#Triskell Translation

[emiimagination]

I have permission to use this triskel as a cover ^^ maybe another one will come later, who knows? ^^

Don't forget to go see the artist @art-from-iso ^^ she really deserves it ^^

Finally, as promised, here is the first real chapter of the Deer Gods AU fiction ^^

The next chapter will be posted next week. Until then, I hope you like the universe 😉

We will see about doing a translation soon… but please understand that we would like to see if the universe pleases before translating. It takes us time and work. So we are impatient to see your reactions on this AU ^^

[musicblogwales]

WRKHOUSE unveil fantastic new video - 'Take' is Out Now!

North Wales band WRKHOUSE release hard-hitting new single 'Take', which is available now via all streaming dsp's and youtube. The track delivers deliciously distorted bass-lines and pulsing synth leads that translate into an anthemic and uplifting single.

A stand alone single, ‘Take’ will also be included on the bands upcoming extended version of their debut EP  ‘Out Of The Blue’. The release is accompanied by a striking new music video by long-time collaborator Aled Victor. 

Recorded at the same time as the band’s debut EP, the track comes amid a wave of critical acclaim with support from the likes of BBC Radio Wales (Welsh A-List), BBC Radio 1, Clash, Selector Radio, Atwood Magazine and God Is In The TV among others, the band pull influences from a diverse array of Indie pioneers such as Foals, Nothing But Thieves, and Talking Heads (to name a few), the full EP delves into themes of liberation from the constraints of one's life, whether it be in relationships, self-discovery, or artistic expression. 

The new single ‘Take’ showcases the more angsty and post-punk flavoured side of the band’s sound, leaning on political themes. Built around punching drums and a wall of fuzzy, overdriven bass and guitar tones, the track journeys through its urgent and expressive, spoken word verse to its infectious and anthemic chorus. Working with acclaimed producers Ed Al-Shakarchi (Boy Azooga, The Bug Club, Loathe), Steffan Pringle (Adwaith, Estrons) and Mark Gardener (Ride), the tracks production captures both the bands raw, intense energy whilst also delivering a polished and radiantly complete sound. 

Talking about the track and the upcoming extended EP release the band explained “We’d sat with the instrumental for a long time - it was the first of the tracks to be recorded, but it was a struggle initially to give it a story that aligned with the rest of the EP. Eventually we felt urged to express a certain kind of message in the lyrics, that felt like it needed its separate moment.”

WRKHOUSE have had a breakthrough year with the release of their long-awaited debut EP, Out of the Blue boasting invigorating hooks, vast arrangements, and textural echoes of their upbringing in North Wales. Both an awardee of the 2024 BBC Horizons Launchpad Fund and also winners of a 2024 Welsh Music Prize Triskel Award, WRKHOUSE have quickly gathered pockets of loyal fans across the country, having just finished a packed out debut headline UK launch tour and being named among BBC Cymru Fyw’s ‘top five artists to watch’. Their brand of groove-heavy alt-pop places them firmly among Wales’ newest generation of exciting emerging acts. This autumn, WRKHOUSE introduce the final chapter of their Out of the Blue journey.  ‘Take’ is out now on all DSP's.

DISCOVER WRKHOUSEInstagram @wrkhousewrkhouseTiktok @wrkhousewrkhouseYoutube @wrkhousewrkhouseFacebook @wrkhouseTwitter - @wrkhouseeeBandcamp - BandcampLinktree - https://linktr.ee/wrkhouse

[jeannereames]

Please don't down-rate a book because of a printing error....

Folks, when you down-rate a book, you're NOT hurting the publisher. You're hurting the AUTHOR.

Triskell Edizione made an error for the Italian translation, book 2 of Dancing with the Lion, via Amazon. (Apparently, they're sending vol. 1, not vol. 2, for orders.) They still don't appear to have fixed it. I just got a 1-star rating from a reader who liked the book, but was mad about the error.

Triskell isn't being hurt by that. I AM. I have literally NO control over their printing process. None. I can't fix it. Giving my book a 1-star rating for something over which I have zero control is aggravating.

