#water de maria

[lucidloving]

Sing Shong, Omniscient Reader's Viewpoint // Black Box // R.M. Rilke, "The Guardian Angel" // George Seferis, "The Return of the Exile" (trans. Edmund Keeley) // Studio Dragon, Because This Is My First Life // John Banville, The Sea // Aeschylus, Agamemnon (trans. Herbert W. Smyth) // Anne Carson, "The Anthropology of Water" // Anne Lamott, Bird by Bird: Some Instructions on Writing and Life // @toupou39 on tw // Jennifer S. Cheng, "So We Must Meet Apart" // Madeline Miller, Circe // @chuunicalesimp // Richard Siken // Neil Gaiman // Richard Siken, "The Torn-Up Road" // Jamie Varon, "Does The Universe Fight For Souls To Be Together?" // Jennifer S. Cheng, "So We Must Meet Apart" // Sing Shong, UMI & Sleepy-C, Omniscient Reader (Webtoon) // Frank Bidart, "Guilty of Dust" // Lasah – Taixu // Ocean Vuong, Night Sky With Exit Wounds // see 1 // André De Shields & Hadestown Original Broadway Company – Road To Hell (Reprise) // @toiriot on tw // Unlike Pluto – We're Screwed // @moonbends // m.h // Euripides, Herakles (trans. Anne Carson) // Unlike Pluto – We're Screwed // Google search results // @toiriot on tw // see 1 // Chxrlotte – Come With Me // @roach-works // Lasah – Taixu // Sing Shong, UMI & Sleepy-C, Omniscient Reader (Webtoon) // Chxrlotte – Come With Me // Frank Bidart, "Guilty of Dust" // @dsssctd_ion on tw // Hans Christian Andersen, "The Snail and the Rosebush" // Will Stetson – Writing on the Wall // Michael Kinnucan, "The Gods Show Up" // Richard Siken, "Planet of Love" // Sufjan Stevens – Futile Devices // Warren Zevon – Keep Me in Your Heart // Katie Maria // @SION_428 on tw // see 1 // Pablo Neruda, 20 Love Sonnets and a Song of Despair // Mitski – My Love Mine All Mine // Vladimir Nabokov, Letters to Vera // Mahmoud Darwish, Memory for Forgetfulness: August, Beirut, 1982 // Sing Shong, UMI & Sleepy-C, Omniscient Reader (Webtoon) // Tim O'Brien, The Things They Carried (via @jomeimei421) // see 1 // @soracities // Black Box // see 1

[charles-leclerizz]

🏎️ ๋࣭ ⭑blue views

🏁 Pairings : Carlos Sainz X fem! Reader

🏁 Warnings : smut [nothing major, listed at the end of the writing], fluff, stress [which is aliviated by the smut]

🏁 Word Count : 3.6k words (3612 words)

🏁 Summary : It’s time to celebrate! For everyone else that is. You, on the other hand, will be planning your’s and your fiance’s “engagement week” festivities, until you die. That is, until an impromptu intervention is planned.

🏁 translations via radio comm below

🏁 credits : word dividers by @heavenlayt

🏁 Music player : Good to be by Mark Ambor

“Carlos!” You shouted out, leaning back against the heel of your soft wedges as you reached behind you for more cocktail glasses. The sound of your fiancé’s loafers against the terracotta staircase echoed throughout the ground level as he made his way to the kitchen, where you were working alongside half a dozen cooks.

“Si, Mariposa?” He came up behind you, plucking the crystal margarita glass from your fingers and taking a sip of the peachy, carbonated concoction that you had masterfully created. You giggled when he hummed happily and kissed your neck, “It’s delicious.”

“Ay, Ay, Señor. Tienes que esperar a la luna de miel” An elderly voice scolded from your left followed with a hollow bonk. Carlos hissed, rubbing the back of his head where a thick wooden rolling pin had struck him playfully, “You wound me, Maria.”

He followed with a pained “Literally.” When Maria had merely shot him a fond look over her shoulder as she went back to washing the tomatoes in the deep-set ceramic sink.

“You’re absolutely sure that everyone got the invites?” You leaned down to inspect the dozen drinks that you had made, “Because we invited at least 60 people, and if I make 60 drinks and there are not exactly 60 throats present to ingest them. You are going to remain abstinent until we’re married.”

Carlos stared at you open mouthed, a betrayed expression overtook his face, “So you would choose Maria’s wishes over mine? muy cruel.” He then bought his hands up from your waist to brush your hair from your shoulder, dragging his fingers up your arm-he slipped off the thin spaghetti strap of your white, cotton summer dress to press short, sweet kisses on your skin, “I mean can you really resist this?” He reasoned.

“It would be very easy Mi Amour.” You harrumphed, ignoring the tingling shocks that fluttered beneath your skin at the drag of his lips against your shoulder. You jolted forward when you felt his other hand travel from your waist, down to the front of your dress, “Carlos- I have so much to do. I mean I promised Alex and Lily I would make trifle for dessert, but then your parents have this one friend who hates custard! I mean did you hear the story, he literally puked, and I will not have him puke in my engagement party, nope. Not on my watch.”

You wagged your finger in the air before grabbing another five glasses from their upside-down position on the kitchen island where you were working. Taking the washcloth that sat comofortably in the front pocket of your plaid apron, you began wiping away the droplets of water from the crystal before continuing to babble about your long list of duties for the upcoming week of festivities.

“So, I need to also make these cute fruit tarts that I made that one time. But then I realised that Charles and Max hate kiwi, and the whole dessert is basically that, so for them I’m making this great chocolate gateau, the one at the restaurant? Since they really fucking liked that one.”

You grumbled out the last part, crushing up your freshly picked strawberries that had previously been resting in a metal strainer along with a cream, cotton cover up to keep them moist. The marble mortar grinded against the matching pestle as the sweet fruits reduced to a thick paste.

“On top of that the other like, 40 guests have very specific wants, so I have 20 different things to make along with this signature drink that Jenni designed for us! You know her, right? the bar tender at the other restaurant in Monaco, I learnt how to make it, and you said its good. It’s good right?”

You add a few cups of carbonated water to the pinkish paste in front of you, before turning back to Carlos, who had been patiently listening to you rant- mainly due to the fear that if he were to stop, you would give his ear the same treatment as the berries that remain crushed beneath you, “Si, mi mariposa. Very good.”

You sighed before fully spinning around to face him, resting your back on the dark wood counter, looping your hands around his neck, “I’m sorry Carlito.” You brush a singular strand of hair that fell from its carefully crafted style onto his forehead, “This isn’t very fun for you, is it?” You move onto your tiptoes to reach his cheek.

“Nonsense, I have Papa and Guillermo coming to help with the decorations outside, I think Blanca and Mama are also coming- to help.” He chuckles when you groan happily and bring his head down to kiss his lips graciously.

“Thank you, Mi Amour.” You murmur against his mouth, running your fingers through his hair as his arms came to circle your waist, pulling you against his chest. You sigh against him, melting in his embrace as you barely manage to hold yourself up and anchor yourself on his broad shoulders that strain against the baby blue polo top, he chose to wear.

“AY, SEÑOR,” Maria bumped Carlos slightly as she came rushing through the walkway, trotting determinedly through the low, exposed brick archway and outside to the patio area that was protected from the morning sunrays by the lattice structure that stood tall whilst being overtaken by winding ivy.

Beneath this, Maria sat down at least 3 trays full of freshly sliced vegetables, sun drying them as preparation for the multiple dishes that would be served that evening, “Si no estás aquí para aportar nada útil, sal de la cocina.” She screeched whilst heading to the other side of your estate, towards the large garden that housed many seasoned plants, ready with multiple fruits and vegetables for plucking.

“I think she will cook me next.” He shuddered before laying his forehead on yours, “Do not worry, Mariposa. Everything will turn out fine.”

“Why did I suggest an engagement week.” You pouted, nuzzling your head into his chest, to hide away from all the responsibilities you had brought onto yourself. You shake your head wildly, causing flurries of hair to escape from the bun you had messily done up, “All I know is that it must go well. Maria will for sure have a heart attack if it doesn’t,”

“I still think it’s a good idea” He comforts you, until the melodic sound of the doorbell resounds throughout the house, and he detaches from you, “That must be the back-up.” He winks at you as he jogs off to open the large, rustic door. You watch from the kitchen as Carlos laughs boisterously whilst embracing his family.

His mother and sister quickly wave him off, ushering the men out to the acres of back garden they have yet to decorate to approach you.

Blanca dances up to you, wiggling her arms and hands excitedly as she beams at your exhausted face, “There she is! Beautiful bride-to-be, our mariposa.” The knee length dress she chose skims her legs as the burgundy silk falls from her shoulders delicately, she hugs your neck tightly, swinging you both side to side whilst you flail around.

“Hola, diabla.” You chuckle, catching your mother-in-law’s eyes, you wait until Blanca removes herself from you for Reyes to do the same, but instead of violently rotating you like a ragdoll, she rubs your back and coos sympathetically.

“Ay mi muñeca, you look too tired to be a blushing bride.” She moves her arms from being drawn around your neck to rub your shoulders.

“What can I say? There’s too much to be done for me to be blushing.” You shrug, already going back to pouring out 10 more drinks, adding to the sea of glasses in front of you.

Blanca tuts disapprovingly, “This is not what being engaged is meant to be, it’s meant to be fun! And new! And sexy!” She waggles her eyebrows suggestively, ignoring her mother who had picked up your to-do list and hid her face in the paper.

“Blanca, please.” Reyes rolled her eyes, “But she’s not wrong.” She reaches for a spare apron that hung rejected on the back of the pantry door.

“No, mamá please,” You attempt to snatch the apron away from Reyes, who tuts disapprovingly and had already begun to collect multiple utensils from your spacious kitchen whilst talking quickly with the cooks who had been diligently making progress on the rest of the menu, “I can’t possibly allow you to do my work.”

