#the may bird series was my absolute fave growing up and i get to read it to my sister and she likes it hehe ;)

[abracazabka]

Reading to children and "doing the voices" is perhaps one of the best activities in the world

[gorillazgal86]

Five Fave Fics

@improfem very kindly tagged me! Thank you darling! 

Rules:  it’s time to love yourselves! choose your 5 favourite works you created in the past year (fics, art, edits, etc) and link them below to reflect on the amazing things you’ve brought into the world. tag as many writers/artists/etc as you want (fan or original) so we can spread the love and link each other to awesome works!

I’m tagging:  @improfem (now you’re tagged XD), @hiphopanonymousao3 , @focusfixated, @coloursflyaway , @marveliciousfanace

[Podfic] Sorrow and Sighs and Mickle Care (Explicit -- CHECK THE TAGS!!!)

Based on Vitreous_Humor’s fic, I am crazy proud of this podfic and it was such a different characterisation for Crowley/Aziraphale and I LOVED voicing the original demon character, Medoc (with whom I harbour a probably unhealthy obsession).  

Summary:  It wasn't fair, he thought. It wasn't fair that Aziraphale could give him everything he wanted, everything he had hoped and dreamed of and longed for for six thousand years and that Crowley couldn't do the same. No, not couldn't.Was refused.And Satan, did Crowley hate being refused.---Aziraphale's a sadist, Crowley's not a masochist, and Crowley comes up with possibly the worst solution for this issue.

Bird of Paradise (Explicit, co-written with @improfem)

While I have so thoroughly enjoyed writing all the Plenteous Crop series and the exploration of the complex emotions behind love and sex that the series has hinged on, this one really stuck with me.  I am fascinated by the push and pull and simmering jealously and frustration Crowley and Aziraphale feel and that coming together isn’t always a smooth or straight line and not even an angel or demon are above their baser instincts and raw emotion. I can’t speak more highly enough of my wonderful co-author and I’m continuously amazed at what we’ve been able to create together, it’s a real blessing to have someone I click with creatively.

Summary:  "Crowley has no right to barge into his space like this, looking exactly as he does, the perfectly form fitting band of the trousers, slung far too low to be considered decent only drawing attention to those perfectly slim hips. So Aziraphale tears his eyes away from the sight, focusing instead on the shelf of books behind Crowley.  //Vile tempter,// Aziraphale thinks, certain that Crowley is finding this role very amenable indeed, there were certainly more difficult ways to earn a soul, than traipsing about as a sultan's favourite, spoiled and pampered, adored beyond what was reasonable."

[Podfic] Pray for Us, Icarus (Teen+)

This is based on @brightwanderer‘s absolutely exquisite (and in my opinion, required reading for Good Omens fandom) series was the first big podfic project I took on and I learned so much over the course of the 7 stories about what I could do as a performer and narrator.  It was a complete change in tone from what I’d typically record and my only regret is I hadn’t fully smoothed out my audio set up and it deserved better from a technical standpoint.  I may go back and “remix” it at some point.

Summary:  For three centuries, Crowley has been reincarnated over and over as a human with no memory of his past. Aziraphale has tried to find a way to restore him to his true self, but all he seems to do is hurt them both. This time, he only means to steal a brief moment when he walks into Crowley's flower shop. But Crowley can't let it go...

Birds (General Audiences) 

Oh this little sleeper of a fic.  There are great elements of this that were quite personal, the first 3 years of my own relationship were long distance (US to UK kinda distance) and those days are blessedly far behind me, this was playing around with what that was like through Aziraphale’s eyes and the little habits and routines one can get into to distract from the missing part of yourself.  

Summary: It was easiest when time and circumstance had put considerable distance between himself and Crowley. The angel would develop a routine and as years turned to decades and decades to centuries, the serpent-shaped hole in his life would grow smaller and easier to plaster over. It was when the demon stormed into his existence unexpectedly, ripping open the wound that hadn’t quite stitched together, that the illusion of satisfaction at Crowley’s absence slipped rapidly away.

