#sing me to the river elizabeth

[whiteshipnightjar]

sometimes you just gotta put on the immaculate cocteau twins album ‘heaven or las vegas’ and just float yk

[asmutwriter]

The Gangsta's Wife (Part 11)

DESCRIPTION: Due to recent events taking place your husband asks you about an important business opportunity

A/N: I have had a bit of writters block over the past couple of months which is why I have had a small break from this story. Although the block is disapearing I may still take a little while for the next part of this story to come out. Only because I want to potentially finish writing the whole thing before releasing the chapters. Having said that - enjoy this part :)

(I'm so sorry it took me over two months to post anything in this storyline)

WORD COUNT: 3546

From Beginning / Previous / Next / Master List  

WARNINGS: heartbreak, mentions of past relationships, talk of death, smoking, swearing, mentions of the war, light touches of fluff, quite a lot of angst although nothing in particular to note

DISCLAIMERS

This is fiction. Please always talk to your partner before doing anything and make sure they are ok with what you are doing beforehand

This story does not follow the timeline of the show

NINE YEARS AGO

It was 6:30am. You stand at the station. Watching the entrance. Few people coming in and out. A couple of trains going past at various times. You're small luggage bag by your feet as you fiddle with the ring on your finger. Every face coming in you get hopeful that its him. The seconds turn to minutes.

The station guard comes over to you. A tall, stocky man. "Miss?". You turn to face him. Acknowledging him before looking back at the station. His eyes drift that way too. "Am I able to help at all?". You shake your head and smile at him.

"I'm meant to meet my fiance here. But he's running late". He nods. Smiling at the young love.

"I'm sure he'll will turn up. Maybe he just lost track of time". He says. A comfort in his voice. The minutes soon turn to an hour. The rush of people picks up. Pushing past as they catch their work trains.

Two hours. The platform is busy. You try and see over the various heads of workers. Trying to catch a glimpse of him. Any sign that he's arrived.

Three hours. A couple of late stragglers catching the trains as you stay standing. Watching. You wipe at the tears threatening to fall. Sniffing. The guard comes back over. He takes out a handkerchief from his pocket. Handing it to you. You look up at him. A soft smile on his lips.

"Thank you". You whisper. He nods. Walking back down the length of platform. You wipe your nose. Hearing the distant church bell ringing out. 10am. You hiccup out a sob. Bending down as you pick up your bag. Going off of the platform.

Finding a river. You look at it. Taking off your engagement ring. Wrapping it into the hanky. Bringing the time up to your lips. A gentle kiss to it as tears fall down your cheeks. Putting your hands out and dropping it. You watch as it falls down into the water.

PRESENT DAY

It had been a couple of weeks since your housewarming party. It was the mid afternoon when you hear the door knock. You were playing with Charlie in the nursery. "Come on sweetie". You pick him up under the armpits. Placing him on your hip "Lets go see who it is". You kiss his temple before heading downstairs. Betty had opened the door. Shutting it as you get down the stairs. She holds a letter in her hand. Turning to face you.

"Mrs Shelby" she closes the small distance. "A letter for you".

"Thank you" you take it from her. She smiles at you and your child before leaving to do the housework of the day. You go to the study room. Knocking onto the heavy door. Sometimes your husband would have meetings in the room so you wanted to make sure it was free. Due to the silence you decided it was empty. Opening the door as you go inside. Picking up a letter opener. Managing to open it whilst still holding Charlie. Putting the sharp item back down. You go to take it out the paper confines. Just as you hear someone call out in a sing song voice. The front door slamming shut.

"Oh dear sister of mine!" You hear Elizabeths voice throughout the house. Chuckling as you place the letter onto the desk top.

"Lets go see your auntie" you say. Jiggling your son on your hip as you leave the study. Closing the door behind you. Forgetting the letter on the desk top. Going downstairs as you meet both your sisters. Liz is swift to take Charlie from your grasp as Mary coos over him. You let out a soft chuckle. Spending the rest of the day with them. Chatting and playing with your son.

They leave after dinner. Letting you put your boy to bed peacefully. Reading to him and kissing him goodnight. You shut the door behind you. The soft click of the door shutting as you creep along the corridor. Going into the dining room to start clearing away dirty plates and cups. Bumping into Betty as she has already started tidying.

"I've told you not to worry yourself with cleaning the table. Its my mess. I should be the one cleaning it". She smiles. Glancing up at you as she lets out a soft laugh. Stacking the various condiments onto her arms.

"Its my job Mrs Shelby. Its what you pay me to do"

"I still feel guilty about it. Here-" you go over to her. Taking the small mountain of cups she has balanced in her grasp. "At least let me help". Following her into the kitchen. Placing the items onto the side as she starts to clean the dishes.

"Who was that letter from?" you furrow your brow at her. Shaking your head slightly. "The letter from this morning. With the fancy wax seal on it". She looks at the washing up as she talks. Occasionally glancing your way.

"Shit. I opened it but forgot to read it". You let out a laugh as she giggles softly. Shaking your head. "Are you ok for me to leave you?" she nods.

"Of course" she smiles. Turning briefly to face you. "Go. I'll be fine". You smile at her. Thanking her before going to the study. Once again giving a gentle knock before entering the room. Going inside as you go over to the desk. Picking up the letter. Taking it up to the bedroom. You place it onto the bedside table. Getting dressed into your cream coloured nightdress. Getting under the blanket. Folding your legs under yourself as you pick the letter back up. Taking the paper out of the envelope. Placing that back onto the side as you open it. Eyes going to the ink written on the parchment.

'Dear Florence Shelby,

Not seen you in almost 10 years and you've gotten married to one of the most popular names in Birmingham. I guess that means a congratulations are in order. I do hope he treats you well. You deserve only the best.

I heard the ordeal you had with my mother a few weeks back. Although she spared me the more vulgar details I feel I can fill in the blanks of what you said to her.

I would like to apologise for her behaviour towards you and your husband. In my apologies I would like to formally invite you up to London for a meal with myself and my wife. Don't worry, my mother wont be there.

I am hoping to right any wrongs that may have happened in the past between us. In doing so I hope that me and your husband will be able to become great partners together.

I do hope to see you soon.

Regards,

Benjamin Finnley'

Your stomach drops. Blood running cold. Thankfully you are already sitting down. Feeling your legs turn to jelly. Shaking your head. You grip the paper tightly. Feeling silent tears come to your eyes. Daring to fall as you look at the words written on the paper. You're unsure of how much time had passed. But you get drawn into the real world as you hear the door to the bedroom open. You draw your eyes away from the letter. Meeting the familiar cold blue of your husbands. He scans over your demeanour. Quickly sensing something is off.

"Whats wrong love?". He comes over to you. Not even taking the time to remove his hat. Noting the paper in your hand. He comes to your side of the bed. Kneeling down by it. Hands going to your arms. You shake your head. Blinking as to stop any tears. Unable to form any sentences. Holding the paper towards him. Hands having scrunched it up from your grip. He takes it. Eyes going to the words. Reading it as his face remains still. Your eyes frantically scan over his features. Trying to read any of his expressions. His eyes scanning over the ink. He takes in a breath through his nose. Scratching under his bottom lip with his thumb.

"I loved him" you speak softly. Managing to voice your problems. "With my entire being I loved him. That pure kind of love. I- I gave him everything a young girl could give to someone... With every ounce of my being, I was completely devoted to him. But I don't think I was anything more then just... a girl". You shake your head. Looking at him. "Now he wants to be a business partner with you and I'm unsure of what to do in this situation". He turns his head to look at you. Placing the paper down onto the bed.

"I am aware of your past relationship with him. As a business woman I ask that you look past any sort of past relationship you had with him. Put those feelings aside to allow me to grow my business". You look downward. Hands falling into your lap. Lightly playing with the wedding band adorning your finger. Pressing your lips together. Listening to his words. "As your husband... I understand if you do not want to see him and if you want to break all ties with him". You nod.

"He is a rich and powerful man... He'd be great for your business" you whisper. A silent pause. Neither of you say a word for a minute. Until his hand goes to yours. Gently resting over your fidgeting digits. You blink at the affection before drawing your eyes to his face.

"I will respect your decision. Regardless of which one you pick". You nod ever so slightly. His eyes soft as they watch yours. Feeling his heat against your cold hands. Your heart skips a beat. A feeling bubbling inside of you that you haven't felt in a long, long time. You swallow deeply. Looking downward as you retract you hand from his. Pushing that feeling deep down inside of you. Folding your arms over your torso. Mentally shaking yourself.

"Have you ever been in love?". You speak in a low voice. Looking downward as a deafening silence starts to fill the room. Your eyes cast back to him as he stands. Going over to the vanity unit in your room as he starts to disrobe. Taking off his jacket, hat, waistcoat, gun holster, so on.

"Its too late to make any decisions now. Why don't you get some rest and think about it in the morning, eh?". You nod slightly. Noticing how he doesn't turn back to you. That wasn't through modesty. You'd been married to him for almost two years. You'd learnt that he was a very confident person. Never shying away, especially not in front of someone as personal as his wife. You also learnt in the years you had spent with him not to pry. No matter how much you desired to. So you brush this behaviour off. Nodding slightly.

Moving the paper onto the side before settling down into bed. Turning the small light off on your side. Feeling the bed dip as he gets in next to you. Before your have time to turn to look at him. Wish him goodnight or ask him about his work day he turns out his lamp. You blink in the darkness. Trying to make out his shape. Biting your bottom lip slightly as you turn onto your other side. Back facing him as you try and let sleep take your mind. Sadly your thoughts don't settle during the night. Causing you to have nightmares when you do finally fall asleep.

You wake up. Very early due to your restless night. It must be early as your husband still rests in the bed next to you. You're never up before him. Quietly swinging your legs from over the bed as you stand and get dressed. You go to Charlies room. Listening outside the door for any sign of movement or noise. Nothing. A small smile coming over your lips. That means you can have a nice quiet breakfast. Heading downstairs. Into the kitchen. Shooing Betty as she tries to serve you your food. Telling her that you want to make it yourself before going into the dining room. Sitting at the fancy table with you variety of assorted items. Eating away to your hearts content.

The door opens. Causing you to look up as you pause in your habit. You husband walks in. Dressed in a smart three piece suit. You scan over his torso. Breaking a bit of bread. "Good morning". You say. He doesn't fully smile, but you can see an amusement coming over his face.

