#postcards from the high seas

[soracities]

Corsino Fortes, from "Postcards from the High Seas" (trans. Sean O'Brien & Daniel Hahn), My Voice: A Decade of Poems from the Poetry Translation Centre (ed. Sarah Maguire)

[thethirdromana]

Visiting Whitby with Mina Murray

Last year I illustrated Mina's description of Whitby a selection of modern photos. This year, I thought I might go one better, so here are some views of Whitby as Mina might have seen it in the 1890s*.

[*or as close as I could manage.]

"This is a lovely place. The little river, the Esk, runs through a deep valley, which broadens out as it comes near the harbour."

"A great viaduct runs across, with high piers, through which the view seems somehow further away than it really is."

[I don't actually know the age of this photo, but it looks about right.]

"The valley is beautifully green, and it is so steep that when you are on the high land on either side you look right across it, unless you are near enough to see down."

"The houses of the old town—the side away from us—are all red-roofed, and seem piled up one over the other anyhow..."

"... like the pictures we see of Nuremberg."

[this is Nuremberg sometime between 1890 and 1906]

"Right over the town is the ruin of Whitby Abbey, which was sacked by the Danes, and which is the scene of part of "Marmion," where the girl was built up in the wall."

"It is a most noble ruin, of immense size, and full of beautiful and romantic bits; there is a legend that a white lady is seen in one of the windows."

"Between it and the town there is another church, the parish one, round which is a big graveyard, all full of tombstones."

"This is to my mind the nicest spot in Whitby, for it lies right over the town, and has a full view of the harbour and all up the bay to where the headland called Kettleness stretches out into the sea."

"It descends so steeply over the harbour that part of the bank has fallen away, and some of the graves have been destroyed. In one place part of the stonework of the graves stretches out over the sandy pathway far below. There are walks, with seats beside them, through the churchyard; and people go and sit there all day long looking at the beautiful view and enjoying the breeze."

[this painting by William Lionel Wyllie is from 1922, so a bit later, but I thought it was too pretty not to include. St Mary's and the graveyard are at the top left, and you can see the steep descent below.]

"The harbour lies below me, with, on the far side, one long granite wall stretching out into the sea, with a curve outwards at the end of it, in the middle of which is a lighthouse. A heavy sea-wall runs along outside of it. On the near side, the sea-wall makes an elbow crooked inversely, and its end too has a lighthouse. Between the two piers there is a narrow opening into the harbour, which then suddenly widens."

"It is nice at high water; but when the tide is out it shoals away to nothing, and there is merely the stream of the Esk, running between banks of sand, with rocks here and there."

[from Horne's Guide to Whitby, 1897]

"Outside the harbour on this side there rises for about half a mile a great reef, the sharp edge of which runs straight out from behind the south lighthouse. At the end of it is a buoy with a bell, which swings in bad weather, and sends in a mournful sound on the wind. They have a legend here that when a ship is lost bells are heard out at sea." 

"The steps are a great feature on the place. They lead from the town up to the church, there are hundreds of them—I do not know how many—and they wind up in a delicate curve; the slope is so gentle that a horse could easily walk up and down them."

And a bonus - might Mina have bought one of these postcards for Jonathan?

[they are from 1903, so the answer to this is "no", but again I thought they were too pretty not to include.]

[imhereformr]

S3E5 The Sea of Fear

Her parents have taken shelter in the palace, which is great cause her parents are safe. BUT WHAT ABOUT THE PEOPLE?

Miss Faragonda will never give us permission to leave Alfea. Unless of course it's her choice to send us to our potential deaths ofc

Why does Stella need a scarf and hat to fake sick? Not once in every time I've been sick have I put a scarf and hat on.

Oh, Tecna and Timmy have desicgned some program that allows for interdimensional travel. I see we've once again forgotten about Stella's staff and that little postcard thing Stella had in the first season

Valtor's goal is to have the magical dimension at his feet. The Trix's goal... To get rid of the Winx. How are they some of the world's most dangerous criminals, but they're still stuck holding high school grudges 😂

Did Aisha's parents actually okay 5 teenagers going to fight Valtor with NO BACKUP??

Oh look, another villain that's magically able to spy on the Winx. How not at all creepy.

They've got the flu, but they're standing there, fine as can be, laughing when Griselda comes in. Stella is putting zero effort into this.

And Griselda bought it? How??

"That girl Bloom, she's very powerful. She's not like the others." Gross.

"Bloom, don't be afraid of me" the fully grown man who separated you from your friends, unconscious, and sat here waiting for you to wake up. Not at all creepy.

"Four against one, that's hardly a fair fight" No one is forcing you to be there, Icy. You can leave 🤷��‍♀️

Oh nevermind, he didn't isolate her that much. All the other winx had to do was look down 😂

Oh and now Aishas blind and Bloom is doing the shocked Pikachu face

[direwombat]

long time no wip wednesday

tagged by various people over the past few weeks, but most recently by @ivymarquis to share some a piece of a wip!

been having a creative dry spell recently, so technically this is a super old piece of writing, but i'm returning to this character study of a fictional mafioso (portrayed by luca martinelli (of the old guard fame)) in FX's 2018 historical drama, Trust, which is about the kidnapping and ransom of John Paul Getty III. I defs recommend it if you haven't watched it. Brendan Fraser plays a cowboy who breaks the 4th wall and also Hillary Swank is in it and she's very good. this is super niche so no pressure to read if you don't want to. i'll go back to the regularly scheduled fc5 fic eventually.

Reggio Calabria, 1982

“I thought you were in Rome,” Leonardo says to Primo in lieu of a proper hello. 

You’re always in Rome, goes unsaid, and the exasperated flash of abject terror across poor Leo’s face makes silent questions of What happened? and Why are you here? louder than the blaring horns and ambient noise of the docks. Leonardo never was good at concealing his emotions. Wore his thoughts on his face like a book to be read.

Primo pulls a cigarette and lighter from his pockets. “Everything’s fine,” he says. Then, he lights the cigarette and brings it to his mouth to take a drag. “It’s good to see you too.”

It’s a gorgeous day in late May. The temperature lazes in the high twenties, and the sun shines like a motherfucker over the Port of Gioia Tauro. Just beyond the influx of ships, the waves of the Tyrrhenian Sea are capped with glittering diamonds, rich enough to fill a jewelry store a thousand times over. It’s picturesque and beautiful, something right off the shitty postcards that tourists buy.

If Primo were a more sentimental man, he might have missed it here. But the scenery wasn’t what brought him back to Calabria. The metaphorical diamonds he’s interested in lie not atop the lapping waves, but hidden within the freight and cargo of the metal monsters that came to berth in the harbor. 

His harbor. 

Well, his and Leonardo’s. 

Mostly Leonardo’s. 

The Nizzuto name isn’t anywhere to be found on the official paperwork, but the strings gently -- and other times not so gently -- being plucked and pulled in the shadows were moved by Primo’s skilled hands. 