[Podfic] let the rivers fill (Explict)

This is my first podfic, based on @focusfixated‘s gorgeous fic.  I hadn’t recorded anything before this, ever, picked up a cheap microphone and got to work in working out how to edit audio.  It’s the only time thus far I’ve included music, which added significantly to the learning curve.  @focusfixated was so supportive and encouraging and really drove home how important author support is when recording podfic (by no means required, but it made the experience so much more for it). This is another one I’d love to remix now that I’m considerably more clever with editing.  This one will have a special place always.

Summary:  “Darling,” Aziraphale answered. “I’m here.” His hand stroked through Crowley’s hair, teasing out the snarls of red that tangled around his fingers, matted with sweat and knotted where Crowley had thrashed his head against the pillows. “Can you turn over for me, love?”Weakly, Crowley’s eyes flickered down, and he saw the angel blushing, as if now, suddenly, of all things, he had succumbed to reticence. He was sat back on his knees, and the soft accordion folds of him were dewy with sweat and moonlight. His heart constricting somewhere in his useless chest, Crowley turned over, and spread his legs.

[nevillelongsbottom]

fred weasley’s house of horrors (?): a birthday fic for @charlotteweasley​ <3 happy birthday from your fave uncle! (i hope)

His head hurts; in fact, his everything hurts, from the throbbing ache in his head to the whining groan of the joints in his toes, and when he stretches out, it’s just brilliant: he can hear the popping that comes with the satisfied relief of movement, and though it doesn’t help his head or his growing backache, it’s something.

It takes Fred effort to peel his eyes open, but when he does, he’s rewarded: the room he’s in is historical and elegant, with a domed and painted ceiling and pillars and mahogany furniture; he himself is spread out on a dark green four-poster, wearing matching velvet pajamas that certainly aren’t his.

It’s a long time before he manages to convince and synchronise his body parts to get him to sit up, but he’s annoyingly stubborn and manages it in the end: just gas he does, he hears the slam of a front door and jangle of keys.

“Hello?” he croaks; it comes out like Lee’s prepubescent voice cracks, but with added scratchiness to force a few coughs. Someone walks up the stairs, tentatively, with careful pauses, as if they’re afraid; and the door creaks open, slowly.

“You’re awake?” Draco asks gently.

“I am now,” Fred coughs; Draco disappears for a moment, returning with a glass of water. “Thanks,” he chokes before downing it, too fast, coughing it up in a splutter of liquid. “Ah, crap, sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Draco says, taking a seat on the end of Fred’s bed, looking uncomfortable.

“Okay,” Fred says slowly, trying to pace himself (which is quite an endeavour). “So, the question that’s on everyone’s lips: how did I get here? And where is here?”

“My family’s country house. You fell out of the sky, and I found you, so I took you here.”

Fred nods absently. “Huh. Sounds… about right.” He glances down at himself. “Do you still have my actual clothes?”

“The blood stains haven’t quite come out, but I do,” Draco replies; with an effortless snap of his fingers, a slightly unfriendly-looking house elf appears. “Bring Fred his clothes.”

The house-elf blinks. “Master Draco, I haven’t been able - shamefully - to remove the stains…”

“It doesn’t matter.” The house-elf nods, disapparating only to return a few moments later with a pile of Fred’s folded clothes: despite the darkening stains on his collar and sleeves, it’s probably the cleanest his casual clothes have been in a while. “I’ll give you your privacy; you’re also welcome to leave here at any time, considering your feelings about me.”

Fred quirks an eyebrow, possibly one of the few things that distinguishes him from George (a two-eyebrow-raising shmuck). “Don’t think I’ll be going anywhere anytime soon, mate.”

“You can leave when you can, then.” Draco gets up, crossing the room in too-quick strides and hastily shutting the door behind him; the house-elf leaves with him, emptying the room save for Fred.

It, as ever, takes him what feels like a small eternity through which a bird has chipped through a marble wall to change his top, and despite the visual clash, he leaves his own trousers folded on the floor to attempt to put on another time; he’s now wearing a Mr Happy T-shirt with his velvet pajama bottoms like he’s just been ejected from the decade prior, and he rubs his crusty eyes, pulling himself to his feet and trying his best not to collapse on his wobbly legs (which, of course, he does).

“Goddammit,” he mutters, wishing for George.