"I wasn't expecting you to be awake".

"I struggled sleeping last night. I know I was awake early though. Neither you or Charles were awake". He lets out a laugh at the statement. Betty walks in.

"Good morning sir. What can I get you to eat?". He shakes his head.

"I am not hungry at this moment. I will have my first meeting then eat after". He turns to face the maid as she nods. Leaving the room. He comes over and sits next to you. Motioning with his hand at your array of food. "Please do continue. Don't stop on my account". You eat some more. Picking up an orange. Pealing it. Handing him a slice. He takes it from you. A small smile on his lips as he watches you eating. You smile contently as you take another bite of your food. He looks downwards as his fingers run across the fragment of fruit in his hand. You merrily stuffing your face as you pay him no mind.

"Greta Jurrosi". He says the name softly. You pause in your eating. A confused look across your brow as you tilt your head. Shaking it slightly. Covering your mouth as you speak.

"I don't understand" He looks at you. Eyes soft yet unreadable. You scan over his face. Placing your hands down as he takes in a breath.

"It was before the war. When I was a much younger man". He half smiles. Looking downwards as he reminisces. "We fell in love". Silence comes over the room as you watch him.

"What happened?". Your voice no more then a whisper.

"She died of consumption. She was only 19".

"Oh Tommy I-". He shakes his head. Lifting his hand slightly in an effort to quiet you.

"I have fond memories of her. Kept away in my mind. Ones that remind me of what its like to feel. To appreciate the things in this world. Yes I am sad about her death. But I wouldn't be the man I am today if I'd never experienced that". You watch him. Hesitate slightly. Putting your hand out as you rest it gently over his. Squeezing it reassuringly.

"I am so sorry". He looks at your hand covering his. His soft features looking up at you. Eyes kind as they meet your gaze. You bring your bottom lip between your teeth. Tilting your head slightly as you take in a breath. "I've been thinking" you pause a moment. Unsure to gather your thoughts or for dramatic effect. "I think you should become a partner of Mr Finnley. He would be great for the growth of your business and it would be stupid to not take this opportunity due to events that happened a decade ago". He watches you. A soft nod.

"I want you to come to the family meeting this morning". You shake your head. Moving your hand from his as you dart your eyes away. Tilting your head down.

"I can't-"

"You have insight on Mr Finnley that I don't have. You will be able to give a clear cut analysis of what a future would be like with him as a partner". He places a hand onto your cheek. Gently forcing you to look at him. "What do you think then ey?". Your eyes go over his features. Sharp eyes. Defined cheek bones. Smooth skin. Small scar on his cheek. You take in a breath. Nodding. A light smile comes over his lips. "Good girl". He moves his hand away. Standing up. Your eyes follow him. Watching as he takes out a pocket watch. "I will inform Betty that she will need to get Charlie up this morning if he wakes before the meeting is finished. Meeting starts at 8:30 in the study room. Giving you a little over half an hour". He places the watch back into his pocket. Turning as he walks out the door.

Gently knocking onto the door of his study. "Come in" the voice of your husband speaks. You go inside. Your husband sat on the other side of his desk. His two brothers also in the room. As well as his aunt. Shutting the door behind you as you go and lean against the wall. Folding your arms over your torso as you rest on one side.

"The meeting started 5 minutes ago". Polly says. Glaring at you. Seeing your husband take out and light a cigarette. Looking at her as you let her chastise you. "Apparently we couldn't start it without you. Goodness knows why"

"Because I need insight on a future business partner" Tommy says. You all look at him. He removes the smoke from his lips. Resting his palm against the desk. "Mr Benjamin Finnley".

"That name sounds familiar". John says. Shuffling in his seat as he tries to think of the name.

"Mrs Dickinson - his recently remmaried mother came to our housewarming party. Causing quite a commotion that night. Due to the recent affair that this had caused he has contacted Florence. Wanting to apologise and make amends for her behaviour. I thought that the close family should know of this business as it has a lot of good potential for our futures". He pauses. Taking a puff of his smoke before motioning towards you. "Because of his past involving Flo I wanted her opinion on him. As a person and as a potential business partner. She has the best insight on who he is". Meeting those blue eyes he speaks in a kind yet demanding tone. "Care to enlighten us".

"What could she possibly know?". Polly scoffs. Shaking her head. You bring your hand up. Scratching at the back off your neck. Avoiding eye contact with all of them as you cast your eyes downwards. Both arms coming forward as you fiddle with your wedding band. Hands resting into your stomach as you start speaking.

"Mr Finnley owns a large business up in London. He inherited the company when he turned 18 - 4 years after his father death. After this he started making new business. He now owns several business dealing in tobacco, alcohol, training horses, and a few other things. He owns a flower shop that his sister works in". Looking upward. Seeing an amused and proud face adorning your husbands features as your various in laws look at you in bewilderment. "He is the youngest of three. Having one sister and one brother. Sadly his eldest brother died during the war. Being the only male left he inherited his fathers fortune". You pause. Once again folding your arms over your torso.

"He would be a very good partner to have in sense of wealth and power. He has enough money to buy the King. Although I do not know him from a professional standard. I do know he is- he puts his business first". You take in a breath. Nodding slightly. "You would be wise to become a business partner of his. I think it would be a great career choice". Silence comes over the room. Tommy nods. Motioning at you.

"How well did you know him?". Arthur speaks. Looking at you. "Did you ever do business with him or were you two friends?". You move your eyes down as you think through your words carefully. Bringing them back up as you look at him.

"He was my fiance". Polly laughs. Shaking her head.

"Tommy you aren't serious about this?" she speaks to her nephew. "Is it wise doing business with him?" Pol says. Almost bursting with the idea. "Given your wife's past relation with the man"

"The relationship that me and Mr Finnley had ended a decade ago. I have put all past feelings for him to the side as I am aware of the potential good that this business opportunity could have for this family". She scoffs at the notion. Looking away from you as your husband speaks.

"Does anyone else have anything to add?". Silence fills the room. Causing him to nod. Stubbing out his cigarette in the small glass dish resting on his desk. Standing as he speaks. "Good. Now I have business to attend to elsewhere. Florence write up a letter to send back to Mr Finnley. I trust your judgment and writing capability to write a pleasant letter back telling him that we will be up in London in a week today to see him". You nod. His brothers and aunt following him in suit as they leave the room. Leaving you leaning against the wall.

Previous / Next

TAGS

@whorecrux-of-slytherin @kkrenae @ireallydontcareanymorebrooo @frozenhuntress67 @sagemastah

[blackbird5154]

A new fic translated!

Many thanks for @osiris-iii-bc and @mazeofspades who, despite her busy schedule, took the time to help me with it!

@cityofmeliora you might be interested

Characters: Papa Emeritus III, OC, Original Child Character

Summary: What if we imagine that Terzo was not only a Papa, but also a papa...?

Her full name was Annabel Lee. To everyone, she was just Anna, but her dad called her Tinkerbell.

When asked why he gave his daughter the name of a dead girl from a poem by Edgar Allan Poe, he would usually reply, “I wanted to name her Lenore, you know, like…” and then, straightening up and folding his hand in a pinch, he would begin to recite, ”'Ah, broken is the golden bowl, the spirit flown forever! Let the bell toll! A saintly soul glides down the Stygian river!’ My wife wanted to name her Anna, after the suffragette Anna Elizabeth Dickinson,” he changed his tone quickly, "So it was some sort of a compromise.”

When Anna asked what a compromise was, he said it’s when people gave up their privileges to become closer. And then, as if having remembered that she was a child, he squatted down to be at eye level with her and added, “You see, Tinkerbell, sometimes daddy wants to have a barbecue and mommy wants to go to In-N-Out. And that's when we make a deal to get hot dogs.”

As dad's departure approached, he began to smell different. On his shelf in the closet, in the company of a shaving cream, some gum paste, and a box of lenses, stood a bottle of perfume, the one that was brought out whenever talk of a new tour began. A couple of times, in his absence, Anna spritzed the perfume on her hand; that was how she became convinced that it was the intricate glass bottle that was responsible for dad's special scent. Dad was trying to be someone else for a while, so he surrounded himself with a cloud of fragrant, fresh, tart-grassy scent.

There was no secret to his work. Sometimes mom and she even attended his concerts. On those days dad would ask her to put a lens on her white eye, so it matched the color of her left, green-brown one. “It is simply the right thing to do,” he would say. The first time he brought her her personal box of lenses, she was scared. They practiced applying it for a long time, and in the process he would distract her with various stories, make a show of placing the lens in his eye as if to demonstrate how it’s done while deliberately picking the  wrong eye, and they would laugh together about how much of a dummy he was. And so, with the help of silly jokes and play, she finally learned to put the colored circle on her iris.

There was one more rule: she could not talk to the masked people or to the short, gray-haired woman who often accompanied dad at concerts.

Mom would always worry before these trips. Squatting down in front of Anna and combing her hair with a soft, springy rubber brush, she would remind her not to attract attention. "Of course, I understand you want to boast to the other kids and people at the concert that it's your daddy up there on stage,” she would say. “But you have to pretend you're just a regular girl, just like the other kids who came to hear him sing. Under no circumstances could it occur to anyone that you are his daughter.” If dad did everything in a joking manner, mom was strict in moments like these, and Anna could feel the tension in her voice, could see the worry in her eyes. She didn't know why there was a need for such secrecy, but she suspected that the answer would be, ‘It is simply the right thing to do’.

The last day before he would leave was always a long one. Dad would push her on the old wooden swing he had made when she was still a baby. The whole world soared in a dizzying flight. Rising and falling! Up and down! Of course, she would show him how she could jump off the swing while in motion. His daughter was the bravest. That's what he would always tell mom when she was in doubt and then remind her of real examples, as if flipping through a photo album. Here's Anna growling at the dog. And here's the time she kicked the neighbor boy’s ass when he tried to take the klaxon off her bike (we don't say ‘kicked ass’, we say ‘gave him a black eye’, because we don't use bad words, tut-tut, daddy, wash your mouth out with soap!).

Soon after, they would be flipping through the comic book version of ‘The Wind in the Willows’ for the umpteenth time, all together, while seated on a bench on the veranda. Mom would remark that Mole looked like some politician from TV, and both parents would laugh at something of their own. Anna had read the original book a long time ago. “Every child should have one”, dad said, and bought her first the book, followed by a watercolor comic book based on it. Then, as if he couldn't stop himself, he gave her the coloring book, and she spent long evenings in his absence filling in the empty outlines with pencils - the characters in their nifty English costumes, the river, the flowers, the houses.