Leonardo had wanted to go as legitimate as possible to allow his son a life that wasn’t blood, death, and violence. Primo, who knows no other way to live, doesn’t pretend to understand the reasoning behind Leo’s decision, but he does appreciate a good cover operation and knows an opportunity when he sees one. The best way to get away with illegal business is to hide it behind perfectly fair and good trade. 

Leo is still looking at him with an expression that’s waiting for a shoe to drop. From anyone else, the look would have been insulting. Doubting Primo’s abilities so boldly in front of him would get most people a broken jaw. But he’s known Leo long enough that it’s just fun to watch the old man stress himself out. 

Primo sniffs, raises a shoulder in a slight shrug. “There’s a shipment coming in today. I want to be there when it arrives.”

The sigh that escapes Leonardo is one of pure relief and Primo rolls his eyes behind his sunglasses as the tension immediately dissolves from the other man’s shoulders. “So you’re here on business, then,” Leonardo says. 

“Here on business,” Primo nods. 

“I see,” Leo says. There’s no mention that “business” means drugs and guns and other things illegally obtained to be sold on the streets and back alleys of Rome. No mention that the drugs and guns were bought illegally as well. Business is vague and nebulous, not to be talked about in public and only to be discussed behind closed doors, preferably with a bottle of wine, much like most other parts of Primo’s life. 

Leonardo lights his own cigarette and the two stand there in amicable, but somewhat awkward silence. He wants to say more; wants Primo to say more, but they both know that Primo has nothing else to say. He’s here on business. That’s all there is. They stand at arms length, never any closer, and watch the bustle of the dock workers and sailors as they haul cargo to and fro.

Eventually, Leo says, “You should come for dinner. Francesco has graduated from University. Business. He wishes to see you again.”

This catches Primo’s attention. It’s subtle: his head cocked to the side, a slight straightening of his spine. “Is he here?” Primo asks.

tagging: @marivenah, @florbelles, @statichvm, @fourlittleseedlings, @wrathfulrook, @harmonyowl, @carlosoliveiraa, @cassietrn, @poetikat, @confidentandgood, @strafethesesinners, @trench-rot, @miyabilicious, @simplegenius042, @g0dspeeed, @inafieldofdaisies, @josephslittledeputy, @aceghosts, @adelaidedrubman, @finding-comfort-in-rain, @socially-awkward-skeleton, @voidika, @strangefable, and anyone else wanting to share a wip! (taglist opt in/out)

[for-yoongi0309]

[NOTICE] BTS PERMISSION TO DANCE ON STAGE in THE US Release announcement

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For those who want to enjoy the LA show to the fullest– The concert film for “Permission to Dance on Stage – LA” Day 2 is available for streaming on Disney+. [Weverse Shop-US] • PRE-ORDER DATE : From 11 AM, Friday, November 17, 2023 (KST) *WHILE SUPPLIES LAST* • RELEASE DATE : January 5, 2024 (PST)

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BTS PERMISSION TO DANCE ON STAGE in THE US : Last Concert @ Las Vegas ON Burning Up (FIRE) Dope DNA Blue & Grey Black Swan Blood Sweat & Tears + FAKE LOVE Life Goes On Boy With Luv Dynamite Butter Telepathy Wings Stay + So What IDOL Anpanman + Go Go Permission to Dance How To Watch “BTS PERMISSION TO DANCE ON STAGE in THE US” Watch the high definition VODs on Weverse by registering/verifying the digital code on the product enclosed with the merchandise. [How To Use The Digital Code] - MOBILE * QR code: Using the smartphone camera, scan the QR code to visit m.weverse.io/code/dc. Redeem the digital code and enjoy the video on the Weverse app!

※ This product is made of paper certified by Forest Stewardship Council and printed with biodegradable soy ink.

※ Please be aware that sizes and content are subject to change depending on production company circumstances.

※ Due to the nature of the materials, there may be cracks, discoloration or color bleeding in the product.

※ Please note that the perforations on the outbox may show signs of cracking due to the nature of the material.

ⓟ&ⓒ 2023 BIGHIT MUSIC & HYBE. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

MADE IN KOREA.

[nathanbatemanfucker]

The Sun Also Rises: Part 1

summary: yes. that’s it. he’s missed you and your familiar comfort. that’s all.

pairing: f!reader x javier peña

contents: 18+/NSFW/MINORS DNI, best friends to lovers, angst/fluff, mentions of a deceased parent, perceived unrequited love, food mention, allusions to ptsd

word count: 2.3k

an: ive been sitting on a good chunk of this for months now, and finally ive started to flesh out the ending so i thought…why not. not sure when the next part will posted but soon come, i promise! <3

part 2 | series masterlist | writing masterlist

He’s done enough.

That’s what he keeps telling himself. And while it readily applies to his fight in Colombia, sometimes it creeps into other places. He’s done enough. God take him. There’s nothing left for him to be good at. Nowhere in life that his hands won’t stain, the darkest of sins on his hands.

What else could a guy like him do?

He doesn’t feel like anyone was wrong for asking him that question. He doesn’t know the answer to it himself.

What else could a guy like him do?

A guy with no roots, no relationships, nothing but loyalty to a government he doesn’t even trust. Well that’s not entirely true. There are some he doesn’t like to admit, like Steve or the soft dutifulness he feels towards Lorraine even all these years later. But then there’s his father.

There’s you.

If anything is true, he can go home and try to do his best by his father and you. Even if you are many miles away from home.

When you’d first become friends with Javier freshman year of high school you thought something was wrong with you. He flirted with almost every other girl, and if he wasn’t, he didn’t give them the time of day at all. But then he saw you, lost look on your face, and that all changed. He picked you out of that treacherous sea of kids hitting puberty and the rest was history.

You got to see sides of him that weren’t smooth and suave— sides that wiped ketchup off your cheek while eating fries, that taught you how to ride a horse and carried you all the way home when you’d fell off and twisted your ankle. Sides that cried for his mother in the darkness of the night, nothing but the stars gazing down at you as you held him.

Nonetheless you wondered what was wrong. The older you get, the more stupid it feels when you reflect on it. Sometimes the questions still sit in your head.

Why didn’t he treat you like others? Were you ugly? Was the shape of your lips not kissable? Your perfume not sweet enough?

Your mother, god rest her soul, had noticed. Even with your happiness in having Javier as a friend she saw your confidence fall.

She told you something that you’ve held onto— something you model your life after to keep yourself safe. She told you to never lose sleep over something that wasn’t a sure bet. And since then you buried any acknowledgement of Javier’s potential deep in the most inner parts of you.

He’s attractive, he’s sweet, he’s charming. Buried.

He’s funny. He’s your best friend. He makes you feel safe. He’ll always be here for you. Kept.

The sure bet was that he’d always be your friend no matter what. It’s what you hold onto in any rocky situation.

You don’t blame him when he leaves for Colombia and practically vanishes off the face of the earth. You’d seen it coming, prepared for it so that he could focus and do his best down there. But then you get the first letter and your heart jumps. You relax for the first time in months and finally realize all the tension that’s gripped your body.

He’s okay. He’s alive. He’s still your best friend.

