#sir ballard

[illiana-mystery]

Did I really just sit through this horrible movie again for him? 🤔

[jesuisgourde]

A list of all the books mentioned in Peter Doherty's journals (and in some interviews/lyrics, too)

Because I just made this list in answer to someone's question on a facebook group, I thought I may as well post it here.

-The Picture of Dorian Gray/The Ballad Of Reading Gaol/Salome/The Happy Prince/The Duchess of Padua, all by Oscar Wilde -The Thief's Journal/Our Lady Of The Flowers/Miracle Of The Rose, all by Jean Genet -A Diamond Guitar by Truman Capote -Mixed Essays by Matthew Arnold -Venus In Furs by Leopold Sacher-Masoch -The Ministry Of Fear by Graham Greene -Brighton Rock by Graham Green -A Season in Hell by Arthur Rimbaud -The Street Of Crocodiles (aka Cinnamon Shops) by Bruno Schulz -Opium: The Diary Of His Cure by Jean Cocteau -The Lost Weekend by Charles Jackson -Howl by Allen Ginsberg -Women In Love by DH Lawrence -The Tempest by William Shakespeare -Trilby by George du Maurier -The Vision Of Jean Genet by Richard Coe -"Literature And The Crisis" by Isaiah Berlin -Le Cid by Pierre Corneille -The Paris Peasant by Louis Aragon -Junky by William S Burroughs -Absolute Beginners by Colin MacInnes -Futz by Rochelle Owens -They Shoot Horses Don't They? by Horace McCoy -"An Inquiry On Love" by La revolution surrealiste magazine -Idea by Michael Drayton -"The Nymph's Reply to The Shepherd" by Sir Walter Raleigh -Hamlet by William Shakespeare -The Silver Shilling/The Old Church Bell/The Snail And The Rose Tree all by Hans Christian Andersen -120 Days Of Sodom by Marquis de Sade -Letters To A Young Poet by Rainer Maria Rilke -Poetics Of Space by Gaston Bachelard -In Favor Of The Sensitive Man and Other Essays by Anais Nin -La Batarde by Violette LeDuc -Lolita by Vladimir Nabokov -Intimate Journals by Charles Baudelaire -Juno And The Paycock by Sean O'Casey -England Is Mine by Michael Bracewell -"The Prelude" by William Wordsworth -Noise: The Political Economy of Music by Jacques Atalli -"Elm" by Sylvia Plath -"I am pleased with my sight..." by Rumi -She Stoops To Conquer by Oliver Goldsmith -Amphitryon by John Dryden -Oscar Wilde by Richard Ellman -The Song Of The South by James Rennell Rodd -In Her Praise by Robert Graves -"For That He Looked Not Upon Her" by George Gascoigne -"Order And Disorder" by Lucy Hutchinson -Man Crazy by Joyce Carol Oates -A Pictorial History Of Sex In The Movies by Jeremy Pascall and Clyde Jeavons -Anarchy State & Utopia by Robert Nozick -"Limbo" by Samuel Taylor Coleridge -Men In Love: Masculinity and Sexuality in the Eighteenth Century by George Haggerty

[arbitrary line break because tumble hates lists apparently]

-Crime And Punishment by Fyodor Dostoevsky -Innocent When You Dream: the Tom Waits Reader -"Identity Card" by Mahmoud Darwish -Ulysses by James Joyce -The Four Quartets poems by TS Eliot -Julius Caesar by William Shakespeare -A'Rebours/Against The Grain by Joris-Karl Huysmans -Prisoner Of Love by Jean Genet -Down And Out In Paris And London by George Orwell -The Man With The Golden Arm by Nelson Algren -Revolutionary Road by Richard Yates -"Epitaph To A Dog" by Lord Byron -Cocaine Nights by JG Ballard -"Not By Bread Alone" by James Terry White -Anecdotes Of The Late Samuel Johnson by Hester Thrale -"The Owl And The Pussycat" by Edward Lear -"Chevaux de bois" by Paul Verlaine -A Strong Song Tows Us: The Life of Basil Bunting by Richard Burton -Don Quixote by Miguel de Cervantes -The Divine Comedy by Dante Alighieri -The Jungle Book by Rudyard Kipling -The Man Who Would Be King by Rudyard Kipling -Ask The Dust by John Frante -On The Trans-Siberian Railways by Blaise Cendrars -The 39 Steps by John Buchan -The Overcoat by Nikolai Gogol -The Government Inspector by Nikolai Gogol -The Iliad by Homer -Heart Of Darkness by Joseph Conrad -The Volunteer by Shane O'Doherty -Twenty Love Poems and A Song Of Despair by Pablo Neruda -"May Banners" by Arthur Rimbaud -Literary Outlaw: The life and times of William S Burroughs by Ted Morgan -The Penguin Dorothy Parker -Smoke by William Faulkner -Hero And Leander by Christopher Marlowe -My Lady Nicotine by JM Barrie -All I Ever Wrote by Ronnie Barker -The Libertine by Stephen Jeffreys -On Murder Considered As One Of The Fine Arts by Thomas de Quincey -The Void Ratio by Shane Levene and Karolina Urbaniak -The Remains Of The Day by Kazuo Ishiguro -Dead Fingers Talk by William S Burroughs -The England's Dreaming Tapes by Jon Savage -London Underworld by Henry Mayhew

[scotianostra]

On November 21st 1835 James Hogg, the poet known as the Ettrick shepherd, died in Ettrick.

As his date of birth is unknown and only a gueestimate, and it being so close, I will forgo the December date and concentrate on todays post.

Like Burns and Scott, James Hogg was keenly interested in Song.  He published a book of music known as The Forest Minstrel.  Originally published in 1810, The Forest Minstrel is the complete collection of songs by Hogg, featuring his first compositions as a shepherd in Ettrick and those inspired by early contact with the literary culture of Edinburgh. Hogg also taught himself to play the fiddle, and rapidly began to make a name for himself as "Jamie the Poeter", a singer of traditional ballards and reciter of the rich folklore of the Scottish Borders, he could also draw, as seen in the pic which shows The River Esk in Roslin Glen, a body of water I know very well.

James Hogg was born on a farm near Ettrick Forest in Selkirk and baptized there onor around December 9th. The house that James Hogg was born in was at Ettrick Hall, a few miles from St Mary's Loch. Here a statue commemorates his birth. He lived here for the first seven years of his life. James Hogg had little education, and became a shepherd, living in poverty. His father was a shepherd and he too took on the title, hence his nickname, The Ettrick Shepherd. His employer, James Laidlaw of Blackhouse, seeing how hard he was working to improve himself, offered to help by making books available. Hogg used these to essentially teach himself to read and write. He had achieved this by the age of 14. In 1796 Robert Burns died, and Hogg, who had only just come to hear of him, was devastated by the loss. He struggled to produce poetry of his own, and Laidlaw introduced him to Sir Walter Scott, who asked him to help with a publication entitled The Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border. In 1801, Hogg visited Edinburgh for the first time.

His own collection, The Mountain Bard, was published in 1807 and became a best-seller, allowing him to buy a farm of his own. Having made his name, he started a literary magazine, The Spy, and his epic story-poem, The Queen's Wake (the setting being the return to Scotland of Queen Mary after her exile in France), was published in 1813 and was another big success. Yesterdays subject of a post, William Blackwood recruited him for the Edinburgh Magazine, and he was introduced to William Wordsworth and several other well-known literary figures. He was given a farm by the Duke of Buccleuch, and settled down there for the rest of his life.

Hogg had already made his reputation as a prose writer with a practical treatise on sheep's diseases; and in 1824 his novel, The Private Memoirs and Confessions of a Justified Sinner, was another major success. He became better known than his hero, Burns, had ever been.

Hogg's poetry and essays were not as widely read as in his contemporary era. However "Justified Sinner" remains important and is now seen as one of the major Scottish novels of its time, and absolutely crucial in terms of exploring one of the key themes of Scottish culture and identity: You might be surprised to know that the Scottish novelist Irvine Welsh cited Hogg, especially "Justified Sinner" as a major influence on his writing.

Hogg published mainly poetry until he was in his late forties. A particularly notable poem from this period is The Queen's wake, a book-length narrative in which the poets of Scotland assemble at Holyrood Palace for a bardic contest to celebrate the return of Mary Queen of Scots from France. A notable series of novels followed. Hogg's alternative version of James Macpherson's Ossian poem, Fingal. Many of Hogg's best later poems were collected in A Queer book.

Hogg's writings explore the supernatural with great power and sophistication, as in The Justified sinner, which is regarded by many as the greatest of all Scottish novels. Equally powerful is The Three perils of Woman, which explores the terrible aftermath of Culloden. The Three perils of Man is Hogg's version of a Medieval romance. Overflowing with vivacity, this novel is full of devilry and witchcraft. Much of the action takes place at Aikwood in the Ettrick valley, where Gibbie Jordan witnesses a wedding between a demon and a witch.

Aikwood Tower was until recently the home a Hogg exhibition that was open to the public during the tourist season. The Hogg exhibition has since moved as Aikwood is no longer open to the public.

Many of you will know by now I prefer shorter poems, I will leve a link below where you can find more of his work, but for now here is one of his shortest poems.