If you don't like my writing, don't like the story I told, etc., then yes, give the book whatever rating you think is fair.

BUT...please, please, if you're miffed due to a printer error (or other logistical matter), mention it in the review, or send an email directly to the publisher. Don't let that affect the star rating you give to the novel.

You're punishing the wrong entity. (Especially for a translation published in another country.)

[peterstone123]

Unveiling the Timeless Elegance of Peter Stone Celtic Jewelry

In the realm of artisanal jewelry, Peter Stone stands as a luminary, renowned for crafting exquisite pieces that seamlessly blend artistry and spirituality. Among his impressive repertoire, Celtic jewelry stands out as a testament to the enduring allure of ancient traditions. Rooted in the rich tapestry of Celtic heritage, Peter Stone's Celtic jewelry captivates admirers with its intricate designs, symbolic meanings, and timeless elegance.

A Glimpse into Celtic Symbolism:

Celtic art is synonymous with intricate patterns, interwoven knots, and symbolic motifs that carry deep meanings. Peter Stone masterfully translates these elements into his Celtic jewelry, creating pieces that resonate with both aesthetic appeal and cultural significance. The classic Celtic knot, for instance, symbolizes the interconnectedness of life, while the triskele represents the three stages of life, death, and rebirth. Each piece becomes a wearable piece of art, telling a story that transcends time.

Quality Craftsmanship:

One of the hallmarks of Peter Stone's jewelry is the meticulous craftsmanship that goes into each piece. With a commitment to quality, his Celtic designs are expertly crafted using premium materials such as sterling silver and gold. This dedication to excellence ensures not only the aesthetic beauty of the jewelry but also its longevity, making it a cherished heirloom that can be passed down through generations.

Celtic Knots: A Tapestry of Endless Possibilities

At the heart of Peter Stone's Celtic collection lies the mesmerizing complexity of Celtic knots. These intricate designs, with no beginning or end, symbolize the eternal nature of life, love, and spirituality. The seamless flow of the knots reflects the interconnectedness of all things, making each piece a visual representation of harmony and unity. From pendants and earrings to rings and bracelets, Peter Stone weaves these timeless symbols into a tapestry of endless possibilities.

Celtic Spirals: A Journey Within

The inclusion of spirals in Peter Stone's Celtic jewelry adds another layer of depth and meaning. The Celtic spiral, often seen in ancient carvings and manuscripts, represents the cyclical nature of life and the journey within. As wearers adorn themselves with these spirals, they carry a reminder of life's constant evolution and the opportunities for personal growth. The graceful curves of the spirals create a sense of fluidity, capturing the essence of life's ever-changing nature.

A Fusion of Modern and Ancient:

While rooted in Celtic traditions, Peter Stone's Celtic jewelry seamlessly blends the ancient with the contemporary. The designs incorporate modern elements, making the pieces versatile enough to complement various styles. Whether worn with casual attire or as a statement piece for special occasions, each item in the collection effortlessly merges the past with the present, creating a bridge between generations and cultures.

In the realm of jewelry craftsmanship, Peter Stone's Celtic collection stands as a testament to the enduring allure of ancient traditions. Through meticulous craftsmanship, a deep understanding of Celtic symbolism, and a commitment to quality, Peter Stone transforms sterling silver and gold into wearable pieces of art that transcend time. With each Celtic knot and spiral, wearers embark on a journey that intertwines the past, present, and future, celebrating the richness of Celtic heritage in a contemporary context. Peter Stone's Celtic jewelry is not merely adornment; it is a statement of cultural pride, spiritual connection, and timeless elegance.