Blanca plucked the neatly tied bow around your waist, undoing the stained, pale blue cotton that protected your dress, “No, your job is to relax, and let my culo brother treat you nicely. Champagne, strawberries, chocolate.” She listed off the aphrodisiacs one by one, pushing you through the living room and up the stairs. You braced yourself on the railing as you let her guide you through the landing.

“I have all of that in the food that I should be making,” You whined, stomping your foot, and swivelling to level her with your eyes, “There is just too much to do before tonight. And the boys don’t even know what to do for decorations.”

Blanca swatted her hand through the air, as if physically plummeting away your doubts, “You’ve had the entire family added on your Pinterest board.” You snorted at that, but pressed your lips together when she shot you a look, “If I can’t whip them into shape, consider me a bad sister from day 1.” She planted her hands on her waist before pointing at your bedroom door, “Now either you can start yourself a bath, or I will.”

You harrumph and dig your feet into their spot on the newly waxed, wooden floors beneath you, “I see how it is.” Blanca squints her eyes at you, “Fine, I see how it is.”

You half expect her to push you into the room, but instead she leans over the banister and shouts, “CARLOS !!”

“Blanca!” You gasp, grabbing her dress and tugging her back from the beam, “W-Why would you?” You splutter.

“AY CARLOS !!” She continues to screech until you slap a palm over her mouth, careful of the nude brown lipstick she had worn.

“Si diabla?” Your fiancé shouts back up, already at the base of the staircase. Blanca licks your hand, causing you to yelp and jump back, giving her the perfect opportunity to answer, “Your fiancé is anxious as fuck.”

“What else is new?” He chuckles, hand braced on the railing as he emerges from the winding staircase. Carlos takes in the new scene, you are tackling Blanca onto the floor, she’s squealing whilst attempting to wrangle free from you, tummy first on the floor, “Mi amour, if you are going to leave me for my sister...” He starts, crossing his arms and tilting his head at you.

“You both are insufferable.” You grit out, twisting the knob to your bedroom, wating for Carlos to step inside. He stops momentarily when Blanca darts an arm out and begins to ramble to him in Spanish, Carlos answers just as quickly before his sister reaches up to smack the underside of his head.

“Blanca!” He shouts out after her, but she ignores him and sprints downstairs to assist with the preparations. Carlos turns back to you, slumping forward to rest his head against the door frame that you were currently leaning on, arms folded amusedly as you looked at him from under your eyelashes. He pivots his neck, gazing fondly into your eyes, “You’re pretty.” He mumbles, bringing a limp hand up to rest on your cheek, thumb moving soothingly against your face. You lean into his touch, “So are you” You breathe out, leaning upwards to ghost your lips over his.

This moment was merely poetic, the two of you, finding respite in the chaos within each other. His soft touch as he leaned forward for more, you grant it, because you craved him as deeply as he did for you. The astringent sweetness of his lips against yours and the heavenly feeling of his fingers cradling your hips made you moan out as he caught you weight when your knees gave out from beneath you.

The door creaked shut behind the two of you, your palms digging into the waistline of his shorts to tug his shirt out, his fingers dance down from your neck to the large cut-out of your dress that showed off the curve of your spine. Carlos broke away from you momentarily, his eyes still shut as he chuckled when you whined, chasing his lips desperately, “Jump,” He murmured, bracing himself by tugging you close and digging his fingers into the back of your thighs.

You complied, hopping into his secure hold before attaching your mouth to his once again, nipping at his full bottom lip. Carlos passed through the bedroom with ease, his muscle memory allowing him to walk underneath the long archway that led to your shared bathroom. He released you gently, his fingers pinching the hem of your dress on your way down, he bunched up the flowy linen, dragging it up to your waist and tugging it over your head- leaving you in just a pair of white, lacy underwear.

You laughed slightly, your hair mussed at taking over half of your face, “Carlos” you huff out. He laughs at your annoyance, gently moving the strands out of your eyes before tracing the dips and curves of your chest and stomach with feather-light touches.

Sighing, you tilt your head back, allowing him to press his lips against the column of your neck. You loop your hands around his neck, stumbling backwards towards the sink whilst bringing him with you. Carlos hoists you up and onto the counter, finally stepping back to gaze at your naked body, his eyes ravish you, the stiff peaks of your breasts and curve of your stomach, you watch him intently when he finally makes his way down to your panties, a damp patch already forming.

Carlos approaches you once again, his breath fresh and minty against your skin, “Tan bonita.” He compliments, trailing warm, open mouth kisses on your collar bone, starting from your shoulder until he reaches your sternum, “Tan deliciosa.” He moves to your breast, decorating it with his own purple-ish love marks, he littered them across until he enveloped your nipple into his mouth, his tongue licking against the pebble until it hardened beneath his attention.

Carlos turned his attention to the other whilst his other hand slipped beneath the elastic of your underwear, his middle finger teasing your wet slit, “all for me?” he moaned against your breast.

“of course.” You bury your hand in his hair, arching into his touch before he lowered to his knees in front of you.

“F-fuck” you whine, biting your lip harshly as he settles between your legs, he shucks you closer, harshly tugging you to the edge of the counter as he inches his mouth closer, hot breathe settling on the front of your underwear. You arch your back at the feeling, fingers teasing your peaked nipple, “please,” you whisper, eyes darting down to where Carlos had begun to lave lazily at your newly soaked panties.

“Please what? Huh?” He whispers, tongue darting out to push further into your throbbing hole. You whine, thighs threatening to clamp shut around his head, your hand inches down to shyly tug at his hair and guide him closer to your leaking cunt, “can’t even talk now? ‘s okay mariposa. I’ll take care of you.” He promises, laying one of your legs over his shoulder.

You breathe hitches slightly when you feel him drag his lips up your hip, only for his teeth to sink into your underwear band, trailing it off you.

You scrunch your eyes with a gasp when his kisses trail up from your ankle, to your calf and towards the inside of your thigh- you growl playfully when you hear him chuckle and coo up at you, “you were just stressed...” he pressed an open mouthed kiss to your skin, “being so diligent..” he continued, tongue ghosting over your leaking folds, “so perfect.”

“Carlos,” You moan, scratching your nails against his scalp, “you’re being mean. Hah. It’s not good to be mean to your future wi-“you cut yourself off with a scream, well, a muffled one, you managed to cover your agape mouth with your hand. He dove into your sex, tongue searing through you as he fucked the muscle steadily into you, curling it to poke gently at the sensitive, spongy part within you.

Carlos let his eyes flutter shut, the sweet taste of you staining itself onto his tongue, how he could stay like this forever, fuck the dinner, he only ever wanted to taste you. Only you.

“taste so good,” he panted against you, his tongue nudging your clit, in an oh-so delicious way that made you bite down on your fingers to stop your needy moans leaking down from the open, semi-circle window towards your in-laws, who were dedicatedly preparing your back garden to host a multitude of people.

“uh uh mariposa, quiero oír tu voz.” He reached up with one hand, tugging your palm away from your still open mouth.

“I-“you gulp heavily, trying to unscramble your mind from its mush state, “I- wan’ want more, need you to- do something please.” You bring your other leg to his shoulder, locking him between your limbs.

Carlos huffs out a laugh, biting playfully at your tender skin, he brings up one hand laying his fingers gently against your pussy lips, creating a ‘V’ to spread them wide, exposing the sensitive area to the midday warmth. And then, he spat, a fat string slowly drips from his mouth to land directly on your hole, he gawks at it with interest, his large puppy-dog eyes shining with lust.

You blush and cover your face, “come on- please? I’ve been soo good, did ever’thin you wanted.” You babbled, gyrating your hips against his face, baiting him into pleasuring you again until the delicious wave reached the crown of your skull until the tips of your toes.

“have you? You been my good girl? Hm?” He arches a brow at you, but stops you from answering when he lays his tongue flat against your clit, gently shaking his head side to side until you begin to shake and whine, “yeah, I know mi amor, se siente bien, ¿sí?” he whispers, prodding you cunt with his index finger, “you want it, don’t you?”

You hummed, eyes widening as though he had proposed all over again, “yeah, come on, please, pretty please with a- ahh,” once again, he wouldn’t let you finish your pleading, instead, he answered you with your prize, him pushing his fingers into you, your wetness dripping down into his palm and along his wrist.

Obscene squelches echoed through the bathroom, along with explicit sounds of his knuckles slapping against your skin and your high-pitched moans.

“yes- oh, don’t stop.” You sobbed, tears pricking at your eyes when he thrusted in a second finger, stretching you out whilst he crooked his digits to continue stimulating your g-spot mercilessly.

“don’t plan on it,” he promised, delving back in for another sacred taste, he tongue worked wonders against you, drinking in your nectar as though from the gods- letting in slip down his throat graciously. You groaned and bit your lip harshly, arching your back at angles that chiropractors would wince at until you could feel that euphoric feeling begin to bloom within your stomach.

Your walls fluttered around Carlos’ fingers, making him smirk against you and continue his movements, hungrily licking and slurping at you until your toes curled and eyes crossed over, “fuck,” you grit out, gasping laboriously as the tight knot finally snapped and torrential pleasure rained over you.

“te entendí my love,” He crawled over you, bracing himself above with his hands planted on the thick, white marble countertop you were currently blissed out on.

You brought your shaky hands up to his face, kissing him gently, “what about-hah, what about you,” you panted, wrapping your arms around him, continuing to softly brush your lips against his face. His temple, stubbled cheek, and muscled neck.

“We still have-“ He looked down at the heavy, silver Rolex on his wrist, “40 minutes, until Blanca comes hunting for us.” Carlos looked over to the floating bath that sat in front of the Juliet balcony, “and we have a bath.”

“That is just by a huge ass window,” You reminded him, glancing over to the open doors, revealing the intricate black grill of the balcony along with the pristine view of your tall trees that lined the well-kept entertaining space of your garden.