O, love, love, love! Love is like a dizziness; It winna let a puir body Gang about his biziness!

[beesxrated]

Invisible Lover

Ascended Astarion x Tav. 🪻

First person female Tav.

Masterlist

The party seems to be going perfectly, just like always. We haven't hosted many, but Astarion has been enjoying every one. He's been busy lately trying to make connections in the city to be able to throw extravagant parties. It's been pretty easy, as everyone in Baldur's Gate knows the two of us as heros of the city.

People are dancing, I'm greeting more as they come in, Astarion is talking with a group of rich business men. Everyone takes in the decoration, tomorrow is the beginning of winter, so I have decorated accordingly. Blue and silver everywhere. Astarion let me go all out, since it's the last party of the year and my birthday is a tenday away. I got someone to make silver snowflake pottery for the tables. I used any scrap paper I could find and made snowflakes that now hang from the ceiling. I bought a dress with a deep blue skirt with small star like glitter, the bodes is black paired with a light grey under shirt. For Astarion I bought him a black jacket embroidered with silver moons, his pants matching.

Once the flow of people stops I step away and to the table of food, grabbing a small tart and glass of wine for myself. I scan the room, unable to find Astarion. A new friend, Callista Archambeau, thej wife of one of the richest men in the city, finds me, however. She leads me to a small table away from the crowd of people.

"You have outdone yourself, this time." She laughs taking in the decor I picked out, "What made you pick this theme?”

"Blue is my favorite color, but it's almost winter and I don't expect to be throwing anymore parties this year." I respond.

She nods seeming to agree with my choice. We hear someone call for her and she quickly says goodbye and excuses herself. I sit in silence, sipping a glass of wine watching everyone mingle and talk, still unable to find Astarion.

Suddenly, I feel someone grab me and drag me into a little corner. I know this place, I’d been here several times, it's one of Astarion's favorite places to have me during parties. It's not really a corner, it's three columns almost touching, the biggest opening facing away from the party, but a place the guests have access to. Astarion has recently had a bench seat put in to block the columns’ side of the space. I turn to find him giving me a cunning smirk.

I don't have time to say anything before he’s kissing me. He bites my neck, not hard enough to draw blood, just a nip. He kisses me again. He, quickly, turns the two of us around and sits while kissing me, pulling me onto his lap. This time he fully bites my neck, not drinking, just plunging his teeth in for fun.

We hear footsteps coming and I immediately turn away from him. He pulls me back onto his lap and whispers, "Invisibilis", before continuing to kiss my neck.

Callista comes around the corner and smiles at me, "Found you!" She sits next to us on the bench, "I haven't seen Mr. Ancunin, where is he?”

"Probably busy," I say, struggling to keep still, "showing off." He bites me hard at that comment.

"They love doing that, don't they." She laughs, not a cute giggle, a rough sort of chortle.

Astarion bites me again and starts to roll up the back bit of my dress, slowly. Just as he does, Sir Archambeau enters the doorway. I go to stand to shake his hand as a sign of respect, but waves me away. As I sit again, I feel Astarion push into me. I feel my face flush realizing what he's done, thankfully the dimness has saved me from explaining anything.

I hear him whisper the invisibility spell again as he grips my hips, slowly moving me back and forth. I feel his breath on my neck become hot and heavy, doing his best to keep quiet as I do the same.

"Have you seen Ancunin? I had a proposition to make him." Ballard Archambeau asks.

I smile as best as I can, "I'm not sure. I lost him a while ago.”

Astarion grips your hips tighter, I assume trying to tell me to direct them somewhere else, "I saw him by the table earlier. Let's go out and look around, it's a big place, we will find him sometime." Callista says, convincing her husband to leave.

Once the both of them leave Astarion pushes me over. I brace myself on the column in front of us as he continues to thrust. One hand holds my waist in place and the other grips the roots of my hair, pulling my head back. I do my best not to make a noise.

He pulls out and spins me around to kiss me. My back is pressed against the column I was just bracing against, while he places hot kisses down my body. I let out a soft moan as he grabs my neck with his right hand and again raises my skirt with his left hand.

"Just listen to them out there." Astarion groans, toying with me, "Having all that fun, not knowing what I'm doing to you back here.”

I groan as he pushes his fingers into me. I hear footsteps and Astarion takes his hand off my throat and puts it on my mouth. I bite his palm and he glares at at me. In response he grabs my neck again, turning my head and plunging his teeth into my neck, drinking just a bit of blood. I feel the blood flow through my veins, it feels cold and thick.

I grind my hips against his hand as he finishes his blood snack. He tilts his head offering me his neck as well. I lean forward and sink my teeth into his porcelain skin. I taste the thick sweetness his blood has. I don't know if it's from fulfilling the ritual or if his blood has always tasted this way, but it's like a dessert.

Astarion has to push me off of him, "Cheeky." He says lowly, keeping his hand on my throat.

I let him do as he wants to me, it's the least I could do for possibly almost killing him. He kneels in front of me, pulling my skirt over himself. He takes a moment to adjust, still working with his hand. He throws one of my legs over his shoulder before pushing his tongue into me. I lean my head back and try to grip his curls through the dress.

Before I can readjust or stifle the latest groan, Callista bursts through again, she has seem to be a constant in our life the last hour or so. I feel Astarion slowly move to hide himself more under my dress and slip through the space between columns just behind me.

"Still no luck finding your husband." She says, "Are you okay though? You look flushed.”

"He's not really, my..." I trail off, no one really knows your relationship, not even me, "Yes, I'm alright, sometimes parties just take it out of me." I respond.

She smiles, "Well after saving the world you think you'd be able to relax more.”

Astarion arrives quickly behind her, "I heard someone was looking for me?”

"You are a hard one to find Mr. Ancunin.”

Lady Archambeau grins and loops her arm in his leading him to her husband. I take a breath, glad she didn't notice the red blood dripping down my chin. I quickly wipe it away, making sure it's all gone before rejoining the party. Astarion is busy listening to Ballard's proposal. He actually looks interested in this one, it's rare he accepts any. Realizing this is a rare occasion I join them.

"Just think about it, will you. We need people like you." He says.

Astarion nods, "I will." I give him a look as if to say what is it, to which he shakes his head slightly, he will tell me later.

I pat his chest softly, "I'm going to head up to bed, this crowd is giving me a headache.”

"It's almost over, I'll say our goodbyes and join you, okay, darling?" He says. I nod in response.

I climb the stairs to my room, the two of us used to share a room, but with him staying up every night it's become mostly mine. I don't really sleep either, but I like to use the time to read quietly and write letters to all our old friends. Karlach and Wyll's stay secure in a small box in the nightstand since I can't actively send them. Gale is the only one who sends anything back regularly, he's also the only one I see occasionally.

I lay on the unmade bed grabbing a book Gale sent us not too long ago, another perk of having a professor friend. I send him books I find he might like, which most he probably already has, but he doesn't tell me that. He sends us adventure books, romance sometimes too. This one he kept from our time together against the Absolute, A Pleasurable Deal. I wonder why he sent it, it's a very lewd book, but I enjoy it nonetheless.

A little while later, Astarion joins me, "Oh, a sex book, I love those.”

"Well I had to fill my time until you came back up." I laugh, "I couldn't stand there with you, I'd just be picturing what I'd want you to do to me.”

"Oh," he starts to kiss my neck and unlace my corset, "and what's that?”

I hum as his lips and tongue trace the scares in my neck and shoulder, "I want this, slow, soft touches. I want to slowly take everything off, kissing every inch of unveiled skin as we go. I want to enjoy every caress.”

He grins against my shoulder, taking in everything I said. He pulls the laces out of my corset in one tug, "Okay, beautiful. I think I can manage that.”

I turn around to face him. Kissing his lips and brushing my finger along the outside of his ear. He shudders and closes his eyes for a moment. When he opens them he smiles and does the same to me. He kisses my nose, ear, cheek, neck, collar bone.

"I love you." Astarion says very softly, I almost didn't hear it.

I peck his lips, "I love you.”

He kisses my shoulder, pulling my sleeve down and trying kisses as far down as he could. He moves himself over me and does the same to the other shoulder. He nudges me, asking me to pull my arms completely out of the fabric and as I do he kisses every inch of skin he can, relishing in its softness. His lips trail over to my chest, kissing the space between my breasts and moving the collar just a bit more downward.

I enjoy every touch and every kiss as he pulls the corset off of me. He slowly pulls my blouse over my head and admires my body, his body. He kisses my breasts, my sides, and my stomach to the hem of my skirt. He stares up at me as he sensually pulls down the cloth, brushing his lips on my skin, and leaving butterfly kisses on my stomach.

He pulls my skirt completely off and kisses my calves and up to my hips. Astarion places the last kiss on the center of my hip. His kisses start back up again before he nips my ear. This time I flip him over, starting with his lips, ears, cheek and neck just the same as he did to me. I pull off his shirt kissing every inch of skin, nipping his hips just a bit. He jolts a bit, not expecting that. I push his pants off and kiss all the way from his calf back up to his lips.

"Now what did you picture?" He asks, still under me.