The last day before he would leave was always a long one. There was paprikás for lunch and asparagus with mushrooms for dinner. They brought out the table and chairs to the lawn under the trees for the occasion and sat down, enjoying the fact that today they could still eat together. In the middle of the table was a large bouquet of flowers. The wind rustled in the crowns of the ash trees, ruffled the edges of the tablecloth and tried to blow the napkins off the table. Cutlery was placed on them so they wouldn't fly away. “The napkins think they’ll be eaten too,” dad joked, “So they try to escape.”

In the evening, mom and dad drank wine while Anna watched “Shaun the Sheep.” She sat on her favorite spot, on the floor in front of the screen with a pillow under her, and her parents were on the couch behind her, talking quietly as usual. There was a bottle of wine on the coffee table in front of them. Anna wasn't invited to join, but it didn't offend her at all. There are things meant for kids, and there are things meant for adults. The wine was for grown-ups. The cartoon was for her. When the episode ended, she turned around. Mom was sitting with slightly flushed cheeks, glass in hand, head resting on dad's shoulder. Her gaze was sad for some reason, frozen in thoughtful contemplation. That's how people usually look at a fire. Dad, with his arms around her, was lightly stroking her shoulder, covered with a light home sweater. He turned his head to her and whispered something in her ear. She nodded.

At the end of the day, when mom had already put her to bed and left the nightlight on, Anna heard her parents in the room downstairs talking in loud voices. ('fighting', it's called 'fighting').

"Do you realize how rarely we see you now?" mom said. "If you only knew how much Anna misses you." 

"Well, this way she doesn't get tired of me," dad answered softly, but Anna could hear every word through the thin ceiling.

"Three months is a long time for a child. It's a lifetime."

"But she's happy when I come back. And... I try to create good memories for her when I'm here."

"She's got school coming up."

"You're doing a great job."

Long pause.

"They're not your family. All these people you're reaching out to, they're nothing to you. You don't even know them. They have families of their own. And we don't have a second you, you know,” Anna caught a sarcastic bitterness in her mother's words.

"You don't understand. It's a calling. A mission!"

"A year ago you didn't have that mission. You had a normal job and we saw you every night. And now you're consumed by it. It’s your second life... where we don't belong."

"You do realize,” dad's voice became hard and irritated, ”Why I have to differentiate between you and the Church."

‘It is simply the right thing to do,’ Anna heard in her head.

"It's not about that. It's not about safety. It's just that you're all there. Even when you're here..."

"No, it's not true!"

"Even when you're here, you're slipping away. And you can't make it up to me with all those flowers! It's not even close to a compromise!"

Dad was silent in response, and Anna clenched the corner of the blanket between her fingers. Then, mom's voice came, much quieter.

"You know I'm not yelling because I hate you. It's because I love you."

"Of course. I know. I know..."

It was quiet downstairs for a long time, the only sound being that of tree branches scraping the wall of Anna's room. After a while, she heard the sound of footsteps coming up the stairs. The door was ajar, and dad came in quietly.

"Are you awake, Tinkerbell?" he ran his hand over the touch-sensitive nightlight making it a little brighter, and warm yellow light lit up his face.

"Three months?" Anna pulled the blanket up over herself. 

“Yep. In a blink of an eye,” dad sat down on her bed, and she felt the mattress sag slightly, moving out from under her knees. He gently tucked the blanket around her body, wrapping her up in a cozy cocoon. When he's gone, there won't be anyone to do this, she thought.

"Want me to read to you?"

Anna nodded silently. A smile tugged at the corner of dad's mouth. 

"Okay. Hmm... Well...” he clicked his tongue, as if giving himself the go-ahead to begin. “'It was many and many a year ago, in a kingdom by the sea...'”

"No, not that." 

"Which one? Of the raven?"

"No..." Anna licked her lips quietly. "About the city."

"About the city..." dad looked up, and his face, illuminated by the warm light, became dreamy for a second. "Okay..." and he began. "Far, far away, under the godless skies, stands the city of Meliora..."

He spoke of a vast metropolis with gilded spires and buildings so tall that sunlight never reached their footing. About the Mysterious Spectre and his beautiful beloved, about the evil Madam Satan of the dark cult, about the magical Demi-Surge with his lightning bolts. Anna listened, and gradually her eyelids grew heavier and heavier, and the meaning of the words began to slip away. Finally, sleep crept into her consciousness, plunging her into a soft darkness where there was only the warmth of the bed and her father's voice. When she was already in a pre-sleep slumber, the voice stopped; she felt his lips touch her forehead before the mattress creaked, releasing his weight.

[firstwcman]

𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐒 𝐓𝐎 𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐌𝐘 𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐄 . whether it be melodies that give you inspiration for your muse or songs that get you into the writing mood — pick ten songs that give you the urge, the drive or the creativity to write for your muse!

⛧ ribs ; the crane wives. || marrow made a wife of eve, but no one gave up a rib for me and mine. my heart did expose to the elements, calloused and untouched by a man's design. // brick and mortar between my bones, built a kingdom fierce and fortified. // oh my savage empire, how lucky we are, how lucky we are. never to be moved by the words of a liar. // the dark doesn't frighten me, I chose to close my eyes, it is mine, it is mine. the night doesn't frighten me, I chose to let it thrive, it is mine, it is mine.

⛧ good riddance ; cover by annapantsu. || farewell to the earthly remains, no burdens, no further debts to be paid. // goodbye to all the plans that we made, no contracts, I'm free to do as I may. // good riddance to all the thieves, to all the fools that stifled me! they've come and gone and passed me by, good riddance to all!

⛧ dance in the dark ; lady gaga. || baby loves to dance in the dark, 'cause when he's looking she falls apart.

⛧ dead boy's poem ; nightwish. || sing what you can't say, forget what you can't play, hasten to drown into beautiful eyes. // wrote for the eclipse, wrote for the virgin, died for the beauty - the one in the garden. created a kingdom, reached for the wisdom, failed in becoming a god. // a lonely soul, an ocean soul.

⛧ which witch? ; florence + the machine. || and it's my whole heart weighed and measure inside, and it's an old scar trying to bleach it out, and it's my whole heart, deemed and delivered a crime. i'm on trial, waiting 'til the beat comes out. // who's a heretic now? am I making sense? how can you make it stick? waiting 'til the beat comes out. who's a heretic, child? can you make it stick, now? and I'm on trial waiting 'til the beat comes out. // I'm not beat up by this yet, you can't tell me to regret. been in the dark since the day we met. fire, help me to forget.

⛧ howl ; florence + the machine. || if you could only see the beast you've made of me. I held it in but now it seems you've set it running free. screaming in dark, I howl when we're apart. drag my teeth across your chest to taste your beating heart. // my blood is singing with your voice, I want to pour it out. // the fabric of your flesh pure as a wedding dress. until I wrap myself inside your arms I cannot rest. // the saints can't help me now, the ropes have been unbound, I hunt for you with bloodied feet across the hallowed ground and howl.

⛧ lost carol ; mary elizabeth mcglynn. || 🎶

⛧ mary magdalene ; fka twigs. || a woman's work, a woman's prerogative, a woman's time to embrace she must put herself first. // a woman's touch, a sacred geometry, I know where you start, where you end, how to please, how to curse. // a woman's hands, so dark and provocative, a nurturing breath that could stroke you // divine confidence. a woman's war, unoccupied history // I'm fever for the fire, true as mary magdalene, creature of desire, come just a little bit closer to me - step just a little bit closer to me.

⛧ crystal ; stevie nicks. || do you always trust your first initial feeling? special knowledge holds truth bears believing. i turned around and the water was closing all around like a glove, like the love that had finally found me. // drove me through the mountain, through the crystal like a clear water fountain, drove me like a magnet to the sea.

⛧ don't pray for me ; within temptation. || I'm not lost in the dark, I'm not blind to what I see. I know the river is wide and the water is deep. I feel the cold, my heart skips a beat. // I don't need your absolution, so don't hold that sword over me. // for my confessions I don't need a church, I don't need salt to know where it hurts. // oh I needed a revolution, I never had war in mind. // and now the river's run dry and the fall is deep, the truth is dark and makes us bleed. // in hell is where I stand, it's where I find my inner strength. // don't pray for me.

tagged by: snatched it.

tagging: you. do it if you got the time.

[hpowellsmith]

Books of 2023

I was pleased to read lots of books this year! I greatly enjoyed the majority of these - the only one I wouldn't really recommend was Rated M for Mature - and the favourites are bolded. There were quite a lot of others that I didn't end up finishing, which were mostly memoirs of people who I felt interested in but didn't find their writing very compelling, and some second-world fantasy novels that didn't grab me. Most of this year's reading was historical, contemporary, memoirs, or horror: it was only towards the end of the year that I got some fantasy in there, which is funny as I've always thought of myself as a big fantasy fan - if anyone has any queer non-YA fantasy recommendations, I'd love to have them. The most recent new-to-me fantasy I loved was The Sacred Dark series by May Peterson, if that helps!

I was really happy to read Alison Rumfitt, Torrey Peters, Maya Deane, Lee Mandelo, EE Ottoman, and Brandon Taylor for the first time in particular, and look forward to reading more of them in the future; Ducks by Kate Beaton hit hard and stuck with me; Passion and Play is a massively illuminating read for anyone interested in writing intimate scenes in games and made me feel a ton more confident and intentional in doing so; I loved returning to and crying over old favourites Elizabeth Wein and Terry Pratchett after a very long time.

Detransition, Baby - Torrey Peters

A Perfect Spy - John le Carre

Felix Ever After - Kacen Callender

Lark and Kasim Start a Revolution - Kacen Callender

Youngman - Lou Sullivan

The Ministry of Unladylike Activity - Robin Stevens

Winterkeep - Kristin Cashore

Rated M for Mature: Sex and Sexuality in Video Games - Matthew Wysocki (ed.), Evan W. Lauteria (ed.)