“Well, I doubt they don’t know what’s going on, I mean, my sister probably told them to leave a box of condoms outside.” He shrugged.

“In that case,” You started, your low whisper a mere breath of warm air between the two of you. Marinating hard and heady eye contact with him, you reached down to take his hand in yours, then slipped the two fingers that still dripped with your wetness, into your mouth.

Carlos stared at the sight, a short, strangled noise leaving him when you popped out his digits with an all too innocent noise, “Better make the most of it,” You leaned back against the mirror, hand open for him to carry you.

He groaned, shaking his head slightly before hoisting you in his arms, “best 40 minutes of my life.”

[Smut warnings : alot of kissing, fingering, sucking, love-bites, fem! oral recieving, fem! fingering recieving.]

📻 Kcccchh.... come in.... come in...translatiion available...over

📻 Kchh...Spnish..to engli..sh....over

Ay, Ay, Señor. Tienes que esperar a la luna de miel - Oh, Oh, Lord. You have to wait for the honeymoon

muy cruel - very cruel

AY, SEÑOR - OH, SIR

Si no estás aquí para aportar nada útil, sal de la cocina - If you're not here to contribute anything useful, get out of the kitchen.

mariposa - butterfly

Hola, diabla - Hello, devil

Ay mi muñeca - Oh, my doll

Si, diabla? - Yes, devil?

Mi amour - My love

Tan deliciosa - So delicious

Tan bonita - So beautifull

quiero oír tu voz - I want to hear your voice

te entendí, mi amor, se siente bien, ¿sí? - I understood you, my love, it feels good, yeah

📻 Kchhhhh.loosing sign....al.....kcchh....over and out...

[useless-catalanfacts]

bon dia!! I'm moving to Catalunya this fall to be an English teacher's assistant and I'm so so excited to learn catalan and explore your beautiful country 💗 Do you have any recommendations for places or activities around the Lleida región? Moltes gràcies ☺️

Bon dia!

In Lleida (the city itself), the most iconic site to visit is the Seu Vella (old cathedral). It's a Medieval cathedral that was also used as a stronghold in war in the Early Modern Period. It's located on top of a hill, so there's great views of the whole city from there.

(Photo)

A natural place: the Congost de Mont-rebei (Mont-rebei Canyon). This is the river that is used as the administrative dividing line between Catalonia on East and Aragon in the West (La Franja). It's a very beautiful place, but I don't know what it's like now with the drought. There's a very nice walk near the La Pertusa chapel and in an excavated part of the rock walls so you can see the river. Many people also go kayaking or similar things but I don't know if there's enough water now. (For context, we're having a very bad drought, it has barely rained in 3 years and all the reservoirs are practically empty).

(Photo 1 / Photo 2)

In spring, it's also very pretty to see the fruit tree fields around Lleida. The most popular town to go to is Aitona, but you can also see it in Seròs, Alcarràs, Torres de Segre, and others.

(Photo)

Some historical small towns near Lleida that are nice to visit include Vallbona de les Monges with its Medieval monastery, and the towns around the Riucorb river (I would recommend the town Guimerà, and also Verdú to visit its tower), Montfalcó Murallat is also nice but very small. For a bigger town: Cervera. It's interesting to see the university building in Cervera, when Philip V (Spanish king who conquered Catalonia in 1714) made all the universities in Catalonia, Valencia, Mallorca and Aragon close down, he only allowed 1 university, which he moved to Cervera because it was a city where many people had supported him in the war and because it was in a rural area so he could closely control the students (university students in Barcelona and other places had been very involved in the war against Philip V).

(Photo 1: Santa Maria de Vallbona monastery. Photo 2: Guimerà)

An archaeological site: Fortalesa dels Vilars in Arbeca. This was a fortress inhabited between 775 and 300 BC, you can visit the archaeological site and the museum with the objects found. Arbeca is also famous for its olives (called arbequines), definitively worth a try 😋🫒 you'll find them in most markets and supermarkets.

(Photo)

If you're near, when it comes to archaeology, there are also some prehistorical rock art sites. The most well-known in the area is the wall La roca dels moros in Cogul.

(Photo 1)

Those are the places I'd recommend closest to Lleida. If you can move more, I also really recommend going up to the Pyrenees mountains (in the north of the Lleida province). There's lots of Medieval architecture there, lots of cute villages and some wonderful natural parks.

The bad thing about the Lleida area is that it doesn't have as good public transport as more densely populated areas, because outside of Lleida city itself it's very rural. So you might have to rely on cars.

Another activity in Lleida: the most famous food from there is snails, there are different recipes, the most widespread is caragols a la llauna, but they also serve them with allioli or with vinaigrette. There's also many other delicious foods, but that is what most people associate with Lleida the most.

Aaand that's what comes to mind in the areas near Lleida. I'm not from that province so I don't know it as well as other areas, if someone reading this has more recommendations please feel free to add them in the reblogs or comments.

I hope you enjoy your time in Catalonia!

[fatehbaz]

Just in case, some might enjoy. Had to organize some notes.

These are just some of the newer texts that had been promoted in the past few years at the online home of the American Association of Geographers. At: [aag dot org/new-books-for-geographers/]

Tried to narrow down selections to focus on Indigenous, Black, anticolonial, Latin American, oceanic/archipelagic geographies; imaginaries and environmental perception; mobility, borders, carceral/abolition geography; literary and musical ecologies.

---

New stuff, early 2024:

A Caribbean Poetics of Spirit (Hannah Regis, University of the West Indies Press, 2024)

Constructing Worlds Otherwise: Societies in Movement and Anticolonial Paths in Latin America (Raúl Zibechi and translator George Ygarza Quispe, AK Press, 2024)

Fluid Geographies: Water, Science, and Settler Colonialism in New Mexico (K. Maria D. Lane, University of Chicago Press, 2024)

Hydrofeminist Thinking With Oceans: Political and Scholarly Possibilities (Tarara Shefer, Vivienne Bozalek, and Nike Romano, Routledge, 2024)

Making the Literary-Geographical World of Sherlock Holmes: The Game Is Afoot (David McLaughlin, University of Chicago Press, 2025)

Mapping Middle-earth: Environmental and Political Narratives in J. R. R. Tolkien’s Cartographies (Anahit Behrooz, Bloomsbury Publishing, 2024)

Midlife Geographies: Changing Lifecourses across Generations, Spaces and Time (Aija Lulle, Bristol University Press, 2024)

Society Despite the State: Reimagining Geographies of Order (Anthony Ince and Geronimo Barrera de la Torre, Pluto Press, 2024)

---

New stuff, 2023:

The Black Geographic: Praxis, Resistance, Futurity (Camilla Hawthorne and Jovan Scott Lewis, Duke University Press, 2023)

Activist Feminist Geographies (Edited by Kate Boyer, Latoya Eaves and Jennifer Fluri, Bristol University Press, 2023)

The Silences of Dispossession: Agrarian Change and Indigenous Politics in Argentina (Mercedes Biocca, Pluto Press, 2023)

The Sovereign Trickster: Death and Laughter in the Age of Dueterte (Vicente L. Rafael, Duke University Press, 2022)

Ottoman Passports: Security and Geographic Mobility, 1876-1908 (İlkay Yılmaz, Syracuse University Press, 2023)

The Practice of Collective Escape (Helen Traill, Bristol University Press, 2023)

Maps of Sorrow: Migration and Music in the Construction of Precolonial AfroAsia (Sumangala Damodaran and Ari Sitas, Columbia University Press, 2023)

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New stuff, late 2022:

B.H. Roberts, Moral Geography, and the Making of a Modern Racist (Clyde R. Forsberg, Jr.and Phillip Gordon Mackintosh, Cambridge Scholars Publishing, 2022)

Environing Empire: Nature, Infrastructure and the Making of German Southwest Africa (Martin Kalb, Berghahn Books, 2022)

Sentient Ecologies: Xenophobic Imaginaries of Landscape (Edited by Alexandra Coțofană and Hikmet Kuran, Berghahn Books 2022)

Colonial Geography: Race and Space in German East Africa, 1884–1905 (Matthew Unangst, University of Toronto Press, 2022)

The Geographies of African American Short Fiction (Kenton Rambsy, University of Mississippi Press, 2022)

Knowing Manchuria: Environments, the Senses, and Natural Knowledge on an Asian Borderland (Ruth Rogaski, University of Chicago Press, 2022)

Punishing Places: The Geography of Mass Imprisonment (Jessica T. Simes, University of California Press, 2021)

---

New stuff, early 2022:

Belly of the Beast: The Politics of Anti-fatness as Anti-Blackness (Da’Shaun Harrison, 2021)

Coercive Geographies: Historicizing Mobility, Labor and Confinement (Edited by Johan Heinsen, Martin Bak Jørgensen, and Martin Ottovay Jørgensen, Haymarket Books, 2021)

Confederate Exodus: Social and Environmental Forces in the Migration of U.S. Southerners to Brazil (Alan Marcus, University of Nebraska Press, 2021)

Decolonial Feminisms, Power and Place (Palgrave, 2021)

Krakow: An Ecobiography (Edited by Adam Izdebski & Rafał Szmytka, University of Pittsburgh Press, 2021)

Open Hand, Closed Fist: Practices of Undocumented Organizing in a Hostile State (Kathryn Abrams, University of California Press, 2022)

Unsettling Utopia: The Making and Unmaking of French India (Jessica Namakkal, 2021)

---

New stuff, 2020 and 2021:

Mapping the Amazon: Literary Geography after the Rubber Boom (Amanda Smith, Liverpool University Press, 2021)

Geopolitics, Culture, and the Scientific Imaginary in Latin America (Edited by María del Pilar Blanco and Joanna Page, 2020)

Reconstructing public housing: Liverpool’s hidden history of collective alternatives (Matt Thompson, University of Liverpool Press, 2020)

The (Un)governable City: Productive Failure in the Making of Colonial Delhi, 1858–1911 (Raghav Kishore, 2020)

Multispecies Households in the Saian Mountains: Ecology at the Russia-Mongolia Border (Edited by Alex Oehler and Anna Varfolomeeva, 2020)

Urban Mountain Beings: History, Indigeneity, and Geographies of Time in Quito, Ecuador (Kathleen S. Fine-Dare, 2019)

City of Refuge: Slavery and Petit Marronage in the Great Dismal Swamp, 1763-1856 (Marcus P. Nevius, University of Georgia Press, 2020)

[laurapetrie]

do you know any other perfumes worn by historical figures like otma? 🩷

Elisabeth of Austria wore Creed Fantasia De Fleurs. Obviously we don't know what Anne Boleyn smelled like (AN ANGEL!), but there is some evidence that she had a fondness for rose-water and even had several bottles of it in her inventory. Marie Antoinette was mad for perfume (there are entire books about this), and you can still buy her custom blend of Parfum du Trianon by her very own personal perfumer, Jean-Louis Fargeon. She even packed it for Varennes! (Louis waiting for her to get ready like 😒.) Her beloved Le Jardin Secret has been repackaged as Black Jade by Lubin, and you can buy it here. Marie-Thérèse also wore Lubin. Napoleon had François Rancé create Joséphine for Guess Who. To absolutely no one's surprise, it's like an explosion of rose petals. Victoria was a big fan of Fleurs de Bulgarie by Creed.