I think for a moment, "I don't know. I just want to enjoy it, and I want it to be slow.”

He smiles before pushing me back over again. He doesn't lay on top of me, instead he starts kissing my shoulder again. Astarion let's his hand slowly drift down between my legs. He kisses my neck and I grip his hand as he dips his fingers into me. I moan when he finds the right spot, arching my back. I turn to face him, taking him in my hand. Both of us enjoy the feeling of the other, taking our time in making it perfect.

Slowly he eased himself over me and I guide him in. And for some reason it feels better than any other time we've had sex. There's a sort of pressure and intimacy to it I'd never felt before. There's more closeness than any other time, he's fully on me leaning down to kiss me on his elbows. It feels like we are one body instead of two just seeking companionship. I feel every emotion, every trust seems to relieve some stress. He groans in my ear, a different tone than any he'd previously had. It's as if he's actually, finally, enjoying me, for me.

Astarion bites my bottom lip as he lets out his last thrust. I taste blood in my mouth and feel him jolting inside me. He doesn't seem as out of breath as he usually does. His eyes are still closed as he slowly pulls out of me, shuddering. He plants a heavy kiss on my lips and collapses next to me.

I turn to him again and twirl some of the silver curls in your finger, "Are you okay, Star?”

"Yes " he sighs, his eyes still closed, "I just... Feel everything.”

I furrow your brow, "What do you mean?”

"I like it but I have no idea what it is.”

“Can you describe it at all?”

"Like something small, tingly in my stomach. My head feels fuzzy like I can't think properly and I just want to hold you.”

"Those are butterflies." I smile tugging lightly at his hair.

"I don't want them there." He laughs, "I love you.”

"I love you.”

[edb954]

Back to you/The Banshee

(Henry/001/Peter x Fem! reader)

(Summary: where the reader has the banshee scream/is a banshee but, doesn't know exactly what she is, starts working at the lab as a nurse and finds comfort in an old friends arms)

(Warning: death, mentions of death, obsessive behaviour, gore, long chapter)

  When Y/n first started at the lab she hoped nobody would know her secret that she had 'voices' in her head. That unpredictably predicted death. She never knew how or why.

   She remembered predicting her Grandmothers death and letting out a Earth wrenching scream but, her parents didn't believe her. Until, two nights later when they got a call from the EMT saying she had passed two days earlier. You were only six at the time. The more you thought about it, it happened with anyone you knew. Like, your old neighbours the Creel's. You were particularly very close with their son Henry. You were eleven at the time a year younger the Henry.

  The Creel's had just moved in about a week ago, when your parents informed you that you were moving in a couple of months. Henry and you got along well being strangely different from anyone in the family. He knew about your secret and you knew about his. You weren't going to lie, you didn't like him at first he was quite rude but then you somehow chipped away at his wall and he let you in.

  You remember the week before you left, you had met Henry in their garden saying how much you didn't want to leave particularly because of him. Little did you know he was furious that you were being taken away from him. That was the last day you saw him. The 'voices' in your head telling you to stay away from him. The last night, before you moved you had that feeling and your wrenching scream came blaring through the house shattering the lights and window in your room. Your parents scolded you. You told them what was going to happen and yet again they didn't believe you.

  Only to wake up the next morning, to an ambulance and a police car outside the Creel's house. Alice, Virginia, and Henry Creel found dead with their father/husband Victor alive. You spent that day wailing at the lost of your friend. That same day you left.

  During your years growing up your parents had put you into a psych hospital and sent you to many therapists. They all said that it was just a coincidence and said their was nothing the could do. Your father started to get agressive with you while your mother would be at work or asleep in the next room. When you were 18 years old you took as much money as you could from your parents and that you had saved and ran away to start a life that you wanted. You were already an adult so they couldn't stop you. You went back to Hawkins got a job met wonderful people like Hopper and Joyce who became your friends especially Joyce. You soon were able to rent and buy a tiny house and at the age of 25 you got a new job working at Hawkins Lab as a nurse.

  Once, you started working at the lab you met the kindest and not to mention good looking orderly 'Peter Ballard'.

"Ah! Peter I would like you to meet our new nurse Ms. Y/n L/n. And Ms. L/n this is Peter Ballard." Brenner introduced you both. 'Peter' looked over remembering that name- remembering you.

"It's nice to meet you." You smiled and stock out your hand.

"It's nice to meet you as well." He shock your hand, not wanting to let it go. But quickly went back to his position behind Brenner.

"Now Ms.L/n if you need anything we will be around so don't stray to ask." Brenner said before leaving the infirmary.

"Of course sir." You replied. And with that 'Peter' and Brenner left.

  Since that day, you always saw 'Peter' he would come check up on you and would always bring the children to you. You both got to know each other very well, almost like you've known each other for years.

  Henry couldn't believe it was you. He-you had actually found him, he kept a close eye on you as much as possible. Seeing how much you've grown and change, he always tried to be around. Taking the children to you , coming to see you during his breaks. He realised that he had missed you. He remembers that night hearing your screams from the attic, he knew that you knew what he was about to do. Someday you would understand and someday it would just be you and him once again.

   A few months later, and it happened again one of the children had passed. The scream that would make everyone's and anyone's ear bleed. You had tried to tame it so badly which had caused you to start hyperventilating.

"Y/n breath tell me what's going on." Henry tried to calm her.

"It's like it's on the tip of my tongue and I don't know how to trigger it... I swear to god.,. it literally makes me want to scream... I-I promised it wouldn't happen here.." you said, freaking out, shaking,

"Come with me.."

  Henry grabbed your arm and started taking you to a different place but it was to late.  The blood curdling scream, broke breaking the lights making Henry cover his ears, as well as everybody else in the lab. After it was over you fell and passed out in Henry's arms. But, Their was another person in the hall with you and Henry. The one neither of you wanted to face. Dr. Brenner.

  Brenner had never heard anything like it. The more he started to think about it he had heard of the term banshee before but, he had never expected to come across one. Let alone one of his employees. He read the words very carefully.

Banshee: a female spirit whose wailing warns of an impending death in a house.

  You had predicted the death of one of the children. After, you had passed out he sent you to the infirmary and had you on the medical table with wires all over you. When you woke up, you started to freak out.

"It's okay Ms.L/n, this will help." The one doctor said.

   While holding a needle to your throat, you grabbed his hand, sitting up. "Y/n.. DONT!" You heard a voice yell and with that letting out your scream. Breaking lights once again making the needle shatter and the doctors ear bleed making him pass out. You fell back onto the table tears streaming down your face.

"Unbelievable... you have no idea what you are do you?... The wailing women... a banshee.. right before my eyes." You heard and slowly turned around to see Dr.Brenner.

"W-what do you mean?" Y/n asked.

"We will talk more about it tomorrow. Get some rest Ms. L/n... i will make sure nobody tries that again.." and with that Brenner left.

He left you with your thoughts. What was a banshee? Was she one? What did Dr.Brenner mean? How did he know what you were?

"How are you feeling?" A voice knocked you out of your thoughts. You quickly sat up only to see 'Peter'. " I apologize didn't mean to scare you."

"Uh.. n-no it's fine. I-im sorry for what happened be-before." You said as you looked away ashamed.

"It's quite alright. Its not the first time it's happened I'm sure." He replied.

"I-uh.. no.. no it's not the first time.. h-how did you kn- you know what actually never mind.."

"How are you feeling?" He asked again.

"Throats a bit soar but I'm fine.. just tired." You replied, you could have swore you saw a faint smile fall onto his lips.

"Well I will let you get some rest. Goodnight." He said before getting up and walking towards the exit.

"Goodnight, Peter.." You said, before drifting off to sleep as the exhaustion you felt consumed you.

Once, Y/n fell asleep Henry walked back over he had missed you so.. he brushed a few pieces of hair out of her face, dragging a finger over her features. She had definitely grown into your features.. so beautiful.. before, he left he kissed her forehead while smelling the vanilla conditioner.

"I promise, we will be together again and we fill be free from this hell." With that he left.

  The next day, you were feeling a lot better up until you saw Brenner. He called you into his office.

"Ah, Y/n I'm sure your feeling better." Brenner said.

"Yes, I'm fine." She replied.

"I'm sure, you want to know more about what I meant.." He asked, you looked up and nod.

"Y-yes, more than anything.." She replied. Brenner stood up going over to a shelf and pulling a book out.

"This will tell you. If you have questions you can always come to my office but, your a smart young woman so I think you can figure it out. I also advise you, to stay away from 'Peter'.." "why?"

"I know it may not seem like it Ms.L/n but, 'Peter' is very dangerous.. with that being said we have made your room sound proof so the children won't here when.. you have your episodes.. the rules are still the same and if you have a feeling go to the room. I will be monitoring you while you are here. Do I make myself clear Ms. L/n."

"Y-yes Dr.Brenner."

  With that He handed you the book and dismissed you. You took the book straight to your room. Once, you got to your room, you sat at your desk, took a deep breath, opened the book to the page Brenner had marked, and started to read.

  Banshee;

  A banshee is a female spirit in Irish folklore who heralds the death of a family member, usually by screaming, wailing, shrieking, or keening. Her name is connected to the mythologically important tumuli or "mounds" that dot the Irish countryside, which are known as síde in Old Irish.