Near the end, the letters turn to postcards and you know that he’s struggling to find the words for what’s happening to him. You write as always, hoping to be some constant in his life of chaos. In the news, you see that he’s successful in taking down the Cali Cartel. You assume he just needs time, that he’ll reach out again once he’s processed everything.

A couple months later, your gracious assumption is proven wrong. You’re home for the summer, and at the grocery store grumbling your way through the terrible list of things your father wants to pick up when you spot him in the produce aisle.

For a few moments, you just soak in every detail about him. His hair is just as floppy as always, his skin is smooth and golden. He’s still your Javi but he looks tired, frayed at the edges. You notice how he scans his surroundings often, one of his hands sat on his hip as if ready for action. Once he’s satisfied with the distance between him and others around him, he goes back to picking through the apples, his nimble fingers pressing and prodding.

You cross the aisles, keeping your distance as you call out to him gently, “Javi?”

He turns around immediately, his hand ghosting the empty place where his gun once sat. His eyes rake over your frame, and he straightens up. The sight of you knocks the air out of his lungs, sitting his head right and clear on his shoulders.

Have you always looked like this? So comforting and…ethereal?

He breathes your name almost as a prayer, the relief permeating him.

With an easy smile pulling at the corners of your mouth, Javier can’t remember why he was so worried to see you again. You look at him with that same unconditional affection you always have, and put his nerves at ease. He reaches for you, bringing you in for a hug that you eagerly return.

“You didn’t tell me you were coming home,” You whisper against the shell of his ear.

“I needed time.”

Pulling away you see it, how his eyes glaze over slightly, looking haunted. While that softens your heart further for him, you couldn’t be mad at him if you tried.

“That’s okay. I’m not angry,” You say with a soft smile and he relaxes, releases you until it’s just your hands in his.

“What are you doing here?”

“I’m home for the summer. Perks of working at a university.”

“I get you for the whole summer?”

“Till the second week of August then it’s back up North.”

“And how’s Ricky?”

“Good. I’m here picking up all his house essentials, along with some food that’ll actually give him some vitamins.”

Javi leans in to look at the list you hold up, eyes squinting, “His entire list is junk, huh?”

“Shit tons of it,” You agree with a laugh before nudging him with your elbow. “What about Chucho? How’s he?”

“Happy I’m home. Working me like a dog.”

“And you?”

“Me?”

“Are you happy you’re home?” You clarify.

He stares at you a beat, that shy smile that’s always been reserved for you spreading across his face, “I am now.”

The two of you make quick work of the rest of your father and Chucho’s lists. Javier mentions that Chucho’s at bingo too, and invites you over to the house for dinner.

“Javi, unless something’s changed since the last I saw you…you don’t cook.”

He laughs, “No, nothing’s changed.”

“Then you come over to mine, let me cook in my own kitchen.”

It takes no time for you at all to whip up dinner which is two juicy steaks, mashed potatoes and a veggie mix. Javier sips a glass of whiskey slower than usual as he watches you float around the kitchen, barefoot, your hair down and framing your features. He can’t take his eyes off of you, not even when he offers to help you, and he ends up nicking himself when cutting up carrots. You tease him as you bandage him up, claiming he can fire all sorts of firearms but was defeated by a carrot, to which he protests.

It's easy to slip back into the comfortable relationship that you have always had. He asks you a multitude of questions about the last 10 years, the two of you huddled up at the corner of the kitchen table as you eat and chat.

He can’t bring himself to bring up what he wants to know most about; your love life.He feels like he’s in a fever dream with the thoughts he’s been thinking since he saw you. Was he…interested in you? Is this what this is? The unusual flutter in his chest and the slickness of his hands. You’re so pretty. You’ve always been this pretty though, he doesn’t understand. Maybe it’s because he’s missed you.

Yes. That’s it. He’s missed you and your familiar comfort. That’s all.

When you walk him to his car, he turns to you, thrumming his fingers against the fabric of his jeans.

You frown, noticing his nervousness, “What is it?”

He hesitates, running a hand over the back of his neck as he looks up at the night sky, “I don’t know, I just…I’m sorry.”

“What for?” You’re genuinely curious, not just trying to make him work for it.

“I stopped writing and I didn’t tell you I’d be home. I pulled away.”

“It was horrific wasn’t it?”

He hums, rough in his chest, both of hands coming to rest on his hips as he looks down at the ground.

You reach out, lift his chin with the tip of your finger, “Then you were just trying to protect me. It’s alright.”

Javier’s eyes widen slightly at your proximity, and the aching need to sink into your touch. Instead he takes your hand into his, plants a kiss on it like he always used to.

“Thanks. Thank you. Really, I’m…I’m struggling.”

“Not alone though,” You remind him tenderly and he smiles.

“Let’s go to the lake tomorrow?”

The lake. A place that you only brought each other to. It’s stupidly sacred to you both, even though it’s a public park. He’d never even taken Lorraine there, though that all made more sense when you sped him away from his wedding in your old pickup truck on that hot summer day.

“Sure.” You agree easily, “What time?”

“Sunrise?”

“Sunrise.”

It’s around 5 a.m. the next morning when you wake, getting dressed and brewing coffee. The first sips of it sink deep into your bones, perking up the rest of your senses. You pull out a thermos, pour Javi a cup and then head out to sit on the porch.

Javi pulls up in his truck, and when you run down the stairs and hop into his truck with coffee in hand, it feels like the good ol’ days, untainted by all the politics and violence. He’s got classical music playing like always, and the two of you just sip coffee and ride in a comfortable silence. It’s always so easy with him, in a way it isn’t with anyone else.

He brings his coffee when both of you walk to your designated picnic table, the one that’s a little high up and overlooks the lake. It’s the best place in town to watch the sunrise, though maybe you’re biased because of the nostalgia and the company.

Gold and red and orange, the first colors of the sun peak over the horizon. Javier feels like he’s completely at peace, like his past doesn’t exist and that life has always been just like this. He wishes it had been. That he’d just stayed with you and that he’d made his number one priority being your best friend.

“Did you ever watch the sunrise in Colombia?” You ask, head perched on his shoulder.

“A few times when I couldn’t sleep.”

“Were they this beautiful?” You lean forward, and Javier can get a good look at you like this.

He doesn’t look away from you when he answers, “No, nothing beats this.”

“Will you tell me about it? You say after a few moments of quiet.

He makes a disagreeable sound in the back of his throat, “There’s not much good for me to tell you. And what happened to me protecting you from it?”

“I didn’t say it had to be good. I mean…have you talked to anyone about it? When’s the last time you talked to Steve?”

“Murphy and I don’t talk about it. He’s got a family, a kid, he’s moved on.”

“He’d be there for you if you needed it. You just never let anyone in.”

“I let you in plenty.”

“You stopped writing, Javi. You didn’t call. You didn’t tell me you were home,” And though your voice isn’t unkind it makes him wince.

“We’ve already established-“

“That you were protecting me, and it’s sweet. I appreciate it, you know that I do, but maybe I don’t need protection. Maybe I just need you to let me take care of you.”

He doesn’t reply, your words gripping his ability to formulate a response and holding it hostage.