Madame du Barry‘s favourite scent was Aqua Mirabilis by Giovanni Maria Farina. Creed's Jasmin Imperatrice Eugenie was created (shockingly enough) for my beloved Empress Eugenie. STARLET SCENTS:

Grace Kelly walked down the aisle in Creed Fleurissimo.

Givenchy created L'Interdit for Audrey in 1957, but she also wore Creed Spring Flower later on - another perfume made just for her! Carole Lombard wore Casma by Caswell-Massey during her flapper era.

Pattie Boyd recorded in her Letter from London for 16 Magazine that she wore Jicky by Guerlain during her dolly bird days. (Also a favorite of Sharon Tate!) LITERARY LADIES: Zelda Fitzgerald wore Salud by Schiaparelli, describing it as "violets and lilies and pink beauty." And just for fun: the fictional Linda Radlett wears Après L'Ondée by Guerlain, and knowing Nancy Mitford, I'm pretty certain this means she wore it herself. 💐🩷

[qvrcll]

posing (as a playboy centerfold)

summary: loving ellie is as simple as it can be. the routine you fall into is painless, so easy it threatens to tear past what has been. but can you ever set still this palpable, throbbing heart that feels for her?

warning: showering together, nudity mentioned, mention of injuries / old wounds / stitch wounds, established relationship but pining still, just some word vomit tbh !!

a/n: hi! it’s been a WHILE! but i’ve seriously gone through a rollercoaster of emotions because i came upon the realisation that being burnt out can make it seem like you’ve literally lost your ability to write and in my fear of trying to keep up with requests, i literally couldn’t write a single sentence i could like. this is something i’ve managed that i don’t completely hate :,] college melodrama is coming soon btw!! thank u to every single one of u who has shown it support, i love u all :,]

bathing with ellie is a simple, domestic routine you fall into. there’s no set-back’s, no restrictions and no effort on either end as you perch yourself into the commodity of the tub, body spent and leeching with the spread of its efforts. there’s that bruise you’d bottled on the trip with tommy for supplies on your thigh that still remains despite your effort to rid of it. if you want to search for them, your bruises and wounds show, even against the kiss of the water in the tub, red, tinged mauve and showing up blood orange with time. there’s history in everything, you think, as you relax against the ceramic sweep against your body, before her voice sounds,

“what are you thinking about?”

you turn your head, smile already swallowing your face when you catch the height of ellie against the bathroom door. she’s half naked, jeans shimming down her hips as she quickly presses her palms against the wall for balance. she snickers when she sees you comically flout your arms against the edge of the tub, goading with a smile as you take it all in. take a while to just admire her.

“take a picture, it would last longer,” she presses on, the laugh spent in her voice as she’s bare now, completely. there’s the bruise on her shoulder from last week, when she’d caught that foetid fall upon the stone and hedge of her foes, or the blunting image of that stitch wound she’d given herself after she’d cut the skin open on that abrasive ground maria had always warned everyone about. her arms are littered with the testament of her past endeavours — scratches, marks, something admirable and accomplished that she’s glazed with that makes it incredibly hard to skirt your eyes off of. and she’s level enough with you to notice the lucidity of your stare. but instead of words, she joins you in the bath.

the water oddly rises and sets with her body behind yours, some of it sneaking onto the floor but you can’t seem to care when she’s pinioning her weight against your back in a way that’s so obvious, it burns — her fingers, lithe and callous as you’ve discerned them to be, roam the tight space between you and the water and you look at her with that knowing glare, that slip of your shoulders that ask ‘ellie, where do you think your hands are going?’ and she’ll laugh against that safe-spot she’s borrowed into the liberty of your neck. and the further she goes, the more she presses into your skin slovenly little kid who’s got a hint of candy for the very first time, the more you’re realising none of this ever does stop. this loving, this push-and-pull de-facto she’s got going with you, this lambency you’ve let live inside of you.

it’s all so real that it scares you.

you turn around, promptly, facing her but not really. your eyes are as assailable as they can be, but they’re sprouting lower, sailing on a nerve and landing on the skin of her arms, the brawn of her shoulders. she catches your ambulant gaze and fixes a smirk, is in the thick of a smirk, when her body goes cold like meat in your very tub.

“what… are you doing…?”

her voice is far from its usual front, now reduced to an embarrassed purr as she regulates the feeling that punches against her like a brute. tries to fine-tune the notion that you’re quite literally touching her, feeling the skin of her mid section, assessing it like you were to be the town’s next medico. you look up, obviously, because you’ve never heard her this splintered before, thinking you’ve vaulted too far before you’re realising with a lissom smile that oh, she’s so very flustered with you just feeling her.

“what does it look like i’m doing?”

you poke her on, watch her face burst into flames, her words mitigate into quiet fluxes of ‘i don’t know what you’re doing… just like… touching my belly? what are you doing?’

and you literally have to carve the words out that you’re admiring her. reaching for her scars in spite of the intrusion of the water. pawing the rough and unearthed parts of her in the wet of it. coursing her like wet mud for excavators to dig through. like she’s the moon strung on a string. but you can’t. can’t fit the words onto your tongue, even in the teeth of your belief, even if you splice and section it to be statable.

your love for ellie is taking a space in your heart, lettering something illegible, holding the memory of her so close, so taut, that all you can say is,

“i love you.”

© 2023 qvrcll. Do not repost any of my works on any platform.

[supermaks]

1. Brazil. 1992. By Ercole Colombo. 2. Giovanna Amati and Niki Lauda watch as a Ferrari passes in Circuito Estoril, Portugal. 1992. By Ercole Colombo.

Giovanna Amati bought her first motorbike in 1975. A 500cc Honda, powerful, loud, clearly too big for a 15-year-old Italian kid without a driver’s license.

Her parents never found out, not how she got the money, not where she found the bike, not even the identity of the salesperson desperate enough to accept a child’s money. A bike like that, to a kid like her. But not just any kid. Giovanna’s father owned movie theaters; her mother acted in said movies. All Giovanna wanted to do was play the role of racing driver. For two years, Giovanna kept her Honda hidden behind her friends’ garage, and only took it out for little spins during the late hours of the night, when Roma pretended to sleep and the sleek, narrow streets grew even more austere. Monsters in silk shirts mumbled low in the shadows, watched the kid ride over stone and grime, turn into dark gardens and across the Tevere river, far beyond the reach of the misty moonlight. Up and down, left and right, zigzagging past the Vespas and the yellow bicycles left unattended in the piazzas. A curt glimpse towards the Vatican, a recognition of Spirit, a nod of respect. Total darkness. Giovanna rode through the night like a black horse. Hair like broken hay sticking out of her helmet; sunken eyes the color of whiskey peering through a red visor. Straight, thin lips sucking on rolling paper and blowing out smoke too strong to be tobacco. This was Giovanna Amati in the dark. La principessa veloce de Roma.

3 years later, in 1978, Giovanna Amati was kidnapped in broad daylight. Caught between the considerable wealth of her surname and the diabolical politics of the time, the girl never really stood a chance. She was sitting in her car, parked in front of the Amati villa, perhaps waiting for someone to come join her, perhaps only taking a moment to breathe, listening to some music. We’ll never know. 3 masked men broke through the windshield like hammers and dragged her kicking and screaming into a van nearby. Giovanna was then taken to an apartment just a few blocks away, where she was undressed, assaulted, humiliated, broken and tortured, wrapped in a thick plastic sheet and shoved inside a wooden box. For 74 days, she was kept inside that box. The box only opened for food, for water, for hands, for mouths, for pain, for horrors. 2 months later, the box opened one last time. Against explicit court orders from the Italian government, Giovanni Amati and Anna Maria Pancanni paid for their daughter’s ransom using leftover box-office receipts from George Lucas’ ‘Star Wars’, old family jewelry and some of their servants’ life-savings.

The full cost hit 800 million-lira (almost 3 million US dollars). Soon after her release, Giovanna started receiving flowers and love letters from one her captors, Jean Daniel Nieto, which prompted some to speculate about the nature of their relationship. Giovanna was kept in a box for two months. ‘The box made me stronger.’ She’d tell the BBC, years later. After a few days of radio silence and even more flowers, she phoned Jean Daniel Nieto, and informed him she could no longer live without him, and they should run away together. Jean Daniel Nieto was ecstatic. He showed up to the meeting point right on time, in his best two-piece suit. Giovanna showed up on the back of her Honda. She did not stop for Jean Daniel Nieto. The police cars who’d been following close behind, however, did.