  Personality Traits;

  Banshees may seem ghoulish, but they have no record of being violent or even mischievous.

  History;

  A Banshee is said to be a fairy in Irish legend and her scream is believed to be an omen of death. The scream is also called 'caoine' which means 'keening' and is a warning that there will be an imminent death in the family and as the Irish families blended over time, it is said that each family has its own Banshee!

   Their were a million thoughts going through your head at the moment as read and read.

'Am I the only one? Their is one in each family? How did i become one? Is their a reason?' You were so deep into your book and your thoughts. You didn't even here someone had come in.

"How are you feeling?" You jumped at the voice breaking your trance. While you snapped the book shut, turning around to see 'Peter'. "I didn't mean to startle you."

"Peter.. uh um.. it's fine, I'm doing okay." Y/n said cautiously.

"I know.. that Brenner told you to stay away from me..." She looked him for a moment.

"So why are you here?" Y/n asked, turning back to the desk not wanting to deal with him. You heard his footsteps approach you as he kneeled down to your height. Pressing his chest against your back making you tense. "W-why are you doing this?"

"Because, I'm not letting you go.." he whispered.

"Since, when did you have me?" You asked.

"I will tell you tonight if you will let me.." you turned your face to him just realising how close you actually were and nodded.

"Okay.."

  Later that evening, you heard a knock on your door. You opened it, making sure no one saw and let him in.

"So what did you mean?" You asked. He looked at you hesitant. "I promise, I do want to know. I want the truth. Why it feels like I've known you more than just a few months."

"Because, we have known each other for longer ever since you were eleven and I was twelve." You looked at him for a moment. "It's me n/n."

"H-Henry.." you looked into his eyes.

"N-no, that's not possible Henry's gone, his father killed him and the rest of his family.." Before you could say anything else he pulled up his sleeve revealing '001' . He pulled you back down to sit next to him.

"I fell into a coma Y/n. When, I woke up from my coma only to find myself placed in the care of a doctor, the very doctor I had hoped to escape. Dr. Martin Brenner. Papa. But the truth...the truth is he did not just want to study me. He wanted more. He wanted to control. When Papa finally realized he could not control me, he tried to recreate me. He began a program. And soon, others were born." You looked at him.

"I-it's really you.. H-Henry."  Hesitantly placing a hand on his cheek, before smiling and tears coming your eyes. "I can't believe it's actually you.."

  Before you knew it his lips crashed down on to yours. Finally (almost) getting what he wanted was you. Before, either of you knew he was on top of you. You broke away for breathe looking deeply into each other's eyes before, you both leaned in once more. Wasting the rest of the night away reconnecting *wink wink*.

Few weeks later, you both had actually been able to keep your relationship a secret. You both had also been reconnecting more. You telling him everything that has happened during you're time apart. Him sneaking into your room when, everyone else is asleep or had gone home. And tonight was like no other, or so you thought.

"Henry, what happened?" Y/n asked dragging him, making him sit on your bed. While, unbuttoning his shirt knowing full well what happened.

"He doesn't like me getting close to Eleven." Henry replied. You sighed before getting up to get the bandages and saline. Turning back and starting to tend to his wounds.

"I don't mean to pry but, why have you been getting close to eleven?" You asked finishing, tending his last wound.

"I told you, that I was going to get us out of here." "And by using a five year old is away to do that?" You scolded. He grabbed your hand which forced you to look at him.

"I'm not using her.. she just going to help us."

"What about the other children?"

"It would be to dangerous."

"So why does eleven going to help us?"

"I have a chip in my neck.." he said taking your hand and placing it on to the back of his neck were an abnormally bump was. "Brenner calls it 'sortia' it's binds my abilities.. weakens me and tracks me.."

"Your going to have her take it out for you aren't you.." "Yes." You sighed pulling your hand away about to look away before he pulled you back.

"It's going to work. I'm doing this for us." Henry said, caressing your cheek. You hesitantly nodded.

A few days later, Henry's plan was about to be set in motion and you have that feeling.. the feeling the voices before the deaths but this one seemed different it seemed more harder for you to bare. After, Henry left your room that night, you couldn't sleep the voices becoming louder and louder it sound like a thousand people screaming all at once.

The next day, Henry told you to stay in your room. Brenner had let you have the day off from the lack of sleep you had the night before. The voices and the feeling didn't stop, the pressure became to much and you let out your blood curdling scream but this scream was different. When it was over you felt weak, you felt blood running down your faces and tasting the metallic of blood, Barley being able to breath, and spots began to blur your vision. The last thing you heard were people screaming a few feet away from your room and with that you were gone.

Brenner woke up to sirens blaring and blood streaming down his face, he made a call asking what was happening before hearing screaming. He looked around to see everyone dead. There eyes gone bones twisted.. he knew exactly who did this 001/Henry. Then he remembered you remembering what he read in the book he gave you.

'If more than a handful of people die, it could be hundreds or even thousands of people dying. The banshee will be put to rest, ears, eyes bleeding, as well as their mouth.'

He knew the past between you two and maybe you could stop him. He made his way as fast as he could to your room.

Once, Henry finished 002 he made sure eleven had made it out. Nice to know she did. Now he was on his way to you. Passing through all the dead bodies noticing one was missing Brenner. He got to your room as fast as lighting speed. Once he got their he saw you lying on the floor with blood surrounding you and Brenner.

"What did you do to her." Henry asked, as he lifted Brenner off the floor.

"0-001 please. I need to help her.." His grip tightened. "If I don't help her she will die!" Brenner yelled before his airway closed.

"What do you mean or she will die?" Henry asked loosening his powers on Brenner.

"It's what she is.. because of what you have done, it was to much.. she felt all of them.. everyone that you have murdered.. it said that 'If more than a handful of people die, it could be hundreds or even thousands of people dying. The banshee will be put to rest, ears, eyes bleeding, as well as their mouth.' If I don't help her. She will die." Brenner said swallowing his pride continuing. "And if you l-let me go, I will grant you and her freedom. They will never know it was you. And will think it was me. It's what I deserve for keeping you here and the others.."

  Henry looked at him for a moment before letting him drop and follow him with Y/n in his arms to the infirmary. Brenner tended to Y/n who was stable for the most part and before leaving Brenner pointed a gun to Henry's head and with a blink of an eye Brenner was gone. Henry sealed Brenner's fate with the flick of his head. Before, picking up Y/n and leaving this place far behind to start his life with you.

Word count: 3180

(A/n: WOW! This is a long one! I hope y'all liked it! Can't wait to see all your comments! Let me know how I did *nervous laugh* I couldn't decide on a title. Lol. Requests are still open! Hope you all enjoyed! Bye! :) )

[firsttarotreader]

Pero Tovar - The Tower

The twelfth character in our series “Pedro’s Characters as Tarot Cards” is Pero Tovar. The card for Tovar is “The Tower”.

The Tower is a card about destruction, chaos and turmoil, a symbol for the ambition built on weak premises that needs to fall down so something new and stronger can be built. It represents radical change, in the form of a shakeup, a striking event meant to clean the old ways and to make one let go of their old truths. A person with the energy of The Tower is disruptive, they often bring transformation and chaotic shifts. They might have an intense presence, commanding and bold, unpredictable, even. Capable of bringing light to unacknowledged truths, evoking strong reactions and revealing tensions.

Tovar is a disruptive and chaotic presence. He arrives at the Wall with his friend William and they both bring radical change, but Tovar is the force that causes, in a way, destruction, while William is the one that builds something new. He comes to steal the black powder that, in essence, is already a destroying asset, and he doesn’t want to stay or fight, he wants to take and leave. Even when he goes to a dinner inside the Wall, he is not worried about getting to know the people and their culture, he wants to eat, to consume everything he can. He makes William confront his own darkness and hidden truths and he is the one who challenges him to look inside and undo the perception he has of himself as the “hero” and “savior” of the Chinese people. He plans and organizes an escape with someone else he meets there, Sir Ballard, and they use the black powder to cause an explosion, steal more of it and break free, knocking out William in the process. When Ballard betrays him and takes the powder and the horses, he ends up captured and dies by another explosion of the powder. Tovar, although not responsible for his death, is still the catalyst of a radical change in Ballard’s situation that makes him believe he can finally escape the Wall. He is all about disruption and rebellion, but he is also unpredictable in the way he can show up like lightning to save William and help him capture a Tao Tei.

Next up, Marcus Pike!

[ohheyitslee]

wip wednesday

king of the clouds | experiment steve harrington 

He could feel the cold seeping into his bones as he was led down the sterile hallway, socked feet lightly shuffling across the floor as he was brought into a small room. The tiled and off-white room was colder than the hallway yet brighter, with a large silver window on one wall. Seven’s dark eyes drifted over the other person in the room, taking in Eight's sharp scowl as she stared into the mirrored window. Seven could feel her anger in the heat on his hands and a sharp pressure behind his eyes. 

“Good evening, Eight; how are we feeling today?’  The man leading Seven, Dr. Brenner, asked, his voice light and pleasant as he guided Seven to sit across from the girl. 