-

It takes him about a day to explore his room, shuffling like a penguin, and the next few to explore the rest of the country house: it’s, of course, terrifically grand, with an extensive library that spans several rooms and an elegant and well-stocked kitchen from which the house-elf Nacht (Fred nicknames him Nacho immediately) makes Fred’s hearty thrice-daily meals and twice-daily snacks, bringing them up to him before he’s well enough to make it to the kitchen and never showing any signs of anger when Fred’s body forcefully ejects some of the bigger meals.

“Hey, Nacho,” he says over lunch one day; he’s managed a bath and is wearing some clothes Draco brought on a brief and impersonal visit: a black T-shirt and black jeans that don’t quite match his sunny socks. “Why do the Malfoys have this house?”

“To store their library,” Nacht replies stiffly.

“Here in the countryside, they may read and study in peace - though they scarcely use it, save for Master Draco’s frequent visits.”

“I can see that. The dust bunnies are reproducing like real ones,” Fred cackles. “Do you think Draco would mind if I lightened it up a bit?”

“He very much would.”

And that settles it: as he recovers, Fred takes to dusting - he doesn’t like cleaning much, but he can hardly conduct his wonderful plans in a dump, and Nacht happily sets to work helping him, often providing more of the hard labour than Fred can. “I feel like a bloody nanny,” Fred laughs halfway up a cast-steady ladder, spelling out the bugs and spiders, reminded of gutting Grimmauld Place; he’s half-terrified dealing with the Boggarts, but just on the day when he’s ready to get it over and done with, Draco arrives.

“Why are you cleaning?” he asks dumbly.

“Because your house is dirty and I’m bored?” Fred shrugs. “By the way, does George know I’m alive?”

“He does. I sent him an anonymous owl, but nothing more since I figured that your family would just blame me for your injuries if I attached my name to them.” He sets a plastic bag down on the table by the door. “I brought more food for you, but I’m here to use the library, so leave it be.”

Fred grins. “Sure, Your Majesty.”

Draco snorts. “Glad to see you’re back to your usual self, Weasley. I was worried when I saw you cleaning.”

“Dead or alive,” Fred says, “I’ll be cracking jokes.”

-

The basement of the “Edgar Allan Poe summer house” quickly becomes Fred’s favourite part of it: it’s awash with treasures, from Draco’s kicking baby photos to a dusty old record player with twelve inches from Celestina Warbeck to Elvis Presley; he finds some of Narcissa and Lucius’s Hogwarts achievements in the form of congratulatory parchment and gifted textbooks, and passes them over to Nacht, who cleans them as if they’re first edition Bibles.

“Did Mr Weasley get any achievements in Hogwarts?” he asks, almost smug in the knowledge that Fred, who makes immature jokes out of the library’s Latin titles, most certainly has not.

“If leaving in style is an achievement, then with distinction,” he says proudly. Nacht says nothing to this, clearly deciding there’s nothing worth saying; Fred grins, sifting through the old box of records, past every single record The Beatles have ever released and suddenly into the dark chalk of Sonic Youth’s Confusion Is Sex. “Hey, Nacho; whose records are these?”

“Lady Andromeda Tonks used to stay here often with Lady Malfoy,” Nacht replies. “These must be her daughter’s.”

“Tonks? So these would be Dora Tonks’s? Wicked.”

The next time Draco comes around, Fred’s halfway to better: he’s in his Mr Happy T-shirt and black jeans and in the middle of baking himself chocolate cupcakes that he hopes will stay down (he’s been able to eat just fine, but if he goes a little over the usual, he brings it back up). He sucks some of the mix off his fingers and offers a spoon to Draco.

“Don’t the Muggles say something about getting ill from raw eggs?” he sniffs.

“Who gives a shit? It tastes great.”

Draco looks at it warily, but takes the spoon and carefully licks at the cake batter; instantly enamoured and hesistances forgotten, he devours the rest. “Hm; it is good. I take it your skills are from your mother?”

“Why?”

“She seems the type of person that would bake cupcakes.”

Fred laughs. “She is - and I’m not, that’s always been Charlie’s thing, really - but since she’s not here, I’m doing it. Give it something like twenty minutes and they’ll be ready.”