Giovanna Amati began racing cars professionally at the age of 21. Despite successful campaigns in Formula Abarth, Italian F3 and Formula 3000, Giovanna had close to no open-wheel experience, no real backing, no sponsors, and no hopes of a successful F1 stint. Still. She wanted to ride F1 cars the way she rode her bike alone in the streets of Rome. She wanted to play the role. She was an Amati, after all. Her final option was still in the box. Money. A doomed team wobbling on its last leg let her pay for its ’92 seat, and so, with no actual pump and uncomfortable circumstance, Giovanna Amati became the last woman on earth to ever drive for the F1 world championship, and the first and only woman to do so 14 years after being kidnapped. She attempted to qualify for Brabham 3 times: Brazil, Mexico, South Africa. All failed. Brabham kicked her out, obviously, and in came male savior Damon Hill, who then, phew, failed to qualify five times.

In my dreams, la principessa veloce de Roma still rides her Honda at night. Her eyes are red behind the visor, and she doesn’t stop at the Vatican. They’ll never catch her again.

Text by supermaks

Sources: 1, 2, 3, 4

3. South Africa. By Ercole Colombo.

4. Gangster-story all’italiana. Source unknown.

[allthebrazilianpolitics]

Brazilian scientists develop rapidly degradable bioplastic

Brazilian researchers have developed a type of bioplastic that degrade quickly when composted or when discarded in the environment. The material is innovative as it uses small bioactive encapsulated particles from functional foods like carrots and chia. Unlike synthetic plastic, it does not leave residues that pollute the environment, harming life in the oceans and even human health.

The research is coordinated by Maria Inês Bruno Tavares, a professor at the Institute of Macromolecules at the Federal University of Rio de Janeiro (UFRJ), and has had two recent articles published in the international scientific journal Journal of Applied Polymer Science, including a feature on the May cover.

Plastic pollution is one of the greatest challenges of our time, according to the United Nations (UN). Around the world, one million plastic bottles are bought every minute and some five trillion plastic bags are used every year. Half of all plastic produced is designed for single-use purposes, used only once and then discarded.

Plastic is made up of polymers, which are large molecules. In order to be broken down in the environment, Professor Tavares noted, these molecules are fragmented into smaller particles, until they reach what is known as microplastic. Microplastics are in the air, in the water, end up being absorbed by plants, ingested by both animals and humans, and can cause allergies and damage health.

Continue reading.

[camusscigarette]

do u have any headcanons for hannibal :3

Hannibal HeadCanons!!

Some trigger warnings maybe? It gets a bit..smutty at the end. Just a bit. Nothing too explicit.

His favorite designers are Christian Dior and Elie Saab. Why? Well, Dior has a unique way of creating such feminine clothes that captivates the eye while Elie Saab makes everything look so ethereal and mythological, it inspires him to draw both Bedelia and Will in such clothes

He went once to Lebanon for the purpose of visiting the last traces of the Roman empire and somehow managed to befriend a nice elderly man on the Beach in Byblos where he offered him a Glass of Aarak and from now on, Hannibal invests in Aarak. Because as the elderly man told him, "Aarak tastes better when you eat it with raw meat".

It's true he's a vile man in his own and twisted sense due to his acts of cannibalism, but Hannibal absolutely hates a lot of well known Serial killers. Why? Because he thinks their motives were weak. He finds their killing styles vulgar and absolutely untasteful. To him, killing is an art. Done is a messy way and disfiguring one's body and leaving it in utter ruins is foul. He thinks that, if you want to disfigure a body, turn it into a statuette or something artistic, not clumps of flesh.

He thinks Rosé is a wannabee Wine. It's his least favorite wine because he finds it rather simple and so vague in taste.. It's a knockoff White wine mixed with water.

He loves Bvlgari. Why? Snakes. He loves snakes. Because they remind him of Bedelia but also Will. Snakes are harmless unless provoked. And their bite can either be deadly or merely a scratch.

HE'S A GOLD GIRLIE.

He's been to Romania many times, even speaks the language. Finds Dracula's castle boring. Loves Castel Peleș because it has every architecture in the world from different societies and civilisations.

His favorite chocolate is Terry's chocolate orange in Dark Chocolate.

He'll always be the big spoon. He finds that holding tightly onto someone he loves reassures him and his anxieties. He likes to tend to people's injuries as well. Bathing them. It's more comforting to him then them.

He secretly loved Bedelia but she wasn't enough for him. She'd never allow her person suit to slip and dwell into madness like him and Will.

He liked Avatar the Last Airbender AND The Legend of Korra. PS. He thinks that Lin and Kya should be a thing.

He's an existentialist, but absolutely HATES Jean Paul Sartre. He'd much rather prefer Simone De Beauvoir and Fyodor Dostoevsky's existentialism.

He enjoys Albert Camus' works. Often quoting his letters to Maria Casarès to those he shared a liking to.

Thinks Sigmund Freud was right.

He low-key has a breeding kink..lowkey..

And overstimulating. He likes to test other's limits by pushing them over the edge, even when he knows it's becoming painfully unbearable.

He hated the Cookie-Croissant thing until he was forced to try one and absolutely loved. Still publicly hates it but secretly..

Red nail theory? Biggest victim of it.

He doesn't like any modern artist, but you'd catch him singing "Happiness is a Butterfly" in the shower. Because "its speaks to him"

He indulges in self flagellation.

HE LOVES ARABIC POETRY MORE THAN ANYTHING .

Hope you liked it! Part Two?

[deep-dive]

2023

albums/eps: a.s.o. - a.s.o. Amaarae - Fountain Baby Amnesia Scanner & Freeka Tet - STROBE.RIP André 3000 - New Blue Sun ANOHNI and the Johnsons - My Back Was a Bridge for You to Cross Anthony Naples - Orbs bar italia - Tracey Denim Beach Fossils - Bunny Ben Vida, Yarn/Wire & Nina Dante - The Beat My Head Hit Beverly Glenn-Copeland - The Ones Ahead Biosphere - N-Plants Blonde Redhead - Sit Down for Dinner Bored Lord - Name It Call Super - Eulo Cramps Carly Rae Jepsen - The Loveliest Time Caroline Polachek - Desire, I Want to Turn Into You Chuquimamani-Condori - DJ E Cole Police - If I Don’t See You in the Future, I’ll See You in the Pasture Dean Blunt - Give me a moment DJ Lostboi - Music for Landings DJ Sabrina the Teenage DJ - Destiny Double Virgo - hardrive heat seeking Eartheater - Powders The Embassy - E-Numbers Everything But the Girl - Fuse Fever Ray - Radical Romantics Freak Heat Waves - Mondo Tempo Headache - The Head Hurts but the Heart Knows the Truth Hiroyuki Onogawa - August in the Water: Music for Film 1995-2005 Jam City - Jam City Presents EFM James Ivy - Everything Perfect Jessy Lanza - Love Hallucination Jim Legxacy - homeless n****a pop music Joanne Robertson - Blue Car Jonnine - Maritz Kelela - Raven Khotin - Release Spirit Kota Hoshino, Shoi Miyazawa - Armored Core VI OST Laurel Halo - Atlas Loraine James - Gentle Confrontation Maria BC - Spike Field mark william lewis - Living Matmos - Return to Archive MIZU - Distant Intervals ML Buch - Suntub Noriko Tujiko - Crépuscule I & II Nourished by Time - Erotic Probiotic 2 Oneohtrix Point Never - Again Osmotic & Fennesz - Senzatetto Pierre Rousseau - Mémoire De Forme Purelink - Signs Ryuichi Sakamoto - 12 Sofia Courtesies - Madres ssaliva - sector6park/counterfeit Sufjan Stevens - Javelin Tim Hecker - No Highs Tirzah - trip9love…??? Wild Nothing - Hold Yves Tumor - Praise a Lord Who Chews but Which Does Not Consume; (Or Simply, Hot Between Worlds) µ-Ziq - 1977 7038634357 - Neo Seven

songs: a.s.o. - Love in the Darkness Addison Rae - I got it bad Alex Kassian - Leave Your Life (Lonely Hearts Mix) Amaarae - Reckless & Sweet Amnesia Scanner & Freeka Tet - Clown André - Ants To You, Gods To Who ? ANOHNI and the Johnsons - Can’t ANOHNI and the Johnsons - It Must Change Anthony Naples - Silas Armin van Buuren & Punctual - On & On (ft. Alina) bambinodj - High as Ever Still Passin' Through (Remix) bar italia - Nocd Baths - Do I Make the World Worse Beach Fossils - Don’t Fade Away Beverly Glenn-Copeland - People of the Loon Bibio & Óskar Guðjónsson - Sunbursting Björk & Rosalía - Oral Blawan - Toast Bored Lord - Wait Wait Wait bvdub - Days on Heaven and Earth Call Super - Coppertone Elegy Carly Rae Jensen - Psychedelic Switch Caroline Polachek - Bunny Is a Rider (Doss Remix) Caroline Polachek - Crude Drawing of an Angel Chuquimamani-Condori - Eat My Cum Chuquimamani-Condori - Know Dean Blunt - Rinsed (ft. TYSON) Dj Lostboi - PUF 2 LAX DJ Sabrina the Teenage DJ - For Now and Forever Double Virgo - gainfully deployed EASYFUN - Long Long Time The Embassy - Amnesia ESP - North Fever Ray - Kandy Freak Heat Waves & Cindy Lee - In a Moment Divine Fwea-Go Hit - Back Wildin Headache - That Thing with the Rabbit Headache - Truism 4 Dummies Hemlocke Springs - sever the blight Hudson Mohawke & Nikki Nair - Demuro Ike - Rose Quartz Jam City - Magnetic James K & hoodie - Ether Jessy Lanza - Don’t Cry On My Pillow Jim Legxacy - amnesia111 Jim Legxacy - candy reign (!) Jonnine - Tea For Two (Boo) Kelela - Divorce Khotin - Computer Break (Late Mix) Kylie Minogue - Hold on to Now Laurel Halo, Bendik Giske, Lucy Railton & James Underwood - Earthbound Loraine James - Tired of Me Lorenzi - Lonely Cowboy Tales (Crayon Moon Remix) LSDXOXO - Devil’s Chariot Maria BC - Still Maria BC - Watcher mark william lewis - Living Mc LcKaiique, MC Celo BK & DJ Jeeh FDC - Quem Tá de Motão, Vou Sarrar Puta Na Marcone (ft. DJ Biel Divulga) ML Buch - High speed calm air tonight Nation & Ecco2k - Ça Va Nicole Dollanganger - Gold Satin Dreamer Nourished by Time - Rain Water Promise Oliver Coates - One Without Oneohtrix Point Never - Krumville Purelink - We Should Keep Going Shoi Miyazawa - Rough and Decent Slayyyter - Miss Belladonna Sufjan Stevens - Shit talk Tim Hecker - Total Garbage Tirzah - u all the time Troye Sivan - Got Me Started Wild Nothing - Suburban Solutions Yves Tumor - Echolalia Yves Tumor - Fear Evil Like Fire µ-Ziq - 4am

