#probably addy I liked her books more.

[dentpx]

This is a good set up because I have the space for exactly one more AG doll and then I have to stop

[cabeswaterdrowned]

I feel like I’m in a headspace where I really am in the mood to read urban fantasy more than anything else, part of me wants to start the Lynburn Legacy reread I’ve been wanting to start for a while and apparently unspoken is quite cheap on iBooks so that’s doable but I’m already doing my in depth trc reread buddy read with notes + rereading other things more casually. If I do the TLL reread I’ll definitely liveblog it because I want to propagandize it to my followers who are here for other modern or urban fantasy I talk about lol. Maybe I should read a Sarah Rees Brennan book I haven’t read yet? I also have been wanting to start reading the Vampire Chronicles but I think I should leave that for when I have more concentration to give over to it / my brain is processing new content better. The TVD books are another possibility, if nothing else I think that could be really funny. There are other possible candidates but if someone wants to recommend me a thing now is your chance

[the-halfling-prince]

Love looking up the actresses who starred in American Girl movies back when they made those and seeing what they've been in since then.

Felicity? Yeah she starred in The Fault in Our Stars and the Divergent movies apparently.

Kit? Yeah Abigail Breslin has been in a million things because, well, it's Abigail Breslin but uh she's one of the main people in the Zombieland movies

Samantha? Can't remember anything recently but she was Leslie in Bridge to Terabithia.

Melody? She's been in so many things like Black-ish and the new Proud Family. Really making a name for herself and all that.

Grace? Olivia Rodrigo.

[a-simple-gaywitch]

Heart Full of You

Spencer Reid x Reader

Summary: When Spencer goes to pick Henry up from school for JJ, he doesn't expect to fall head-over-heels for his teacher

Warnings: Mentions of guns, I think that's it?

Word Count: 4541

Author's Note: I don't really like the ending I have here, but I'd LOVE to continue writing this universe, I have so many ideas!

“Fate shuffles the cards and we play.” ~Arthur Schopenhauer

~

Spencer walked through the doors of Henry and Jack’s school and headed toward the theater. JJ and Hotch had signed the boys up for the school district’s musical and had asked Spencer to pick them up. JJ and Will had their Thursday date night, and Hotch was stuck in the office. Spencer was more than happy to agree. He slipped into the auditorium and took a seat at the back, since he was still pretty early. 

He saw a younger woman, probably in her early 20s, at the front of the auditorium with a clipboard and tape measure. She was presumably taking the students’ measurements for costumes while the instructor up on the stage led the children through the dance steps. The man he knew to be one of the high school teachers sat in the middle of the front row, making notes in a book. 

The dance instructor clapped as the song ended. “Okay, everyone, that’s the choreo for the day. I’ll turn you over to Mr. Meadows.” She nodded to the teacher in the front row. 

“Thank you Miss (Y/N). Take a water break, everyone, we’re back in five.”

A small chorus of “thank you five” was heard from the older students as the kids dispersed off the stage. The woman, Miss (Y/N) as Mr. Meadows had called her, hopped off the stage with ease and joined the younger woman who was taking a high schooler’s measurements. 

“Okay, folks, let’s bring it back!” Mr. Meadows called. “Take your seats, please. I won’t keep you too much longer, I just want to go over today’s notes.” Spencer noticed the monotonous tone of his voice and the elementary schoolers’ attentions already fading. “First, I need my principles, minus Jack and Red, right at 3 tomorrow. Do not be late. Evan, that means you. We have vocal work to do with Ms. (Y/N) and I do not want to waste her time. The rest of my high school cast, 3:30. Next, principles, do your linework. The sooner you start, the easier things will be later. Finally, my junior cast, don’t forget to see Ms. (Y/N) and Ms. Addi with your grown-up before you leave. And with that, I’ll see y’all tomorrow.”

Henry ran over to Spencer, his overly large backpack thumping against his back. Jack walked behind him, dragging his bag behind him. 

“Uncle Spencer!”

“Hey, kiddos!” Spencer said, kneeling down to catch the incoming Henry in a hug. Before he knew what was happening, Henry was dragging him towards the two women at the front of the auditorium. 

“Miss (Y/N)!”

“Hey, Henry! Hi, Jack! You boys find your grownups?” the dance instructor asked him. Her clothes reminded Spencer of the teacher on that Magic School Bus show Henry liked. Her pants were covered in music notes and she wore large, dangle feather earrings.

Henry nodded. “Uh-huh! This is my Uncle Spencer!”

You looked at Spencer and smiled. “Well, while I talk to your uncle, why don’t you go let Miss Addi take your measurements for your costume?”

Once Henry bounded over to the young woman with a clipboard, Jack following close behind, Spencer said, “Uh, my name’s Spencer Reid. I’m an authorized pick-up for both Henry Lamontagne and Jack Hotchner. I’ll be bringing him home today, too.”

“Uh, Hotchner, Hotchner,” you muttered under your breath, flipping through the clipboard in your hands. “Ah, here he is. I just need your signature next to both children’s names, Mr. Reid.”

“Oh, uh, of course.” He took the clipboard and pen from you. “So, are you new to the district? I don’t remember seeing you around before.”

“Oh, no,” you said with a laugh. “No, I’m here on a volunteer basis, technically. Been working with the theater department for six years, but I’m not on their payroll. I actually work-”

“Can we go get pizza now?” Henry asked Spencer, tugging on the sleeve of his jacket. 

“Ooh, a pizza party? You must be the fun uncle,” you said. 

Spencer’s face flushed and cleared his throat. “Uh, s-sure, Henry. We’ll get it on the way home.”

“Bye, Miss (Y/N)!” Henry said, wildly waving his arm. 

“Bye, Henry, bye Jack. I’ll see you boys on Monday.”

Spencer watched you for just a moment longer as another child and her guardian approached you. 

~

The team was reviewing a local case. 3 women were killed, all dressed in period clothing. 

“You think he’s making them look like Jack the Ripper’s victims? I mean, their throats are slashed and they’re dressed in Victorian clothing.” Morgan suggested. “And we know the victims are low-risk, victims of opportunity.”

“I don’t know,” Reid muttered, scrutinizing the crime scene photos. “Something about the clothes feels off.”

“The clothes are the key. Something about them will lead us to him,” Rossi said.

“Reid, you and Callahan look into the clothing more. Dave, you and Morgan go to the latest crime scene. JJ, you’re with me. We need to build a geological profile.” After Hotch gave the assignments, the team dispersed. Spencer and Kate Callahan stayed in the briefing room, looking over the photos. 

“What if we have an expert look at the clothes?” Kate suggested. “See if anything sticks out to them? There’s a professor at the university that’s known for her dissertation on historical clothing.”

~

“Now, if you look at contemporary theater, you’ll notice huge differences in how typical gender roles are portrayed. Unlike the standard Golden Age piece, women are given more agency and more purpose in the story besides furthering the objective of the man. For example, West Side Story versus Hairspray. Even though both shows center on a woman, it’s Tracy’s will that drives the plot of Hairspray whereas Maria’s will does not drive West Side Story. This goes back to our discussion earlier in the semester regarding protagonists. However, we do see a shift during the Golden Age, in that women are beginning to be fleshed out as characters. Compare the women in Allegro to the women in Gypsy. As we progress through to the contemporary age, we begin to see more female-led shows take stage.” You glanced at your watch and sighed. “And that is where we will pick up next class. Please remember to read chapters 13 and 14 in your text. If you have any questions, you know where to find me.”

Your class gathered their belongings and slowly made their way out of the room. You were tucking your own belongings into your bag when you felt someone approach the desk. 

“Office hours are at- Oh, hello.” When you looked up, a woman was standing in front of you, presenting an FBI badge. 

“Dr. (L/N), my name is SSA Kate Callahan, and this is my partner Dr. Spencer Reid.” Standing behind her was a man you recognized from the school. He was the uncle Henry Lamontagne talked about all the time. “We were hoping you’d be willing to give us your professional opinion on some clothing pieces.”

“Oh, well, uh, sure. Let me just email my next class and let them know it’s canceled.” 

As you pulled your laptop out from your bag, Agent Callahan asked, “Don’t you have a TA that could take over?”

You huffed a laugh. “I’m a professor in the theatre department. I’m lucky I have my own workshop and somewhat of a budget during show season.” You typed up a quick email to your next class and sent it. “I usually work in my shop instead of my office, but-”

“Wherever is most comfortable for you,” Agent Callahan said. “We have some pictures that are… well, gruesome.”

You nodded. “Well, then, to the dungeons it is.” At the concerned look the agents gave each other, you said, “My workshop is in the basement. My students affectionately christened it the dungeons a few years ago. I hope you don’t mind a few sets of stairs.”

“Lead the way,” Dr. Reid said. 

Getting down to the costume shop was like a quest on its own. Not only did you have to trudge down several staircases from the classroom floors, but then you had to use your ID to take the elevator the rest of the way down. When you finally reached the basement, you dug your key hoop out of your bag and flicked through it. The key to the main portion of your shop was attached to a Phantom of the Opera keychain. 

You unlocked the door and pushed it open. “Welcome to my shop. Feel free to sit wherever you can. If there’s stuff on a chair, just set it on a workbench.” As you set your bag down at the desk in the corner, Spencer looked around the room. It could be accurately described as organized chaos. While the work benches were covered in fabrics, thread, and many other things Spencer didn’t know the names of, everywhere else was meticulously organized. Bins and drawers were labeled, and not a thing seemed out of place. Spencer looked at the dress hanging on a mannequin and couldn't think of it as anything other than a work of art. There was elaborate beading on the bodice and embroidery on the skirt.

“So, what can I help you with?” you asked as Kate and Spencer got settled. 

“We were hoping you could tell us about the outfits in these pictures,” Spencer said, pulling a file out from his satchel. “Fair warning, it’s not pleasant.”

You shrugged. “I grew up with a mom obsessed with crime shows and police procedurals. Pictures won’t bother me.” 

Spencer handed you the file folder. “We think he’s dressing them up like Jack the Ripper’s victims.”

You hummed as you looked through the pictures. “Any idea what kind of fabric was used?”

“Why does that matter?” Kate asked.

“Well, cotton was a luxury in Victorian London,” you explained. “Most common folk wore linen or wool, because it was what they could afford. It was also common to patch up clothing with fabric found around the house rather than replace a shirt or a pair of trousers.” You grabbed a magnifier from your desk and looked closer at one of the photos. 

“Do you see something?” Spencer asked as you moved to another picture. 

“I’m not sure,” you said. 

“Well, what is your gut telling you?” Callahan asked. 