“Is the catch that you’ve either put or will put poison in them?”

“What do you take me for, a Slytherin?” Fred pulls a face of offence. “No, no. The prank here is that I’m going to buy some seventies wallpaper and funk this house up and rearrange your library so you can’t find anything. Don’t you guys have enough Gothic houses? Wasn’t living in a dungeon for seven years enough for you?”

“Absolutely not; I insist on spending the rest of my life in a basement,” Draco says dryly. “But fine. Get me a shopping list, and do what you want. I bloody hate this house, anyway.”

Fred grins. “Got a pen?”

Draco snorts. “Fucking as if.”

-

Most of Fred’s decorations end up coming amassed from flea markets and Camden (as do more clothes; he’s only just made it out of the ‘excessive sweating’ phase of feeling ill, and his tops still emit a horrible stench if he gets too close to the armpits); they come from the plain London signs to a taxidermy Kneazle being sold as a dog, and Draco manages to buy all sorts of cringe-worthy warm-coloured wallpapers for Fred to use, as well as a series of lamps from possibly as many decades as lamps have been invented.

“What is Mr Weasley’s plan for this?” Nacht asks strictly as Fred raises both his wand and hand to the wall, covering it in orange and brown blobs. “Ruining the perfectly good architecture of the house.”

“We’re wizards, Nacho; we can set it back if someone throws a hissy fit,” Fred shrugs. “But come on; how are you meant to be happy living in this dismal old place? I’m just trying to brighten it up. How’s anyone meant to recover from falling out of the sky when this place looks so sad?”

“You seem to have done just fine yourself,” Nacht points out. Fred shrugs.

“Yeah, cus of my bright temperament. Not everyone’s as happy and witty as me, ‘cept maybe Lee Jordan or a Hufflepuff.” He sets the record player on the table in the library with a satisfying thud!, pulling one of Draco’s more interesting Camden finds out of its sleeve and setting it on the turntable, pressing the needle to the record and letting loose the beginning of Weird Al Yankovic’s Ricky.

“Hey, Ricky, you’re so fine you blow my mind, hey Ricky…” He grabs a chunk of books from the shelf, glancing through them; all Latin, of course. “Merlin’s balls, Nacho, you know what I should do?”

The house-elf sighs. “I do not.”

“Arrange them in size order!” Fred says gleefully. “Because then, nobody can find what they’re looking for, because the order is pretty much nonsensical, right?”

“Whatever you say, Mr Weasley. As long as you enjoy yourself and recover, for Master Draco’s pleasure.”

Fred rubs his hands together. “His, or mine?”

-

Fred’s last day is mostly one of lighting up the house: he’s made an artistic arrangement of the lamps all in the second room of the library, hung up the framed Bowie portrait Draco brought back, found a home for the stuffed Kneazle on top of a room-length sloping bookcase, figured out a system to hang the record sleeves on the walls for whole-house browsing, and he just adds the last licks of yellow paint that snake round a burgundy pillar by hand with a brush.

“What does Draco actually do in here, Nacho?” he asks, flicking his wrist up to create a splatter effect that doesn’t quite work and ends up a little ungainly in the same way that Fred is so stocky that his body seems to confuse itself regularly and attempt to recalibrate, which just disorients him.

“He uses it to get away from his own home, in order to study and read,” Nacht says matter-of-factly before lowering his voice, “and to avoid seeing He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named too often.”

“I’d avoid him, too,” Fred says in a surprisingly sober moment, his voice poignant before he bursts back into a thousand megawatts and quips, “it’s the nose, isn’t it? So creepy.”

“The nose?” Nacht frowns.

“Yeah, Harry says he’s got no nose, like a snake. Bloody Slytherins, isn’t it?” He steps down from the pillar, humming along to the record player and to Primal Scream’s Come Together, turning as he hears the familiar noise of the front door opening into what is now a time capsule slash matrix.

“Bloody hell, Weasley,” Draco whistles.

“It’s so ugly, I don’t even know where to begin.”

Fred beams. “I’ll tour you.”

Draco stutters. “Merlin, no. Please let me uncover its hidden atrocities in my own time. It will be… an experience.” He pauses. “So, this means you’re leaving, doesn’t it?”