mixes: CFCF - CFCF for TERMINAL 27 Chuquimamani-Condori - Fact Mix 937 PC Music - 10 Physical Therapy - car culture remissions vol. 4 plush - LIVE AT SKSKSKSK S-candalo - Fact Mix 897 WHY BE - OdyXxey Radio Mix

movies: Afire (Christian Petzold) All the Beauty and the Bloodshed (Laura Poitras) E6-D7 (Eno Swinnen) Evil Dead Rise (Lee Cronin) Grown in Darkness (Devin Shears) How Do You Live? (Hayao Miyazaki) The Killer (David Fincher) Killers of the Flower Moon (Martin Scorsese) Knock at the Cabin (M. Night Shyamalan) Last Summer (Catherine Breillat) May December (Todd Haynes) Oppenheimer (Christopher Nolan) The Outwaters (Robbie Banfitch) Rotting in the Sun (Sebastián Silva) Showing Up (Kelly Reichardt) The Zone of Interest (Jonathan Glazer)

games: Alan Wake II Armored Core VI: Fires of Rubicon Baldur’s Gate III Blasphemous II Diablo IV Humanity Legend of Zelda: Tears of the Kingdom Lies of P Metroid Prime Remastered Octopath Traveler II Pikmin 4 Star Ocean: The Second Story R Super Mario Bros. Wonder Theatrhythm Final Bar Line Wo Long: Fallen Dynasty

[crispyjenkins]

(AC wip) The Savage Price of Piety

it's desmond's deathday and i wrote like. 9,000 more words to this wip (first two parts here) last week and i want to brag about it, so happy deathday you wet bastard (mostly gen but with a surprise rarepair, time travel/reincarnation, found family, william miles’ a+ parenting, accidental subterfuge, desmond goes by miles mostly, inspired by study of flight by @esamastation but with a twist!, only somewhat historically accurate swears by which i mean probably not at all but leonardo had some Opinions alright) have some (three) chronological but scattered bits of scenes

  “Oh,” Claudia says as soon as she opens the door, seeing Ezio’s rather wretched expression, “you’ve figured it out, then.”

  “You could have told me,” he growls, following her into the entryway and closing the door behind himself. 

  Claudia scoffs, spinning on heel to lead the way further into the building for the kitchens. “I had one conversation with the boy, brother, I was hardly sure of it myself. Wait,” she halts and points a finger at him accusingly, “how did you figure it out?”

  Ezio, quite graciously he thinks, ignores the subtle insult to his intelligence. Sighing, he pushes back his hood before their mother sees him with it on indoors, and runs a hand over his beard. “I had Leonardo visit.”

  Claudia’s face slackens, before twisting into a rage that has Ezio stepping away warily.

  But she punches the wall instead of her brother, a shouted “Gods damn it!” echoing in the narrow space. Then she spins on her heel and hollers further into the residential part of the bordello, “Mother! We forgot about Leonardo!”

  Horrified by his sister and concerned for his mother’s current mental state, Ezio reaches out to put a hand on Claudia’s arm, but he doesn’t get the chance before Maria de' Auditore is shouting right back, “God damn it!”

  Grumbling, Claudia stomps down the hall and leaves a very confused Ezio hurrying to follow; she ignores all his pleas for explanation until she’s stomped into the kitchen, where their mother is pouring two very large glasses of wine, with very little water to cut down the potency. She passes one to Claudia silently, and then they both drink, though luckily they aren’t attempting to down it all at once.

  “I can’t believe we forgot the Maestro,” their mother mutters to herself as she comes over to kiss Ezio on both cheeks, before shoving the still mostly-full glass into his hands.

  “Forgot him for what?” Ezio wants to know, clutching the glass like a mother clutches a babe.

  “To test if Miles really is an Auditore.” It’s said so flippantly, like it doesn’t affect Claudia at all, but she also collapses into one of two chairs at the little tea table under the largest window. Their mother takes the other, massaging her forehead and looking like she’s grieving their family all over again.

  It occurs to Ezio, as he moves to stand next to the table, that she probably is.

--

“It’s all up to you now, Seventeen.”

  Desmond opens his eyes to the dark of the dormitory, faint moonlight cutting over the floor between his bed and Nino’s, and he can’t bring himself to move — even to roll off his arm that is very much still asleep. 

  Clay still haunts him.

  Five hundred fucking years, and his current twenty-four besides, and that fucker still won’t leave him alone. If Desmond were not so familiar with what an actual Bleed feels like, he’d almost think Clay is stuck in his brain the same way as his ancestors. Thank fuck he stopped Bleeding Ezio’s memories and feelings, while still retaining much of the training.

  Fuck, time travel is so weird.

  Or, reincarnation? He’s not sure of much, but he’s sure he was dead, he’s sure he burned, and he’s sure that though his 15th century mother had affectionately called him [redacted], his name is Desmond Miles.

  Or just Miles, he supposes. Sue him, he panicked when Adele first approached him, and the best aliases are ones you know you’ll respond to, right? If only he’d have had the forethought to divorce himself from his... future family’s surname.

  It sounds different enough with an Italian accent that it hasn’t caused any problems, yet. Like making him flinch. Or snapping that he hasn’t been a Miles since he was sixteen.

  Granted, he still has no idea what he would go by instead. Altaïr and Conner would feel weird, while Sef or Darim are just a bit on the nose, and does he look like an Edward? Malik, maybe. His grandmother here, now, is actually from the Levant, so his skin is certainly dark enough that people wouldn’t be surprised by the name.

Except that feels almost akin to naming himself Leonardo.

--

  So instead, Leonardo spends every spare moment with his best friend, sometimes to brainstorm, sometimes to simply be there for him. It’s during one of these visits, he and Ezio once again observing the youngest assassins in the training ring, that he hears Miles laugh for the first time, and it’s as if ice water has been poured directly into his veins.

  Oh fuck. Oh Saints, oh Holy Father, oh fuck.

  “Leonardo?” Ezio asks quietly, head tilted towards him in concern, but Leonardo ignores him to stumble for the bannister to lean over it and stare down at Miles learning a little jig from Tullio, laughing all the while.

  He had only heard it once, truth be told, and it had been Salaí that had caused it, but even three years later, Leonardo remembers the laugh of Rodrigo Borgia’s sinister little shadow.

  Below, Miles doesn’t stop smiling, but his golden brown gaze yanks up towards Leonardo as if knowing his thoughts are about him. His eyes narrow, then widen slightly in realisation, and then he winces and looks away, which is all the confirmation Leonardo needs.

  Turning around, Leonardo grabs a confused Ezio by the arm and drags him from the training room, ignoring his protests until they find the nearest empty room.

  “Leonardo, what—?”

  “Romulus.”

-

[nuri148]

Distances in AoT

Or: Yams has no idea of geography and the relationship between distance and travel times in AOT makes no sense.

PART TWO: GEOMETRY AND PONIES

In the first part, we’ve seen how freaking huge the distances between the main districts of the Walls are. Here is a summary:

Center-Sina: 250 km

Sina-Rose: 130 km (Center-Rose: 380 km)

Rose-Maria: 100 km (Sina-Maria: 230 km; Center-Maria: 480 km)

To go from a District to the next on the same wall:

Along wall Sina: 393 km (352 if cutting in a straight line between the two)

Along wall Rose: 597 km (537 in a straight line)

Along wall Maria: 754 km (~720 in a light curve, as straight line not possible)

Here’s a summary of the shortest distances (combining radius and chords) between districts:

(I’ve only put the most frequently mentioned in canon)

Throughout canon, we see the characters moving between a handful of Districts. To the iniciated it may look like said travels are a tad too fast considering the means of transport that they use. It’s okay. The insta-travel effect has been seen in every other epic fictional world, be it the Middle Earth, Westeros or Narnia. And we’re willing to suspend our disbelief. But AoT has a crucial difference in that sense.

We’ve been told the exact distance between the walls. In kilometres, not some fictional or obscure, ancient measure unit. Suspending disbelief does not come easy when the numbers are exact.

It’s like when you’re watching a movie, and the hero has only 10 minutes to get to the bomb before it detonates, so he races through the streets of, say, Paris, and they go from the Louvre, to the Arc de Triomph, wreck havoc on a market along the Seine, rush through Montmartre, around the Eiffel Tower and skid to a halt when the car crashes in front of the Opera. And most people will be ok with that, but the few millions who live in or know Paris are like... Nope. That’s not possible. Not even with 007’s Aston Martin or the Batmobile. That makes absolutely no sense. It’s ten times worse if the hero is running.

Well, guess what, the Survey Corps do not travel in the Batmobile.

The Survey Corps travel by horse. On longer expeditions, they also have horse-drawn carts.