You pointed toward a small section of embroidery through the magnifier. “This stitching along the underside of the skirt. It’s on all of them.”

Kate’s eyebrows scrunched up. “I don’t understand.”

“It’s a signature. Us designers like to add some sort of signature or tell into all our pieces. A secret way of letting the world know the piece is ours.” You reached across the desk and grabbed a piece of fabric. When you unfolded it, they saw it was a shirt. You held the edge of the sleeve out for the agents to see. “For example, I use a treble clef as mine. My mentor would include Mickey Mouse heads because she was a huge Disney fan. Other people just find creative ways to embroider their initials onto it in a way that just looks like an artistic choice.” 

“So, if we can find out whose signature it is, it can lead us to the origin of the outfits,” Spencer said. 

“I’ll call Garcia, see what she can find.” Callahan said.

“Oh, we don’t get cell service down here, you might need to go back upstairs,” you told her. She nodded and stepped out of the workshop. You cleared your throat. “It’s, uh, it’s nice to see you again, Dr. Reid.”

“You, too,” Spencer said with a small smile. “So, this is where you actually work, huh?”

You gave a small laugh. “Yep. Start of this semester was 7 years.”

“Congrats.”

“Thanks. So-”

“Reid. Hotch wants us back. Rossi and Morgan might have something. Thank you for your help, Dr. (L/N).”

“Of course. Happy to help.”

After Callahan and Reid left the costume shop, Kate said, “Okay, spill. The energy in there was really weird. Why didn’t you tell me you knew her?”

Spencer rubbed the back of his neck. “I, uh, I didn’t know I knew her.” At Kate's questioning look, he explained, “I met her through my godson. She volunteers at his school and goes by her first name there.”

“Uh-huh. And the awkwardness?”

“When have you known me to not be awkward, Callahan?”

Kate hummed, but dropped it.

~

You were humming along to the soundtrack you had playing, measuring a drape of fabric on your dress form, pins sticking out from your mouth. You glanced from your notebook with your measurements and pattern sketch to the fabric. You pinned a piece of the cloth up when you heard a knock at the door to your shop. 

“Come in,” you said, your voice muffled from the pins. You stuck them back in the pin cushion on your wrist before standing up and dusting off your pants. “Oh, Dr. Reid! How can I help you?”

“You, um, you can call me Spencer,” he said. “I uh, I wanted to stop by and tell you we caught the guy,” Spencer said, standing awkwardly in the doorway. “We-we couldn’t have done it without your help.”

“Oh! Well, I’m sure you would have figured it out anyway. The BAU seems to be good at that kind of thing.”

Spencer gave a small laugh. “Yes, but your help enabled us to track him down without any more lives lost.” So, what are you working on?”

“Oh, I’m making one of Eponine’s dresses. We’re doing Les Mis this semester. I have Cosette’s dress on Cordelia over there.”

“Who?”

“Oh, sorry. The dress form. We named them after Shakespearian women. It’s just a fun little thing we do here. That’s Cordelia, this one by me is Rosalind.”

Spencer smiled. You know, maybe you could tell me more about what exactly your job is at dinner?” Before you could answer, Spencer said, “Obviously, you don’t have to, I’m not trying to force you into anything, I-”

“Spencer,” you said, holding your hand up to calm him. “I’d love to go out with you. Here-” You walked over to your desk and shuffled papers around. “Aha!” You grabbed a pen and scribbled something down. “My personal number. That way we can, you know, figure out something that works with both our schedules. I’m sure yours is even crazier and more unpredictable than mine.”

The smile you gave Spencer lit a warmth in his chest that he didn’t think he would ever get tired of. 

~

“Pretty Boy! Tonight, drinks on me.”

“Oh, uh, no thanks, Morgan.”

“No, no, no, you can’t just stay in when we finally have a Friday night off. You’re coming.”

“Look, it’s not that I don’t want to- I mean, I don’t, but it’s not just that. I, um, I already have plans.” He glanced at his watch. “I’ll see you all on Monday.” He grabbed his satchel and rushed out of the BAU office. 

Morgan’s brow furrowed as he watched Spencer’s retreating form. 

“What’s wrong?” JJ asked. 

“Remember the last time Reid was this jittery and secretive?”

She sighed. “You know I do.”

“What happened last time?” Kate asked. 

“Maeve,” Garcia answered, her voice just above a whisper. 

“We have to find out what’s going on with him,” Derek decided.

“I really don’t think that’s necessary-”

“Let’s follow him,” Garcia cut Kate off. “See where he’s going, what he’s up to.”

~

“That can’t be true!” Spencer laughed. “There’s no way!”

You were laughing too. “I’m serious! I stapled the sleeve of my sweater to the set piece we were building and I didn’t notice until we were ready to lift it into place! They wouldn’t let me in the wood shop after that.”

Spencer couldn’t stop smiling the whole night. You were funny, smart, and everything he could hope for. 

“So, how did you end up working with the school district?”

“My niece,” you explained. “Her senior year, their regular choreographer went on maternity leave. The district said if they couldn’t find someone to fill the role, they would cut the play. Julia called me melting down over it, begging me to volunteer. And, you know, I’ve never been able to say no to my nieces and nephews. After that production, we found out that the choreographer was quitting to be a stay-at-home mom, so I agreed to be the regular choreographer on a volunteer basis. Then the next year, their costume connections fell through. I worked through the university to provide costumes, which is how the internship program started. This year, I’m just filling in on vocal directing while the choir director is out on medical leave. And Into the Woods is one of my favorites to sing anyway. So, what about you? How’d you end up working for the FBI?”

While Spencer told you about going to college at 12 and meeting Gideon, Morgan, Garcia, and JJ were sitting at a nearby table, hiding behind menus. 

“Who is she?” Garcia asked, trying to get a better look at you. Your back was to their table.

“I don’t know. Never seen her before.”

JJ squinted. “Something about her seems familiar.”

Before they could do more digging, a waiter came over to take their orders. When the waiter left, Spencer’s table was empty. 

“Where did they-”

Spencer walked up to their table, arms crossed against his chest. “Really, guys? Did you think you were being discreet?”

“Kid, look-”

“You were being all secretive, we were worried about you!” Garcia cut in.

Spencer sighed and dropped his arms. “I didn’t mean to worry you guys. I just- We’re all so in each other’s business, and this is so new I-”

“You wanted to keep it to yourself,” JJ said. “We get it. Looks like she’s coming back from the bathroom. We’ll get out of your hair.”

“But-”

“Come on, Pen. I’m sure he’ll tell us all about it on Monday. Right, Spence?”

Spencer smiled. “Sure, Jayje.”

~

Phone calls with your family always stressed you out. It wasn’t that you had issues with your family, it was just that they always seemed to be up in your business. And that held true for your monthly family dinner.

“(Y/N/N), I’m telling you, you’d get along great with this guy,” your older sister, Maria, said. You were over at her house for dinner, your parents and other two siblings video-calling from their respective locations. “I know you feel like ‘the universe and fate will align’ and introduce you to your soulmate or some shit, but that’s not really how the world works.”

You sighed. “Maria-”

“Come on, you haven’t dated anyone since college!”

“Because I haven’t had any interest. Liz, back me up here,” you said to your younger sister, who was feeding her twin toddlers. 

“What?”

You shook your head. “Never mind. Can we just change the subject, please? Tommy, how’s school going?” you asked your younger brother, the youngest in the family. You could tell he was only half paying attention from his dorm room. “What classes are you taking this semester?”

“Maria’s right, sweetheart,” your mother said. “How will you ever meet someone without putting yourself out there?”

“Ma-”

“I mean, you’re not getting any younger-”

“I have a boyfriend, okay, Ma? I don’t need your help!”

Your family fell silent. 

“You have a boyfriend?” Liz was the first to speak. “What’s his name? Where did you meet? How long have you been together? How-”

“Elizabeth, let her breathe!” your father said with a laugh. “We’re happy for you, pumpkin. Tell us about him. At your pace, of course.”

You smiled and told them about Spencer. Only after promising to bring him to the next real family dinner did they relent and change the subject, pestering your little brother about his college classes.

~

You and Spencer were a damn near perfect match. After that first date, the two of you barely went a day without calling or texting each other. When he was in town and not across the country on a case, he would bring you lunch. You’d frequently stay over at each others’ apartments. Months into your relationship, you knew each other better than yourselves.

Which is why, when you didn’t answer your phone on a Saturday afternoon when the team got back from a case, Spencer was concerned. He made his way to your apartment and fished the spare key you’d given him out of his pocket. He pushed your door open.

“(Y/N)? Love?” He walked into your apartment, which was unusually messy. Scraps of fabric were littered around the room, and music was blasting from your home office. “(Y/N)?”

You came rushing out of your kitchen, your hair a wild mess and your oversized pajama top drooping from your shoulder. You skidded to a halt. 

“Spencer! What are you doing here?”

“We just got in from the case. I tried calling-”

“You did?”

“-to see if you wanted to grab dinner.” You pulled your phone from your sweatpants pocket and saw the 3 missed calls from Spencer. “Are you okay? What’s going on? You look like you haven’t slept in days.”

You sighed. “I haven’t. I’ve been working nonstop. I need to make the mask for the Wolf, the Witch's coat, and Enjolras and the other revolutionary’s waistcoats, and my sister asked me to make a dress for her coworker’s daughter’s quinceanera and-”

“Whoa, whoa, hey. Breathe.” He cupped your face in his hands. “You need to stop working yourself so hard,” he said, rubbing your cheekbone with his thumb. 

“Says the man who overworked himself so much he developed chronic migraines.” At his raised eyebrow, you said, “Sorry.”

He smiled softly and kissed your forehead. “Why don’t you let me help you out a bit? Give me instructions, I’m a quick learner.”

You reached up and pulled his hands from your face. “Spencer. As much as I absolutely treasure and adore you, the thought of you seeing the absolute disaster that is my home workshop right now is literally the most terrifying thing I can imagine. More terrifying than you meeting my family. Which, by the way, my mom is insistent that you come to Thanksgiving this year.” You yawned and leaned your head against his chest. 

“We can talk about that later.” He kissed the top of your head. “How about now, into bed? You’re dead on your feet, love.” When you only nodded, Spencer led you to your bedroom. 

After getting you settled in your bed, Spencer went to stand up. You reached out and grabbed his hand. “Stay,” you mumbled, tugging him towards your bed.

The next morning, Spencer walked into the round-table room late. 

“Well, look who’s wearing the same clothes,” Derek said. “Fun night?”

“Shut up, Morgan,” Spencer said, taking a sip of his coffee. 

Hotch looked over Reid before saying, “As I was saying, Indianapolis needs us to write up a consult. Garcia is passing around the case file.”