For more info:-

peter stone celtic jewelry

peter stone jewelry

[alessandroiiidimacedonia]

In arrivo a settembre "Dancing With the Lion. L'inizio" di Jeanne Reames

Translate this page in English: HERE. Buonasera a tutti sono Elena, grazie di essere su Alessandro III di Macedonia- la tua risorsa su Alessandro Magno e l’Ellenismo! Questa sera vi do una notizia che non potevo aspettare fino a sabato per dirvela. Abbiamo la data d’uscita e la copertina de: Dancing With the Lion. L’inizio di Jeanne Reames Triskell Edizioni in uscita il 22 settembre…

[celtichammerclub]

NEW ARTWORK!! The Three Morrigna are sisters who are three different iterations of the same goddess. This collective trinity goddess is often referred to in the singular as The Morrigan. The Morrigan is mentioned often throughout Irish mythology. The Name Morrigan translates into “Great Queen” or “Phantom Queen.�� She is a shape shifter, often appearing as a raven or crow, and a goddess of war; often influencing the progression and outcome of battles. She and her sisters also prophesize the coming death of soldiers and by appearing as a woman washing their bloody armor as an omen of their impending doom. My artwork depicts the three sisters of the Morrigna represented in crow form rotating in the form of a Celtic triskele. The red color being used as a reminder that the Morrigna are often bringers of death and misfortune. Available on prints and apparel at https://celtichammerclub.threadless.com/designs/the-three-morrigna-1 ➖ #celtichammerclub #themorrigan #irish #irishmythology #Raven #ravens #crow #crows #celt #celtic #triskele #symmetrical #morrigan #morrigna #celtictattoo #logo #sigil #celticart #irishart #bird #birds #prophecy #prophetic #godofwar #goddess #banshee https://www.instagram.com/p/Cjk1MY2r1bO/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[minnesotadruids]

Hello there! If it s not too much trouble, how do you feel about media/pop-culture portrayal of druids?

Since the word “Druid” is used a lot to mean “Nature Wizard” would you prefer if people used/make up their own different words for their stories or find it ok to use the term as long as they’re respectful or accurate to Druidism to some degree?

In terms of the "best" media depiction of druids, I think the BBC series Merlin with Colin Morgan is probably the closest we can get to a positive portrayal of the Celtic priestly caste. I still hesitate to describe it as accurate, but at the very least I wasn't balking at the show as much as I did when watching an episode of The Librarians. We'll get to them in a moment.

There's also the fun Australian miniseries Roar that starred a young Heath Ledger. It was full of historical inaccuracies (the premise being about a Roman-occupied Ireland for one thing). But it portrayed the druids in a positive light despite being at a time when they were in decline.

In the TV show The Librarians: And the Rise of Chaos (season 3 episode 1) they have a very brief (2-3 minute) run-in with some angry druids. The mob only shouts and growls but don't seem to speak, all while wearing tattered robes and brandishing wooden farm implements of various functions. They were also wearing cringey cast-resin masks of animal skulls that miraculously fit perfectly on their faces and just looked fake. I should point out this show takes place in the present.

The librarians have to climb a wicker man and solve a puzzle to steal a rune-covered stone artifact. The puzzle is based on a Celtic board game gwyddbwyll AKA fidchell. In the episode, the game pieces are Norse runes (Elder Futhark). Historically, the Iron Age Celts would not have used those runes. The game pieces should be carved figures of warriors instead. Then things get a bit personal with the tree stump inscription.

One librarian translates the markings on the stump which he says are "ancient Gaulish mixed with third century astrological symbols," and somehow reads "when the king reaches the north, the light will reveal itself."

*FACEPALM*

Well the three symbols on the left side are more Norse Elder Futhark (i.e. not even Celtic), the symbol cluster in the upper right corner looks like it could be vaguely Lepontic script (i.e. yes, “ancient Gaulish”) but that specific one is not in the Lepontic alphabet at all. Just for fun they have the symbol for Aries (the aforementioned (but singular) Greek astrological symbol). The Celtic triskele is in the upper middle of the stump and variations of it go back thousands of years, but it doesn't really have a universally accepted meaning.

What upset me the most was the incorporation of the Druid Sigil (bottom center of the stump). It is the official symbol of the Reformed Druids of North America (RDNA). The RDNA invented the Druid Sigil in 1963 to be a geometrically simple symbol, yet at the same time - unique. They went through books of symbols to make sure it didn't already exist. The RDNA founders described the Druid Sigil as a symbol for the Earth-Mother, but it is truly devoid of a specific meaning or powers.