Now, if you fill up the tank of your BMW and pad your butt, you can drive the 480 km (road distance) from Berlin to Ansbach in about 4:40 hours without traffic. That’s not stopping for anything other than traffic lights, and using some of the best highways in the world. That’s an average of 102 km/h. With normal traffic, you could do that in 5:30 hours, averaging 87 km/h. That’s how long a badass modern car would take to go from Mitras to Shiganshina.

But, and this may come as a shock, a horse is not a car.

First and foremost, a horse cannot ride as fast as a car. As per the Publicly Available Information from canon, “The stable horses used by the Survey Corps are selectively bred (...) and travel for many hours without complaining. (...) Their top speed is between 75–80 km/h, and they can maintain a swift 35 km/h gallop. The horses are tenacious, able to maintain a fine speed of 20 km/h even when pulling a carriage.”

For one good thing in all this mess, numbers are in accordance with real horses. And I have no problem accepting that the SC horses are the cream of the crop when it comes to speed and resistance, like our fastest horses and most resistant horses combined. But horses, I repeat, are not cars.

Cars are machines. Horses are living, sentient beings. They cannot fill their stomach like a car a gas tank and run at top speed until it empties, rinse and repeat. They need food and water. They need shoes. They need bathroom stops (they can shit while walking, but they need to stop for pee). But mostly, they need rest. Horses can and do die of exhaustion. (And given that SC horses are super expensive, you don’t want to work them to death.)

A horse can maintain its maximum speed for only 3 km—4 for a race champion. That’s the maximum length of horse track races, actually. After such a sprint, they need to rest for a while. So even when dodging titans, you won’t do so at top speed – you just need to be faster than the enemy. Obviously, the slower the gallop, the longer the time it can be maintained, so sprinting at less-than-top-speed will allow to dodge more titans.

When you’re just travelling from point A to point B, then, you won’t waste the precious energy of the horse in a sprint. Those journeys would be made at a lower speed, for the faster you make the horse go, the more, longer stops it will need to rest, catch its breath, eat and drink. Likewise, if the horse is carrying weight, it will go slower and need more rest. Long distance horses can only cover 50–60 km per day—And before someone says endurance competition horses can run over 100–160 km in a day... that is not the same as 100 km per day, in the same way marathon runners don’t do 42 km per day; they do them in a day. The day of the race. After training specifically for that race. Then they rest for a few days. Horses are the same. Moreover, long distance endurance races have mandatory vet checks along the way to see that the horse is able to keep going. And if you have an expensive horse and no vet every 20 km to check it, you will take care not to push it, lest it collapses midway and the titans eat you.

So, considering SC horses are specially bred for endurance, we can safely equate them to long-distance working horses of our world; I’ll assume they’re the GOAT and can cover 60 km per day.

But wait! I hear some of you say. If they can go at 35 km/h, they can cover much more than 60 km a day! Er... no. Because they need to rest. They cannot trot at 35 km/h for 8 hours straight. They can’t even walk for that long without stopping to rest. Same as like Marathon runners never reach the same speeds as sprinters and middle-distance runners. 

Please note that this numbers refer to a single horse. You can cover longer distances, or cover a given distance faster, if you change your horse for a freshly rested one at given points. This is not an instant process: the new horse will have to be tacked and you’ll have to transfer the cargo, if any, from horse A to horse B (in AoT world, they cannot text the next station to have the horse tacked when they arrive). A convoy of several horses will be slightly slower and, I repeat, if there are carts, the whole convoy will be conditioned to the slowest cart (the horse/s will be slowed by the cart in the same way a car is slowed if you attach a trailer to it). In every rest station, the horse needs to be untacked and then re-tacked before continuing, same as hikers will put down their backpacks when taking a break.

For reference, The Pony Express, the fastest horse dispatch system ever, could cover 300 km per 24-hour day (they rode day and night). They managed to cover that much that by having a huge infrastracture that allowed the rider to change horses every 16-24 km, and pass the dispatch to another rider every 75 km or so. That’s 4-7 horses every 100 km.

So either AoT horses are more magical than My Little Pony ones or Yams cannot distinguish between a horse and a Ferrari.

Guess which one I’m betting on.

Side Comment: The Ferry

Talking about this with one of my fandom friends, she mentioned her bafflement that they didn’t use the ferries that we see in the first chapters evacuating people from Shiganshina to transport  themselves quickly from place to place. I thought she had a good point, so I looked into it. Thankfully for Yams though, I looked into this and it’s not really an option.

The steam engine is unknown in Paradis, so the ferries would have to be operated manually. (The publicly available info panel on the subject comes from the Lost girls OVA, so its canonicity is questionable, and it has contradictory info saying they are moved via wires along the river (as manual ferries do) but also that they are powered by the same gas as the VMG – which make little sense bc then you don’t need the wire and why not have a railway as well?). And the maximum speed a manually hauled barge can attain is not better than that of a horse. For a RL example, the fastest that horse-drawn barges travelling the Canal du Midi in the 19th century could reach was 32 hours for the 240 km ride... changing horses every 10km. Before that, it took four days. That’s 13 hours for 100 km – basically the same time it took the SC to go from Trost to Wall Maria in RtS, but without the possibility to change course if the road’s blocked or to dodge titans if they attack (and provided they had the fresh horses every 10 km, which they wouldn’t in RtS).

That said, I do think Yams totally forgot about the ferries.

Part 3

[ariel-seagull-wings]

BICHO DE PALHA

@princesssarisa @isareadsandwatches @softlytowardthesun @grimoireoffolkloreandfairytales @themousefromfantasyland @professorlehnsherr-almashy @thevampiricnihal

(Portuguese and Brazilian Folktale)

They say that a very rich man was widowed and remarried, having a daughter, Maria, who looked young and was beautiful.

The stepmother immediately disliked her stepdaughter and became angry when she had a daughter and she was relatively ugly, compared to Maria.

The man had scattered properties and lived traveling, running his businesses.

He only lasted a short time at home and in those moments, Maria felt better.

In her father's absence, her stepmother forced her to do the roughest and hardest jobs, feeding her the worst and in insignificant quantities.

Life became unbearable for the girl who consoled herself by praying and crying.

On the way to the river where she went to wash clothes, she always met an old lady with serene features and very kind. Maria ended up talking about her suffering and remaining silent so as not to hurt her father.

The old lady encouraged her with words full of sweetness.

As the stepmother became more violent and brutal, the stepdaughter decided to leave the house and look for work far away from that hell.

She met with the old lady and confessing her idea, the old woman agreed, gave her a lot of advice, gave her blessing and as she said goodbye, she took out a small wand, white as silver, saying:

"Take this wand, Maria, and when you are in danger, desire or suffering, you must say: "my magic wand, for the magic that God gave you, give me". And everything will happen as you ask."

Maria was very grateful and ran away. First, obeying the old woman's advice, she made a large plaited straw cloak with a hood through which there was a way to look through, and got inside.

After walking for a long time, she arrived at an important city.

She asked for a job in a palace and was told there were no more places.

She was leaving, sad and hungry, when an employee remembered that they needed someone to wash the rooms, corridors and stairs and clean the servants' quarters. Maria accepted the task and, thanks to her unique dress, they only called her “Bicho de Palha”. Dirty, silent, withdrawn into corners, always working, Bicho de Palha didn't bother anyone and everyone tolerated her.

The palace belonged to a young, well-made and handsome prince, who still had a mother, and was of marriageable age. In another palace, on the opposite side of the city, parties would be held for three days.

The girls were excited about the dances, attended by the society boys. In the palace the conversation was about the balls. Nurses, visitors and maids commented on the organization and splendor of the three elegant evenings.

Finally the first night arrived.

Bicho de Palha, through the holes in her mask, looked at the prince and loved him sincerely. She discreetly hovered near him, yearning for an order. In the afternoon, as there was no other maid around, the prince shouted:

"Bicho de Palha! Bring me a basin of water..."

Bicho de Palha took the basin and the prince washed his face. Afterwards, everyone went to the ball, some to dance and others to watch.

Being alone in her dark room, Bicho de Palha took off her cloak, took her wand and commanded, as the old lady had taught her:

"My magic wand! For the gift that God gave you, give me a silver carriage and a dress the color of the field with all its flowers."

Words spoken, the silver carriage, coachmen and servants appeared, a complete dress, from the diadem to the field-colored shoes with all their flowers. Bicho de Palha got dressed, took the carriage and went to the ball where he caused a sensation.

The prince immediately came to greet her and only danced with her, not allowing the other young men to approach her.

He confessed that he was impressed and asked where she lived. Bicho de Palha taught:

"I live on Basin Street..."

At exactly midnight, on the pretext of going to breathe the fresh air, the girl ran to her carriage which disappeared down the road. The prince was inconsolable and left the party soon after.

The other day, at the palace, the maids told Bicho de Palha about the events of the ball and about the mysterious princess who had the most beautiful outfit and the most beautiful face of the night.

The prince had dispatched many servants to look for Basin Street, but they all returned without knowing anything. That afternoon, the prince asked Bicho de Palha for a towel.

When everyone left for the party, Bicho de Palha took the wand and obtained a golden carriage and a dress the color of the sea with all its fish. He got dressed and went to the ball palace.

As soon as she entered, everyone recognized her and hailed her as the most elegant, graceful and friendly. The prince never left her side, talking, dancing, asking a thousand questions. He insisted on the girl's address.

"I no longer live on Basin Street, but on Towel Street. I moved today." It happened like the first night. Bicho de Palha invented an excuse and got into the carriage that ran like crazy.

The prince also left and spent the next day sighing and ordering the whole city to look for the Towel Street.

Bicho de Palha listened to the enthusiastic impressions of the servants in the kitchen, all talking about the prince's passion and the beauty of the girl.