“I am fine, Dr. Brenner.” Her accent was brash, words rough as his eyes shifted to glare at the older man. 

“Good. You know Seven here, correct?” 

“Yes. I do.” Her voice wavered slightly on the last word as her arms crossed over her chest, cold washing over the anger previously situated across his knuckles and down his shoulder blades. 

Brenner smiled, taking a seat at the desk in the corner of the room, hand moving up to press the intercom button. “Nurse DiFazio, you may enter now.” His hand dropped away as the door opened to let a short woman in, hair and eyes dark, making her way towards the two children. Dr. Brenner smiled, gesturing toward the orderly in the room, a loose motion towards his head before his hand reached into his coat pocket, a sleek pen emerging from the gray material. 

The bundle of wires the nurse had placed over Seven's head itched as they settled in, the nurse long gone as the two now sat in silence. 

“Alright, Eight, let's review some of the things we learned last time. Seven, do you remember what Nurse Ballard showed you before coming here?” Brenner looked up from the stack of files on his lap, legs crossed as she leaned back, relaxed. 

The images of small black spiders popped back into Seven's mind, his heart jumping just slightly as he nodded, voice shaking  and scratchy from disuse as he said, “Yes, Sir.”  

“Alright, Eight, go ahead.” 

At first, nothing happened. The room was still too cold. Too sterile. Seven’s eyes drifted away from their staring contest with Eight to look around the room before meeting hers again. He knew her. Had seen her in the Rainbow Room on occasion, but he had never had any test with her, so he didn’t know what was supposed to happen. Narrowing his eyes, he watched as her gaze darkened and turned sharper as a trickle of blood began to pool under her nose, the blood beginning to drip, drip, dri-

Seven let out a yelp as hundreds of spiders leaked out from under the door to the small room. Pushing his back against his chair, he gulped in air as his heart started to hammer in his chest, eyes slammed shut as he kept himself as still as possible. 

“What do you see, Seven?” Brenner's voice was calm, his curiosity flaring heat up Seven's neck, trailing up and under his chin. 

“Spiders! Spiders!” His eyes were still slammed closed, his voice high with fear as he answered. He took a few more deep breaths, his heart finally calming down enough to let him crack his eyes open before hastily closing them again at the sight of the spiders still there. 

“Alright, Seven, I just need you to calm down. Eight, that’s enough.” 

Lowly, a quiet “no” from the girl across from Seven, and then Eight's anger was back in full force, a pulsing heat across his knuckles melting away her previous coldness. 

Seven's breathing slowed, eyes still shut as a determination set across his shoulders as he focused on the threat before him. Peeling his eyes open, ignoring the spiders still crawling over the bale, he centered on Eight. Blood began to pool under his nose as the tiled room around them melted away, revealing the dark walls of an isolation cell. 

Seven gave a small smile at the look Eight was giving the room they were now in; her eyes widened as she took a step backward, back hitting the wall, her terror stiffening Seven’s spine and stinging behind his eyes. 

“I can do that too.” His voice was steady as he stepped back and out of the room, the door closing to leave Eight in complete darkness, her pounding on the door drowned out by the growing volume of her screaming. 

A sharp sting to the side of his neck brought Seven back to the reality of the cold room, two guards hauling the boy up and out of his chair as Eight continued to scream across from him. Blood dripped heavily from his nose as he grew drowsy, head drooping forward and going limp in the guard's grip as they pulled him from the room, Eight's screams echoing in his ears as he lost consciousness. 

–

Air flooded into Steves's lungs as he shot awake with a sharp inhale, eyes wide, his chest rapidly rising and falling as he heaved for air, the harsh ringing of his alarm clock ringing through the plaid-plastered room as the boy dragged a shaking hand down his face. Pushing himself up and out of the safe confines of his comforter, Steve made his way downstairs, pulling his sleep shirt over his head as he exited out into the backyard, dropping the shirt onto one of the pool lounge chairs. 

Sitting at the edge of the clear blue pool, he pulled his knees to his chest, wrapping his arms around them, and curled into a tight ball, eyes losing focus as he stared into the cold water. He could feel the heaviness of time being slowed to a halt around him on his shoulders, trying to regulate his breathing again. Sounds returned slowly, lagging in time with his unsteady breathing, the morning bird songs getting further into their tune, and the bubbling water in the pool filter slowly filling the air. Soon, the world around him was back in full gear,  blood slowly dripping from his nose, his bones shaking as the early morning November air seeped under his skin. Tucking his chin to his chest, Steve took one last deep breath, reeling in his weakening control, time continuing to resume around him, before standing and making his way inside, preparing himself for a long day at school.

[bossymarmalade]

Thoughts on the women of Homicide?

Amazing. As per usual for this show, they were varied and complex and not always likeable. In fact there were a few I distinctly DIDN'T like.

But let's start with Kay Howard. Remember when they stopped putting makeup on Melissa Leo and just let her hair do what it wanted, to match her perfect clearance rate? Remember how she wore sports jackets and pleated trousers and looked like somebody's small female uncle? I mention her appearance bc it was important in conjunction with how Kay took no prisoners but at the same time she showed interests in keepsakes, and family, and getting laid. She sometimes went out of her way to support other women and sometimes didn't seem to care. She liked talking about sex with her fellow detectives and somehow managed to hit a sweet spot where it was like they were talking man-to-man except she wasn't a man. It was great.

Megan Russert - UGGGGHHH. I think one of the show runners said they wanted a "fuckable" woman on the show? Anyhow Meghan was a pick me with her satin blouses and her coiffed hair and the way she said nonsense like how she wanted to be "the best detective not the best WOMAN detective" and thought it was idk 'tokenistic' or something to support other women in the department. She sucked. Her kid sucked. Her affair with Beau sucked.

Special mention: Barbara Shivers. I love u girl <3

Even MORE special mention: Emma Zoole. A Chinese-American woman with an obsession for death art who slept in a coffin and fucked Bayliss in said coffin!?? I loved Emma Zoole beyond all reason and only partially because she was played by the marvellous Lauren Tom.

Julianna Cox was so good. Aloof standoffish M.E. with wounds a mile wide, who decides to gravitate towards the OTHER walking wound on the squad and then we got to watch her and Mikey eviscerate each other without even realizing it? Fantastic. She was no ordinary shiksa. Blew into town in her hot rod and left the same way. Iconic.

Terri Stivers - loved her. I liked her energy with Kellerman and the ever-mysterious referring to him as "Sir Michael"; I liked that she entered the Luther Mahoney mess from an 'outsider' perspective and Meldrick was fascinated AND put off by her. I love that she got embroiled in it and did a complete 180 on Kellerman that I didn't understand the full importance of then but I sure as fuck do now.

Georgia Rae Mahoney was a classic sort of antagonist and completely out of stereotype. Possibly a lesbian? I could never quite figure her out and I loved that.

Laura Ballard ... look I wanted to like Ballard. I like Callie Thorne and she was kinda fun but she suffered from New Character Shows Up Your Beloved Existing Characters syndrome. It was especially irksome that it was in a ham-fisted storyline where Pembleton was lax in investigating a prestigious black family just because they were a prestigious black family to the point of ignoring evidence. And then they gave Ballard that juvenile office romance with Falsone. It was just tedious. But not as much as --

Rene Sheppard! I can't be fair to her because I didn't think the actor was very good so I tuned out or fast forwarded most of Sheppard. She got beat down gun took. Her ponytails looked punishingly tight.

Billie Lou -- god please why

Mary Pembleton made the greatest potato salad in the entire world full stop.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

This day in history

I'm touring my new, nationally bestselling novel The Bezzle! Catch me in Torino (Apr 21) Marin County (Apr 27), Winnipeg (May 2), Calgary (May 3), Vancouver (May 4), and beyond!

#20yrsago Prison wipes creative-writing class HDDs after student wins PEN award https://www.prisonlegalnews.org/news/2005/feb/15/connecticut-prison-writers-settle-lawsuit-writing-program-reinstated/

#20yrsago EFF waging war on bullshit Internet patents https://web.archive.org/web/20040507111819/https://www.eff.org/Patent/20040419_eff_pr_patent.php

#20yrsago Brazil cracks down on sat-hackers who bounce ham signals off US military satellites https://www.wired.com/2009/04/fleetcom/

#15yrsago Clement Freud’s funniest joke https://britrish.com/2011/08/10/sir-clement-freud-and-the-funniest-joke-ever-told/

#15yrsago RIP, JG Ballard http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/entertainment/8007331.stm

#15yrsago CIA waterboarded individual suspects up to 183 times https://www.theguardian.com/world/2009/apr/20/waterboarding-alqaida-khalid-sheikh-mohammed

#10yrsago Profile of Aeropress and Aerobie inventor Alan Adler https://priceonomics.com/the-invention-of-the-aeropress/

#10yrsago UK tax authority caught sneaking in plan to sell Britons’ private financial records https://www.theguardian.com/politics/2014/apr/18/hmrc-to-sell-taxpayers-data

#5yrsago AOC is going to Kentucky https://www.cnn.com/2019/04/19/politics/alexandria-ocasio-cortez-kentucky-visit/index.html

