'll begin at the beginning and two months in a minute and the way it closes the loop to that first night that he saw you, it's a post-mortem

and it's the first song of the fucking album, so I was doomed from the start

("but arc, maybe the song refers to two differently gendered people because there's two people" nah. "but--" naw.)

i might have decided ILYSFM is a perfect album and everyone else just doesn't Get It, but don't worry because I do, I get it

sometimes things are specifically for me and it's great

[alinaandalion]

I posted 760 times in 2022

That's 252 more posts than 2021!

272 posts created (36%)

488 posts reblogged (64%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@reflectingiridescent

@dollsome-does-tumblr

@strangesmallbard

@wistfulwatcher

@cminerva

I tagged 757 of my posts in 2022

#quotes - 221 posts

#leverage - 136 posts

#poetry - 100 posts

#abbott elementary - 72 posts

#sophie devereaux - 59 posts

#louise gluck - 52 posts

#ask me things - 42 posts

#ask meme - 40 posts

#nate ford - 34 posts

#leverage: redemption - 34 posts

Longest Tag: 114 characters

#i always go back to how sophie was the one who would have understood first exactly how good they all were together

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

Do you know what I was, how I lived?  You know what despair is; then winter should have meaning for you. I did not expect to survive, earth suppressing me.  I didn't expect to waken again, to feel in damp earth my body able to respond again, remembering after so long how to open again in the cold light of earliest spring-- afraid, yes, but among you again crying yes risk joy in the raw wind of the new world.

“Snowdrops” from The Wild Iris by Louise Glück

48 notes - Posted February 11, 2022

#4

Everyone wants the stars.  Everyone wishes to grasp that which exists out of reach.  To hold the extraordinary in their hands and keep the remarkable in their pockets.

The Starless Sea by Erin Morgenstern

50 notes - Posted May 19, 2022

#3

Tell me how all this, and love too, will ruin us.      These, our bodies possessed by light.      Tell me we'll never get used to it.

“Scheherazade” from Crush by Richard Siken

69 notes - Posted May 26, 2022

#2

i don’t have any actual coherent thoughts on this yet but i AM obsessed with sophie bumping up against more intense physical threats and not giving two shits about it because she’s the one in control in the room and who gives a fuck if you’ve got a gun in her face when she’s about to ruin you.

85 notes - Posted December 5, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Who wouldn't want you? Whose most demonic appetite could you possibly fail to answer?

“Penelope’s Song” from Meadowlands by Louise Glück

453 notes - Posted February 13, 2022

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