In the RDNA, the individual imparts their own meaning into the Sigil, and whatever powers they want it to have if need be. To me the Druid Sigil is a sun wheel, and the two vertical lines represent the Two Tenets of Reformed Druidism. It means something different to everyone, and it is neither ancient Gaulish nor third century anything. The show producers obviously googled “Druid symbols” and that was the extent of their research.

I guess if someone was to make a new show, movie, or other media about druids, I would prefer that it would at least clearly be in the high-fantasy genre if they're going to make them all fanciful magic users, and especially if they're going to be portrayed as bad guys. If the show is trying to be more historically accurate, I'd much prefer that they stick to what's verifiable (though admittedly that's not much). Otherwise yeah, it would be nice sometimes if they used a different term, like sorcerers or warlocks if they're bad guys.

Oh gosh, Warlock! That was a 1989 supernatural horror movie that started a trilogy of gory films. The warlock was a bad guy, and a secret bloodline of druids were the only ones who had a chance of stopping him. The depiction of druids was okay I suppose, and on the plus side they wore plain everyday clothes in the 20th century, 'cause you know it's important to blend in.

See Also:

History of the Druid Sigil

Common Symbols in Druidry

[tw-anchor]

21. Worm Moon

Anchor

Stiles Stilinski x Original Character

Episode: 2x09; Party Guessed

Word Count: 5,639

Warning(s): Mature language, canon violence

Author’s Note: Sorry for taking so long to update! I finally got some chapters pre-written so I decided it was time to give y’all a chapter. Hope you enjoy! Make sure to reblog and like!

Masterlink in Profile Description!

Olivia slipped into the abandoned train station, clutching a coffee and the large file she put together to her chest. Making her way through the turnstiles, past the waiting area, and onto the platform, she stumbled her way down to the stairs that would lead her to the car that Derek and Isaac shared. It didn't surprise her when Derek slipped out of before she could enter, shrugging on a shirt with fluffy morning hair.

"What are you doing here so early, Ollie?" he yawned.

"I found something. Here," she handed him the coffee.

Derek quickly downed a large gulp, not even grimacing from the scalding liquid. "What'd you find?"

"Information," Olivia wandered over to the dirty table they kept and sat down, opening the file. "I spent the last week researching and putting together a timeline of all these abilities. "

"From when Peter bit you," Derek nodded, taking the seat across from her.

"Yeah, they first showed up when Lydia escaped from the hospital," Olivia pulled out her timeline and pushed it over to him. "and then again on the day of Isaac's first full moon, when Erica knocked out Stiles, when the kanima trapped you two in the pool..."

Derek read through the instances she could remember. "And these were all the times your eyes turned purple?"

Olivia nodded. "Every single time, someone I cared about was in danger."

"Your pack," Derek stated. "Not just your actual pack but the people you consider pack, too, like Jackson and Lydia."

"Exactly," Olivia confirmed. "And Stiles had told me that there were a few supernatural creatures with purples eyes. There were a couple of options; fairies, pixies, anchorams, and dragons."

"I think it's safe to say you're not a dragon."

Olivia smiled weakly. "So, I looked at the other options. Fairies and pixies didn't fit any of the abilities I've been having, so I narrowed it down to anchorams."

"Anchorams," Derek hummed thoughtfully. "Did you get anything on them?"

Olivia shook her head. "There wasn't a lot on the internet, so I looked in the Argent's bestiary."

"What'd you find?"

Olivia pulled out the pages she had Lydia help her translate. There wasn't a lot in the Argent bestiary, either, but there was enough to get a reading on what she actually was.

"Anchorams, otherwise known as anchors, are caretakers of the pack," she read. "A sub-species of werewolf, the anchor knows when a member of their pack is in danger or injured. If the anchor is powerful enough, they will fall into a fugue state and find the pack member in distress."

"Anchorams' eyes glow purple when their powers are being used," she continued. "The most helpful of an anchors' powers are their ability to calm werewolves with their touch or voice."

Olivia set down the paper and looked back at Derek for a reaction. His expression was blank but his there was a hint of emotion in his eyes that she couldn't quite make out. The longer he didn't respond, the more anxious she got. She knew Derek would accept her, because he had already done so despite the fact that she didn't turn into a werewolf, but it was still nerve-wracking.