“I didn’t know what to think. I was worried about you, about everything.”

He frowns, “Everything?”

“About us,” You whisper, feeling so stupid again. Feeling like that girl he’d befriended all those years ago.

He’s been through so much, horrible, scarring things that you could never imagine, and this is what you bring up.

He wraps an arm around you and pulls you closer, “You don’t ever have to worry about us.”

You’re so warm against his side, you fit perfectly. Soft and comfortable next to him, he wants this, always. It isn’t just your familiarity and comfort. It’s you— your essence.

He wants you.

You nod, taking a deep breath as you get yourself together, “You’re right, this isn’t about us, it’s about you.”

“I’ll tell you some of it tomorrow, right now I just wanna sit here with you. Okay?”

“Okay.”

You sit there with him until the sun is all the way over the horizon, mostly in silence, but occasionally one of you will point out a bird or squirrel that passes by. When he gets you home, he walks you up to the door as always.

“Lunch and a ride tomorrow?”

“Is it your goal to wear me out all summer?” You tease, hand resting on his chest.

He shrugs with a smug grin, “Somebody’s gotta do it.”

You poke him in the chest with a serious look, “Don’t work too hard out there today.”

“Take that up with Pops,” He captures your hand with his, brings it up for that habitual kiss. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow.”

javi taglist: @honeybrowne @lesbianhotch, @hotchs-bitch, @jazzelsaur, @bubblybubbubs, @sheresh0y, @midnightwolf04, @mccn-bcys, @jxvipike

[allthebrazilianpolitics]

‘A preview to hell’: The year Brazil woke up to the climate crisis

Last weekend, Brazil experienced its ninth heat wave of the year, with 15 states on alert due to high temperatures. These are the last blows of a year that’s on track to be the hottest in history.

In Brazil, since July, all average temperature records have been broken, month after month, according to the National Institute of Meteorology. The residents of Irajá – a neighborhood in the northern part of Rio de Janeiro – know this well. In recent years, the neighborhood has earned the reputation of being the hottest in the city. Here, less than 20 miles from the beaches of Ipanema and Copacabana, the sea breeze isn’t even noticeable, while trees are scarce. This district has nothing to do with the exuberant tropical city plastered all over the postcards for tourists.

On one corner, Giselle Silva sells sardines in boxes packed with ice. Every day, she slathers herself in SPF-80 sunscreen, to work under an umbrella. Despite the shadow, she always ends up burned. “The most stressful thing is the heat: it’s unbearable. It’s gotten a lot worse in recent years. Let me tell you: this is a preview to hell. This summer is going to be terrible,” she says resignedly.

The residents of Irajá know very well that the scorching sun isn’t an isolated phenomenon. “For me, deforestation in the Amazon is the primary reason,” says Waldir Cavalcante, a taxi driver. He’s sitting on a plastic chair next to the door of an air-conditioned supermarket, to feel some relief. His taxi spends the day parked on the opposite sidewalk, in full sun. It doesn’t get even a little shade until four in the afternoon, the owner notes. He remembers a childhood in a very different neighborhood, with dirt roads and many more trees. Nowadays, Irajá is a sea of asphalt.

Heat waves in the cities, the extreme drought that has dried up the rivers of the Amazon, or the floods in the south of the country are all extreme climatic events that have been multiplied this year, as a result of El Niño. This phenomenon warms the environment naturally, but specialists warn that it’s increasingly intense due to climate change. For the director of the Climate and Society Institute (iCS), María Netto, the increase in the frequency and intensity of environmental catastrophes is something that has come to stay. But that’s not all. “There are impacts that aren’t so perceptible, that are growing little by little, such as the increase in temperature, or the variation in the frequency of rain, which [are factors that] have an enormous impact on agriculture and people’s quality of life. These impacts,” she continues, on the phone with EL PAÍS, “especially affect the most vulnerable people.”

Continue reading.

[gracie-bird]

Princess Grace's handwritten signed postcard written during a sailing voyage in Norway, to her friend, Father Peter Jacobs (aka Father Jake) from New York in 1982, less than two months before her death after a fatal car accident on September 12. She writes: "The ship is very comfortable & the weather fine with calm seas - Thank Heaven! It is really a delightful & relaxing trip. Sorry you are not with us. Warmest regards, G." 

Accompanied by another postcard featuring the greens of the Monte-Carlo golf club, addressed in Princess Grace's hand in black ink marker pen to Father Jacobs' New York City address. Also includes another postcard (unsigned) featuring glacial views of the Bragger Peninsula, Norway. Together with a colour brochure of the July and August 1981 concert performances of the Orchestre Philharmonique de Monte-Carlo.

About Father Peter Jacobs:

Father Peter a high-profile and controversial Catholic priest. Fr. "Jake" Jacobs was born on February 10, 1926, to a Jewish father and an Irish Catholic mother. Father Jacobs developed a lifelong affinity for Jewish religious thought and advocated for better relations between Catholics and Jews. His 53 years as a priest were marked by limitless generosity and dedication toward the youth, firefighters, prisoners, politicians and royalty.

In 1960, he moved to NYC, where he continued his true service of a much more unorthodox nature. He dedicated his life to serving prisoners, the sick, and the indigent, often taking confessions in bars and other non-traditional locations.

In 1982 Fr. Jacobs opened a restaurant in NYC called The Palatine, which became an instant hit. In the early 1990's he resided in Italy, maintaining close ties with the Vatican in Rome, and living in Venice near close friend Arrigo Cipriani. In March 1996 he received the D'Oro Award from the Boy's Town of Italy. In 2005, a party was held at Da Silvano to honour his 50th anniversary as a priest. His 80th birthday was attended by many of his longtime associates, including Dr Alan Kessler, Mr Walter Cronkite, Mr Edgar Bronfman Jr. and Yoko Ono.

Father Jacobs passed away on September 7th, 2008 in Rome. The cause of death was a heart attack. He is sorely missed by those whose lives he touched so deeply and unconditionally

Source: https://www.legacy.com/us/obituaries/nytimes/name/peter-jacobs-obituary?id=14161453

[yiiyiiwrites]

Please do a summary of the older sisters like you did with the boys 🤔 gifs and all if you can.

ok ok...I have done headcanons for the older sisters here, but will do a little summary like I did with the guys. shall I do seperate headcanons for the brothers too?

Popes older sister is the complete opposite of him values her creativity and intuition more than logic. Makes decisions on how she feels. Artistic, has her own jewellery bis and a small studio above the local surf shop (searches for sea glass on the beach for it). Cool girl, her vibes are kind and nurturing, plays guitar in a band which plays at kook events every now and then. Secret septum piercing that she flips up around her parents. Close with Pope and he regularly helps her with tech stuff etc. helps her do her taxes. Loves the Pogues and how connected they are, reminds Pope to check in with the boys as she knows they are alone. Headcanon here.

Would have long braided hair accessorised with shells/beads with coloured tips or colours weaved in. Crochets her own tops, shimmery body lotion and smells like vanilla.