~

Spencer was filling out paperwork at his desk when his phone started ringing. “Dr. Spencer Reid.” He froze as he heard the person on the other end of the line. “Oh- oh my god. Yeah, yeah, no, I’ll be right there. Uh, thank you.” He slammed the phone down and started gathering his belongings. 

“What’s wrong, Reid?” JJ asked, watching Spencer cram a folder into his satchel.

“(Y/N)’s at the police station.”

You were walking home from the fabric supply store when a young man stopped you. He couldn’t have been older than 20. He pulled a gun and pointed it at you. 

“Give me your purse,” he said. You saw the way his hand was wavering.

You straightened up. “No.”

“You-you can’t say no! I-I have a gun!”

You just blinked at the man- practically a boy. Then you kicked him in the groin, causing him to drop the gun as his hands flew to cup his injury. You pressed your foot on top of the gun, preventing him from picking it back up, then you dialed the police. 

They brought you to the station to give a statement. You were sitting next to one of the detective’s desks when Spencer ran in. 

“(Y/N)! Are you okay? What happened?”

The detective nodded at you and gestured toward where Reid had come from, indicating you were free to go. 

You shrugged at Spencer. “Some punk-ass kid tried to mug me. Had a gun and everything.”

“What?”

“It’s fine, I knew he wasn’t gonna go through with it.”

“How could you possibly have known that?”

“Spence, I’m from Philly. It’s not the first time someone’s tried to mug me at gunpoint.”

His eyes went wide as saucers. “That doesn’t make it better!”

You smiled and kissed Spencer’s cheek before taking his hand. “I’m fine. Thank you for coming to get me.”

“Of course, (Y/N). I love you.” Your smile widened as Spencer’s face started to pale. “I mean, uh-”

“I love you too, Spence. Come on, let’s get out of here.”

~

“Okay, closing night,” Mr. Meadows said, addressing the students, all in their brightly colored costumes. “I’m incredibly proud of all of you for making it this far. This is our last show, you’ve all done great so far. Go out there and give them one last show to remember. Now, before we get in places, Ms. (Y/N) is going to lead you through a vocal warm-up.”

“Thanks, Mr. Meadows,” you said, taking your spot in front of the group. “Okay, guys, you know the drill. Repeat after me, then all together.” You took a deep breath before leading, “To sit in solemn silence on a dull dark dock, in a pestilential prison with a lifelong lock, awaiting the sensation of a short sharp shock from a cheap and chippy chopper on a big black block.”

After the cast ran through their warm-up, you said, “I’m so proud of all of you. Go out there and break legs. I’ll see you all after at intermission.” You waved before slipping from backstage, making your way to the lobby. 

It wasn’t often that you got to just sit and enjoy the hard work your students put in, but one of your interns was staying backstage in case of any costume emergencies. You spotted Spencer in the crowd and wove through everyone to get to him. With him were Henry’s parents, Jack’s father and aunt, as well as the rest of the BAU team. 

“Hey,” Spencer said, grabbing your hand and giving you a quick kiss. “Glad you could join us.”

“Me, too,” you said as you slowly made your way into the auditorium to find your seats. “It’s gonna be nice to just enjoy the show for once.”

As the show began, you felt Spencer looking at you.

"What?" you whispered.

"Nothing. The costumes are beautiful. You're an artist."

Your cheeks flushed at his words. You took his hand in yours and rested your head on his shoulder.

Like Cinderella and her prince, Spencer was your happily ever after.

[traeumenvonbuechern]

Which books would the Hallowoods characters read?

Happy HFTH season 4 day! I'm so excited for the new episodes, and I want to celebrate by recommending some books I think some of the main characters would love.

Diggory Graves - Unwieldy Creatures

I have a feeling that Diggory might be interested in a nonbinary Frankenstein retelling...

Percy Reed - The Spirit Bares Its Teeth

A transmasc protagonist, ghosts, a t4t love story - Percy would relate to this book so much.

Nikignik - This Is How You Lose the Time War

Even aside from the whole Bigolas Dickolas thing, I think Nikignik would really love this book. It's an epic, complicated, super emotional love story, written in a way that almost feels like poetry - I have a feeling that Nikignik would like that.

Lady Ethel Mallory - Lady Susan

It's short, it's funny, it's a classic, it's from the perspective of the villain and said villain uses the title "lady"? Lady Ethel would love this book.

Riot Maidstone - Gideon the Ninth

It's about a butch lesbian with a sword. That alone would probably convince Riot to read it, but I think she would love the story, too.

Olivier Song - Infinity Alchemist

This book is about an alchemist who is rejected by the magic school he tried so hard to get into, and one of the love interests is genderfluid - Olivier might relate to it a little too much.

Clara Martin - The Grimoire of Grave Fates

It's a murder mystery set at a magic school that moves around the world, and it's told from 18 (!) different perspectives. I think Clara would love reading about all these different types of magic and trying to solve the mystery.

Polly - Good Omens

Polly reminds me so much of Crowley sometimes - to quote this post, they're both "demons sent on a celestial audit of earth and catching more feelings than they signed up for" - so Polly would probably either love or hate Good Omens, no in-between.

Yaretzi - The Salt Grows Heavy

I can't really explain why I think Yaretzi would like this book, but she would. Something about the main character being a murderous mermaid, probably.

Mort - All Systems Red

Mort would definitely want to be friends with Murderbot.

Hector Mendoza and Jonah Duckworth - Silver in the Wood

This is my go-to "Read this if you like Our Flag Means Death" book because the main characters remind me a lot of Stede and Ed, but the book also reminds me so much of Hector and Jonah, especially with the magical sentient forest setting.

Zelda Duckworth - The Remarkable Retirement of Edna Fisher

This book is about a 83-year-old Chosen One who has to save the world armed with nothing but gumption and knitting needles - I think Zelda would enjoy that.

Mx. Morrell - What Moves the Dead

I think a fungal horror book with a nonbinary protagonist would be perfect for Mx. Morrell.

Danielle O'Hara - Pet

Pet is about a trans girl who has to reconsider everything she's been taught and save her friend with the help of a terrifying creature - everyone should read this book, but I think Danielle would especially like it.

Book titles:

Diggory Graves: Unwieldy Creatures by Addie Tsai

Percy Reed: The Spirit Bares Its Teeth by Andrew Joseph White

Nikignik: This Is How You Lose the Time War by Amal El-Mohtar and Max Gladstone

Lady Ethel Mallory: Lady Susan by Jane Austen

Riot Maidstone: Gideon the Ninth by Tamsyn Muir

Olivier Song: Infinity Alchemist by Kacen Callender

Clara Martin: The Grimoire of Grave Fates, edited by Hanna Alkaf and Margaret Owen

Polly: Good Omens by Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman

Yaretzi: The Salt Grows Heavy by Cassandra Khaw

Mort: All Systems Red by Martha Wells

Hector Mendoza and Jonah Duckworth: Silver in the Wood by Emily Tesh

Zelda Duckworth: The Remarkable Retirement of Edna Fisher by E.M. Anderson

Mx. Morrell: What Moves the Dead by T. Kingfisher

Danielle O'Hara: Pet by Akwaeke Emezi

[alliluyevas]

Do you think they should make a Mormon pioneer American Girl?

Would I personally get a kick out of this? Yes. Do I actually think they should? Probably not.

First of all, pretty much all AG historical dolls have to navigate complex and difficult historical topics at least to some extent. Some have done it more successfully than others. For instance, Felicity was my favorite historical character as a child and I still like her as a character and enjoy her books, but they don't handle slavery well at all. I think creating a book series and a collection that talks about Mormon history in a way that is a) historically accurate and sensitive b) appeals to LDS families, who would likely be the primary audience and overwhelming majority of doll purchasers for this hypothetical character c) maybe even appeals to a broader market would be a really tall order.

Also, assuming that by "Mormon pioneer doll" you mean a character who comes to Utah in one of the first waves of migration in the mid-to-late 1840s or early 1850s, that is very close in era to Kirsten, whose stories begin in 1854, and who is also a frontier settler. There would likely be a lot of overlap between Kirsten's collection and this hypothetical doll's, as well as in the period details in the books. So this begs the question of how much this doll's inclusion would add to the overall AG historical characters canon. Of course, a major focus in Kirsten's books is her immigration story and her Swedish heritage (though, actually, you could write Utah Pioneer Doll as Scandinavian too given how much LDS conversion there was in that region during this period. That would create even more overlap with Kirsten's story, though.) By contrast, a major focus in Hypothetical Utah Pioneer Doll's story would likely be her religion, and this would be something that would be unique to her.

I wouldn't say that AG has shied away entirely from addressing religious faith and practice with their historical dolls. After all, for most of the classic six-book historical character series, the third book is centered around Christmas celebrations (for Rebecca, the focus is on Hanukkah instead and for Kaya her book series is structured differently than those of the other girls and I am not sure there's a holiday book at all.) In terms of the girls whose books I've reread most recently, Addy's church attendance is mentioned frequently in almost all her books and it's probably more thematically central than for most of the other Christian historical characters. Addy's denomination is also explicitly mentioned in the text (her family attends an African Methodist Episcopal church), while for many other characters it is more implicit. (For instance, Felicity is likely Anglican and Kirsten is almost certainly Lutheran, but neither is directly said in text to my knowledge.) It's been more than 15 years since I read Josefina's books, but I remember church attendance being mentioned more prominently in them as well. (Josefina is Catholic, though again I don't remember if this is explicitly stated the text of the stories.) If AG was to create a Mormon historical doll, her religion would have to be explicit and centralized in the text in a way that is very unusual for them.

But not completely unheard of, which brings me to another doll/storyline that is very relevant in this discussion: Rebecca. Rebecca was the first and, for a very long time, the only Jewish doll. The recently added 1990s twins are also Jewish, though it sounds like religion is comparatively deemphasized in their books, and they're much more secular. (This is a pattern with the more recent historical dolls, by which I mean both the ones created more recently and the ones whose stories are set in the more recent historical past.) I think Rebecca is the character for whom religion is the most prominent in her story (though, of course, because Judaism is an ethno-religion her stories address both her ethnic heritage and religious traditions in tandem, which makes it feel even more central.) She was also (again, until the twins were created) the only historical character who is a member of a religious minority in both a modern and historical sense. That is, in Rebecca's era Jewish Americans were a religious minority and they still are today. I think you could argue that as a Native American Kaya is sort of also a religious minority but I don't think that makes sense in the context of her time. For Catholic historical characters (Josefina, Cecile, and Marie-Grace), I think Catholics were a religious minority in the 19th century but given that it's currently the largest Christian denomination in the country that is no longer applicable. (Also, all three of those characters live in regions and eras where Catholics are the majority. I suppose if we count Best Friend dolls, the presumably-Catholic Irish Nellie is the only doll who would have lived in a context where Catholics were in fact a religious minority.)