Despite the fact that it took her months to figure out what she was, she was so relieved now that she actually knew. The stress of not knowing was weighing her down and it kind of felt like she could breathe again. Now that she knew what she was, she could train and use her abilities to help Derek, her pack, and her friends.

"It makes sense," Derek said finally.

Olivia raised her eyebrows. "It does?"

"Yeah," he nodded. "Ollie, on Isaac's first full moon, you almost completely calmed him down before I stepped in. From what he said, you did it when he broke into Scott's house as well."

Olivia cocked her head thoughtfully. "I guess..."

"And you were doing it before you were even bitten," Derek pointed out. "When Scott had first changed, your voice would calm him down a little. When Cora—when you and Cora were kids, she was always much calmer with you by her side."

"So, I've been this my entire life," Olivia bit the inside of her cheek. "and Peter biting me, what, accelerated my powers?"

"Yeah, I guess so," Derek confirmed. "but this is good news, Ollie."

"Why?"

"Because now that we know what you are, we can train you."

Olivia pressed her lips together and nodded. She was thinking the same thing and it was nice to know that Derek would have her back. The Hale family was mostly gone but at least Olivia and Derek had each other.

Olivia and Derek went through the rest of the research she had, even though most of it was irrelevant, through the rest of the morning. Isaac woke up an hour after she arrived and Boyd and Erica arrived an hour after that so the pack could go over the plan for the full moon that night.

Originally, Olivia hadn't been part of the plan for the full moon for her safety and the fact that it was Lydia's seventeenth birthday. Now, the plans had changed; Olivia would spend an hour or two at Lydia's party and then come back to the train station to help with Isaac, Erica, and Boyd.

Now that they knew she had abilities to calm the new betas down during their transitions, they knew that had to take advantage of that.

Derek pulled out a trunk with the triskele branded on the front, opening the hatch to reveal numerous lengths of chain.

"What is that?" Isaac pointed at the triskele.

"It's a triskele," Olivia told him. "Spirals can mean different things—past, present, future. Mother, father, child."

"For Hales, it means something different," Derek added. "What do you think it is?"

"Alpha, beta, omega?" Boyd spoke up.

Derek nodded at him. "That's right. It's a spiral," he started to explain further. "It reminds us that we can all rise to one or fall to another."

"Betas can become alphas but alphas can also fall to betas or even omegas," Olivia stated.

"Like Scott?" Isaac wondered.

Derek shook his head. "Scott's with us."

"Really?" Isaac looked around as though he was searching for Scott. "Then where is he now?"

Olivia rolled her eyes at the hostility Isaac was showing. It was like he was feeling threatened now that Scott had joined the pack to take down Jackson.

"He's looking for Jackson," Derek informed him. "Don't worry, he's not gonna have it easy tonight, either. None of us will. There's a price you pay for this kind of power; you get the ability to heal but tonight, you're gonna want to kill anything you can find."

"Good thing I had my period last week, then," Erica commented with pursed lips; Olivia sent her an amused grin.

Derek shook his head and picked up a metal band that fit around the head with numerous nails that could be adjusted. He walked over to Erica and presented it to her. "Well, this one is for you."

Olivia grimaced, not envying Erica at all.

-

-

Stiles stared down at the yearbook in front of him, his eyes narrowing at the picture of Kara Simmons, the rave promotor that Jackson had killed. She didn't fit the pattern of the rest of the victims; sure, she was twenty-four and had been in the same graduating class but she hadn't been part of Harris' class that the rest of the victims shared. It was infuriating that he couldn't figure out why Kara had been killed.

He wanted this kanima bullshit to be done already. Too many people were getting hurt and the pack was still floundering on how to stop Jackson without killing him dead.

"Hey, whatcha doing?" Noah came up to his door while he was flipping to the next page.

"Homework."

As Noah walked away Stiles went onto the next page of the yearbook, finding nothing that was useful.

"It's spring break," Noah was back; he entered Stiles' room and sighed when he saw the yearbook on his desk. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Oh, I'm just satisfying my own curiosity," Stiles said nonchalantly. He went to turn another page but his dad reached over and closed the yearbook.