JJ's older sister (Melissa 'Missy' Maybank). Works a lot to try and get money to give her and JJ some stability. Tries to take on more than she can and JJ gets the brunt of her bad moods (but nothing serious, more like snappy remarks). Good at talking them out of trouble, can convince her dad or distract him from throwing a punch, but this can make her get luke's wrath later on. Works whatever temp jobs she can. Soft spot for Pope and likes to listen to his random facts and bizarre knowledge. Reminds JJ to be careful instead of good. Pulls rank and reminds JJ she's older. Bit of loner as she doesn't want everyone knowing what her home life is like. Does have an on/off relationship that lets her crash at his whenever she needs a place. Headcanon here.

Over plucked eyebrows, cuts her own hair and you can definitely tell.

Side note: Why am I thinking of uptown girls?? 😂 older sister looking after bratty JJ whose a kid.

John B's older sister doesn't know what he's up to half the time and doesn't ask. "As long as you don't get caught." The least she knows the better. Works at the kooks hotel in laundry room, JJ gives her a lift when they the same shifts, also does her washing there. They split everything 50/50. Close with Kiara, nice to have another girl around as the boys can get on her nerves. Heavy sleeper so John B takes advantage of this and does whatever he wants. When she does have down time she likes to sunbathe on the beach, doesn't surf but does longboard. If they argue its pretty calm and they don't raise their voices. Not interested in the treasure talk as she saw the way it changed her father. smaller than her brother, nicknamed Smalls. Headcanon here.

Long thick curly hair that is box dyed, wears a signature brown lipstick when not working. Got the same leather jacket that's a bit battered since high school.

Kiara's older sister (Kaya Carerra). is well put together, enjoys fashion and is influenced by her sisters environmental views (tries to shop sustainable/vintage mostly). Has a turtle charm that Kie gifted her, sends her little sister animal postcards from her travels. Sticks to the Kook side, dated Rafe in college before he dropped out. Acts as peacekeeper between her parents and sister. Has her life planned out. Had her nose stuck in the books during school and is living a little in college (but within her reasons). Only knows the Pogues from what Kiara has told her. Met Pope once though as he was delivering groceries, both awkward rambling acknowledgements. JJ avoids her at all costs. Headcanon here.

Keeps it natural but loves a bold lip, long curly hair that she styles different depending on her mood. Accessory girl and loves a co-ord.

✨ The girls, just some inspo and what I think they kinda look like - Yiiyii If you have anymore requests send them in, I'm still answering a few but saw this and had to do it.

Please do not take and post my creations, you may reblog/like but do not take and claim as your own.

[drdamiang]

PERFECT (FAR FROM)

PERFECT (FAR FROM)

picture postcard

retirement

story-

book life

I drive through the clogged

early morning traffic

in what was once

a statement red car

tips

of fingers frozen

by ice of the gearstick

ice of

steering wheel

got to get my

friend's kids to school

so snatching

at gears

is this how the ultimate

chapter goes

three act play but

it's all

fits and starts

and pictures in my head

of all that might have been

if I had

played my cards differently

played them

at all

Oh storybook

picture perfect

I see a farm so green

extending to infinity

I see

white sand, blue ocean

high on the hillside

heavenly

sunsets

castle by

the sea

so let us

slouch back and

contemplate our

perpetual

peri-

urban sprawl

as we craft our glorious

spectacle of

might have beens

[fulltidewhalewatching]

Where Can You See Whales in New Brunswick?

Perched along Canada's magnificent east coast, New Brunswick provides some of the most amazing whale viewing opportunities you will find anywhere in the globe. This area has become a refuge for both casual viewers and marine aficionados with its immaculate seas and varied aquatic life. From graceful humpbacks to elusive minke whales, the seas around New Brunswick brim with these ocean giants. Where precisely, though, might you find these amazing animals? Let's explore the greatest places for New Brunswick whale watching and discover the sea's enchantment.

World-Famous Whale Watching Destination: The Bay of Fundy

Regarding East coast whale viewing, the Bay of Fundy is clearly the crown gem of New Brunswick. With the highest tides in the world, this special body of water attracts a great variety of marine species including seals, dolphins, and whales. During the summer and autumn, several whale species find the rich nutrients in the deep waters ideal for eating.

What distinguishes the Bay of Fundy?

The great tidal range of the Bay of Fundy produces an always shifting seascape. The tides draw nutrients from the deep ocean floor when they are strongest, therefore providing a fertile feeding ground for aquatic life. Whales so find the waters of the bay appealing from June to October, which attracts them and makes New Brunswick whale viewing the prime period.

You might come across species including:

Among the most charismatic whale species are humpback whales, noted for their breaching and tail-slapping actions. Often, their light-hearted antics enthral observers.

Comprising the second biggest whale species, fin whales can reach lengths of up to 85 feet. Though little, they are really quick and elegant swimmers.

Though smaller and more secretive, minke whales—known for their shier character—can still be seen in the Bay of Fundy.

Furthermore enhancing the experience are the breathtaking surroundings of the Bay of Fundy. A whale watching tour here seems like entering a postcard with rocks, cavernues, and the majestic Fundy coastline as your backdrop.

Grand Manan Island: A Whale Watching Hidden Gem

Grand Manan Island is also rather amazing for East coast whale viewing. This remote island, which lies near the mouth of the Bay of Fundy, provides a more sedate and personal whale viewing environment. Fewer visitors here make this a perfect place for those looking for a calm but exciting meeting with aquatic life.

Why would one visit Grand Manan Island to view whales?

Deep waters that whales enjoy to visit surround Grand Manan Island. The island's remoteness makes it among the greatest places to see several whale species, including the rare and threatened North Atlantic right whale. Here, Full-Tide Ocean Safaris frequently sets out whale viewing trips giving guests the opportunity to explore these waters under professional guide direction.

The island adds layers of appeal to your whale viewing trip with its charming lighthouses, gorgeous fishing villages, and active local culture. You catch a glimpse of:

One of the most threatened whale species worldwide, spotting a North Atlantic right whale will provide a lifetime of memories. These mild giants grace the seas of Grand Manan during the summer months, with less than 400 left.

Whale Sei: Sei whales are rare and elusive but well-known for their high swimming speed and sleek bodies. Every whale viewing trip gains unique excitement from their sporadic presence around the island.

Peak Whale Watching Times for New Brunswick

In New Brunswick whale watching, timing is important. Although whales can occasionally be seen in the off-season, late June through early October is the busiest months. The whales are most active during this period since they eat in the nutrient-rich Bay of Fundy and environs.

Given whales are more likely to be feeding near the surface, early morning and late afternoon trips usually produce the best results. Also, calm sea conditions during these seasons improve your chances of witnessing these magnificent animals.

Experienced experts who know the waterways and whale behaviours close-by will lead you with Full-Tide Ocean Safaris Our trips seek to maximise your opportunities for observing several whale species while guaranteeing a safe and environmentally responsible experience.

Other Water Life and Adventures Along the East Coast

Although East coast whale watching steals the show, the east coast presents more than simply whales. There is an amazing variety of marine life in the Bay of Fundy and nearby seas. You might run across playful dolphins, porpoises, seals, and even basking sharks. The range of seabirds—including puffins, gannets, and terns—that call the region will also thrill bird aficionados.