Obviously, Mormons are Christians--or not so obviously, I suppose, given that a lot of other Christian denominations do not think they are. But they believe they are a Christian denomination, and I think that matters. Whereas obviously Jewish people are a religious minority in the sense that they are very much not Christians. But I do think Mormons were in the past and continue to be a religious minority (and the fact that they have historically troubled the boundaries of Christianity and been excluded from that by a lot of more mainstream Christians definitely contributes to that.) In the modern day, the statistics in terms of percentage of the American population are similar to Judaism, actually. There are slightly fewer Mormon Americans, about 1.5-2 percent of the population, whereas Jewish Americans are about 2-2.5 percent (though this includes people who identify as Jewish but not religiously observant.)

I feel like I'm rambling here, sorry. The point I was trying to make is that with Rebecca we do have an example of a historical doll who is a member of a (both historical and contemporary) religious minority and that minority is of relatively comparable size to Mormonism. Though I think in some ways a Jewish historical doll might be a more likely purchase for non-Jewish families than a Mormon historical doll would be for non-Mormons? I don't know if I can necessarily articulate why, though. Just a feeling. In terms of other differences I can't necessarily articulate--when Rebecca was released, having a historical character who was an Eastern European Jewish immigrant to New York City in the early 1900s felt like almost an obvious choice, as well as a necessary one. And if Rebecca hadn't been introduced, not having a Jewish historical doll would feel like a major oversight. On the contrary, if AG announced a Mormon historical doll I would be genuinely shocked. Like, knock me over with a feather shocked. I also don't feel like the lack of inclusion is a huge oversight in the way that not having a Jewish doll would be. (And, frankly, in the way the fact that they still don't have an Asian American historical doll is).

That being said, I definitely don't want to portray Mormonism as entirely inconsequential or peripheral to American history, as I don't believe it is. Mormonism is by far the largest religious tradition that originated in America and I think it overlays in really interesting ways with broader American historical issues like Westward expansion as well as issues around race, gender, religious freedom, and the boundaries of citizenship. I do think that a Mormon AG doll could potentially be very interesting. I also think it would be controversial and difficult to do well (by whatever standard "doing well" would be.)

[bussyslayer333]

2. say you feel the way that i feel

summary: jake finally gets a moment alone with you.

pairing: best friend’s brother!jake seresin x fem!reader

word count: 2.0k

warnings: swearing, smut (oral), allusions to smut at the end, jake being down bad tbh

previous part • drive me wild

Jake Seresin didn’t believe in luck. He never had to. It was hard work and skill that got him to the top of his Top Gun class. It was even more hard work and skill that made him stay on top.

Right now however, he was thanking his lucky stars.

Both his sisters are back at their respective houses for the day, his dad is out golfing, his mom is at book club, and Addy is at lunch with her high school friends.

That’s leaves him and you in the house. Alone.

Jake notices you from where he’s stood near the kitchen window. It’s hot out today, and you’re sat on one of the recliners near the pool reading a book in what could probably be described as the worlds tiniest bikini. It’s white and has little cherries on it. Jake thinks he might spontaneously combust. Before he can do so, you turn in your seat to catch sight of Jake in the window, wiggling your fingers at him in a greeting.

Jake takes this as a sign to actually make a move, when had he even been the guy to pass up on something he wanted? He starts towards the patio doors, but not before shedding himself of his shirt and checking himself out in the reflection.

“Hey sugar,” he drawls, slipping into the seat next to you, “don’t you just look extra sweet today?”

You can feel Jake’s eyes rake over your frame, paying specific attention to the flimsy ties of your bikini. You place your bookmark in and put the book down beside you.

“Hey, Jakey,” your voice comes out in a teasing lilt.

Usually he hates when people call him that, but he decides in that moment it’s probably the best thing he’s ever heard.

“Whatcha reading?”

Your smirk slightly and Jake realises whatever you’re bound to say is about to be amusing.

“Lolita.”

Jake scoffs playfully, “you’re funny sugar.”

“I’d like to think so,” you shrug with a smile.

Jake rolls his eyes and settles back into the recliner, the sun feels so good beating down onto his tense muscles. He thinks he could probably drift off until your voice rings through the air.

“Jake?” you question.

“Mhm?”

“Could you do me a favour?” you ask, voice dripping with honey, “pretty please?”

Jake opens his eyes and looks over to your pouting lips.

“Well since you asked so nicely…”

You hand Jake the bottle of sun lotion that had been resting on the small table between the recliners and roll over onto your stomach.

“Do my back?”

You let out a giggle as Jake audibly groans, unashamed of how you affect him. He watches with hooded eyes as you let the ties at the back of your bikini top loose, your modesty only being saved now by your position.

“I hate tan lines,” you offer.

Jake nods his head vigorously, “‘me too, can’t stand ‘em, great idea.”

His enthusiasm skyrockets your ego, you jut your hips up lightly and look to where he’s standing above you.

“You gonna sit?”

“Oh yeah, right.” Jake mumbles, disoriented.

He hovers over you awkwardly, a leg on either side of your waist. You look back to him again and giggle.

“It’s okay, y’know?”

Jake shakes his head as if to clear it and sits down finally. He tries not to think about how you feel beneath him and instead gets to work squirting the lotion onto his hands.

His strong hands are cool on your back, massaging into your skin. You cant help but whimper slightly as his hands massage lower.

“Feels good, Jakey,” you moan out.

Jake can’t wipe the smirk off of his face as he continues his movements until he’s satiated, grabbing languidly at the soft flesh of your back. After he’s decided he’s finished, Jake moves back to sit at the edge of your chair,

“All done, sugar?” He taps at your ass lightly.

You hum and push yourself upwards, turning to face Jake. His mouth goes dry as he catches sight of your bikini top laying lonely on the chair.

“Help me with the front?” You pout, something glimmering in your eye that Jake can’t quite decipher.

You reach over and take Jake’s hands in your own, they’re soft and still sticky with residue from the sun lotion, and guide them up towards your breasts. He can’t get enough of the way you feel beneath him, soft skin arching up towards his touch. When he swipes the pads of his thumbs over your nipples you gasp quietly and Jake chuckles.

“Well I’ll be damned,” he mumbles more to himself than you.

You whine, “I need you to touch me Jake.”

“I am touching you sugar,” Jake teases.

He knows what you want, but he just wants to hear you say it. You whine once again, it’s music to his ears.

“Touch me properly,” you huff.

Jake sighs and removes his hands from your breasts. His hands go to your thighs as he lies down on his front of the chair and pulls you abruptly towards his face. You squeal at the unexpected movement, widening your legs to accommodate Jake.

He reaches a hand up to the ties of your bikini, pressing a kiss to your inner thigh before speaking.

“As cute as this is sugar, I think I’d prefer what’s underneath even more.”

Jake’s words bring a further flush to your cheeks rather than the hot sun in the sky, you nod down at him to give confirmation for what he was about to do.

He pulls slowly at the string on your right hip, watching as it comes undone, the side already falling to expose more of your skin. Moving to the next one, Jake pulls just as tantalisingly slowly. Once it’s undone, he pulls the glorified scrap of fabric away from you and drops it to the floor.

“Fuck.” Jake breathes out.

He’s so close to your center that you can feel his breath on you, making you squirm.

“If that ain’t the prettiest sight I’ve ever seen,” he smirks.

You make a sound that mixes between a whine and a whimper and jut your hips up towards Jake’s face. He gets the hint, tongue darting out to lick a fat stripe from your entrance to your clit.

“Shit, Jake,” you breathe out, hands coming down to grab at his blonde locks.

Jake takes this as encouragement and immediately gets to work, tongue lapping at your clit languidly. Your hips jerk slightly at every flick, prompting Jake to place an arm over you as an attempt at stilling your movements.

The wet noises coming from where Jake’s mouth meets your center should be embarrassing, but it just serves as fuel for him to carry on. His tongue dips down to your hole for a moment as he laps at the wetness, groaning into you at the taste. Jake’s free hand wanders up your thigh to to play with your clit, middle and ring fingers drawing circles into the bundle of nerves.

You’re wary of your surroundings, but it’d be pointless to try and hold in your moans. They come out in squeaks and guttural sounds that please Jake to no end. He’s almost as vocal as you are, mumbles and groans sending delicious vibrations through you.

“I’m close, Jake,” you whimper out after a particularly salacious swirl of his tongue.

He looks up at you from his position between your legs and continues his motions, sending you over the edge with a high pitched whine. Jake coaches you through your high, legs spasming around his head from the pleasure.

He pulls back after a few moment to allow you to catch your breath, legs still shaking. You can see some of your arousal glistening on his chin, bringing heat to your cheeks.

“That good, sugar?” Jake drawls.

You roll your eyes. He knows it was. Instead, you wrap a small hand around the back of his neck and guide his lips towards yours. They’re soft, and you can still taste yourself on him which makes your shiver in excitement. Jake’s lips move in tandem with yours perfectly as you allow his tongue entrance, and something foreign twinges within him that he’s not felt before. Your hand is still at the back of his neck, fingers fussing with his slightly longer hair than usual.

You’re the one to break the kiss first, pulling back just to peck at his lips a few more times. Before Jake can speak, your phone is pinging on the table beside the two of you, stealing your attention from him.

“It’s Addy,” you smile apologetically, “she’s gonna be back soon.”

At the mention of his sister’s name, Jake is reminded of his somewhat unfortunate predicament; sat with her naked best friend in his lap.

“Yeah, of course,” Jake shrugs.

You move to stand from him, not before pecking at his lips once again, and bending down to pick up your discarded bikini. Jake smirks at the sight, alleviating his dulling mood by reaching a hand out to smack lightly at your behind. You snap back up with a gasp and point an accusatory finger. Jake raises his hands in mock surrender and defends,

“you’re the one flaunting that thing sugar!”

You scoff, trying to mask your smile, “creep.”

Jake laughs and goes to reach for you again as you slip away with a giggle. He watches your retreating form with a sigh falling from his lips. He should probably take care of his raging boner before his mom got back from book club.

Jake can’t sleep again. This time, his internal debate has been on whether or not he should try and sneak into your room. The noises you make, the way you taste, and the way you look when you’re so consumed with pleasure is all Jake can think about. You’re infuriating in the best way possible.