Passion and Play: A Guide to Designing Sexual Content in Games - Michelle Clough

How Games Move Us: Emotions by Design - Katherine Isbister

Tell Me I'm Worthless - Alison Rumfitt

The Companion - EE Ottoman

The Pearl Thief - Elizabeth Wein

Real Life - Brandon Taylor

The Autistic Trans Guide to Life - Yenn Purkis, Wenn Lawson

The Enigma Game - Elizabeth Wein

Filthy Animals - Brandon Taylor

Gender Queer - Maia Kobabe

Ten Steps to Nanette - Hannah Gadsby

Terry Pratchett: A Life With Footnotes - Rob Wilkins

Ducks: Two Years in the Oil Sands - Kate Beaton

The Late Americans - Brandon Taylor

Wrath Goddess Sing - Maya Deane

Vivi Conway and the Sword of Legend - Lizzie Huxley-Jones

Summer Sons - Lee Mandelo

Slow River - Nicola Griffith (reread)

The Others of Edenwell - Verity Hollowell

Pageboy - Elliot Page

Brainwyrms - Alison Rumfitt

Uncomfortable Labels - Laura Kate Dale

The Easternmost House - Juliet Blaxland

The Two Doctors Górski - Isaac Fellman

Dark Matter: A Ghost Story - Michelle Paver

Charmed Life - Diana Wynne Jones (reread)

A Trans Man Walks Into A Gay Bar - Harry Nicholas

Going Postal - Terry Pratchett

Monstrous Regiment - Terry Pratchett (reread)

In Strictest Confidence - Craig Revel Horwood

[ofuntamedhearts]

𝑪𝑯𝑨𝑹𝑨𝑪𝑻𝑬𝑹 𝑺𝑯𝑬𝑬𝑻

𝐛𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐬 !

FULL NAME.  Caroline Elizabeth Forbes

NICKNAME.  Care, CareBear, Vampire Barbie/Judgy (Damon), Goldilocks/Gorgeous (Enzo), Love (Klaus),

GENDER.  Cis Female  

HEIGHT.  5′8″ 

AGE.  18/43  (Born on October 12th)  

ZODIAC.   Libra sun (aesthetic oriented, people pleaser, strong moral compass), Aries moon (swift, enthusiastic, and impulsive), Scorpio rising (magnetic, passionate, loyal, obsessive)

SPOKEN LANGUAGES.   English, French, Italian 

𝐩𝐡𝐲𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐬 !

HAIR COLOR.  Blonde (she had a red hair phase freshman year of high school. It was a dark time.)

EYE COLOR.  Blue

SKIN TONE. Fair-skinned

BODY TYPE.   Slim, slender  

VOICE.  Mezzo-Soprano

DOMINANT HAND.  Right

SCARS.  None, thanks to that handy vampire healing ability. The fact that she has no physical scars often messes with her head, as she thinks people do not understand that she still has trauma from what she’s been through even though there is no longer physical evidence of it. 

TATTOOS.  None, and with no plans to get any. She subscribes to the “you don’t put a bumper sticker on a Bentley” mentality.   

PIERCINGS.   Two holes in each earlobe, cartilage piercing on her left ear. She got a belly button piercing during the ill-fated red hair era, but Liz found out and made her let the hole close up.

BIRTHMARKS.   None

MOST NOTICEABLE FEATURE(S).   Eyes, hair, smile

𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐝 !

HOMETOWN.   Mystic Falls, Virgina

SIBLINGS.   None  

PARENTS.  Bill and Elizabeth Forbes 

𝐚𝐝𝐮𝐥𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞 !

OCCUPATION.  Headmistress 

CURRENT RESIDENCE.  Mystic Falls, Virginia  

CLOSE FRIENDS.  She is having a hard time with knowing who is friends with her anymore. \

RELATIONSHIP STATUS.  Widowed by Stefan Salvatore on March 8th, 2018. Her most intimate relationship is absolutely with Jeremy Gilbert. He is her most trusted friend and confidant, occasional sexual partner.

FINANCIAL STATUS.  Stable.

DRIVER’S LICENSE.  Yes! She has her motorcycle license too. (Stefan’s influence, for sure)

𝐬𝐞𝐱 & 𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 !

SEXUAL ORIENTATION.  Demisexual

PREFERRED EMOTIONAL ROLE.  Prefers to be the caretaker most of the time, constantly trying to think up meaningful ways to make sure that the people around her know how appreciated they are.

PREFERRED SEXUAL ROLE.  Definitely a switch.

RELATIONSHIP TENDENCIES.  Once she decides she’s in, she’s in for the long haul, come what may. Can be clingy and jealous. Very thoughtful, just wants to make life for her partner as idyllic as possible. Remembers every single milestone (first kiss, first date, anniversaries) but does not expect her partners to do the same.  Consistently uses sex as a weapon or distraction. 

LIBIDO. Incredibly high, probably something to do with forever being stuck with teenage hormones. 

TURN ON’S. Protectiveness, thoughtfulness, having secrets with her partner,  eye contact, neck kisses, consensual roughness. Super big fan of angry/make up sex. Also very into building tension with secret glances/touches in public.

TURN OFF’S. Ignoring her, interrupting her, pessimism, sexism, messiness, lack of commitment/affection.  

LOVE LANGUAGE.  Her preferred love languages to receive are physical touch, words of affirmation and quality time. Her preferred love languages to give are acts of service and physical touch.

𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐞𝐨𝐮𝐬 !

CHARACTER’S THEME SONGS.    Mastermind by Taylor Swift. Hurricane by Halsey. Sweet Caroline by Neil Diamond. Barbie Girl by Aqua. Problem by Natalia Kills. Tennis Court by Lorde. Where Does The Good Go? by Tegan and Sara. Bottom of the River by Delta Rae. If We Cannot See by Devics. The Future Freaks Me Out by Motion City Soundtrack.

HOBBIES TO PASS TIME.  Reorganizing the closet of every person she lives with, shopping, planning events, learning to bake, sewing, dancing, singing, going to the theatre 

MENTAL ILLNESSES.  Obsessive compulsive disorder, anxiety, PTSD 

PHYSICAL ILLNESSES.  None (shout out to vampirism) 

SELF CONFIDENCE LEVEL.  Confident about her abilities (including organization, planning, physical fighting, debate, gift giving). Confident in her sexual skills. Confident in her appearance. Not confident in her ability to have people continue to care for her; constantly thinks that she will outlive her usefulness and be forgotten. Not confident in being chosen first or being considered important.

[april-is]

April 17, 2023: Mammogram Call Back with Ultra Sound, Ellen Bass

Mammogram Call Back with Ultra Sound Ellen Bass

So this is what I’m here for, to see inside the mute weight of my right breast, heavy handful of treasure I longed for as a girl when I cried behind the curtain in the Guerlaine sisters’ corset shop. Those tender spinsters could hardly bear my tears, as they adjusted the straps on a padded lace bra. I had to wait another year before my breasts swelled like wind-filled sails and many were the explorers carried away, searching for perfumes and spices, the nerve-laden nipples singing through the wires. But never has there been a joy like this as I lay in the pale green cool of radiology. The lineage of death has swerved around me. More happy love! more happy, happy love! As the wand of the ultrasound glides over my flesh, revealed is a river of light, a bright undulant tangle of lobules and milk ducts, ligaments and tissue, harmless and radiant against the black fat. I could be looking up at the night sky, this wispy band of brilliance, a shining spur of the milky way galaxy, and I, in my infinitesimal life, will, at least for tonight, keep these lovely atoms before I must return them to the stars.

--

Also:  » Question, May Swenson » from Seven Skins, Adrienne Rich » Oh, Robert Creeley » After the First Child, the Second, Mary Austin Speaker

Today in: 

2022: Catastrophe Is Next to Godliness, Franny Choi 2021: Weather, Claudia Rankine 2020: The Understudy, Bridget Lowe 2019: Against Dying, Kaveh Akbar 2018: Close Out Sale, Cristin O’Keefe Aptowicz 2017: Things That Have Changed Since You Died, Laura Kasischke 2016: Percy, Waiting for Ricky, Mary Oliver 2015: My Heart, Kim Addonizio 2014: My Skeleton, Jane Hirshfield 2013: Catch a Body, Oliver Bendorf 2012: No, Mark Doty 2011: from Narrative: Ali, Elizabeth Alexander 2010: Baseball Canto, Lawrence Ferlinghetti 2009: Nothing but winter in my cup, Alice George 2008: Poppies in October, Sylvia Plath 2007: I Imagine The Gods, Jack Gilbert 2006: An Offer Received In This Morning’s Mail, Amy Gerstler 2005: The Last Poem In The World, Hayden Carruth

[rustycottoncandy]

Drawing ideas for when Future Me finds herself staring at a blank canvas:

- Draw various doodles of Avery in a dress with rose patterns. She'd totally take pictures of herself if she were in an outfit that she liked, so draw what they would look like.

- Does Cocoa have a clue of where his name comes from yet? No? Oh, but he'd make up theories, you know him. Draw Cocoa explaining where he thinks his name comes from and perhaps trying to ask Henry and Ethan about it. They wouldn't understand him because he's a cat, so how would he feel about that? Draw a short comic about Cocoa theorizing on why humans don't understand him and maybe put it into Tales of a Talkative Housecat if you feel it's good enough.

- Quit forgetting about your OCs, they deserve some love. Remember Amy and Emerald? Draw them spending time together. Didn't you say that Emerald liked to sleep inside Avery's hair? Draw that. Does Amy have any toys that she's made for Emerald? Draw them.

- Let's re-visit Henry and Ethan, shall we? We know they like to go on walks together, so draw them doing so. Draw them on a date. Draw them having coffee together. Draw them cooking something together. Remember how you decided that Ethan was able to play the guitar and Henry could sing? Draw them making music together. Draw them napping together, or both trying to watch a movie and one of them falling asleep. Just draw them, they deserve some love.

- Mel deserves to be drawn more often, she's a cutie pie. Draw her spending time with Honey or Raydel. What about the three of them going on an adventure? Draw the chaotic trio. Draw Honey picking on Raydel. Draw Raydel showing Mel the rivers of Sunstream. Draw them discussing the history of each of their kingdoms and what they want to do with them when they grow up. Draw them talking about future plans and imagining a better world. Draw them picking small flowers up. Draw them wandering around Dracone's giant flower forest. Draw them making magic together.