On the afternoon of that day, the prince asked Bicho de Palha for a comb. Finding herself alone in the palace, Bicho de Palha invoked the power of the magic wand and received a carriage of diamonds and a dress the color of the sky with all its stars.

Entering the ballroom, Bicho de Palha received the greetings as if she were a queen. No one had ever seen such an attractive girl and such a rare dress.

The prince walked behind her like a shadow, serving her and asking everything, crazy with love. Bicho de Palha said that she had moved to Comb Street, permanently. And they danced a lot.

Close to midnight, knowing that it was the time when the girl disappeared as if she were enchanted, the prince called his servants and ordered an excavation to be opened near the palace gate, waiting for the carriage to stop.

This, however, did not happen, Bicho de Palha jumped into the carriage and it took off like lightning, jumping over the ditch, but the jolt was so sudden that one of Bicho de Palha's shoes, thrown outside the door, was lost. A servant found it and took it to the prince, who was very pleased.

Everyone looked for Comb Street in the city.

The prince decided to find the girl another way. He ordered the shoe to be taken to every house, putting it on everyone's feet.

Whoever wore it perfectly, neither loose nor tight, would be the charming girl at the dances. The servants walked up and down the street, putting shoes on the feet of the young women and the old women.

None of them could take a single step with him on their feet. The servants returned to the palace and tried putting tits on the maids and nurses. Anything.

Finally, a servant in charge remembered that Bicho de Palha had not been invited to wear the cute shoes. They all laughed, but, so that the prince wouldn't accuse them of having left someone to wear the shoe, they sent for Bicho de Palha, as a reason to laugh, and told him to try it on.

Bicho de Palha, with her wand in hand, asked that the dress from the third night of the party appear on her body, beneath the straw cape.

The prince came to watch.

Bicho de Palha, surrounded by laughing servants, put his foot into the shoe and it fit her perfectly.

Then she stretched out his other foot and everyone saw that he was wearing shoes just like the first.

They could hardly believe what they saw, when the straw fell and the beautiful girl from the three balls appeared, with the dress the color of the sky with all the stars, the diadem with the diamond moon, everything shining like the very stars of the firmament.

The prince rushed in hugging her and calling for his mother so she could meet her future daughter-in-law.

They got married soon.

Bicho de Palha told her story, and the magic wand, fulfilling the wishes of the old lady, who was Our Lady, disappeared, leaving them very happy on earth.

[read-alert]

Queer books for every color!

Full titles under the cut!

Red

I Hope We Choose Love: A Trans Girl's Notes from the End of the World by Kai Cheng Thom

Cemetery Boys by Aiden Thomas

Phoenix Extravagant by Yoon Ha Lee

The Future is Disabled: Prophecies, Love Notes, and Mourning Songs by Leah Lakshmi Piepzna-Samarasinha

Ace of Spades by Faridah Àbíké-Íyímídé

Aquicorn Cove by K O'Neill

Orange

Iron Widow by Xiran Jay Zhao

Felix Ever After by Kacen Callender

Not Your Sidekick by CB Lee

When the Angels Left the Old Country by Sacha Lamb

The Priory of the Orange Tree by Samantha Shannon

Ma and Me by Putsata Reang

Yellow

Home by Danez Smith

The Unbroken by CL Clark

Mooncakes by Wendy Xu and Suzanne Walker

Take a Hint, Dani Brown by Talia Hibbert

The Lesbianas Guide to Catholic School by Sonora Reyes

Chain-Gang All-Stars by Nana Kwame Adjei-Brenyah

Green

The Mermaid, the Witch, and the Sea by Maggie Tokuda-Hall

Finna by Nino Cipri

Detransition, Baby by Torrey Peters

The Magic Fish by Trung Le Nguyen

A Snake Falls to Earth by Darcie Little Badger

In the Dreamhouse by Carmen Maria Machado

Blue

How to Find a Princess by Alyssa Cole

Cantoras by Carolina De Robertis

Black Water Sister by Zen Cho

This is How You Lose the Time War by Amal El-Mohtar and Max Gladstone

Our Bloody Pearl by DN Bryn

Full Disclosure by Camryn Garrett

Purple

Eight Kinky Nights by Xan West

Pet by Akwaeke Emezi

Love Beyond Body, Space, and Time edited by Hope Nicholson

Everyone on the Moon is Essential Personnel by Julian K Jarobe

The Witch King by HE Edgmon

We See Each Other: A Black, Trans Journey Through TV and Film by Tre'vell Anderson

[archduchessofnowhere]

On August 26, 1852, the frigate Dom Fernando, equipped for Dona Maria Amelia [of Brazil]'s trip, sailed the seas towards the island of Madeira.

The health of the young princess was not very reassuring. Deep emotions preceded her departure from Lisbon. At her insistent request, Queen Dona Maria da Glória [II of Portugal], her sister on her father's side, brought her children to hug their young aunt; sad forebodings hovered over the melancholic family farewells. Tenderly hugging the oldest of the Infantas, Dona Maria Amelia blurted out these words: "It's not true, Maria, you won't forget me?!"

(...) On January 20 [of 1853], she [Maria Amelia] received a very affectionate letter from Queen Dona Maria da Glória, her sister, she was deeply moved and said: "My sister Maria loves me very much; I also love her dearly".

(...) On May 10 in the afternoon, the ship [that carried Maria Amelia's body back to Portugal] anchored in Cascais and parked there until the following day at ten o'clock. Passing through the forts at the entrance to the Tagus, she was greeted by all national and foreign vessels. The first were flagged in black.

Several great court figures had come to the tower of Belém, to meet the Empress [Amélie of Brazil, Maria Amelia's mother], and had climbed aboard. At noon, anchor was dropped in Terreiro do Paço. Delegations from the two Chambers and the municipality came on board and delivered speeches of condolence, to which the Empress responded with tears. A deeper emotion was in store for her: the Queen and the King came too. The Queen cried a lot; as she sprinkled holy water on her young sister's coffin, she certainly did not foresee that she would soon follow.

Almeida, Sylvia Lacerda Martins de (1973). Uma filha de D. Pedro I, Dona Maria Amélia

[Pictured: Daguerreotype of Princess Maria Amelia of Brazil, 1850 (left); daguerreotype of Queen Maria II of Portugal, 1849 (right)]

[malinaa]

JULY SHORT STORIES WRAP-UP

well i’ve been getting back into reading individual short stories, so here’s a list of all of the ones i’ve been reading this month! they can all be found here as pdfs <3 all the ones marked with an * are my fav reads

ANT COLONY by ALISSA NUTTING — a woman hosts an ant colony in her body

THE VELDT by RAY BRADBURY — a mother, a father, two children, and their eerie automated home

NO IS YES by PAUL JENNINGS — a man teaches his daughter that yes is no, up is down etc. and her idea of language is tested when she meets another boy

THE PEDESTRIAN by RAY BRADBURY — in the near future, a man takes a walk and finds himself in a situation

THE SPECIALIST’S HAT by KELLY LINK — twins where one is better at playing dead than the other

THE OCTOBER GAME by RAY BRADBURY — a husband who hates his wife gets back at her

YOU'RE UGLY, TOO by LORRIE MOORE — local funny woman hates the midwest and goes back to the east coast to realize it’s also boring

THE HOUSE OF ASTERION* by JORGE LUIS BORGES — so basically you’re the minotaur and you live in a labyrinth and everything is fine until it isn’t

L’ESPRIT DE L’ESCALIER* by CATHERYNNE M. VALENTE — a type of modern orpheus and eurydice retelling but this doesn't end in the tragedy...or does it?

WE ATE THE CHILDREN LAST by YANN MARTEL — medical procedure turns to social experiment gone wrong

AT THE CLINIC by SALLY ROONEY — marianne and connell remember the events leading up to her visit to the dentist differently; alternatively, a microcosm of two people's relationship

I HAVE NO MOUTH, AND I MUST SCREAM by HARLAN ELLISON — ai wins and keeps five individuals alive for its own sick enjoyment

DIVISION BY ZERO by TED CHIANG — a wandering realization that, despite being similar, two people can be so distant, but with lots of math

FRESH WATER FROM THE SEA* by RAMONA AUSUBEL — a magical realist depiction of a daughter and her mother who’s slowly vanishing away

SHE UNNAMES THEM by URSULA K. LEGUIN — eve, of adam and eve biblical fame, unnames all the animals and then some

THE THIEF OF MEMORY by SUNYI DEAN — a hero with one duty, a desert that keeps taking, a storm that never ceases, and a villain that steals memory

HORROR STORY by CARMEN MARIA MACHADO — what’s worse? a haunted house or the relationship that’s crumbling inside of it

THE MOTHS by HELEN MARÍA VIRAMONTES — a granddaughter’s reflection of her family, but specifically her grandmother who died

THE PATH OF WATER* by EMMA TÖRZS — you’re in a fairy tale and you realize this and you try to unlock lost memories

HIGH DESERT by RAMONA AUSUBEL — a woman who lost both her daughter and husband to the sea moves to the desert but is still losing parts of herself

WARM BEDS by MÓNICA BUSTOS (trans. ANALÍA VILLAGRA) — three people share the same bed but never meet until the phantom presence of each other drives them to want to meet

IN THE CEMETERY WHERE AL JOLSON IS BURIED by AMY HEMPEL — an unnamed narrator visits her friend who’s dying

BONESOUP by EUGENIA TRIANTAFYLLOU — as the first line says, “you must eat the body part you want to grow stronger”

THE VERY PULSE OF THE MACHINE* by MICHAEL SWANWICK — a corpse at her back, her home base miles and miles ahead of her, an astronaut does everything to survive

TO EXHALE SKY by SHINGAI NJERI KAGUNDA — a queer speculative story about anticipated grief where the narrator has the ability to inhale and transform sorrow

XY by LUCY ZHANG — a woman with controlling parents finds their first attempt at a perfect daughter in the basement

AND YET by A.T. GREENBLATT — the haunted house of your childhood is a door into parallel universes