Once everyone had returned shortly after your garden escapade, you had descended the stairs in a little ditsy sundress that had Jake reeling. His older sisters and family had joined for dinner as well, Jake was blatantly ignoring every look that Josie was trying to send his way. She was the little moral compass angel on his shoulder, trying to steer him clear from anymore damage he could make. It was annoying because he knew she was right, she always was, and the way she eyeing him down after his gaze often lingered too long on you meant that she was well aware that something had already happened.

You were worth it he had decided at dinner, and he reiterated that as finally removed himself from his bed in lieu of finding you. He opened his door quickly and jumped a little in surprise when he looked down and saw you already there, looking up at him with the same amount of shock. He wonders how long you’d been out here, debating whether to knock on his door or not. Jake figures it’s best not to think about it too much in fear of falling any deeper into what was already becoming much too complicated feelings for you.

Instead, he takes in your attire, you’re clad in a large sleep t-shirt which ends at around your mid thigh and what Jake hopes is nothing else.

“I was just-” you begin.

“God, come here.” Jake sighs, scooping you into his arms.

You oblige happily, jumping into his embrace.

“Gonna make it worth my while, cowboy?” You tease.

Jake plops you down onto his mattress and towers over you for a moment.

“Is that what you want sugar?” Jake questions.

You reach a hand out to palm at the already growing bulge in Jake’s boxers, and smirk,

“more than anything.”

next part

a/n: ahhhhh here’s ch2!! i hope it’s up to standard 😭

thinking perhaps jake is in a tad over his head atm hehehe

i would love to hear everyone’s feedback and what u want to happen next so comment, reblog or send me an ask, i love to hear from u guys!!

tysm for reading :))

- honey <333

tag list:

@blairfox04 @eddiemunsonreader @aemondssiut @girl-in-the-chairs-void @1111zxc @flrboyd @morpheusmybeloved @moonbxtchsreblogs @moonbxtchsblog @fox-bee926 @djs8891 @dempy @daggerspare-standingby @potato-girl99981 @lilylilyyyyyy @bcon24 @abaker74 @callsign-viper @whatislovevavy @cherrycola27 @shanimallina87 @pulisvertz @hypatia93 @fudosl @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @onethirstyunicorn @alana4610

[ofliterarynature]

AUGUST 2024 WRAP UP

[loved liked ok nope DNF (bookclub) reread*]

True Grit • A Sorceress Comes to Call • (Fit for the Gods) • A Short Walk Through a Wide World • The Chestnut King* • Where the Drowned Girls Go • The Hollow Boy* • The Philosopher's Flight • The Whispering Skull* • Death by Silver • Grandma Gatewood's Walk • Across the Green Grass Fields • Tales from the Hinterland • The Screaming Staircase* • Ascension • Running Close to the Wind • August Kitko and the Mechas from Space

* * * * * *

Lockwood & Co - time for a reread! I really like the idea of ghost books but struggle to find ones that I like, but these are perfect! The worldbuilding and story structure is somehow just what I want - just enough rules to give them the confidence to be bad ass AND tension for when they royally screw up, and a fantastic, case-book type narrative where the characters are going about their lives, fighting ghosts, and not actually getting to the titular case until halfway through the book. Love it! I need more like that actually. (I recommend The Angel of the Crows)

Tales from the Hinterland -since I finally read The Language of Thorns I figured I should get around to this too. I didn't like the related novels all that much but WAS interested in the stories, but it's been so long I've mostly forgotten their context. I didn't mind it, and I think Albert has a better grasp on the language and form of fairy tales than Bardugo, but the inescapable grimness of the stories quickly became repetitive and boring.

Across the Green Grass Fields - it took me a bit to warm up to this one, but once we went through the door I had a good time! I think this is probably my favorite of the individual door stories so far. On the other hand, I usually like the ensemble books, but Where the Drowned Girls Go didn't quite work for me this time, but it might be one that just needs a second read.

Grandma Gatewood's Walk - I've seen this one around (most recently at a Hocking Hills gift shop) and finally picked it up since my library had it on audiobook. Unfortunately it was doing a lot of things that annoy me about certain nonfiction and while it was readable and interesting, I wouldn't say I enjoyed it or would recommend it.

Death by Silver - a gaslamp mystery/gay romance that was fun! If you like a mystery that is, the "romance" coasts along on the "old school friends/hookup buddies" line and doesn't really get any development (or steaminess), but things do keep moving and it was a nice enough read that I'd maybe try some of the author's other work (but maybe not the sequel)

The Philosopher's Flight - I don't even know. It *was* a good read that moved along well, BUT... I don't want to lay everything at the feet of "it was written by a man," but it definitely had its effects. Stories about girls and women going into a man's world and showing them all up are pretty common and catnip to me (Keladry my beloved), but something about a man doing it in a women's organization that exists in a patriarchal society WITH a heavy political-unrest plot going on as well, and despite the abundance of female characters none of them are well developed? And the main character is just a bland-ass dude? It really didn't sit well with me, and I do not want to read the sequel.

The Chestnut King - I'm glad to be done with this series reread. They're honesty just a perfectly middling MG fantasy series, slightly dated but charmingly midwestern in many ways. Kids would probably enjoy it more, but there's not much for an older reader.

A Short Walk Through a Wide World - going in I knew this was being pitched as sort of cozy, and being comp'd to Addie Larue (which I didn't like in execution). Fairly accurate on both counts tbh, and I thought the curse in this one worked much better - the problem with Addie was that the inability for anyone to remember her didn't allow for any connections to make things interesting, whereas A Short Walk's not being able to stay longer than a few days or ever return offers *just* enough to be heartbreaking. Unfortunately there just wasn't much of a shape to the overall story and I was so bored I almost DNF'd. If you're more into the books being marketed as "cozy fantasy" you might have a better time of it than me.

Fit for the Gods - aka "Greek Mythology Reimagined," which feels self explanatory. Anthologies are always a bit of a mixed bag, but I really liked this! Especially compared to the previous anthology (Sword Stone Table), there was only one story I didn't really like, but otherwise really vibed with everything else! I also learned that most of my myth knowledge that's stuck around is from Percy Jackson, lol. (Not to mention the reincarnation story that mentioned Percy Jackson! I cackled XD)

A Sorceress Comes to Call - LOVED!!! Regency house party, magic, murder, mystery is so so SO up my alley. I've seen people call this a stressful book, and I get it, the mother is awful and things are definitely tense, but something was telling me that things would turn out ok for the main characters and I was able to enjoy myself lol. It also helped that it became quickly obvious that the mother was very full of herself and overconfident, even if she was terrifying. I think this is tied with Thornhedge for my favorite Kingfisher so far, though I might rate this a little lower on quality. If you liked this I really recommend checking out the Greenwing & Dart series by Victoria Goddard!

True Grit - meh. Picked this up through a combination of podcast rec/book sale find/needed to read another classic. The kid's got spunk, but that's all I've really got to say. Came very close to dnf'ing, but at least it was short.

DNF

Ascension - 25%. I was really looking forward to making a "if I had a nickle for every book about a mountain mysteriously appearing somewhere it shouldn't, I'd have two nickles" joke, but alas. This started off pretty good, going with the classic "I found these papers among my brother's affects after a long mysterious life" that I was REALLY excited about. Then we actually got to the story and the main character was just Most Special Genius Science Boy, and the way his ex-wife was being written was absolutely bleh. I looked a bit closer at the reviews and decided to dump it. (Other mountain book is My Volcano and you should read it!!!! It's so weird!!)

Running Close to the Wind - 11%. Was this funny? Yes. Was this super horny? Yes. Was this funny and super horny? Super yes. I can really appreciate what was happening here, it's just unfortunately not a style I can consume in anything larger than small bites. I decided to part ways before my feelings really soured.

August Kitko and the Mechas from Space - 41%. I honestly did like what I read, it just wasn't speaking to me? I can see this being a great book for someone, I just had other things I wanted to read more.

[darklinaforever]

I get so exasperated when I see people say that Luc can't love, or that he, and Addie included, can't. Like... WTF ? It is literally said in the text that the fact that they are not human therefore implies that they do not love like humans. But that doesn't stop them from doing it. Thinking about it, a supernatural, non-human being can't love you're just taking Addie's wrongheaded point of view. A character who has this way of contradicting herself a lot until the last page of the book ! Is it so narrow-minded to think that in a universe where supernatural creatures exist, only humans can love sincerely ? WTF ? There are tons of stories about demons falling in love ! Why Luc (who is not even the literal devil, or even a kind of demon, that is Addie's point of view, but the text itself and Luc, simply designate him as an ancient god, of those that the we begin to pray at night, making Luc's true nature even more obscure and overcoming this idea that he would be purely incapable of loving, since the narration designates him and finally shows him / simply as a being with a nature that is probably cloudy and complex), suddenly, couldn't be part of it, when the text itself parallels the two points of view of Addie and Luc. Namely that a non-human cannot love. And that of Luc which simply says that the way of loving is different in a non-human being. Especially since I still remember that Addie says she loves several times in the book, even though she is no longer human. Once again she contradicts herself or always says that it is not the same as in the Luc case. But that's because she can't accept that she's no longer human. And I'm talking about loving in the romantic sense of the word and also platonic. Obviously a non-human being can love ! Just not in a human way. Literally just look at Addie and how she comes to like people / her internal reasoning. But to think that, because it is different from the way humans generally love, or our own perception of the feeling of love in a broader sense ; Luc (especially) and Addie are incapable of truly loving anything ? It's such a depressing and reductive vision in my opinion. Especially in such a complex story.

[saturnwisteria]

library books that’ll never be returned, for someone of your own choice (perhaps your OC? 😊)

Yesterday I was telling myself I'm probably just not the OC writing type, and then today I was seized by the throat and wrote this straight through for 5 hours. Thank you for the prompt!

Yeva Rosova woke before dawn with everyone else, even though she would not be flying today. The flak that had bit into her shoulder on the last mission had made sure of that. It stopped her from sleeping on the side she favored, and if being grounded hadn't made her restless enough, then being thrust out of sleep by the sensation of coals burning under her skin, to find she had unconsciously rolled over onto her bad arm, would do it.

It wasn't that she was bitter about being grounded; no, that she understood, because Yeva was not a pilot, and therefore actually sensible about the fact that her injury, although not serious, would still prevent her from doing her job to the best of her ability. So no, she was not bitter, but it would not have been inaccurate to say that she was more than a little peeved to not be going up with her crew.

Especially in the wake of the last mission. The absence of Major Cleven could be felt around base like a deep contusion: invisible on the surface, but felt with every movement. No one would say it, but the ache was impossible to ignore with Major Egan's dead eyes haunting them all.