"We brought Harris in this morning for questioning," he informed Stiles before correcting himself. "They brought him in."

Stiles eagerly turned to Noah. "And?"

"And they're working on a warrant to arrest him for the murders."

"For all of them?"

"Enough of them."

Stiles raised his eyebrows. "With what proof?"

"You remember the couple at the trailer?" Stiles nodded at Noah's question. "Tire tracks nearby match Harris' car."

"W-What?" Stiles shook his head and opened the yearbook back up. "That's not enough."

Noah closed the yearbook again. "The same car was also seen outside the hospital where the pregnant wife was killed," he sighed. "It's got some bumper sticker on it, a quote from Einstein?"

Well, that rang a bell.

"What quote?" Stiles wondered.

"Something about imagination and knowledge."

Okay, so Harris' car was at the rave, too, then. "Imagination is more important than knowledge," he quoted with a nod. "Yeah, I saw the same car parked outside the rave."

"That means you're a witness," Noah pointed out. "You're gonna have to give a statement."

Stiles couldn't spend time on that. There were more important things. "But what about the concert promoter, Kara?" he asked, thinking of the break in the similarity of victims. "She wasn't in Harris' class, right? I mean, what does Mr. Lahey have to do with Harris?"

"It doesn't matter," Noah stressed. "The tire tracks put Harris at the site of three murders. That's damning evidence."

Stiles shook his head firmly, opening the yearbook once again. "No, that's not enough."

Noah sighed and let him look through the book. "I thought you hated this guy."

"I don't hate him, all right? He hates me," Stiles corrected him as he continued to look through the book. "And, you know, if he killed them all, then yeah, lock the psycho up but there's something missing."

"Hey. Hey," Noah grabbed Stiles' attention. "You don't have to solve this for me."

"I have to do something," Stiles sighed; he couldn't just wait around and not be useful. Since he couldn't do the same stuff as Scott and Derek, then he could do this. He looked back up to his dad and saw that Noah was staring down at the yearbook with narrowed eyes. "What?"

"Look at the swim team."

Stiles looked down at the page, his eyes going straight to the team picture. All of the victims; the mechanic, Argent's hunter, the rave promoter, and the couple were all squished together to smile at the camera. And then, at the bottom of the page, was a picture of Mr. Lahey.

"Dad, the coach," Stiles pointed out quickly. "It's Isaac's dad."

-

-

Olivia went through the numerous dresses that Lydia had bought for her party. They were all very cute and all something that both she and Lydia would wear. It didn't surprise her that her cousin went overboard, too, since there were at least five dresses.

"So," she turned to Lydia with a smile. "which one is your host dress?"

Lydia grinned and picked out the bodycon dress with black and gray stripes. "This one," she set it down and picked up a dark blue dress. "and this will be the evening dress."

"What, no after-hours casual?" Olivia joked, earning a laugh from Lydia. "Did you talk to Jackson?"

Despite the fact that Lydia knew that Jackson was the kanima, she still wanted him at her birthday party. Lydia had gone to the school after lacrosse practice was finishing up and had spoken to Jackson personally to make sure he was still going.

"Yeah," Lydia confirmed. "and he was acting weird."

Olivia furrowed her eyebrows. "Weird, how?"

"Like how you told me he was at the rave," Lydia sighed; Olivia nodded worriedly. "Anyway, I touched his arm for a second and he seemed to snap out of it."

"Did he?"

Lydia nodded. "And he told me that I didn't want him at my party," she hesitated for a second. "Liv, do you think he knows what's going on with him and he was warning me or something?"

"Maybe," Olivia crossed her arms over her chest, frowning. "As much as I want to say that it's good that he knows what's going on, now, I don't think it's better for him."

"Because now he knows he's being controlled," Lydia supplied, thinking along the same lines as Olivia. "and there's nothing he can do to stop it, either."

Olivia bit the inside of her cheek; she hated this whole thing. People were dead because of whoever was controlling Jackson and Jackson had no way to stop it. Despite the fact that Jackson was a dick, he didn't want to kill people. Now, all that blood was on his hands even though it wasn't really his fault. It had to be heartbreaking for him. He didn't deserve to be someone's murderous slave.