Apart from whale viewing, New Brunswick presents lots of activities to improve your nautical experience. The east coast offers something for everyone from kayaking along the craggy coast to investigating tidal pools during low tide.

Your Unique Whale Watching Experience Awaits You

Full-Tide Ocean Safaris provides amazing whale viewing trips catered to your needs whether your search is for a calm, meditative experience or an exciting adventure. We take great satisfaction in providing a first-rate New Brunswick whale viewing experience that takes you closer to nature and the amazing species that call our seas home using the magnificent Bay of Fundy as our playground.

ready to see New Brunswick's whales' grandeur? Plan your trip with Full-Tide Ocean Safaris right now to be ready for an amazing meeting with these ocean monsters!

[seal-writes-stuff]

home

Word count: 1.2k

Warnings: F!Reader, one mention of drug use, no plot just vibes

Summary: You’re waiting for your husband to come home.

A/N: Hi everyone! I’m still on my perpetual lmao Doc Sportello bullshit, so here’s a little thing that’s been on my mind for a while. Hope you enjoy!

He’s still not home.

You take a wistful look out of the window for what feels like a hundredth time and sigh. There aren’t many people left outside: someone’s still trying to take the last dive of the day at the beach, a couple of lovers still can’t find it in themselves to part for the night, but that’s about it.

The sun’s slowly disappearing in sea: you see it every day and it’s beautiful all the same. It always reminds you of the glossy postcards you keep sending to your parents every once in a while. Still, those cards never do the view justice, you think.

His car is nowhere in sight.

You try to divert your attention back to the stir fry you’re trying to make, but your thoughts persist. All in all, you aren’t even upset – it’s not the first time and certainly won’t be the last. Before you got together, Doc would always disappear for days or even weeks at a time, only to show up again, sweet as ever. More often than you’d like to admit, you used to wonder if there would ever come a day when he’d be gone for good, leaving you behind. Doc assured you that he’d always find a way back to you, no matter what happens.

And he did. If anything, Doc’s always been great at keeping his promises.

You add another pinch of salt, mixing the vegetables together. All of these doubts feel so far away now. You can’t imagine doubting him now, not even a little bit. But you can’t imagine being away for so long again too. Even a few extra hours seem endless these days; you have no idea how you did it before, and frankly, you don’t want to find out.

Deep in your thoughts, you don’t notice the car pulling up and you don’t hear the door opening a few minutes later. You only snap out of it when you feel Doc pull you in a warm hug from behind.

“Hey there,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to the side of your neck. You squirm at the way his sideburns tickle your skin.

“Hey,” you smile without looking away from the pan. “Careful, my husband’s gonna be home any moment now.”

“Hmm, and what he’s gonna do?”

“Oh, you know, he’s a P.I. He’s got connections. I wouldn’t mess with him.”

That’s the last straw; the act finally breaks. You start giggling and Doc joins you, punctuating his words with more gentle kisses.

“I’ve really missed you today.”

“Me too,” you run your fingertips up and down his forearm before bringing his hand to your mouth. “How’s work?”

“Eh, same old. You know how it is.”

“Oh man, do I. Hey, honey, I’ve blacked out in a brothel the other day – all strictly business, of course - so now I’m a murder suspect. If Bigfoot comes looking tell him I’m dead. Love you!”

“That was one time!”

“I rest my case.”

You chuckle, yet the thought lingers on your mind for just a moment longer. Enough time has passed for the story to become an inside joke, something you can laugh about together, yet living through it was terrifying. You’ve never managed to get many details out of Doc on the matter, but you remember him coming to you all but scarred from the experience. You remember getting high together the night after everything was over, as you mumbled shapeless love confessions and he stared at the ceiling blankly, playing with your hair.

You were dating for a while by this point. You were engaged a week later.

“Here,” you pick up a piece of bell pepper with a spatula and bring it to his mouth. “Careful, it’s hot.”

“You know what else is ho-”

“Don’t you fucking dare. Oh, by the way, if you say it’s great when it’s not I’m going to kill you. Just saying.”

“Alright, alright,” he raises his hands in surrender, taking a bite. “Mhm. I’d add some chili flakes.”

“That’s more like it,” you press a kiss to Doc’s cheek before turning back to the stove. “It’s almost ready. Set the table, will ya?”

“On it.”

He squeezes you for one last time before letting go. You’re wrapping up the cooking, reveling in comfortable silence, broken only by the clacking of the plates. Everything is mundane and everything is magical – everything’s just the way you’ve always wanted it to be.

You’re brought back to reality by the sound of Doc’s voice.

“How was your day? Any news?”

“Got a new client today.”

“Oh, that’s nice.”

“In a way. He’s a complete fucking asshole, keeps telling ‘this young lady’ how to do my job. I mean, man, you wanted me to do this, no?”

“Want me to beat him up?”

“You beat people up now?” you throw him a glance over your shoulder and smile. “Who are you and what have you done to my husband?”

“I make exceptions, you know.”

“Pfft. Tempting, but no. We’ll wait ‘till he pays in full and then I’ll beat him up myself,” you turn off the stove in a swift motion. “Dinner’s ready. Eat up.”

You turn around, expecting him to grab a plate, but he doesn’t. Instead, Doc leans closer, taking your face in his hands. You laugh, turning your face just enough to kiss the heel of his palm.

“What?”

“Just lookin’,” Doc brushes his thumb over your lips. “You’re so beautiful.”

Your fingers slowly ghost up his arms until your hands lock behind his neck. You really wish you could capture this moment – the entirety of it. The fresh, salty air, chill in the evening. The last rays of the sunset, warm on your skin. The way Doc looks at you.

The way nobody has ever looked at you.

“You’re not so bad yourself,” you press a little kiss to the tip of his nose, laughing as he scrunches his face. “I love you, do you know that?”

“I mean, I’ve had my suspicions for a while, but-”

“Oh my God,” you roll your eyes with a groan, burying your face in the crook of his neck, lost in his scent for a second. “I take it back. You’re insufferable.”

“And you still married me.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. A lapse in judgment.”

“Ouch.”

“Didn’t say I regret it,” you rest your chin on his shoulder with a content sigh. “Besides, I thought you didn’t care much about the... How'd you call it, squalid matrimonials?”

“Aww, you remembered.”

“He's avoiding the question, Your Honor.”

“You know what I’m going to say,” his voice is soft and gravely, enveloping you like a warm ocean wave. “I love you too. I’d have squalid matrimonial with you all day.”

“That’s all I’m asking for.”

He doesn’t respond. Instead, Doc pulls you in a deep, sweet kiss, and you happily oblige – forgetting the dinner, forgetting all of your troubles, and, if only for a moment, forgetting about the outside world.

Your husband is home, and finally, so are you.

[magpiesbones]

I love making playlists and was wondering if you have any songs that you associate with Witch Hat Atelier, The Raven Cycle or Howl's Moving Castle/House of Many Ways/Castle in the Air specifically?