- Ephil and Alither also exist, can't forget about them. Draw them spending time with each other, going on adventures, training. Draw them spending time with Mel, reading her bedtime stories, seeing her fingerpaint, comforting her after a nightmare. Draw them being supportive towards each other. We know Ephil's pretty stressed most of the time, so have him talk to Alither about it. Make a little comic. Have them sit down and talk about their troubles in seek of advice, then try to help the other one.

- We've drawn Melody and Jackie together, but have we drawn Richard and Jackie together? No? Well, now's your time to. Draw them hanging out. Draw them going to the park, talking via a face-time call or having a nice chat at a café. Didn't they work together to make a poem with the sole purpose of annoying Melody? Draw the scene. Draw them composing that poem.

- Crossover time! What if Mel and Avery spent a day together? I'll let you figure out what to draw for this one. Squeeze your brains a bit.

- Pet time! Moss pissing Ethan's father off. Draw Jennifer comforting kid Henry after a bad day at school. Draw Melody bathing Rose and putting little ribbons on her fur afterwards. Draw Autumn protecting Saturn from Avery or feeding her fish. Draw the Maine Coon army, parents included.

- Sibling time! Draw Nicholas and Melody together, Aiden and Ethan/Aiden and Alba/Ethan and Alba/all three together, Autumn and Avery, the entirety of Cocoa's forest family (because YES, he's got siblings), Jan and Jenelia, Samuel and Sydney... You get it, just draw siblings.

- Mother/child time! Draw Dahlia and Melanie. Draw Grace and Ethan/Aiden/Alba (or all three). Draw Elizabeth and Henry (and make it angsty). Draw Sianne and Avery/Autumn (or all two). Draw Raydel and her mother — design her, actually. Draw Sadie and Sam. Draw Evan and Caleb.

You got this!! Fill that canvas!

[pearlsoflongago]

Myths in the Morning

Tales of Long Ago

Apollo and Daphne by Francesco Albani

Daphne

Why do you follow me?— Any moment I can be Nothing but a laurel-tree.

Any moment of the chase I can leave you in my place A pink bough for your embrace.

Yet if over hill and hollow, Still it is your will to follow, I am off;—to heel, Apollo!

—Edna St. Vincent Millay

Pan by Giovanni Antonio Pellegrini

A Musical Instrument

What was he doing, the great god Pan, Down in the reeds by the river? Spreading ruin and scattering ban, Splashing and paddling with hoofs of a goat, And breaking the golden lilies afloat With the dragon-fly on the river.

He tore out a reed, the great god Pan, From the deep cool bed of the river: The limpid water turbidly ran, And the broken lilies a-dying lay, And the dragon-fly had fled away, Ere he brought it out of the river.

High on the shore sat the great god Pan While turbidly flowed the river; And hacked and hewed as a great god can, With his hard bleak steel at the patient reed, Till there was not a sign of the leaf indeed To prove it fresh from the river.

He cut it short, did the great god Pan, (How tall it stood in the river!) Then drew the pith, like the heart of a man, Steadily from the outside ring, And notched the poor dry empty thing In holes, as he sat by the river.

‘This is the way,’ laughed the great god Pan (Laughed while he sat by the river), 'The only way, since gods began To make sweet music, they could succeed.’ Then, dropping his mouth to a hole in the reed, He blew in power by the river.

Sweet, sweet, sweet, O Pan! Piercing sweet by the river! Blinding sweet, O great god Pan! The sun on the hill forgot to die, And the lilies revived, and the dragon-fly Came back to dream on the river. Yet half a beast is the great god Pan, To laugh as he sits by the river, Making a poet out of a man: The true gods sigh for the cost and pain,— For the reed which grows nevermore again As a reed with the reeds in the river.

—Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Orpheus Leading Eurydice from the Underworld by Jean-Baptiste Camille Corot

Orpheus With His Lute

Orpheus with his lute made trees, And the mountain tops that freeze, Bow themselves when he did sing: To his music plants and flowers Ever sprung; as sun and showers There had made a lasting spring. Every thing that heard him play, Even the billows of the sea, Hung their heads, and then lay by. In sweet music is such art, Killing care and grief of heart Fall asleep, or hearing, die.

—William Shakespeare from Henry VIII

Le Soir: La Danse des Nymphes/Evening: the Dance of the Nymphs by J-B Camille Corot

[squishmallow36]

It's all I wish to hear tonight, and you're all I wish to be, and this is how we all fall - Chapter five

Summary: The entire spectrum of human emotions. Feel free to complain if you do not experience an emotion while reading this. Also. This is the last chapter so it's a great time to binge read all of them.

Word count: 3091

Tw: major character death, Alvar's associated illness, minor canonical character death, alcohol mention, drugs mention, swearing

Taglist (lmk if you want to be added/removed!): @stellar-lune @faggot-friday @kamikothe1and0lny @nyxpixels @florida-preposterously @poppinspop @uni-seahorse-572 @solreefs @did-i-say-you-could-get-up @rusted-phone-calls @when-wax-wings-melt @good-old-fashioned-lover-boy7 @dexter-dizzknees @abubble125 @hi-imgrapes @callum-hunt-is-bisexual @xanadaus @callas-pancake-tree @hi-my-name-is-awesome @katniss-elizabeth-chase @arson-anarchy-death @dizzeners @thefoxysnake @olivedumdum

Bonus Garvar tags because you haven't told me to stop: @tw-5 @camelspit

On Ao3 or below the cut!

Previous chapter in case you missed it :)

    Garwin spends every spare minute he can searching, searching, searching for the intersection of five rivers. And he has a lot of spare minutes. 

   Alvar takes a lot of naps. 

    The hope of finding it dwindles as time goes on and Alvar keeps declining. It gets to the point that sometimes Garwin is afraid to leave him for a moment to track down a new lead. 

    Soon, Alvar is unable to leave Candleshade, then his bed. His crackling breathing is sometimes the only difference between sleeping and worse--but thinking about that outcome doesn’t do anything to help the situation.     

    Ruy knocks on the doorframe to one of the many studies in Candleshade, entering without permission and sinking into a plush chair across from Garwin. 

     Garwin tries to smile at him. It probably doesn’t work. 

    Ruy’s eyes are rimmed with red, which does pair nicely with the chair. He smiles just as painfully back at Garwin. 

    “Doesn’t his highness need a chaperone?”

    “I needed to talk to you.” Ruy pauses, Adam's apple bobbing as he swallows. “I know you’re determined to find your five rivers, but, Garwin, it’s been weeks. If you were going to find it, you would have by now. I don’t want you losing your mind over this.”

    Garwin puts his book down and smooshes himself into the chair next to Ruy, wrapping an arm around him and burying his face in Ruy’s hair. 

    Hot tears prickle at the back of Garwin’s eyes. The futility of all of this has been going around in his head for a while and Ruy just put it perfectly into words. “I know. But what else can I do? I don’t want to just watch him waste away if there’s a way I can make it stop.”

    “I don’t know.” Ruy takes his free hand and ruffles Garwin’s hair. 

    “I have one final theory. It’s absolutely batshit but if I don’t try it, then I’m gonna blame myself forever.”

    “This better not turn into a cycle of ‘just one more thing’ and before you know it, it’s been a week and a half.”  

    “It won’t. I promise. I’m out of leads to possible leads after this.” Garwin pauses. “If I’m not back before bedtime for whatever reason, please continue the Chronicles of Timothman. If you don’t, I’ll never hear the end of it.”

    Well, there will be a definite end if--nope. Deny the truth and it doesn’t exist.     

    Ruy nods solemnly. “Hail me if you need anything. I’ll be here until then. And by here I mean this chair specifically. I live here now.”

    “It is a nice chair. Or maybe you’re a nice chair. Either way, I should get going before it gets dark because I’m an old man now and can’t be outside the house after sunset.”

    “Congratulations. Antivampires will now have to be added to the lore of Timmothman.”

   Garwin smiles amusedly. “That’ll be fun.” He kisses the top of Ruy’s head before he stands up, joints singing the song of his people for reasons unknown. It’s certainly not because they hurt, well at least more than the human body simply falling apart because it’s an evolutionary dumpster fire. 

    He ruffles Ruy’s hair before he heads down to find a starlight bottler device thingy. There has to be one somewhere around here, and sure enough, there’s one on the twenty-third floor. 

   Garwin drags it to a window because getting it to the elevator and outside would be more work and starts looking at the night sky for the unmapped stars. 

    ‘Unmapped’ is a tad bit of a misnomer when they’re in the human Hyperion catalog. 

    With the other hand, he holds a star app up to the sky, lining up the shot. It might not be dark out, but the starlight bottler device thingy works anyway. This was discovered after Alvar just fucking forgot he had a project in the Universe and had to scrape it together during his lunch hour. 

    It makes sense because the sun is just a really close star so as long as the sensitivity is adjusted correctly, it still works. 

    And, sure enough, they’re perfectly lined up, just like the calendar in the Alden shit predicted. It might be a funny coincidence or maybe the metaphorical and literal stars are aligning because someone out there wants Alvar to live. 

    Garwin flips the switches and collects the light into a very not official bottle, glowing faintly green.     

    He holds it up to the light before checking that his Nexus is turned on, and steps through the beam of light. 

    The usual feathery sensation of light leaping is replaced by a feeling of being crushed under boulders. It’s also significantly darker than usual, a deep green haze covering the world that stays in the corners of his vision even after he’s spit out at the other end. 

    He blinks repeatedly, trying to clear it, and wouldn’t you know it? It’s Sophie fucking Foster and her doofy friends. 

    Garwin’s hands curl into fists at the sight of Fitz, nails digging crescents into his palms, but he has to stay focused. Unfocus is not an option here. 

    But god fucking damn that kid has taken enough from me. 

    Garwin tears his eyes away from them and takes in the scenery. Specifically the fact that there are several rivers--maybe even five--intersecting. It’s also weirdly quiet. Sophie and co. are talking and not bothering to be quiet but they’re completely silent.   

    Even nature itself is silent, no fluttering leaves making noises, no burbling river. It’s almost as though it’s holding its breath, and so is Garwin, waiting for Sophie and co. to notice him. 

    They have at least one responsible adult chaperone--Vespera--with them, and she does some weird shit to a tree. The world around Garwin flickers like he bonked a force field in the Hunger Games and he hides behind a convenient tree to avoid confrontation. 

    Some sort of illusion probably went down because now Sophie and co. are both able to be heard once again--albeit quieter than expected--and they can see the rivers. There’s also a nice pile of rocks they’ve chosen to comment about. 