She drained her coffee to the dregs, twirling the grounds in the mug like her mama used to. She didn't really believe in scrying truth from the remnants of a person's drink, but she had woken up already forlorn and found herself craving the familiar.

That feeling disappeared quickly.

For a moment, she's a little kid again. Little Yeva who waddled after her мама on house visits, who was shy and quiet but not scared of the sickness that filled the room. Who stared with big dark eyes at yellowed skin or inflamed joints or angry abrasions slick with pus and plasma and didn't flinch, but crept closer. She watched with fascination when her mother would pull out the glass jar full of fat, crawling maggots and place them on a patient's crowded lesions.

Sometimes what her mama did would work, sometimes not. Occasionally, Yeva would walk into the house, hand clutching her mama's tightly, and she would know nothing could be done. It was a smell in the air, thick breath and dry skin and the tang of ointment; or maybe it was the family's desperation that would linger visibly in the room, casting a cloak over her eyes. Either way, Little Yeva was never wrong.

Death did not scare Yeva; she had known it too often as a child to think of it as anything other than a forgiving figure. Now, it stood silently in the corner of every room. In the interrogation hut, spacious where it should have been crowded. In the barracks, solemn gazes where there should have been rowdy laughter.

She saw it on the hardstands, lurking under the bellies of countless forts, shadowy hands stretching out along their wings in anticipation of the moment where they would be allowed to tug them down, down, down.

Most of all, she saw it now in the dark shapes hunkered at the base of her mug, portents of the future, reflecting bad omens on the horizon. She slammed the mug down and stood up quickly, a few members of her crew looked up at her in question, but she waved them off. If she doesn't speak it, it can't come true.

That was not how tasseography worked, but perhaps her superstitions would cancel each other out.

She found Addy smoking outside, eyes trained on the lightening sky. Yeva walked over to stand next to her, and when Addy nodded in greeting, Yeva leaned wordlessly into her side. It was a little awkward, given that Addy was a few inches shorter, but Yeva didn't care. It seemed Addy didn't either, as she crossed her arms over her chest and allowed Yeva's arm to slide deeper against her side, bringing them closer.

Yeva "Bones" Rosova and Addison "Guts" Guthrie had met in basic. They had both gone to the recruitment station intending to join the Army Nurse Corps, and both had made a last minute decision upon hearing the news that a select few branches were opening a limited amount of active combat positions to women. Both of them, it turns out, had wanted to see what the world looked like from above the clouds.

They had landed in the 100th Bomb Group, in the 418th squadron, in separate crews but together nonetheless. Addy as a tail gunner, and Yeva as a top turret gunner/flight engineer.

In a few minutes, the mess hall would empty and trucks would begin to fill with crews ready to fight for yet another day. Yeva tries to ignore the feeling stirring in her gut, the sensation that something bad is about to happen.

Her mama had loved to tell her that she had been born with a sixth sense, a secret knowledge for knowing when something was amiss. Yeva had cherished this attention when she had thought she would be following in her mother's footsteps as the village's 'barefoot doctor.' She had clung to it as her secret weapon through training, where she proved again and again to be adept at quickly identifying issues and failures and finding solutions. And when she had finally started flying real missions, and the problems had turned from textbook to reality, she had found that more than once, following a hunch had saved her ass.

Now, watching Addy take a final pull before crushing her cigarette with her toes, Yeva despised this gift for the first time in her life.

The mess door flew open, and airmen began to file out, heading toward the trucks waiting on the tarmac. Addy stood up straight beside her, stretching out her arms above her head, before turning to Yeva with a signature Addison Guthrie grin; sweeter than honey and warm enough to melt the frosting off a cupcake. It sent a fresh wave of curdling worry through Yeva.

"Well, here we are," Addy said.

"Here we are," Yeva replied, taking the moment to memorize Addy's face. Deep grey eyes shining, brown hair pinned back, pale lips stretched wide in a smile that revealed both the dimple in her left cheek and the gap between her middle teeth, which Yeva had always found charming. Makes me look like the hillbilly I am, Addy would always say, purposefully making her West Virginian accent thicker.

"Guts!" Lieutenant Hoerr called from over by the trucks, "Time to load up. Get it moving!"

"Looks like someone's sour about getting kicked from their seat." Addy sighed, adjusting her jacket collar, and the lilac scarf tied there. Yeva's heart thrummed as Addy started to turn away.

"Wait," Yeva blurts. Addy looks back at her, soft smile still in place, and so fucking beautiful it threatens to steal the breath from her lungs. She wants to say, don't go where I can't follow. She wants to say, I don't know how to do this without you. Instead, she takes her own scarf out from her pocket, light pink and white stripes, and holds it out.

"Here, take it. So part of me can come with you," she says in a rush. Addy stares down at the offering, an emotion Yeva doesn't recognize flickering in her eyes, before she takes it, holding it gently I'm her hands. Yeva expects her to fold it up and put it in her pocket. Instead, she reaches up and unknots her own scarf, pulling it off, and ties Yeva's scarf in its place. Tucks the ends down into her jacket, the fabric resting just above her heart.

And then she leans over, loops her own scarf around Yeva's neck, and ties it up, hands resting on Yeva's shoulders to admire her work. "There," she says, "Now you'll have a little piece of me, too."

"Guts, come on, let's go!" Gangwer yells from where he sits, the rest of the crew of Mlle Zig Zig waiting for her. Addy laughs, and then pulls Yeva into the tightest hug she's ever had. It makes Yeva's arm twinge, but she's sure as hell not about to complain. It lasts for all of a second, and then she's jogging away.

"I'll see you later!" She shouts over her shoulder.

All Yeva can do is believe her.

●●●

Addy doesn't come back. Save for one crew, no one else does, either. Yeva wants to curse the entire world, to punch the walls until her knuckles crack and bleed, to cry until there's no emotion left in her.

She doesn't do any of that. She sits on the floor in front of Addy's bunk and stares at the contents of her trunk.

There's a couple letters, one addressed to her parents, another to her brother; two years older than her and in the navy. Yeva sets them aside. She doesn't know for certain that Addy is dead, but if she is, it's better to grow accustomed to the idea, rather than deny it now and have it break her later.

There's the pretty blue dress she'd wear to go dancing the couple of times they'd had leave. Yeva runs her fingers over the fabric, soft and well-worn. Underneath that is a stack of books, taken from her hometown's library. Addy had offered to pay a fee, since she'd be gone for so long and these were her favorite stories, but the librarian had told her to just take them. Bring 'em back after you win this war. Teach these men a thing or two while you're at it. Yeva wonders who will return them now.

Tucked away in one corner is her embroidery kit, threads in a rainbow of colors lined up neatly next to two wooden frames. Yeva's hand comes up to the scarf at her neck, runs her thumb over the little blue flowers that Addy had embroidered in the corners. She blinks back the tears that spring up.

She can't do this. She can't write to Addy's parents, she can't return her library books, she can't look at the things she left behind. Not when she's become one of them.

Yeva closes the trunk, rubs the numbness out of her legs, and goes outside. The night is cool, the air carrying the song of crickets and night birds. She leans back against the barracks and stares at the sky that Addy disappeared into.

Wherever you are, she thinks, fingers tracing the edges of the little blue flowers, know that I am still with you.

[zoobus]

I apologize in advance because I'm taking a tag way too seriously and this isn't even YA novel navalgazing, this is literally about a series written for 3rd graders.

I'm realizing "fucked up that the moral of this story was" is a minor trigger for me. It drives me insane in a way obviously unequal to whatever the original context is. But this is my blog so.

The American Girl series was not a moral-driven set of stories! They weren't Animorphs or anything but they were absolutely a kid's introduction to the intrinsic unfairness of life and a solid chunk of the stories ended with the """"moral"""" of the main character left to uncomfortably ponder why something so clearly not right could be allowed to continue before they clunkily skipped to the next story like the previous didn't happen.

I used to own several sets and I skimmed through a few before selling them some years back. The sudden harsh reality of whatever historical ills going on were part of the appeal! It was fucked up and scary and that's why they were good (to an elementary schooler to be clear, these aren't good books)

Like the "moral" of Nellie's story was that it was fucked up to be a child factory worker. It was fucked up that her response to "oh your hair is so pretty, you should grow it longer" was to recount the time she witnessed one of her elementary age coworker get scalped by one of the child labor machines. It was fucked up that she's 8 with PTSD. Of course Nellie got a happy end but like... abused little puppies getting cleaned up and spoiled is a popular media trope. It's not a lesson. Even though it works out for her, you're still left with the knowledge that the girl who's hair was ripped off her skull and untold number of fingerless kids were not adopted by Samantha's rich grandpa.

I'm rarely comfortable saying there's one specific point that a story is objectively going for and you're a fool if you don't see it, but I do think the American Girl series was intentional in showcasing period-specific suffering might have looked like in a way a little kid could conceptualize. And it worked! For example:

Molly, the WW2 American Girl (AG). Her family takes in a little Bri'ish girl and Molly's soooo excited wow imagine having a fancy English girl in your own house. She is irritated when the 9yo lass is very quiet and not into being her doll. After weeks of molly snipping at her, British girl goes off like sorry I'm not fucking prancing around you dumb bitch but I'm not here as a foreign exchange student, I'm here because my house got bombed and my friends and family are probably fucking dead

Samantha, the Victorian AG. We already know Nellie who, as explained before, had a very different life than the wealthy Samantha. But Samantha also had a black nanny she adored up until she disappears without warning. After a lot of snooping, she uncovers that nanny had a baby! So of course she sneaks out at night to find the little man for herself🤫

Her mischievous giggling starts to get more nervous as she gets closer to nanny's address. It's getting dirtier and shittier and there's only black people around and they're openly gawking but not approaching. People live here? Nanny lives here? With a baby? She eventually finds her and the baby who is cute but Samantha is left at the end like. Hm. So. I guess my life is not universal? Much to think about. There's no happy resolution to this. Nanny never returns, segregation continues.

Last one, Addy, the escaped slave (apparently a controversial opinion, but I liked Addy). The other stories take a bit to get to wham aspect, but with her? Right from the start we have Overseer catch Addy slacking while picking cotton. She's just not debugging fast enough. This grown adult man, so infuriated an eight year old child isn't picking cotton tobacco fast enough, forces her to eat one of the fat, green worms she missed. They describe Addy holding back tears, the worm bursting in her mouth, the bitter taste, the humiliation. I feel like this was the first time I like...*got* slavery. You learn about it in school, sure, but owning people, beating people, it sounded bad but unconnected to anything I knew. Like maybe it's because at the time of reading, I too was a daydreamy 8yo black girl, making it hit a little too close. How could anyone do that and feel justified? Or feel nothing at all? An adult made a little kid eat a bug and it didn't hurt his conscious? This guy probably goes to church and doesn't even remember this. He doesn't think he needs forgiveness. This is nothing to him. This is normal. He died thinking he did nothing wrong, probably. Those were my thoughts then. Very good.