Ooh or Hands if the Emperor?

oh this is a Really fun ask bc I found this really good trc playlist (unlinkable unfortunately) and it’s forever The trc playlist to me.

for witch hat I like a lot of Florence and the machine, but Forgiveness (許) by 4s4ki and silent legacy by Melissa etheridge also go very hard but I don’t really make playlists so. Most of my witch hat songs are ‘listen to while writing German college’ songs.

under the cut is the full TRC playlist written out.

like real people do- hosier

ghosts- the head and the heart

sea of love- cat power

dreams- Fleetwood Mac (or insert favorite cover)

Diplomats son- vampire weekend

arsonists lullaby- hosier

the mortal boy king— the paper kites

rivers and roads— the head and the heart

past lives— børns

I follow rivers— Marika hackman

the anchor- bastille

Bloom- the paper kites

Crooked teeth— death cab for cutie

see you- lady lamb

blame- bastille

5am- amber run

mystery of love- sufjan stevens

spirits- the strumbellas

From Eden- hozier

church- fall out boy

nobody dies- thao & the get down stay down

moving mountains- anima!

the twist- metric

pigeon- cavetown

sick of losing soulmates- dodie

A pound of flesh- radical face

dreaming- small pools

the predatory wasp of the palisades- sufjan stevens

November- sleeping with sirens

October- broken bells

devil in me- halsey

nineteen- tegan and Sara

rewrite the stars- original broadway recording of greatest showman

reflections after Jane- the clientele

The night we met- lord huron

rollercoaster- bleachers

come along (edit)- cosmo sheldrake

Ride- Lana de rey

so much- cavetown

Neptune- sleeping at last

heavens gate- fall out boy

the end of all things- panic at the disco

Willow tree March- the paper kites

Everything is temporary- cavetown

paint- the paper kites

Talk me down- troye sivan

Good times- all time low

Americas sweetheart- Elle king

family- mother mother

ribs- lorde

Call me out- sea girls

Trees- twenty one pilots

scene three: stomach tied in knots- sleeping with sirens

ten feet tall- cavetown

impossible year- panic at the disco

this is gospel- panic at the disco

the yawning grave- lord huron

always gold- radical face

Blue girl- the chromatics

waltz- the naked and famous

midnight city- m83

dream team- Aidan knight

devils playground- the rigs

you should see me in a crown- Billie eilish

teenage mind- Tate mcrae

silver lining- hurts

The wisp sings- winter aid

full circle- half moon run (this one REALLY has the vibe)

maybe we’re home- Lewis watson

wait- m83

July bones- Richard walters

lost it to trying- son lux

heirloom- sleeping at last

meet me in the woods- lord huron

Into the unknown- postcards from mars

welcome home son- radical face

young god- halsey

monsters calling home- run River north (also THE vibe)

let’s kill tonight- panic at the disco

No light no light- florence and the machine

these days are numbered- the head and the heart

hold on- Lewis watson

house of memories- panic at the disco

home- hollow coves

loneliness- SIAM

the funeral- band of horses

drive- halsey

gold- sir sly

another night on mars- the maine

we can try- between the trees

we’ll be the stars- Sabrina carpenter

why- Sabrina carpenter

slow dancing in the dark- joji

talk- coldplay

graveyard- halsey

the other side- Conan grey

Daughter- sleeping at last

if I get high- nothing but thieves

graveyard whistling- nothing but thieves

in this shirt- the irrepressibles

two men in love- the irrepressibles

[digitalnewberry]

A supernatural Saint Patrick

Here's a health to St. Pat!, early 20th century. John I. Monroe collection of general postcards

Among the dozens of Saint Patrick's Day postcards in the Newberry's digital collections, you'll find any number of shamrocks, bagpipes, and Irish jig dancers. One thing you won't see? Leprechauns.

Dating back to medieval times, the traditional leprechaun in Irish folklore worked as a cobbler, wore a brown or red coat, and liked playing tricks on humans. It was only after the popularity of Disney's 1959 film Darby O'Gill and the Little People that the modern leprechaun -- green suit, red hair and beard, still a trickster -- came to be synonymous with the holiday.

Those celebrating Saint Patrick's Day during the golden age of postcards (1905-1915) exchanged greetings via a very different super-powered being: Saint Patrick himself, the 5th-century missionary and patron saint of Ireland. See below for an illustrated tour of his legends/miracles.

St. Patrick freed old Erin..., 1910. John I. Monroe collection of general postcards

True fact: Ireland has no snakes. Not so true fact: That's because Saint Patrick banished them; after being attacked by these devil's minions, he rid Ireland of evil by driving them into the sea.

Let Erins harp awake with joy..., early 20th century. John I. Monroe collection of general postcards

Bordering this postcard is a string of shamrocks, Ireland's unofficial national flower. When converting the pagan Irish population to Christianity, Saint Patrick is said to have used the shamrock's three leaves to explain the concept of the Holy Trinity.

Twas on top of this high hill..., 1910. John I. Monroe collection of general postcards

Much like Moses, Saint Patrick undertook a 40-day fast atop a mountain -- which was then named after him.

A pleasant greeting from St. Patrick, early 20th century. John I. Monroe collection of general postcards

No particular legend here, and not very pleasant greetings if you ask us -- but Saint Patrick's interactions with women include his exorcism of a demon from a female innkeeper by encouraging her to be less stingy when serving alcohol. Centuries of Saint Patrick's Day binge-drinking ensue. 🍻

Newberry Postcard Sender

Have you tried out our Postcard Sender yet? Reach out to friends and family with a vintage postcard e-greeting that they'll receive instantly -- no miracles required!!

[thedoddgroup-on-etsy]

YouTube Flip Through Here: https://youtu.be/o1PPJKd0uBY

Step into the enchanting world of "By the Seashore," a meticulously handcrafted junk journal that whispers tales of coastal dreams and vintage reveries. Nestled within its embrace are two signatures, delicately sewn into a hidden spine style, holding secrets waiting to be discovered.

The cover, a soft caress of high-quality quilting fabric, wraps around like a comforting embrace, fastened with a whimsical sari silk tie closure. Beneath the fabric, chipboard adds a sturdy foundation, while a layer of bubble wrap imparts a delightful tactile sensation.

Within the pages, a treasure trove awaits, adorned with French accents and vintage-look postcards that speak of distant shores. Pockets overflow with inked ephemera, each whispering stories of bygone eras. Lace delicately sewn along the edges of pages adds a touch of elegance, while machine-stitched ephemera weaves tales of intricate beauty.

Peering inside the cover, one finds a charming pocket bearing the inscription "This Journal Belongs to," lovingly stitched by an embroidery machine. A detachable dangle, crafted from sari silk, dances with the breeze, adorned with charms that capture the essence of the sea. A corked glass bottle holds treasures from the ocean depths, sealed tight with seashells and sea glass, while tiny bells chime softly, echoing the song of the waves.

"By the Seashore" is more than just a journal; it's a portal to a world where imagination knows no bounds, and every page holds the promise of adventure.