    C’mon Sophie, you’ve fucking seen rocks before. Those exist in the human world, believe it or not. 

    Garwin waits and watches the drama as it goes down--from waddling into the rock pile to Gisela deciding to join the party to Vespera getting exploded to some dwarves kidnapping a goblin man to an almost stabbing of Godzilla.

    Sophie must be friends with a psionipath because it certainly isn’t Ruy who takes down the forcefields around their little group as they swarm Godzilla. 

    Unfortunately, a gray-cloaked figure steps out from where they were living under a rock, proclaiming, “My name is Elysian, and I am the power source you are all here looking for.”

    That’s just a tad bit pretentious, one part of his brain thinks.     

    The rest is simply screaming. Mostly screaming about Alvar. The solution is right fucking over there and kidnapping isn’t exactly the most war-crime-y of things Garwin has imagined. 

    He lets out a huff and Elysian, whose only distinguishing feature is a pair of big fucking naturals, turns to him. 

    Garwin leans against the tree, channeling Alvar’s sass as he smirks. “Nice to see you, Sophie. It’s been a while.”

    She looks confused for just a second, her photographic memory failing her. Then she blinks and she’s even more confused, trying to reconcile her worlds colliding. 

    “Hey, Keefster. Nice to see you too. Done any fun running away from your problems recently?”

    Keefe breaks eye contact, finding something interesting on the ground to study while trying to not smile. 

    “How do you know Keefe?” is all Sophie can manage.

    “They were the younger sibling I never wanted back when they were in the Neverseen. Thanks again for making me put up with your hellspawn, Gissy.”

    Gozdilla rolls her eyes. She’s so much like her son sometimes it’s hilarious. Of course, neither should not be told this because they both correctly believe that the other is insufferable.      

    “How the Exile do you two know each other then?” Keefe asks, and it’s difficult to tell if they’re asking Sophie or Garwin. 

    Sophie answers, “he was in my class back when I lived in San Diego. What I can’t figure out is why he’s here.”

    “Well, it has a little something to do with Fitz and a little something to do with troll hives and a lot of something to do with a vague half-baked hope that Ely here can do something to solve all my life’s problems.”

    Garwin hears Alvar’s voice in his mind saying You’re gonna beg that bitch to let you into Yale? He almost smiles. 

    “What did I do?” Fitz demands. 

    “Oh, do you not remember forcing Alvar into a cell in a troll hive? Yeah. He’s my boyfriend. Well, one of them. I’m also dating Ruy if you guys know him. That’s beside the point.”

    Fitz stares at Keefe, locked in a telepathic conversation that’s almost certainly, “did you know this?” “Ye.” “What the fuck.” “What’s it to you?” “You didn’t think of telling me that my brother was dating…him?” “There were bigger issues at hand.”

       Garwin smiles callously. “Thanks a whole metric fuckton, Fitzroy. Really appreciate it.” He turns to Elysian. “So, all-powerful power source. Can you fix him?”

    “I--think so?” she replies, breasting boobily. 

    “Gonna need guarantees here sooner or later, babe.”

    Sophie glances back and forth at her friends at Garwin’s absolute audacity to order Elysian around. Godzilla doesn’t seem too thrilled either. But they can go fuck themselves. They aren’t on anywhere near as tight of a timer as Garwin and he, frankly, would not fucking care even if they were. 

    Garwin shrugs off the tree and begins approaching Elysian, a leaping crystal to Candleshade in hand. It was a home crystal, once. But Candleshade hasn’t been a home in a long time. 

    Ely steps back, deep brown eyes glinting golden in the sunset from behind their hood. “I can’t leave this place.”

    Garwin stops. Nope. Not when I’m this fucking close. “Can’t? Or won’t?” 

    Maybe taunting them isn’t the best idea considering he’s a pathetic human and they’re basically the gray equivalent of the genie from Aladdin. Plus tiddies. 

    But you know what? Let him get blown off the face of the Earth. If saving Alvar means sacrificing himself, then that’s what he’ll do. 

    Elysian looks back at her pile of rocks.

    A wave of calm seriousness, almost desperation, washes over Garwin. “What do I have to do? I’ll give you anything. Just--,” his voice cracks, “--please.”

    “I’m sorry. Maybe if you could bring him here--”

    Garwin holds the leaping crystal up to the light before they get a chance to finish their sentence. 

    It simultaneously takes a year and a half and a quarter of a second to run all the way to their bedroom. Is the elevator broken? Is that why it’s taking so long? Hurry the fuck up you stupid piece of shit technology. 

    He disembarks, finding Ruy in the hallway and time stops. 

    Ruy is curled up against the closed door of their bedroom. His shoulders shake with violent sobs. 

    Garwin’s mind puts together the only answer. Alvar’s gone. Passed away. Dead. The euphemisms can’t disguise the absolute heart-wrenching realization that he’ll never see Alvar again. 

    His knees wobble under him, and he slides down to the floor next to Ruy, too numb to register the door casing digging into his back. 

    Ruy leans into his side, trembling. 

    They hold each other for stars know how long. The sun finishes setting and the stars glitter in the sky.

    Ruy wipes his nose on Garwin’s sleeve, whispering in a voice rougher than gravel, “He’s--he’s gone.”

    Ruy’s words send a spear into Garwin’s already aching heart. He pulls Ruy closer with his free arm. “Can I ask what happened?”

    “When you left, he had been napping all afternoon. I don’t know if you heard him complaining about being cold earlier, but he was freezing when he woke up for dinner. He got up to go to the bathroom and made it back to the door frame. He couldn’t fucking breathe.” Ruy stops, a sob burying his face in Garwin’s shoulder. “I didn’t know what to do.”

    “Oh, honey. I don’t think there was anything you could do. I’m just--I’m so sorry I wasn’t here for you.”

    “Don’t be sorry. You were trying to help. I still don’t fucking know what to do now. It was just so sudden. One minute he was fine, or as fine as he gets, and the next he was choking on his own lungs.”     

    Garwin shifts himself into a shaky standing position, helping Ruy get up. “Come on, I don’t want to get stuck on the floor.” 

    They’re probably going to eat ice cream and get drunk until reality no longer feels so claustrophobic. 

    There were also some references in the Alden shit to some elvin plants that sound like they’d be interesting to smoke. 

    Ruy and Garwin collapse into the objectively best couch three floors down and Ruy asks, “How did your expedition tonight go?”

    Cue reality and memory smacking Garwin in the face. “I found the place. And the thing that would’ve theoretically saved him. If I had been just an hour earlier, we would be having a very, very different night tonight.”

    Garwin lets Ruy process that because it’s a lot. Even when you’ve been raised conditioned for the impact of death because it is inevitable when you’re a human, it’s a lot. 

    “Do you still have Gisela’s contact information?”

    “Yeah,” Ruy shifts to pull out his Imparter. 

    “May I borrow that for two minutes or less?”

    Ruy nods, handing it over before swiping a tear off of Garwin’s cheek. 

    Garwin navigates to the unnecessarily hidden texting feature that is obscured by a horrible UI design and lets her know that she and Sophie can fight each other for custody over Elysian. Their services aren’t needed here anymore. 

    She doesn’t reply but it is left on read. Rude but to be expected. 

    Garwin gives it back and bundles Ruy into a boyfriend burrito with the blanket that usually lives on the back of the couch for exactly that reason. 

    “So now what?” Ruy whispers. 

    “Would you like a finale to the Chronicles of Timmothman?”

    Ruy almost smiles, and Garwin takes that as a win. His chest still feels like it has a gaping hole but seeing that glint in Ruy’s eyes appeases it just a little bit. 

    “Let’s see. Where did we leave him? Ah, yes. Kidnapping children as revenge. Not at all because their parents were pieces of shit. Just because his home village no longer exists doesn’t mean there aren’t more fucked up villages nearby. In doing so, he’s incidentally adopted, like, a dozen children. Most of them aren’t older than five.”

    “Oh, stars,” Ruy whispers, terror apparent in his voice.

    “And all of them are ankle biters of chaos. Because they’re five. That’s just how that works. So now instead of having a nice, fulfilling life with his boyfriends, instead he gets to herd cats all day. “

    “We should get a cat.” 

    “Put it on the list. Those parents were none too thrilled with the magic tricks of their disappearing children, and, eventually, when a child of one of the members of the higher class--I don’t know how village governments work. The guy’s like ten cents richer than everybody else so he’s basically their god aside from the Christianity they’ve inherited by virtue of being vaguely based on nineteenth century Germany.”

    “Would their currency be measured in cents then?”

    “I don’t know and I don’t care and I don’t want to find out. You get the fucking point. This guy’s kid gets kidnapped and well this can’t stand so I guess we’re going to have to venture into the evil bad forest to go find him. Side note: the town believes the kid simply wandered away because there can’t be any child stealing monsters in the forest. But it is also evil. Don’t ask.”

    “Sounds perfectly accurate. Unreasonable, but accurate.”

    “Yeah there’s a whole mob that goes into the forest. Nobody wants to deal with them and they don’t find jack shit. One guy in the mob wanders off never to be seen in the village again. He joins the Erlkönig polycule.”

    “Honestly, goals.”

    “I know, right. I feel like the new guy needs a name.” Garwin pauses, thinking. 

    “Is it too soon to name him Alvar?”  

         Garwin’s breath hitches. It’s probably way too soon but the themes. The narrative demands it. He almost starts crying again. “That’s perfect. Alvar lives a wonderful, luxurious life in der Erlkönig’s castle with Timmy and some other people that weren’t important enough to receive names. And they all lived happily ever after. It’s said, to this day, that if you go wandering long enough in the woods and you’re deemed worthy of finding them, eventually you’ll stumble upon der Erlkönig and his castle.”

    “I’ve lived in the woods for many years. Checkmate.”  

    “Either they weren’t looking for new members or it was the fact you joined the Neverseen at fifteen and that would’ve been a fucked up relationship dynamic if you had found them.”

    “I could’ve been an ankle biter.”

    “You were already nine when you were banished. That’s four years too ancient. You’d be a menace for someone’s kneecaps by that point.”

   “Yeah, I guess. Now I get to be a menace to society.”

    Garwin smiles, pressing a kiss to Ruy’s forehead. 

    As he begins to drift off to sleep, the cold emptiness where Alvar is supposed to be curled against his other side is notably, eternally missing. And there’s no replacing him. 