These aren't morals. Of course you shouldn't expect a refugee to perform for their host family. Of course you shouldn't make a child eat a worm. Child labor is bad. Didactic American Girl was not.

[transmutationisms]

pleaaase share any and all thoughts you might have on as i lay dying by william faulkner if you're willing, i'd appreciate your analysis on any topic dealing with it. I recently had to read it for class and kept thinking "tumblr user transmutationisms would probably find this very interesting" and when I search your blog i see its one of your fav novels! personally am interested with the treatment of darl and what is considered "sane" vs. "insane" as well as addie and how her death is handled.

yeah this book made me so insane when i first encountered it lmao. i was always surprised by people who read it and thought that darl had genuinely or intrinsically 'gone insane' or even that he was in some kind of decline throughout the book. i thought what faulkner was doing with him was very different.

i'd posit there are basically 2 main mechanisms by which darl comes to be regarded as insane. one is the construal of criminal action as prima facie pathological. in darl's case it's specifically criminal action against his mother's body (so, the violation of a blood tie that is so important it has guided the entire novel) and ofc the barn burning has a more general sort of antisocial effect as well. so, the designation of insanity follows not because darl's action shows some kind of intrinsic breakdown or loss of lucidity, but because it puts him outside the bounds of accepted familial and social behaviours. so, in that sense there's a very straightforward connection between the social mores, the criminal code based on them, and the invocation of insanity to preserve the dichotomy between 'sane' and 'criminal', ofc with the asylum then appearing as another arm of the carceral / criminal apparatus.

in addition, though, faulkner's work is generally marked by an interest in the sort of social breakdown and decline that articulates along family lines. which is to say: although i wouldn't attribute to him the same degree of evolutionary-hereditarian degeneracy theory as, like, zola, there is certainly a repeated interest throughout faulkner's work in the family as a site of inherited social and economic decline. i don't think the point here is to write anse as insane, per se, or as passing on a discrete malady to darl, but parentage matters (cf. jewel's illegitimacy) and in the same way that anse is antisocial, illogical, and frequently illegible to the surrounding characters, darl by the end of the book has come to occupy a similar socially marginal position. darl is ofc punished more violently for his transgression; anse's chapters convey pretty clearly his outsider position and complete inability to make sense of the world on linguistic-logical terms, but darl escalates this when he burns the barn because he's breaking a rule that has more external social ramifications than, say, anse's biblical exegesis about snakes and trees and whatever.

broadly and kind of annoyingly you could say the novel is investigating the relationship between consciousness and language, or at least feeling and language. the words are "a shape to fill a lack", vardaman's fish chapter sort of sums up the failings therein, &c. so, anse and darl are interesting to counterpose in this respect because the disconnect between their inner worlds and linguistic abilities are very different. darl is the most linguistically adept narrator in the book, yet by the end he's committed an act so illegible to the state and to his community that he's declared insane for it. anse, on the other hand, is motivated by what is in certain ways a very clear and simple moral code (he is driven primarily throughout the novel by the desire to bury addie and then take care of his own material needs re: teeth and a new wife), but he's not really able to communicate this directly in narration, which makes his chapters some of my favs to re-read. with anse the stream-of-consciousness is continually hinting at and around what he's trying to convey; with darl there are certainly things he's capable of expressing clearly and directly in language, and so the effect (for me) is to surprise you when it's revealed that darl, too, is on a kind of margin of social logic.

[heartsbreaking]

not a single person asked but my childhood hyperfixation must encompass all of my muses

natalie molloy owned TWO american girl dolls in her childhood and by the time she was an adult she had THREE.

natalie's first doll was samantha, who she got after her parents divorced. (i have her getting samantha in 1994 but i dont have an actual year for the divorce.) she adored samantha and tore through her book series. she especially liked that samantha was clever. (secretly she always wished there was a nellie doll because she found nellie even more compelling than samantha.)

her second doll she got for her 10th birthday (so samantha could have a friend) was addy. again, natalie found her books very interesting and she liked the story of addy's family being reunited. she also related to having a slightly annoying baby sister around this time.

natalie was the type of kid who played with her dolls like they were the most important thing in the world. she was meticulous about keeping their hair neat, not untieing hair ribbons and not getting their bodies or clothes dirty. she brought them places, certainly. she just was always careful with them. they were friends to her not just toys.

natalie got nellie when she was released in 2004. she would have been 19 at the time, but how could she resist not giving samantha her best friend. after all, she'd always wanted a nellie doll. she was in college by this time and getting nellie for herself wasn't really practical so nellie likely ended up being a doll she shared with her sister. (under the conditions that if anything happened to ANY of nat's dolls, lena would never be forgiven)

fun fact! natalie was born 1 year before the release of american girl as a brand and thus would have probably been just the right age to be OBSESSED with the dolls and books.

image credits:

samantha pic addy pic nellie pic

[lillipad72]

Emily of New Moon Book Club ~~ First Time Reading

Chapter 3: A Hop out of Kin, Part 2

These are my quite belated opinions on the introductions of the Murrays that I said were coming last night, but life caught up to me!

Uncle Wallace

"he was black and grim and ugly, with frowning bristly brows and a stern, unpitying mouth. He had big pouches under his eyes, and carefully-trimmed black side-whiskers"

Uncle Wallace does not come across as pleasant at all in Emily's description of him. All of his actions are described as 'cold' as well. It is also implied at the end of his introduction that he is not super sharp because he can not think of something to say to Emily, though it could also be due to his surprise.

2. Aunt Eva

"Aunt Eva was sitting huddled up in a shawl...She shook hands with Emily and said nothing."

Aunt Eva is giving us a whole lot of nothing. I guess I give her points for not being awful, but those points are then taken away for doing the bare minimum which can be taken as rude.

3. Uncle Oliver

"He was big and fat and rosy and jolly-looking"

Now, Uncle Oliver is giving us something to work with here. He seems like a fun guy, but Emily, in her anxiety, takes his joke as a slight. Bonus points for him though because he doesn't take offense to her offense. So far, a favorite!

4. Aunt Addie

"She gave Emily's cold hand a nice, gentle squeeze. 'How are you, dear?' she said"

She is giving the most of them all so far, but that could be because she is only a Murray by marriage (I think at least, I could be wrong!). But she seems to understand how children work, especially when they need some kindness. Uncle Oliver + Aunt Addie are so far winning

5. Aunt Ruth

"She knew the cold, gray eyes, the prim, dull brown hair, the short, stout figure, the thin, pinched, merciless mouth."

Oh, I thought Uncle Wallace's introduction was rough...I got to Aunt Ruth's, and it was worse. She not only insults Emily but also her recently deceased father, hope her pride feels better after that low blow. But...because she sounds so horrible I feel an eventual redemption coming at some point. But right now she is in dead last place.

6. Cousin James Murray

Not a super good quote for him, but he seems nice, he will probably become a nice companion for Emily! He is in the positive but I haven't seen enough to get a full opinion. Just remembered that he does stand up for Emily later one so yah for him!

7. Aunt Laura

"It was her eyes that won Emily. They were such round blue, blue eyes. One never quite got over the shock of their blueness. And when she spoke it was in a beautiful, soft voice."

Aunt Laura for the win! She seems so sweet and lovely, and I know she and Emily will get along great, especially after she sneaks the cat in, but I have a feeling our next person will control Aunt Laura and stop her from showing fondness to Emily.

8. Aunt Elizabeth

"Her eyes, though steel-blue, were as cold as Aunt Ruth's and her long thin mouth was compressed severely."

Our foil to Aunt Laura at New Moon is Aunt Elizabeth, who seems more like Aunt Ruth than anybody else. Like I said I feel that she will control Aunt Laura but I also think that eventually she will come to love Emily as well!

Okay those were my thoughts to all the Murray introductions! Better late than never! Tomorrow I will post about both chapters four and five so I get back on track!

[literary-illuminati]

Book Review 37 – The Invisible Life of Addie LaRue by V. E. Schwab

I picked this up for my still-somewhat-theoretical bookclub with some friends, and honestly probably wouldn’t have looked at it otherwise. (The only previous work of Schwab I’d read was Vicious which I was, honestly, not particularly impress by.) So chalk one up for book clubs I suppose, because I’m incredibly happy I gave this a try.

The book follows the eponymous Adeline “Addie” LaRue, a peasant girl in late 17th century southern France who, desperately trying to escape marriage and a life limited to one tiny farming village, and just generally being a peasant, makes a deal with the devil. (Or primordial darkness. Or some ancient pagan god she learned about from the old witch living in the woods that comes standard with every peasant village – it’s somewhat vague, and doesn’t really matter regardless. He goes by Luc.) The deal is for her freedom – she will get to live life untethered and according to her own desires, until she is sick of it, and when she is, her soul will be his.

What this means is that she is a) immortal, and eternally 23 years old, and any change to her body reverts in a matter of moments, but also b) incapable of leaving a mark on the world. People literally forget her the moment she is out of their sight, any letters she writes fade before she finishes a word, she is quite literally incapable of saying her own name out loud and has to pick a pseudonym out of the air with each new interaction, and so on. Reality also conspires against her having more than she can carry on her person – stashes are discovered or accidentally destroyed by what seems like random chance.

The book’s divided more or less in half, with a singular narrative in 2014 New York where Addie has a meet cute with Henry – a 28 year old bohemian bookstore clerk whose made his own (much, much worse) deal with the devil, and as a happy unintended consequence is actually able to remember her – being intercut with flashback chapters telling the wider story of Addie’s three-hundred-year life, how she adapted to her blessing/curse and figured out how to have a life of something other than endlessly freezing and starving in Parisian gutters, and her relationships with Luc.

To lay my cards on the table – Henry is charming, and the book’s New York is fun and appealing, but the historical vignettes really do make the book and elevate it a bit beyond pleasant but forgettable fluff. Partially just because the nature of Addie’s anonymous immortality is so specific, the book has a lot of fun with how she learned to navigate and make the most of it. The utter misery she’d been stuck with and endured also grounds (..maybe not the right word, given the immortality, but you know what I mean) the generally pretty fluffy New York narrative a bit.

Also, given how much I loathe the whole ‘death is what makes life meaningful!’ cliche, I really do appreciate that even after spending however long buried in a snowbank in a Parisian slum perpetually one second away from freezing to death, Addie’s reaction to ‘would you make the same deal again?’ is ‘fuck you, I’m immortal!”.