“I’m flying the coop,” Fred shrugs. “Or, as it were: going home. George’ll start thinking I was just an elaborate hoax before long.”

“Do come back,” Draco implores; Fred pauses, startled.

“Only if I can annoy you and Nacho.”

Draco runs a hand through his hair. “Yes, well, your entire existence irritates me to my core; so please come back, I would be thrilled to have to deal with your eccentric company.” Pausing, he rummages through his pocket, producing a packaging Fred knows all too well: a Ton-Tongue Toffee. “Toffee, Weasley?”

“Maybe another time, Malfoy, thanks. And so long.”

Draco just about shits himself an hour later when the clock strikes and a hidden cuckoo clock bursts through the wall; but then he just has to laugh, because despite his illness, despite smashing into the ground and being detached from his unit, the whole house is still unmistakably his: Fred Weasley’s House of Horrors (or, to the open mind, Amusements).

[whataboutthepress-blog]

lit literature ~

A quote that I’ve taken interest in states that books are one of the best companions, better than people maybe. 

“Books are the quietest and most constant of friends; they are the most accessible and wisest of counselors, and the most patient of teachers.”

-Charles William Eliot (former Harvard president)

Basically you can find the best book ever and it literally becomes apart of you! It is in fact a beautiful union. Imagine finding your soul in print on paper shredded from trees bond together tighter than your lips go when you read about your favorite character doing a bad deed. My list ain’t that deep; that’s not what this is. 

But what I am here for is the Summer Reading List 2 Kay Seumteen that i did promise. 

What is Summer Reading List 2 Kay Seumteen ?  

Summer Reading List 2 Kay Seumteen is a few books i read this summer of 2017 in my spare time. In between work and building other things in my life, i was able to knock out about 5 books, including a book of 4 short stories. This is nothing flashy. Probably books you've read already. But still...enjoy! There may be one that catches your eye. 

Circa June of this year, i was without a laptop and needed access to the internet. So like a regular citizen of a big city, i went to my local library and signed up for a library card. It started to be for computer purposes only, but im an avid reader (fan of recommended and passed on books) so it wasn’t very long before i made my way from the unreliable computer to the welcoming bookshelf. My love for literature runs deep! With that being said, I’m so happy to share my very first reading list, formally titled ‘Summer Reading List 2 Kay Seumteen’ . 

I began my summer reading “Faithful” by Alice Hoffman. Faithful was one of three books I checked out at my first visit (the first visit to the library that was strictly for finding book companions). During that book-blind-date experience, i also checked out a mystery fiction book that I can’t recall and some other less interesting book i misjudged due to my lack of judging books by their cover. 

Faithful not only made my summer list, but also made my ‘all time fave’ list. (Yall will never see that list because i doubt I’d ever write it.) This book spoke to me so clearly. I picked it up that day at Kendall Neighborhood library less of any expectations. It turned out to be one of the most relative pieces of literature in my life thus far. Faithful is about a young girl getting into a bad accident with her best friend in their final year of high school. The accident ends up leaving the young lady’s friend in a coma for a very long time. There are many other vital details, but i was able to relate mostly to the depression the main character endured. No, i havent never been in a life changing wreck, but i deal with issues daily that add to my depression. This book gave me hope. It lit a fire in my soul and i now feel i have an everlasting flame. Alice Hoffman spoke to me, personally, through this novel. I would recommend Faithful to anyone that is somebody. To anyone who ever wondered how deep depression goes. To anyone who’s ever felt alone in a dark world and to anyone who’s ever needed lifting. READ DIS. 

Book number two on SRL2KS is an absolute classic, and you may have already read it! The timeless “I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings” by the late and great Ms Maya Angelou. This was a first time read for me and actually a venture from my newfound library relationship. A good friend of mine received this Non Fiction paperback book from his niece, and I began reading it before he could even pick it up. Once i began to read and learned Angelou spent many years of her childhood being raised in Stamps, Arkansas, there was no quittin’ this book. 