     But wallowing isn’t going to solve this, so the only option is to move forward. 

    Ruy suddenly jolts awake. “Wait, I forgot to tell you.”

    Garwin makes an interested noise. 

    “Alvar made me promise to let him tell you, but now…that isn’t exactly plausible. But, it turns out, with enough bribery and some too-long essays and definitely not forged recommendation letters, you’ve been accepted into Yale.”

    It takes a whole second for Garwin to process this. It takes another whole second for him to stop mentally screaming and come up with a coherent response. Even if that response is kissing Ruy. 

    The future isn’t going to be easy, and it’s certainly unknown. But he’s got Ruy. And that’s what matters.  

[uovoc]

2022 media consumption year in review

God tier

Matthew Swift series and Magicals Anonymous duology by Kate Griffin (reread). London sorcerer is raised from the dead and accidentally gets fused to the blue electric angels of the telephone lines along the way. Luscious prose, best urban magic I've ever read, and wickedly funny sense of humor.

Kane and Feels - podcast. Paranormal investigators go around London poking the mystic forces with a sharp stick. Surreal. Funny. Moderately comprehensible. There's nothing else quite like it. Someone described it as "the anti-TMA: you cannot form any theories about it no matter how hard you try."

The First Fifteen Lives of Harry August by Claire North (reread) - two time travelers, defined as people stuck in time loops of their own lives, attempt to unravel the mystery of their existence. Suspenseful and beautifully constructed piece of nonlinear storytelling.

The Particular Sadness of Lemon Cake by Aimee Bender (reread) - Rose tastes people's emotions in food. Her brother disappears into thin air. Their parents are fine. Surreal and haunting pearl of a story.

We Have Always Lived in the Castle by Shirley Jackson - after a family tragedy, the surviving Blackwoods live in isolation from the village. A little Piranesi-ish subverted horror: the sense there's a secret at the heart of the world, and the secret is both joyful and terrible.

Our Flag Means Death - the crangst-filled pirate show that it seemed like the internet lost its mind over, for good reason.

Bee and Puppycat: Lazy in Space - Bee travels between the island and fishbowl space working temp jobs with Puppycat, until their pasts catch up with them. Dreamy, bittersweet, and gorgeous. Season finale was a banger.

Vesper Flights by Helen MacDonald (reread). Nature essays on humans and birds. Quiet, luminous, and filled with love of place. Faves were "The Human Flock", "High Rise", "Eulogy", and "What Animals Taught Me"

Natsume's Book of Friends (anime) - Technically about boy who can see youkai, learning how to navigate the world of human relationships. But really about masking, healing from trauma, and learning to trust.

Decent entertainment

The Deep by Rivers Solomon with Daveed Diggs, William Hutson, and Jonathan Snipes

Encanto (2021) - movie

The Witcher, season 2 - show

What We Do in the Shadows - seasons 1-3, got bored afterwards

The Hands of the Emperor by Victoria Goddard

Seraphina by Rachel Hartman

Shadow Scale by Rachel Hartman

Island of the Blue Dolphins by Scott O'Dell (reread)

The Faceless Old Woman Who Secretly Lives in Your Home by Joseph Fink and Jeffrey Cranor

Touch by Claire North (reread)

Sing - movie

Notes from the Burning Age by Claire North

The Sign of the Beaver by Elizabeth George Speare (reread)

The Brothers Lionheart by Astrid Lindgren

Moon Knight - show, season 1

Moon Knight comics - 2011, 2014, 2016, 2021

The Batman (2022)

Spider-Man: No Way Home (2021)

The Girl with the Silver Eyes by Willo Davis Roberts (reread)

The Bad Guys (2022)

The Golem and the Jinni by Helene Wecker (reread)

The Hidden Palace by Helene Wecker

The Pursuit of William Abbey by Claire North

Johannes Cabal series by Jonathan L. Howard (reread): Johannes Cabal the Necromancer, Johannes Cabal the Detective, Johannes Cabal: The Fear Institute, The Brothers Cabal, and The Fall of the House of Cabal

The Owl House season 2

Dear Mr. Henshaw by Beverly Cleary (reread)

Strider by Beverly Cleary (reread)

Loki - show, season 1

Tess of the Road by Rachel Hartman

Paprika (2006) dir. Satoshi Kon (rewatch)

Sideways Stories from Wayside School by Louis Sachar (reread)

The Bloody Chamber and Other Stories by Angela Carter

Supernatural - seasons 1 – 6, selected episodes

The Sandman by Neil Gaiman - comics (reread)

The Sandman - show, season 1

Microcosmic God: The complete short stories of Theodore Sturgeon, volume II by Theodore Sturgeon

Various Dick King-Smith books (reread): The Merman, Harry's Mad, and Harriet's Hare

Klara and the Sun by Kazuo Ishiguro

Never Let Me Go by Kazuo Ishiguro

The Girl From the Other Side - anime

She Who Became the Sun by Shelley Parker-Chan

The Farewell (2019) dir. Lulu Wang

Horatio Lyle series by Catherine Webb: The Extraordinary and Unusual Adventures of Horatio Lyle, The Obsidian Dagger, The Doomsday Machine, and The Dream Thief

Mononoke (2007) dir. Kenji Nakamura - anime

The Haunting of Hill House by Shirley Jackson

Dark Tales by Shirley Jackson. Fave: "The Beautiful Stranger"

The Lottery and Other Stories by Shirley Jackson. Faves: "Like Mother Used to Make" and "Flower Garden"

Legend of Nezha (哪吒传奇) - the 2003 cartoon

Annihilation by Jeff Vandermeer

Jane Doe by Victoria Helen Stone

Song of Achilles by Madeline Miller

Lucie Babbidge's House by Sylvia Cassedy

The Goblin Emperor by Katherine Addison

Pinocchio (2022) - dir. Guillermo del Toro and Mark Gustafson

Bloodsucking Fiends by Christopher Moore

You Suck by Christopher Moore

Bite Me by Christopher Moore

Disliked and usually DNF

Guardian (cdrama)

The Gameshouse by Claire North

Kim's Convenience - show

Across the Green Grass Fields by Seanan McGuire

Victoriocity - podcast

Sporadic Phantoms - podcast

Guardians of Childhood series by William Joyce - okay I finished it out of loyalty but it was no rotg that's for sure

Iron Widow by Xiran Jay Zhao

Keep Your Hands off Eizouken - anime

Arcane - show

The Girl in the Flammable Skirt by Aimee Bender

Willful Creatures by Aimee Bender

The Color Master by Aimee Bender

Where the Drowned Girls Go by Seanan McGuire

Megan's Island by Willo Davis Roberts (reread)

First Light by Rebecca Stead

Goodbye Stranger by Rebecca Stead

The Apothecary by Maile Meloy

To Your Eternity - anime

Bloomability by Sharon Creech

Everything Everywhere All At Once (2022) dir. Daniel Kwan and Daniel Scheinert

Malevolent - podcast

Midnight Burger - podcast

Under the Whispering Door by TJ Klune

Sunshine by Robin McKinley

The Blue Sword by Robin McKinley

Carter & Lovecraft by Jonathan L. Howard

Swordspoint by Ellen Kushner

The Order of the Pure Moon Reflected in Water by Zen Cho

Black Water Sister by Zen Cho

M.E. and Morton by Sylvia Cassedy

Forty Stories by Donald Barthelme

Hangsaman by Shirley Jackson

The Bird's Nest by Shirley Jackson

The Ten Thousand Doors of January by Alix Harrow

The Witness for the Dead by Katherine Addison

The Stench of Adventure (podcast)

We Ride Upon Sticks by Quan Barry

Invisible Cities by Italo Calvino

Assorted nonfiction

Songs of the Gorilla Nation by Dawn Prince-Hughes

The Organized Mind by Daniel J Levitin - nothing new except for the part about using your spatial memory to hack organization.

The Art of Gathering by Priya Parker - how to organize social gatherings for meaningful and memorable experiences

Rust: the Longest War by Jonathan Waldman - investigative journalism book about corrosion, the hazard it presents to physical infrastructure, and how we mitigate it

Fall Down 7 Times, Get Up 8 by Naoki Higashida

Dear Friend, from My Life I Write to You in Your Life by Yiyun Li - DNF

The One-Minute Manager: The World's Most Popular Management Method by Ken Blanchard and Spencer Johnson - techniques for one-minute goal setting, one-minute praisings, and one-minute reprimands

The Chinese Language: Its History and Current Usage by Daniel Kane. Good concise history of the development of written Mandarin Chinese and the underlying structure of the characters.

A Sand County Almanac by Aldo Leopold - essays on the American landscape and conservation ethics ca. 1950. Neat from a historical standpoint, but nothing to write home about these days. Which kinda is the point I guess.

Oregon Salmon: Essays on the State of the Fish At the Turn of the Millennium, ed. Oregon Trout

Caring for your Parents by Hugh Delehanty and Eleanor Ginzler

The Man Who Mistook His Wife For a Hat by Oliver Sacks - DNF

The Grid by Gretchen Bakke - history of how the physical and regulatory infrastructure of the American power grid was developed, and how it needs to be reimagined for the future.

Wildlife Wars : The life and times of a fish and game warden by Terry Grosz. Tales from his career as a California game warden catching poachers.

The Undocumented Americans by Karla Cornejo Villavicencio. DNF. author's writing voice was supremely annoying

Wilderness and the American Mind by Roderick Nash, 3rd ed (1982) (reread) - history of Americans' changing attitudes towards nature and definitions of wilderness. A classic banger.

Black, Brown, Bruised: How racialized STEM education stifles innovation by Ebony Omotola McGee - good summary of what the successful programs for STEM students of color are doing right, everything else is the same old same old

Maybe You Should Talk to Someone: A Therapist, Her Therapist, and Our Lives Revealed by Lori Gottlieb. Account of the experience of going through therapy while working as a therapist. Excellent look at how we construct our personal narratives, and how to change them.

Crucial Conversations: Tools for Talking When the Stakes are High by Kerry Patterson, Joseph Gremmy, Ron McMillan, and Al Switzler. Strategies for having effective high-stakes conversations and managing your emotions. Good stuff.

Engineering and Social Justice by Donna Riley. Pretty entry-level, but it's a good bibliography for further reading.