#5yrsago TSA admits that its pornoscanners flag Black women and others with curly hair for humiliating, invasive searches https://www.propublica.org/article/tsa-not-discriminating-against-black-women-but-their-body-scanners-might-be

#5yrsago NYC adopts law targeting the handful of skyscrapers that are spiking the city’s carbon footprint https://www.wired.com/story/new-yorks-aggressive-climate-law-takes-aim-at-skyscrapers/

#5yrsago Read the source code for every classic Infocom text-adventure game! https://arstechnica.com/gaming/2019/04/you-can-now-download-the-source-code-for-all-infocom-text-adventure-classics/

#5yrsago Telcoms lobbyists have convinced 26 states to ban or restrict municipal broadband https://www.vice.com/en/article/kzmana/report-26-states-now-ban-or-restrict-community-broadband

#5yrsago IPOs have sent Uber and Lyft fares skyrocketing, while driver pay plummets https://www.theguardian.com/technology/2019/apr/18/uber-lyft-drivers-surge-pricing-wages

#1yrago Iowa's starvation strategy https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/19/whats-wrong-with-iowa/#replicable-cruelty

[anhed-nia]

BLOGTOBER 10/29/2023: THE LODGER (1944)

If I may briefly shill for the org I volunteer for: I have been meaning to see this movie ever since I caught this incredibly great lecture from the Miskatonic Institute of Horror Studies' London branch, by Dr. Clare Smith, a curator at Scotland Yard's crime museum. Dr. Smith deftly dissected the Jack the Ripper iconography that is internationally accepted today, even though we have no idea what the killer actually looked like. Attention was paid to the many adaptations of Marie Belloc Lowndes' 1913 novel The Lodger, about a naive couple who take in a boarder who may or may not be Jack the Ripper. Dr. Smith's lecture was unfortunately so compelling that it gave me inflated expectations of this movie, which is only pretty-good I feel, though it certainly has its charms.

The main charm is Laird Cregar as the titular lodger, Mr. Slade, whose secret identity is hardly in doubt. He sashays into the lives of Mr. and Mrs. Bonting (Sir Cedric Hardwicke and Sarah Allgood), who are at first bizarrely trusting of him despite the fact that practically everything he says and does makes him out to be Count Dracula. He also manages to hypnotize another boarder, cabaret singer Kitty (Merle Oberon), who is so oblivious to Slade's overtly deranged behavior that it threatens to transform John Brahms' gothic thriller into a comedy. Thankfully, Brahms is supported in his efforts by cinematographer Lucien Ballard, who has made a lot of movies you've heard of including THE WILD BUNCH and TRUE GRIT. With his help, THE LODGER is frequently terrific-looking and atmospheric, in spite of the comic threat several of the leads pose to the film's dramatic tension. Cregar himself is a bit of a ham, for sure, but he's a tasty ham, so he's exempt from my charges of horror treason. With all this forewarning, you might enjoy this movie more than I did!

[theheadcanondemon]

Henry Creel’s Best Friend

~ When you were kids(if he went to school) you’d be the first one to go up to him.

~ Henry knew he was different and so did everyone else. No-one had ever wanted to befriend him. They mostly belittled him and gave him funny looks. But you… You were different.

~ When the two of you met, it was outside during lunch. He’d found a spider behind the school building and had begun playing with it.

~ You found him while you were playing tag with some other kids and had decided to slip away from the game to hang out with him.

~ He’d noticed you long before you said anything, he just chose not to acknowledge it.

~ When you finally spoke, you inquired about the spider he was playing with.

“What kind of spider is that?”

“A Brown Recluse.”

“Aren’t those poisonous?”

“He likes me.”

~ From then on, you’d always be seen hanging around Henry. He nor anyone else knew why, but you just did. You considered him your friend.

~ Whenever some random group of kids was trying to bully him, you always stepped in with the most confusing of roasts to scare them off.

“Oi spider whisperer! How about you pork over your lunch money and my buddies and I won’t obliterate you?”

“Yo, back off of him you dirty lookin’ bird eating monkey! You can’t say anything when u built like a desk ya turd!”

~ You’re insults towards other people would always earn a chuckle from Henry. He didn’t find many things funny, but somehow you always managed to make him laugh with even the smallest of jokes.

~ He didn’t care much for his birthday, but he absolutely never forgot yours. He would always bring you little trinkets and thoughtful gifts, or he’d invite you over to his house.

“Awh, Henry what’s this?”

“They’re spider rings. And a bracelet-making kit. I noticed you liked making those. And I got the rings so we’d match.”

“AAAAAWWWWHHHH!!!”

~ Henry never showed much emotion, but whenever you gave him something or complimented him, or when he gave you gifts there was always a certain little shimmer in his eyes and a certain brightness in his inquisitive face.

~ You’d come over to his house and prank his family. You’d put poisonous spiders little surprises in his sister’s bed and put little wind-up rats or snakes in the bathtub or under the table. When they’d freak out, both of you would run up to his room and burst out laughing. His parents only ever let the pranks go when you were around. They’d get him back when you left, though.

~ When you two grow up and you find out Henry’s been working at the national lab, you find ways to sneak in. He’d always find you huddled in the vents. You’d always bring him little gifts from the store when you visited. Things like sweets, a newspaper, a goofy greeting card.

~ Eventually of course, Brenner found out about your visits and caught Henry talking to you through the vents in the Rainbow Room. When you heard his voice you clapped your hand over your mouth, trying not to laugh.

~ You were always confused as to why he called your best friend “Peter” and not “Henry”, but you didn’t question it aloud.

“Mr. Ballard, would you mind explaining what on earth you’re doing?” Brenner would say.

~ You would be in the vents trying not to die of laughter when you heard Henry try to explain himself without sounding completely insane. Eventually, Brenner just cut to the chase and asked if someone or something was in the vents.

“Mr. Ballard, is there someone in the vents..?”

“I- Ugh.. Yes sir.”

~ When Henry opened the vent for you, you casually crawled out and brushed your clothes off. When you finished getting the dust off, you looked up and smiled at the two men as if nothing had happened.

“Yo, what’s going on?”

~ Brenner would face palm and not even bother punishing either of you, knowing you’d end up coming back anyway.

~ This shocked Henry beyond comprehension. He thought he would get electrocuted and you’d either get killed for finding out the existance of the lab or sworn to secrecy. Instead, Brenner made a deal with you. If you mentioned nothing of the lab’s experiments, you could come and go as you pleased and see the Children. You gladly agreed, since you got to see your best friend without sneaking around now.

~ You’d help Henry with taking care of the kids and watching them. Quite quickly, you bonded with one of the children named 012. He was one of the younger children, tiny but strong.

~ Henry would always get jealous when you paid more attention to 012 and not him. He’d make his jealousy obvious by pouting and trying to make you jealous by playing with some of the other children.

Anyways, I digress.

Good night/Morning<3

[illiana-mystery]

The Great Wall, but it's just Sir Ballard (Willem Dafoe) for 3 minutes

[faxxmachine]

Might try to read 100 books this year just get the taste of A Little Life out of my brain. I've never been so angry at a book in my life and I think I will hate it until the end of time.

ANYWAY

Going well so far and seem to be on a SciFi tear. Unfortunately, sexism abounds in that genre and especially in the classic or important books. For something like Roadside Picnic, I can understand as it was written in 1971 and is not pretending to be a utopia (in fact, the new technology seems to be reproducing more of the same which is a fascinating angle). For a dystopia I can also understand it because why would it not be more of the same old shit (though they should indicate they have thought a bit about that)? For something purporting to be set in the future and a utopian society if an author cannot imagine women as human beings at the very least, never mind full social participants, I'm going to have trouble. It's at best an indication of intellectual and imaginative shortcoming and at worst a depressing confirmation that they do not in fact see women as people (a kind of sentient thing perhaps, but not a person). That's one of a few reasons I had such a hard time with The Demolished Man (and Blade Runner 2049 to a large degree).

Read E.M Forster's The Machine Stops the other night and the number of times I laughed nervously in recognition of certain human tendencies and of the current milieu was alarming to say the least. A bit scary. A bit prescient, Mr. Forster (except for the buttons - there are no buttons now, everything is a black mirror).

But I am looking forward to reading more Tanith Lee, getting into some Joanna Russ, more Ursula K Le Guin, dipping my toes in Octavia Butler's oeuvre, Margaret St Clair and Alice Bradley Sheldon aka James Tiptree Jr., and Anna Kavan to start with (er they don't have to be dead but it seems to be a theme here).

Also planning to read a bit of D.G. Compton, J. G. Ballard (god help me), R. A. Lafferty, PKD, Stanislaw Lem, Barry N. Malzberg (vale, sir), Greg Bear and Adam Roberts.

[broodpeas]

Books 2024.

Here are the books I've read this year.

The romantic comedies that I still can't believe they were published.

Mr. Wrong Number by Lynn Painter.

Happily ever after by Lynn Painter.

Both books, if I could give them negative stars, I would.

Not like the movies. Kelly Winfrey.

The effort for flawed characters is loable, but that's about it.

One-star romance. Laura Hankin.