The plot of the present day New York chapters...exists. If mostly as connective tissue for cute dates and descriptions of bars and art shows; this is really overwhelmingly a character piece, and after that the focus is still more on making specific scenes and vignettes vivid more than any sort of overarching drama. Which isn’t any sort of complaint, to be clear – adding action or high stakes politics or a cosmic battle between good and evil or anything else would have ruined this. The fact that the book keeps its stakes limited to a few specific souls is a huge point in its favour.

The novel’s organized around a romance (I mean, a love triangle, technically), though given the ending I’m not sure it technically qualifies for the weirdly specific criteria for a Romance Novel I’ve been yelled out about in the past. It’s not exactly the sort of love story that’s going to set the world on fire, anyway; though Henry was charming and sympathetic and inoffensive enough to effortlessly vault into my top tier of least annoying romance male love interests.

Luc I think I would have absolutely despised if either Addie had ended up buying into his bullshit or if the narration ever really tried to make you sympathize with him. As is, it’s incredibly to read him as actually sincerely falling sincerely in love with Addie at a certain point, and she basically never stops hating him to the point of going all unreliable narrator and always framing his actions as more Machiavellian and monstrous than they are. It’s great.

It’s not exactly surprising how studiously apolitical the book is, but it did still kind of strike me? Given the span of history involved, I mean – the French Revolution and World War One both intrude on the narrative exclusively as ‘bad news Addie gets out of Paris/Europe to evade’. The only active political stance she’s shown as taking in the entire modern era is returning to France during WW2 to be an anti-nazi spy out of a vague sort of patriotism.

On the one hand oh my god a version of this book that went ‘she’s queer and was alive at the time, so obviously Addie would have been at Stonewall’ would have just been, so so bad lol. But the part of me that loves drama and books that get internet hate campaigns dedicated to them does kind of wish the book had done a bit more with what she (immortal 23-year-old early modern bohemian aesthete runaway peasant girl) actually believes or thinks of the world.

Though the book’s restraint on involving historical events vanishes entirely in the cultural sphere – Beethoven makes an appearance, having sold his soul for artistic genius. I don’t mind this too much, honestly; Addie learning that even if she can’t leave a direct mark she can still inspire people and indirectly shape the world that way is a pretty central theme to the whole book, so it more or less fits. When she justifies why she considers her life worth living, the central element is beauty, she lives for songs and fine meals and paintings and books and films. The occasional intrusion of names I recognize just feels like it fits.

Speaking of: quite possibly my favourite bit of the book is how, at the beginning of each part, there’s a page with a sketch and an auctioneer’s description of a different piece of fine art that Addie had inspired over the course of her long life. Nothing much intelligent to say about them specifically, just that I adored the little touches it added.

Unfortunately, the ending of this was the weakest part of it by leaps and bounds. Just – it would have been damn near perfect, if it just ended two chapters before it did! As is, re contextualizing the entire book as an artifact that exists in universe just makes the entire thing make no sense at all (also, my god, can you imagine being Robbie or Henry’s family and reading how you’re portrayed in his ‘novel’?) But even beyond that, it felt like the book had reached a natural, nicely bittersweet ending, and then spent the last ten pages furiously trying to backtrack and make it as unambiguous and upbeat as possible. A damn shame.

Anyway, not a revelatory read or anything, but with that exception very fun and well-put together.

[20dimensionsoftangerine]

Snippet one! This is a story where Canon Adaine somehow falls into a dimension where everyone's parents are... Alignment swapped? (Adaine, Kristen, and Fabian's families are very nice while Gorgug, Fig, and Riz's are less so)

(I have no idea where I was going with this scene so it just ends sorry!)

"I was thinking we should probably have some way to distiguish the two of us while you're here."

Adaine looked up from the book she'd been pouring over- an honestly badly written one about multiverse theory- to blink at her doppleganger sitting across from her.

The other Adaine was giving her a tentitive smile, the book on her own lap open but ignored for the moment. She was wearing comfortable, bright clothes but they were of much finer quality than anything Adaine had.

Adaine, huffed and turned back to her book. "What? You want one of us to dye our hair or something? I already have my jacket and a completely different outfit. We don't need more than that." She wasn't going to stick around long enough that she was going to have to change clothes. Hopefully

."Oh, no, not visually," the other one clarified, "I meant more our names. I can't keep thinking of you as 'other Adaine' that won't be fair."

Adaine grunted in acknowledgment but didn't contribute any kind of suggestion. She was fine thinking of this other her as... the other.

"I think I should be Adaine," the doppleganger continued, "and you can Odaine."

That did get Adaine to look back up, squinting suspciously at the hopefully smiling girl. "Odaine? Why?"

The other girl tapped her fingers in a nervous pattern Adaine was intimately familiar with as her smile grew nervous. "Well, because I'm Adaine Abernant and you're Adaine O'Shaunessy. It makes sense doesn't it?"

"No," Adaine instantly shot the idea down, focusing back on the book, "I'll just stick with my name, thanks."

"Oh," the girl sounded dissapointed. Adaine tried not to care about it. "Okay, I can just go by Addy then? While you're here? It's a nickname Aelwyn used to call me when we were little."

Every word Addy said felt like daggers to Adaine but she tried not to show it as she nodded. "That works."

There was a few minutes of blissful silence that Adaine used to read as much as she could. Multi-verse theory was rocky at best and had never actually been proven before. The book was only slightly better than useless.

"I'm sorry," Addy spoke up again, causing Adaine's eyes to flick up to her once more. They were in this girl's room. A room that had an identical layout to Adaine's old one but besides that was so far different it was almost comical. Instead of blank walls and sparce possesions the place was filled with things like fairy lights and posters and a terrariam and so many other things Adaine had in her current bedroom. Seeing her new life overlayed over her old one like this was making her nauseous. "Have I done something to upset you? I mean, obviously you have to right to be upset since you got thrown out of your universe for who knows what reason but you just seem to be... mad. At me. In particular."

Hells, were Adaine's eyes also that big and bright? It looked like Addy was staring straight through to her soul.

Or were Adaine's eyes duller? Tainted by something this version of herself had never had to experience.

"No," Adaine tried to say as sincearly as she could. Because the other girl really hadn't done anything wrong. "You're fine. I'm just stressed. And would really like to get home as quickly as possible."

"We've been at this for hours. Would you like to take a break?" Addy offered, "I can have father fetch us some tea if you'd like."

Adaine could not stop the shudder that ran through her body. "No. Thank you. I'm good."

Addy sighed and closed her own book before standing up and leaving the room entirely. Adaine tried not to let that worry her and tried to ignore the hauntingly familiar voices floating up from downstairs as she read more. Jumping to another dimension didn't actually seem that difficult, all things concidered. It was just about finding one that wouldn't instantly kill you. Or finding the very specific one you needed to get back to. That seemed next to impossible.

So engrossed did she get in the studying that Adaine almost jumped when Addy returned to the room some time later, two steaming cups in hand. "Five minute break," Addy said authoritivly, "it'll make the research go by easier in general."

"I'm fine," Adaine insisted as the other girl layed the cups on her desk. Not even using a coaster.

Addy gave her a very meaningful look, though it was more directed at Adaine's side. She glanced down and realized her finger nails of her left hand was digging into her knee to the point both her hand and leg were beginning to ache. Embarrassed, Adaine quickly shook her arm out and forced herself to relax.

Addy smirked knowlingly as she placed sugar cubes into the tea cups. "I have an anxiety disorder too, you know. I know how easy it is to get lost in research. Especially when it's something this important."

Adaine swallowed thickly and forced herself to close the book, staring at her own hands to avoid looking at the room around her or the other girl. "Why?"

"Hmm? Why what?" Addy asked, handing Adaine a cup that she almost mechanically drank from. It was overly sweet. Just like Adaine liked it.

"Why do you have an anxiety disorder?"

Addy blinked as she sank back into a cross legged position across from Adaine. "Genetics? I suppose? Father said he struggled with something similar in his youth but that was before they even had a name for it."

That was almost funny, Adaine thought as she stared dully into her swirling tea. Had her Angwyn gotten anxious? Was that why he hated the weakness so much in her? Or was that a difference between their two realities? Not a similarity.

"You're parents were cruel to you, weren't they?"

Adaine's head snapped up to stare at Addy who was looking at her with something that wasn't quite pity but was very clearly worry. "How do you know that?"

Addy's ears burned pink and it was now her turn to avoid eye contact. "I'm not stupid!" She said it like a reflex. "I know I... I know I'm naive and sheltered more than most but I'm not stupid. You... you have the same look. That look Gorgug gets when he has to think about it. And you're mad at me. The way Fig gets mad when she's jelouse and doesn't want to be." She squeezed her own cup in her hands and tentitivly looked up at Adaine. "Your parents were cruel to you. And because they're reflections of my parents being here is upsetting you. That's... right? Isn't it?"

Adaine took a deep breath, just like Jawbone taught her, held it for five, and was relieved that the exhale didn't stutter. "Who told you you were stupid?"

Addy opened her mouth like she was about to answer before closing it again with a thoughtful frown. "You're changing the subject."

Adaine rolled her eyes. "Yes, alright. My parents were horrible vile excuses for people. This house burnt down and I didn't even care if anyone was inside." She waved her hand vaugly through the air before letting it drop onto her lap. "I don't see how that's relevant though."

"If you're uncomfortable here we can leave," Addy offered. She didn't seem offended so that was something at least. Adaine had been worried her clear hatred for their surroundings would be rude to her temporary host. "There's always... uh... well, this is kind of the 'hang out' spot if I'm being honest. Kristen's place is a little crowded with her brothers, Riz's phyisically kind of small, and Fabian still won't tell me why he doesn't want anyone over at his place even though his parents have invited us multiple times."

"What about..." Adaine almost dared not ask, was trying not to think about the differences from this world and her own, but the question nagged at her and she didn't think it would just leave her alone. "Mordred?"

Addy let out a startled laugh before cutting herself off, her eyes wide. "Mordred Manor? Is... is that where you live?"

Adaine frowned but tried not to let the reaction get to her. It would make sense if her home was run down in this reality, it had been for a long time in hers after all. "Yeah my dad bought it and fixed it up. Uh, my new dad. I'm adopted."

"I know, I'm not stupid," Addy repeated, though there was an almost teasing smile on her face, "your last name is the same as Tracker's. Unless things are crazy different where you're from I kinda assumed her dad adopted you too."

"Does she call Jawbone her dad here?" Adaine ideally wondered.

Addy almost choked on her tea. "J-Jawbone? What do you... are you saying Jawbone adopted you? The werewolf?"