Send in the Idiots by Kamran Nazeer

Why Are We Yelling? The art of productive disagreement by Buster Benson - DNF. disliked his writing style.

[killjoy-prince]

I was listening to the songs from the purse owner dancing games and listening to them made me wanna play them so i turned on my ps4 for the first time in months and started playing the third dancing game and like three songs in, i scrolled down and saw Dance! which is the fourth game's dancing theme song and it just made me wanna play that one instead and so I stopped playing the third one and started playing the fourth one

And the thing is, of the dancing games, I find the fourth game's dancing game a lot more enjoyable to play than 3 and 5's. Maybe part of it has to do with i had to play 3 and 5 from scratch to 100 story completion 3 times in the span of a week bc a ps4 update wouldn't load and i had to factory reset it each time it came up until it worked fine, causing it to wipe all of my data so i got sick of playing them. But I do think there's something charming about the fourth game. Yeah they're all like cash grabs but Ill go back and have fun playing most of the songs in that one where the third and fifth games ill only go back for one song in each game. those games feel like soulless to me which is weird to say bc you can make the argument that four is the same way but again i feel like there's a charm to four that the third and fifth games are missing

Im not really talking about story bc for 4 it was your usual fanfare with the spin offs that it has. i will say 3 and 5's game existing bc Elizabeth and the twins were fighting to see who could of handled 4's situation better and making it an actual competition was funny and according to my friend, something we predicted 2 years before the games came out (I do remember talking about a hypothetical plot for hypothetical dancing games for them but i don't remember exactly if it was that. But if it was, that sounds like something my friend came up with and i agreed with bc im not clever enough to think of a plot like that lol im not doubting my friend im doubting that i also came up with it with them)

Even with a funny storyline once I get to playing im just kinda bored with it as opposed to 4 where i can play those songs over and over. Also i find the dances in 4 more fun to watch and more fun to lay over with another song that matches the BPM (Look up Yosuke Let's Get It Started on youtube you WILL NOT be disappointed! It matches up perfectly!)

also the fourth game has hatsune miku as a special DLC guest star so that helps. It would of been cool if she got to do a song in 3 and 5 too or switch it up with one of her friends for each game. i wanna hear meiko sing rivers in the desert

[coraniaid]

Top 5 songs for rainy weather

1. The Dead Flag Blues by Godspeed You! Black Emperor (from F♯ A♯ ∞)

The car's on fire and there's no driver at the wheel.

I have been listening to a lot of post-rock this year -- possibly too much? -- but I think this whole album is a great soundtrack for staring out of the window on a gray and rainy day.

2. Teardrop by Massive Attack (from Mezzanine)

Gentle impulsion shakes me, makes me lighter

… okay, I realized while I was typing this that I probably just picked it because Elizabeth Fraser is singing about rain in the chorus. But it's a good song anyway.

3. Distintegration by The Cure (from Disintegration)

Songs about happiness murmured in dreams when both of us knew how the ending would be

I think my subconsicous has decided that rainy weather is a good time to play albums I listened to too much as a teenager.

4. Drown So I Can Watch by The Twilight Sad (from Nobody Wants To Be Here And Nobody Wants To Leave)

I put you through hell but you carry it oh so well

I really like The Twilight Sad and I would advocate for them about 1000% more often if their name wasn't so embarrassing to say out loud. (Yes, I know it's a reference to the poetry of Wilfred Owen: that makes it worse.)

5. A River Don't Stop To Breathe by múm (from Sing Along To Songs You Don't Know)

Leave us these moments, they're the only things we have

… I already said I was listening to too much post-rock, right? (Though I guess that's not the right label by this point in their career.) Anyway, this is a nice countpart to the GY!BE album, I think: something to listen to while the rain clears and the clouds start to part.

[blackbirdsilhouette]

Last Month, for Latinx Heritage Month, I took the Latinx Challenge and posted a book of poetry written by a Latinx author for 30 days. These are the books I shared. Some are newer than others, but each one holds a special place in my life.

Mouth - Jo Reyes-Boitel

Zarzamora - Vincent Cooper

A Saint for Lost Things - Christopher Martínez

Revelations - Ruben Quesada

Teeth - Aracelis Grimay

The Handyman’s Guide to the End Times - Juan J. Morales

Catrachos - Roy Guzmán

The Possibilities of Mud - Joe Jimenez

The Iceworker Sings - Andres Montoya

Speaking Wiri Wiri - Dan Vera

Brazos Carry Me - Pablo Miguel Martínez

Snake Poems - Francisco X. Alarcón

With the River on Our Face - Emmy Pérez

The Color of Light - Odilia Galvan Rodriguez

Culture of Flow - Tim Z. Hernandez

Backlit Hour - José A. Rodríguez

Guillotine - Eduardo C. Corral

Poxo - Isaac Chavarria

Notes on the Assemblage - Juan Felipe Herrera

City Without Altar - Jasmine Mendez

Everything is Returned to the Soil - Briana Muñoz

Arsenal with Praise Song - Rodney Gómez

Refuse - Julian Randal

The Poet X - Elizabeth Acevedo

Rant, Chant, Chisme - Amalia Ortiz

Flower Grand First - Gustavo Hernandez

Broken Mesas - Joseph Delgado

Bosque - Michelle Otero

Cry, Howl - Edward Vidaurre

Blood Sugar Canto - Ire’ne Lara Silva

[quoteoftheweekblog]

TOVE JANSSON - 'COMET IN MOOMINLAND' (FIRST PUBLISHED 1951)

First sentence:

'The Moomin family had been living for some weeks in the valley where they had found their house* after the dreadful flood (which is another story).' (Jansson, 1986, p.9).

'* It was painted blue, Moominhouses usually are. "Translator".' (Jansson, 1986, p.9).

On philosophy:

' "I am the Muskrat," said the wretched creature faintly. "A philosopher, you know. I should just like to point out that your bridge-building activities have completely ruined my house in the river bank, and although ultimately it doesn't matter what happens, I must say even a philosopher does not care for being soaked to the skin." ' (Jansson, 1986, p.29).

' "I have lived on the river the whole of my life," said the Muskrat, "and never have I seen such weather. Not that it makes any difference to me of course, except for giving me something new to think about." ' (Jansson, 1986, p.31).

' "There has certainly been something in the air lately. I have had vague forebodings and thought more than usual." ' (Jansson, 1986, p.33).

' "It's coming nearer," said the Muskrat. "This is a time for weeping and wailing, sure enough. But of course that sort of thing doesn't affect a philosopher like me." ' (Jansson, 1986, p.171).

' "Oh well," sighed Moominmamma. "It's difficult to understand philosophers." ' (Jansson, 1986, p.178).

On the comet:

'Day after day the world was shrouded in greyness, but it never rained. Columns of cloud rolled endlessly across the sky, and below them the earth lay waiting. Moomintroll and Sniff floated farther and farther east on their raft. They weren't used to being without sun, and became melancholy and quiet.' (Jansson, 1986, p.52).

' "It will fall on the seventh of October at 8.42 p.m. Perhaps four seconds later." ' (Jansson, 1986, p.105).

'And nobody gave a thought to the comet that was rushing towards them, lighting up the black night wih its fierce glow.' (Jansson, 1986, p.128).

'On the fifth of October the birds stopped singing. The sun was so pale that you could hardly see it at all, and over the wood the comet hung like a cartwheel, surrounded by a ring of fire.' (Jansson, 1986, p.132).

'Moomintroll thought how frightened the earth must be feeling with that great ball of fire coming nearer and nearer to her. Then he thought about how much he loved everything; the forest and the sea, the rain and the wind, the sunshine, the grass and the moss, and how impossible it would be to live without them all.' (Jansson, 1986, p.151).

'The seventh of October was windless and very hot ... "Do you realize what to-day is?" ... "The comet!" whispered Sniff." ' (Jansson, 1986, p.167).

'The comet roared with its flaming tail right through the valley, across the forest and the mountains, and then disappeared, again over the edge of the world.' (Jansson, 1986, p.188).

On writing:

' "Have you an exercise book with lines one inch apart?" asked the Snork, who intended to write down everything that ought to be done when a comet is going to hit the earth. "Certainly," said the old lady. "Would you like a blue one?" "Well, I'd prefer another colour," said the Snork, because blue exercise books reminded him of school.' (Jansson, 1986, p.116).

REFERENCE

Jansson, T. (1986 [1951] ) 'Comet in Moominland'. Illustrated by Tove Jansson. Translated by Elizabeth Portch. London: A & C Black.

[hpowellsmith]

Books of 2023

I realised I've read way more books this year than I thought, so here they all are because I like making lists.

Favourites starred. I've had a good run so far for books I've enjoyed this year. The only one I wouldn't really recommend is Rated M for Mature - the essays were hit and miss and some just weren't accurate. Several of the below are pretty upsetting and some are deeply harrowing so this is very much not a list of casual recommendations, more just indulging myself by making a list. Did you enjoy any of these?

Detransition, Baby - Torrey Peters*

Ten Steps to Nanette - Hannah Gadsby

A Perfect Spy - John le Carré

Felix Ever After - Kacen Callender

Lark & Kasim Start a Revolution - Kacen Callender*

Youngman - Lou Sullivan*

The Ministry of Unladylike Activity - Robin Stevens

Winterkeep - Kristin Cashore

Rated M for Mature: Sex and Sexuality in Video Games - ed. Matthew Wysocki

Passion and Play: A Guide to Designing Sexual Content in Games - Michelle Clough*

How Games Move Us: Emotion by Design - Katherine Isbister

Tell Me I'm Worthless - Alison Rumfitt*

The Companion - E.E. Ottoman

The Pearl Thief - Elizabeth Wein*

Real Life - Brandon Taylor*

The Autistic Trans Guide to Life - Yenn Purkis and Wenn Lawson

The Enigma Game - Elizabeth Wein

Filthy Animals - Brandon Taylor

Gender Queer: A Memoir - Maia Kobabe

Terry Pratchett: A Life With Footnotes - Rob Wilkins*

Ducks: Two Years in the Oil Sands - Kate Beaton*

The Late Americans - Brandon Taylor

Wrath Goddess Sing - Maya Deane*

Summer Sons - Lee Mandelo*

Slow River - Nicola Griffith (reread)

The Others of Edenwell - Verity Holloway*

Pageboy - Elliot Page

Brainwyrms - Alison Rumfitt