One star indeed. The narrator is shrill, and that is a term that as a staunch feminist, I never use in a negative connotation. Until I read this book.

The Fiancé Dilemma. Elena Armas.

I thought the obsession US romcom book clubs have on this author was because she was a good writer. I was wrong. by god, was I wrong.

Kissing Tolstoy. Penny Reid (Novella).

I was happy to see a writer debunking this holy male writer in order to explain a very inappropiate relationship between a professor (a russian, very white, very controlling man) and a student (who loses all agency in this short book). The result is a red flag book.

Love hacked. Penny Reid.

Again, the red flags! So many red flags!!

Ten ways to seduce your boyfriend. Penny Reid.

Right on cue. Falon Ballard.

Till heist do us part. Sara Desai.

Unnecessarily long, with a confusing plot and characters who dilute and are so weak I almost stab my eyes with a fork.

It happened one summer. Tessa Bailey.

The clocky app book section of the internet will tell you this is hot and steamy. I will tell you that the scene where they have sex in a hospital is not only inappropiate (of all the damn places, the place where sick people go to?!), it's just...ew.

To woo and to wed. Martina Writers.

Not only is this book terrible, it's a blatant copy of Bridgerton with a very lazy, terrible approach to Austen.

Lush Lives. Vanessa Lyon.

I never understood the plot of the book nor the characters. Yay for disabled queer love, but it felt I was ticking a list on diversity.

Books that I forgot I'd read until I check my reading apps (I Am Angry I Read Some Of Them).

The Rosie Project. Graeme Simsion.

Do not let men write romcoms.

The Shaadi set-up. Lilie Vale.

I'm not of indian descent, but I'd take offense if I were.

Love and other flights delays (compilation, novella). Denise Williams.

Token. Beverly Kendall.

A crown of ivy and glass. Claire Legrand.

I am an adult person who no longer hates read. Yet, I found myself despising this book so much that the hate lead me to pre-order the following book in this series.

The wedding date. Jazmine Guilroy.

If this author ever does a refund, I'd never accept it because no money can ever give me back the hours I wasted reading this.

The Bridgerton series because come on, this is me.

An offer from a gentleman.

The offer! The cinderella plot and then the attempt to make it a plot twist and failing! I am here for this and I can't wait for the tv series.

To sir Philip, with love.

Eloise, I don't think we was ready for this. She became a therapist, a savior, and a mom in like 3 days. She also lost her agency, which was barely noticeable in the books and I am so ready for the season. This is a fantastic hot mess.

Good romcoms only women and queer people will enjoy.

The roomate fiasco and The fake boyfriend fiasco. Both by Talia Hibbert.

Long live this amazing author who gives us red flags, beige flags, sex toys, consensual relationships, fucked up pasts, therapy and redemption.

Say you'll be mine. Naina Kumar.

The ending felt extremely rushed, but the book is sweet and funny. What a delightful read.

Seven days in june. Tia Williams.

The summer of everything. Julian Winters.

Business Casual. B.K. Borison.

Do you take this man. Denise Williams.

Just like you. Nick Hornby.

Fantastic reads that made me laugh and weep and I couldn't stop reading until I was done.

Words in deep blue. Cath Crowley.

The Dating plan. Sara Desai.

The marriage game. Sara Desai.

Summer romance. Annabel Monaghan.

Past, present, future. Rachel Lynn Salomon.

What a lovely conclusion to a book that I think didn't need a sequel. It's just wonderful reading for a YA audience.

The singles table. Sara Desai.

The thing is this book isn't bad, it's just that the characters needed a few pages to discuss therapy. Like, I was worried about fictional people's mental health.

Technically yours. Denise Williams.

I liked it so much I'll probably read it again.

The Holy Crap This Is So Good books.

We could be so good. Cat Sebastian.

The most beautiful love story I've read in a while. I was invested. I want to believe this isn't just fiction. Queer love!

Funny Story. Emily Henry.

The chokehold Henry has on us is deep and wonderful. Never formulaic, never a dull moment.

Ariadna. Jennifer Saint.

I didn't think a feminist re-telling of one the best greek mytholgy female characters could be so compelling, so human and so stunning.

Hanh Khan Carries On. Uzma Jalaluddin.

This book solidified my belief Jalaluddin is one of the best contemporary romcom writers.

Joan is Okay. Weike Wang.

One of the best books I've read in the past decade of my life. What a writer, what a book, what a heartbreaking story. The pace can feel slow but it's necessary, it's important.

The Rachel Incident. Caroline O'Donough.

Another excellent, remarkable and incredibly joyous book. O'Donough deserves all the praise, because this debut novel really is a punch. Ireland is producing great writers and I'm so glad I stumbled upon those authors.

How to fail at flirting. Denise Williams.

This book is not an award winning book, but it's not about that. I love how she built those characters, how she made the lead find her voice, to find a path for herself, to give herself the chance to be compassionate with herself, to give herself grace and peace, and to trust the world, that is dark and terrible but you still can find good things in it. It's a beautiful book on survival and love.

The Fantasy Section.

Fire and Blood. George R.R. Martin.

I was there for the dragons and I wept for the dragons only.

The Familiar. Leigh Bardugo.

I didn't think Bardugo could write a good book and she slapped me. She shut me up. She really is a fantastic author, who is capable of writing one of the most exciting, magical, heartbreaking and wild books I've read in years. Also, this book is set in Spain! it has spells that I grew up hearing. The research for this book is amazing and it shows. And the love story is just great, they have their revenge and it is fantastic.

A venom dark and sweet. Judy I. Lin.

I knew I needed to wait to read this book because the cover looked promising. It delivered so much more, just so much more. The plot moves nicely, the magic is so delicate and simple, the characters sometimes lose a bit of punch, but overall, I loved reading this book. I just love when a fantasy book is capable to absorb my attention and I can't do anything but read the book. I can't wait to read more from Lin, honestly.

A song of Ash and Moonlight. Claire Legrand.

How is it possible that the same author who wrote that terrible and annoying ass book wrote this one? Whatever Legrand did, I don't care, I just want her to keep writing stories that are human and flawed and filled with mystic, fantasy, betrayal, plot twists and love. This book was an obsessive read, I inhaled it. It's already one of my favorite fantasy books, with Lin and Samantha Shannon's Priory.

Fantastic books I read that were not e-books.

A very large expanse of sea. Tahereh Mafi.

If I could give this author the thanks for writing a book that made my sad mind breath and rest, I could. It's a YA book but I found myself reflected in the lead character: her love for music, her distrust of the world, her disappointment and heartbreak over people who insists on hating something they don't understand. One of the best books I've ever read.

The Island of Missing Trees. Elif Shafak.

I started this book and I was very confused by it. I started I think earlier this year and I put it away. Then, in late november I picked it up and it was worth it. I cried, and I couldn't help but think in my aunt and how much she would've loved this book and this author.

Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow. Gabrielle Zevin.

Very Confusing Books.

Prep. Curtis Sittenfeld.

I don't have a rating in this book in my good reads. I just don't know still how I feel about this- it's Sittenfeld's debut novel but it's very different from what I read so far from her. It was a difficult read.

Nothing serious. Emma Medrano.

This book has a story that is difficult to swallow and process. A good debut novel, a very good writer. But it's a difficult, confusing book.

How to read now. Elaine Castillo.

Some of the essays here were too long. It's not a pop culture read and it really is a very academic writing that exists in pop culture. It's very well written, has some really good discussion points, but some things needed editing, as in: just get to the point of what you're saying.

Norah Ephron: The last interview and other conversations.

I love Norah Ephron but some things made me wince and others just let me plain right confused.

Yo soy el monstruo que os habla. Paul B. Preciado.

Why did Preciado gave this speechh? It's great but also...why?

Books I haven't finished because reading is not a competition (and I'm never winning).

Ghosts. Dolly Alderton.

Gengis Khan and the making of the modern world. Jack Weatherford.

Heir. Sabaa Tahir.

Devotions. Mary Oliver.

71 poemas. Emily Dickinson.

There's always this year. On basketball and ascension. Hanif Abourragib.

Doce Césares. Mary Beard.

Wolf Hall. Hilary Mantel.

La primera cruzada. Peter Frankopan.

Historia Económica de Colombia. José A. Ocampo (editor).

Disorientation. Elaine Hsieh Chou.

Los papeles de Afganistán. Una historia secreta de la guerra. Craig Whitlock.

Opinions. Roxane Gay.

Green dot. Madeleine Gray.

Bad Taste. Nathalie Olah.

[lettersfromleslie]

Winter of the Mole / The World-Famous Poetry Store / & Another Turn of the Wheel

Down come the leaves, into the drear. The goopy rains are here, the trees half undressed & half still leafed, deep damp reds and ochres with black slick skeleton winterbranches beginning to poke. My New York friends tell me there's been a drought on back East… No such thing out here in Seattle. It's been about as wet as I've seen it. My North Sea DNA is responding well to the slime, but my busker's heart knows the lean months are here. The better-organized performers have started heading for warmer climes. Hawaii, San Diego, Arizona, New Orleans. I'm staying put. I'm getting ready for the Winter of the Mole.