[youcantkillamutant]

Deeper Into The Drink: Prologue

Author: youcantkillamutant

Fandom: ACOTAR (SJM)

Pairing: Tarquin x Black Fem!Reader

Summary: You’ve always known that Cresseida would do whatever it takes to protect the Summer Court. You just didn’t realize that you were a part of that equation. So you vow to do all you can to help Cresseida and protect your court, which is proving to be difficult, what with the scheming lords of Summer, human refugees from the war, sly overtures of kindness from the Night Court and the growing desolation of the neighboring Spring Court. And yet, you think you might have been able to handle all of that, if the High Lord Tarquin wasn’t so…himself. It would have been easier still if your heart didn’t take notice of that fact.

Warnings: Depictions of violence, angst, mentions of death, slow burn (as is my custom), no smut (probably), lots of IC slander

Rating: 18+

Words:1K+

A/N: Um… Yeah idk how to explain this one honestly? I’m in my “let’s get some critical thinking going about the IC and their shitty actions” era and just can’t deal with how dirty they did Tarquin. So…yeah. I just want Tarquin to have more people on his side honestly. This story is set post-ACOSF in terms of timeline. This is my first time writing in this fandom, so be nice. Don’t like it don’t read it and all that jazz. Not Beta’d we die like men. I own nothing, all characters belong to SJM.  

|  Read on Ao3  |

🐚☀️🐚

When most in Prythian thought of the Summer Court, they thought of the sea. Admittedly, your court had the most beautiful view. There was no continent to disrupt your view of the cerulean water, nor factories to dilute the sea salt sharp air with smoke, only rolling water and white crashing waves. The sea off the coast of Adriata was the picturesque view on every postcard and in every painting. Still, you knew it wasn’t the best view in the Summer Court, not by a long shot. No, that view started further inland, south to the mountains, in the fields of farmland in the heart of your Court’s territory. 

Those fields, full of summer ripe berries and crops on the cusp of harvesting, those fields were the best of the Summer Court. What was better than the rolling sea? A verdant valley and impossibly blue sky. A warm breeze that carried the scent of the sea but never the cold bite of it. Sun warmed cobbles and cottage glass glinting in the light. Home. 

When you were growing up in the farmlands of the Summer Court. You’d learned about Prythian, read about the marvels of the Winter Court and dazzling architecture in the Day Court, but even then you knew that you’d trade all the magic in the world to lay in the fields of your village, listening to the sounds of the cattle and the sea on the wind, letting your brown skin warm as the sun kissed as though delivering a blessing. 

You’d done just that as often as you could. Sometimes, with your parents, your friends, even a few sheep or two. Then a few years after you were old enough to feed the hens and stack the hay, Princess Cresseida arrived. She hated you at first, or perhaps she’d hated everything back then. She’d spent the first few days in your little village sitting in your family’s cottage, refusing the food your mother made and sitting in roiling silence. You decided to keep a wide berth from the princess, stories of her famed temper tantrums had reached the farmlands years prior, and you had no desire to be on the end of one. 

So you did your chores and sat in the sun and loved the land and one day Cresseida joined you. She didn’t say a word, not even when you handed her a trowel and motioned for her to join you on your knees as you weeded the garden. After the weeding was done, you moved on to the next chore and she helped with that too. And on it went. Cresseida became your shadow, trailing you around the house, into the fields and around the village. She never said a word, brown eyes merely watching and studying and cataloguing everything. You didn’t mind the company. You’d never really hoped for a sibling, content to play with the other village children until the sun dipped into the sea and mother’s called you all back home, but spending time with Cresseida made you wonder what it would be like to have a sister. 

And so, with that thought, you’d spent days thinking about what it might be like to have the Princess of Adriata as a sister. A bond, not by blood, but strong nonetheless. A support, a partner. A mirror, not in the sense that you were the same, at least not all the time, but in the way that you could look at a mirror and see every emotion writhing within you. The reflection deepening your understanding of yourself. You were so caught up in your daydreams that you nearly missed when Cresseida finally spoke.

“I never knew the farmlands could be so beautiful.” A sister. A mirror. 

“It’s the most beautiful place in all of Prythian.” You smiled then, as Cresseida turned to you with a raised brow in challenge. 

“You clearly haven’t seen the sea off of Adriata then.” You laughed, a light, tinkling thing and Cresseida quirked a smile. “The view from my room is the best.” You were both quiet for a while after that. You finished your chores, and it wasn’t until after dinner that she spoke in the bedroom you shared. 

“My father sent me here because he trusts yours. He told me that if I ever wanted to rule our people, lead our people, I needed to know them, see them.” You turned to her cot on your own, tracing the shape of her silhouette. “I thought he was wrong. I’ve only known Adriata, and I thought that was enough. All of my father’s advisors and courtiers and family are there, what more could there be about our Court that they couldn’t teach me?” Cresseida exhaled loudly. “I think I was wrong.” You could tell it pained her to say it. 

“Good, serves you city-folk right.” And for the first time since arriving at your village, you heard the Princess of Adriata laugh. 

The pair of you became fast friends that summer, sniping snide remarks and sharing gossip about the people in the village and the courtesans of Adriata. On her last day, she wrapped you in a hug and you breathed in the salt of the sea, tinged with the scent of ripe berries and fresh, fertile soil. The smell of a true Summer Court citizen.

“Don’t forget about me sister.” You shook your head. 

“Never.” 

She returned year after year to tend the land and talk with the butcher and baker and blacksmith about anything and everything. By her third summer in the village, she’d met everyone, helped with the harvests and truly understood why her father sent her to this village, to you. She discovered the knowledge you had been born with. The people that owned the land, loved the land, were worth protecting with her life. 

Years later, she held the memory of her first summer with you, sun soaked and dirty from harvesting, close to her heart, as she descended under the mountain.

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A/N: I guess I just wrote a love letter to the Summer Court? As a black American woman, I cannot imagine loving this country, but I wanted try for the Summer Court. I imagine the Summer Court as a beautiful place with sun, sea and rolling fields abound (after the mountain range). I imagine that, even in a world like Prythian, a land like that could be idyllic. I hope it wasn’t too much, but I’ll never know cause a bitch has never felt patriotic lol.

I wanted to play in the Summer Court sandbox because SJM cannot write a character of color to save her life and I want these babies to be happy. Cresseida is super interesting to me because SJM kind of let her embody the angry/snarky/unforgiving black woman trope through her (limited) appearances in the series and it’s lazy AF and boring. I think throughout the books you can see how passionate Cress is when it comes to her Court and for some reason (*cough* internalized racism *cough*) the IC finds it “annoying”. Well, I do not lol. I’ve had the idea for this story for a while now and it will not leave me alone so I decided to break down and write it. Tarquin is coming in the next chappie. 

I’ve been reading lots of amazing work from @moodymelanist, @separatist-apologist and the posts and delicious drawings by @queercontrarian as inspo and living for these Summer Court mood boards. 

I have no idea how long this will be, not even sure imma post this, but yeah…If you’re reading, I hope you like it!

Title is from Florence + The Machine’s song Swimming

oh and @yuhhhhhhhhhhhhhh this is the Tarquin fic I was whining about! 🥴