I purposely chose this version of the cover because this is the exact one that i had in my possession. This is the story of young Angelou’s childhood alongside her brother. Raised by their grandmother (on the daddy side, you know how that go) and their uncle, Maya and her brother go through much in this detailed story of stories. Focusing on the trials and tribulations of young Maya, i would recommend this book for my young ladies. This is a must read for women all over the world honestly. Reading the hurtful and happy can grant one a new view on life and a few decent quotes to live by too.

Next on the great SRL2KS, i explored more African American authors! I found, what i would consider, a short story by a young adult/youth literature writer named Ms Jacqueline Woodson. The novel titled “Another Brooklyn” is a specially written story about a young, black Muslim girls childhood. This is not a religious story nor is it a kids book. It speaks on a young girl growing up around other girls and making a close knit bond. The girls grow together and the story continues to follow the young black girl and her little brother after they begin to reside with their father in Brooklyn, New York.

Woodson speaks and describes the bond of the girls so well to me, in a way i dream of expressing my thoughts. I took note of how she talked about them loving and lifting each other just to remember to share this novel with my daughter one day. I wont ruin the end, but everything wasn’t peaches and cream. With that, I still  recommend this novel to young women everywhere (not only women of color). It’s short, so it won’t take up much of your time, but it’s still nice to knock out a book by an AA author at any given time for me. 

Completely and fully inspired by “I Know Why the Caged Bird Sing”, my next book is another Maya Angelou non fiction. “Mom and Me and Mom” is Maya expanding on her relationship with her mother, an exceptional woman mentioned in my first read by Maya many times. I too had a close relationship with my mother, so it was easy for me to pick this book up with an open heart. "Mom and Me and Mom” expands on a series of short, less detailed stories mentioned in IKWCBS. I was able to get to know Maya’s mother more and get an in depth point of view of their relationship. I can never think about this book and not think of my own mom lol.

This isn’t a must read IMO if you’ve read IKWCBS, but i still recommend this one for the lovers, like myself. If you love that warmer than fresh baked cookies feel or you absolutely admire your mom (again, meee), you’d enjoy a heartwarming story about an adventurous young woman and her ambitious mother. I loved this book!

In the summer of Seumteen, i aspired to learn. I took an interest into sign language which led to me looking into sign lit (sign language books lol) ! In the mist of it all, i did of course continue my reading *Stevie J nod*

My last and final book on my marvelous Summer Reading List 2 Kay Seumteen is by one of my all time favorite authors, Stephen King. My favorite book in the whole world was written by King under a different name. (I completely refuse to elaborate on my favorite book for future blog reasons) “Full Dark, No Stars” is just another opportunity for me to fall in love with King’s writing more. After reading this book of four short stories, I vowed to take advantage of all the Stephen King books at Ring Library, the local joint. Ring is a small facility, so it will take me no time to read the 8-10 Stephen King books they shelter. Also, things change when it comes to what the library has on shelf. 

In “Full Dark, No Stars”, King starts with a story about a man and his son in the 1920s having to make a tough decision that ends up creating a string of events you’d least expect. This story was one of my favorite of the four because it was rated Stephen King, or gruesome and skin crawling, and also humors under all the unfortunate events. The second story is a tale of a woman who is attacked while she is stranded roadside after not following her gut. In the drawn out story, the young lady seeks revenge, but the inside sleeve of this book will never prepare you for how deep the revenge goes. The third is pretty short and the biggest reach! A tale of a man who has been dealt a somewhat sad deal of cards. The father and husband is given the opportunity of a life time: to relieve his life of misery. Of course there is a condition or to this...other than the obvious cash money, the character’s genie also requests that this man allows his burdens to be placed on the one person he hates the most. The story pretty much left me speechless, in a questionable way. Lastly was my favorite of the four. An interesting story of a woman discovering the past and somewhat current life of her husband. The story has a twist that i didnt exect or regret. It really makes you wonder if you really know people too! I confidently recommend this book to readers with an imagination thats willing to get twisted. Stephen King never fails at making me grin after i turn the last page of his novels. This read was so good, i’m inspired to do a King binge and best believe a blog will follow :)

In review, take a peek at

Faithful by Alice Hoffman I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings by Maya Angelou Another Brooklyn by Jacqueline Woodson Mom and Me and Mom by Maya Angelou Full Dark, No Stars by Stephen King

Enjoy, my fellow readers. And look out.