Not sure what animal we'd name the summer after, but it was a nice one. There was much of the usual - playing markets and gigs and parks and airports, a few trips to NY and back for gigs - as well as a lot of the outdoor time - which really was the chief reason for moving out here - paddling about on kayaks, walks in the woods.

New schemes too, however. I think my future memories of the summer will center on the many eves I spent moonlighting as a street poet on Ballard Ave with my new pal Dusty. Dusty is an Alaskan wild man, jazzed-up by a decade of winters in New Orleans and summers in Seattle, fueled by coffee and weed, hustling for his living much as I do but maybe moreso. By way of his strange hypnosis I suddenly found myself typing alongside him one day in late spring, and before I knew it I'd bought my own typewriter and was attempting to play stride piano and learning Hoagie Carmichael tunes. It seems he does this to people. As far as cults go it's a pretty benign setup. And he's surely one America's great remaining street hawkers: "Welcome to the world famous poetry store! Come on over sir, yes you, come get a poem about all the wonderful dirty things that mustache does! That's right, my mustache brother! Come on over, name your price, name your topic, I'll type you a poem! … Awright, have a drink and go think it over … You'll be more truthful with a couple drinks in ya … Tell you friends! … Poems for your loved ones, your sweetheart, your friends in jail! … Jazz lessons! … Oh sir! Sir, your mustache fell off! Right there on the ground! … World famous poetry store, any subject, any price! Ice cream poems, ice cream poems! How's that ice cream? What flavor did you get? … Have a good night! I miss you already! … Ma'am, would you like your tarot read? Would you like your tarot blue? Is that your man? Get that handsome hunk a poem … OH! SIR! SIR! Bet you a dollar I can tell you where you got those shoes at ..! …They're on your feet!!! You owe me a dollar!"

The process of writing the poems is a great bit of free-association. You get your subject, do your best to shut out everything that's going on around you, and rattle away. Sometimes the flow catches, sometimes it's just blather. It being a tip-based thing makes it feel reasonably fair. A new way to remain on the bum … Shoutout to Dusty. Love ya, ya fucking weirdo.

Simmering the background, the state of the nation. Grim & feverish. Always in flashes… Thinking of the moment when I walked into Washington Square Park in June and Peter the poet - a colleague now, I suppose - helloed me with a "Robert! Trump's been shot!" ... Or the Biden-Harris switcheroo ... The ever-nastier tone of things, bleakness & bile. And now the here-we-go-again vertigo of another four years with America's favorite aging bigoted TV huckster. Most around me claim not to have been surprised by the result. I was. It seems like a pretty definite vibe shift at any rate, the end of the old liberalism. Once could be a fluke. Twice, with eyes open…

And what to make of this new style of American government? It seems each faction of Trump's supporters have a different idea of what's going to happen - and all of them are seeing what they want to see. The Wall Streeters and finance bros and crypto entrepreneurs see a boon to business, deregulation, mergers & acquisitions; the poor see lower taxes, higher wages, the same govt services and an end to inflation; the bosses see unions busted and oversight reduced; the heartlanders and the working class see a return of industrial dignity and good-paying jobs; the anarcho-futurists see an era of big ideas unchained, of enlightened space despotism; the alternative health crowd see Big Corn Syrup brought to heel; the farmers see environmental deregulation without climate change; the bigots and white supremacists and religious nuts see their old imaginary 1950s main street scrubbed clean and lawns green and all the weirdos and foreigners safely back wherever they came from; the immigrants see their American dream realized fair & square among people who've worked on it hard, as they have (unlike the riffraff that's coming in); the military men see victory; the isolationists see peace; and I daresay almost everyone who voted for Trump II sees a bit of extra dough coming their way. Good luck with that soup of contradictions... But why be consistent, eh? The whole style is to do it on the wing. You say what you want and the crowd obliges by hearing what they want and everyone enjoys the jagged thrill of contradictions and dissonance. Eventually it all shakes out - if it shakes out well, it was planned, if poorly, there'll undoubtedly be someone to blame. The unknowableness of what's real and what's bluster makes a perfect realm for magical thinking, and the true reality of it all is somewhere way up ahead, off in the fog, like heart disease and credit card bills.

I guess it could be the start of America's strongman era, but there seems to me about an equal chance that they cock it all up again. The actual policy proposals look like a clusterfuck in the making. They wanna bring down prices while cutting taxes, raising prices on imports, and deporting the country's lowest-paid workers?

Still, the election result makes a kind of twisted sense if you look at the choice as a single, momentary thing, as a lever you pull one way or another. Then it becomes Ineffectual Establishment vs Crazy Outlaw. And we know who Americans tend to root for. Look at how it's been going with mr. CEO shooter. Left and right seem to agree on that one more than anything else: the big shots have it coming.

Oh well. In any case, here we go again. All eyes on the egg charts.

As I said, I was surprised by the results. Maybe twas a useful jolt, in the sense that realizing your powerlessness can be empowering. Finding meself politically in the minority, I feel an almost cozy isolation falling. Fuckem then, thinks I, do your worst, good luck, I disengage from the nation, from here out I'll look out for myself & those I love. I've picked up on a similar feeling of resignedness and disengagement around me. I think that's alright. It seems to me the kicking in of healthy defense mechanisms. Back to the neighborhood. The larger order shifts. The post-cold war neoliberal establishment take a bow. One last hurrah - there stand the Bidens, the Cheneys, the Bushes, the Clintons, the woebegone Obamas, the woulda-coulda Kamalas, handing over the keys.

And chances are we'll miss them yet, eh? It's easy to pooh-pooh an idealism that doesn't live up to itself, but at least it's an ethos. What rules will future debates revolve around? Will there even be meaningful debate, or do we fully stop pretending it wasn't always about power? They're nihilists, Donny!

Oh, sod it… What with the stage set for a cold, cold winter, we'll have need of those inner flames, and they need tending in quiet darkness, so here we go, we've hashed it out, now we exit the vortex, tune out the hubbub, reject the hijacking of our imaginations, and dig deep like the mole … that's my plan, anyway … One size does not fit all, of course … if you have the energy you could make like the monkey, flinging the turds of fortune back at them that crapped em … I have thought of it … (Ariel's got me jamming to Amyl and the Sniffers) … embrace the spirit of the gibbon, shrieking by day and soaking by nite in ancient hotsprings, being dusted what soft snows our modern winters still flurry down for us, pondering … considering the poopoo … or you could make like the pelican & flap off faraway, to the places that are still conducive to dreaming, and where one can cram one's gular skin with exotic crabs at favorable exchange rates …

And come crocustime we'll flap & stagger back out with the meltwater, moles & monkeys all, banana slugs & penguins, and we'll haul our sleepy carcasses back up to the wheel, human beasts still after all, and give er a spin. And around and around she goes, that wheel of fortune. "Here it is again, the Great Reversal: the first ending up last, and the last first." Ronald McDonald said that.

[if-you-fan-a-fire]

"JOSEPH ORR IS SENT DOWN FOR BEGGING MONEY," Hamilton Spectator. October 10, 1933. Page 7. --- Magistrate Gavę Prisoner Four Months To-day --- A. Hudson, A. McCarty Fined for Offense ---- Hentry Corti is Let Go on Probation --- Four months in jail was the penalty meted out to Joseph Orr, 21 Market street, in police court this morning when he was convicted on a charge of begging from door to door. Arthur Hudson, and William McCarty also faced similar charges. Hudson was fined $50 or three months, and McCarty, $25 or one month.

Motorcycle Officer Campbell told of arresting the trio in Westdalé yesterday after he had received complaints of men begging. Orr has a record, dating back for 18 years, and there are 19 entries on his card. Hudson's record dates back to 1902, and to-day's conviction makes his 36th. McCarty had no record.

Appearing for sentence on a charge of false pretenses, Henry Corti, Toronto, was allowed to go on probation for a year on his own recognizances, but he must supply a surety for $200 if required.

"He has kept out of trouble for 64 years so I think we can give him another chance," commented Magistrate Burbidge. William Morrison, K.C., M.L.A., defended.

Convicted in Brantford on a charge of robbery, John Blanchard appeared for sentence here on a breach of recognizances count. He was sentenced to three months definite and nine months indeterminate in the Ontario reformatory.

Still In Hospital At the request of Crown Attorney Ballard, who stated that the complainant is still in hospital, Angelo Bombén, charged with aggravated assault by John Gessone, was remanded for a period of eight days.

Martha Fox, 328 1/2 King street east, did not appear on a charge of trespass, but it was stated that the summons had not been person- ally served. A new summons will be issued.

Celebrating Thanksgiving not wisely but too well, William Lawlor was fined $50 or one month as a second offender drunk. Sir other men also faced drunk charges and were fined $10 or 14 days each.

A charge of non-support under the vagrancy section of the criminal code against Anton Daws, 218 King street east, was dismissed. A similar charge against James Honeyman, Toronto, was laid over for one week, while William Gillan. charged with failing to comply with a magistrate's order, will come up again to-morrow.

In liquor court, David Buchan. charged with illegal possession of liquor, was remanded for a week when it was stated that the report of the analyst has not been received.

A charge of illegal possession against Charles Musik was withdrawn by Assistant City Solicitor James B. Chambers.