"Damn it," Lydia sighed, tears welling up in her eyes.

"It's gonna be okay, Lyds," Olivia tried to assure her; she didn't feel confident, though. "We're gonna find whoever is controlling Jackson and we're gonna stop him."

Lydia gave her a sad smile. "I hope so," she sniffed two times before perking up, changing the subject. "So, I got you a romper since you'll be going to help Derek and his pack."

"Are you sure you're okay with that?" Olivia asked Lydia as she grabbed one of the Macy's bags and pulled out a black romper that was actually really cute. "I can stay, if you want me to."

Lydia paused as she rearranged the romper on her bed and gave Olivia a stern look. "Liv, you have the power to help Isaac, Erica, and Boyd," she reminded her. "I would be the world's biggest bitch if I told you I didn't want you to go."

"No, you wouldn't," Olivia disagreed.

"Uh-huh," Lydia rolled her eyes. "Now, I want you to try this on before we start setting up."

Olivia shook her head in amusement, grabbing the romper and heading to the bathroom she shared with Lydia.

Hours later, Lydia party was set up. Olivia had been in charge of the decorations and music, making sure everything was set up to Lydia's standards, while Lydia was in charge of the food and drinks. The food was simple finger foods that Natalie ordered from a caterer before she slipped away from the house to give them space, while the punch was a recipe that Lydia saw on Pinterest.

A couple of people had arrived already, including Allison and Scott, but there wasn't as many people as there usually was at one of Lydia's parties. It was positively bare compared to what Olivia was used to and she could tell that it was bringing Lydia down.

While Lydia was making sure there was enough punch poured for the partygoers, Olivia was assigned the front door. Fifteen minutes after the party started, the doorbell rang once again. When she opened the door, she came face-to-face with Stiles, who was holding a huge box in his arms.

"Hey!" he greeted her enthusiastically, shaking the present.

"What on Earth," Olivia's eyes trailed over the box, which was wider than he was. "What did you even get her?"

"A teddy bear," Stiles answered simply. "Okay, I'm coming in."

Stiles didn't get very far. The present was too wide for the door frame, which meant that he couldn't get it in right away. Olivia watched him with a smile as he struggled for a few seconds, trying to forcefully push the box through the door.

What a dork, she thought to herself fondly.

"You know you can just flip it around, right?" she pointed out, gesturing so it seemed like she was flipping the box vertically.

Stiles stopped struggling and gave her an annoyed look. "You couldn't have said anything earlier?"

"I figured you knew!" Olivia grinned.

Stiles rolled his eyes fondly. "You're so mean to me," he flipped the present like Olivia said and easily walked through the door. "but you're beautiful so I don't mind."

Olivia's heart fluttered but she didn't respond to his comment. "The present can go there," she pointed at the present table, where only four packages laid. "and Lydia made the punch so make sure you get some of that."

"Will do," Stiles nodded, setting the present down at the table. "Is Scott here?"

"Yeah," Olivia confirmed. "and so is Allison but they're on separate sides of the backyard."

"Right," Stiles clicked his tongue. "So, is Jackson here yet?"

"Not yet. Why?"

"Well, I found something out while I was going through the 2006 yearbook," Stiles told her. "All the victims were on the swim team and Mr. Lahey was the coach."

Olivia looked at him in surprise as they started heading toward the backyard. "Are you serious?" Stiles nodded. "Okay, so this all has to do with water, then, right?"

"That's what I think," Stiles agreed. "Remember the way the kanima reacted to water?"

Olivia nodded. "So, whoever's controlling the kanima hates the 2006 swim team."

"Yep and I thought that it may be another teacher but what if we're missing something?"

They stepped out into the backyard, where the party of five was taking place. Lydia was still waiting by punch table on one side of the pool, while two random people were dancing by the stereo, and Allison and Scott were talking quietly with each other.

"I'll guess we'll have to figure it out," Olivia put a comforting hand on Stiles' arm for only a second but it seemed to relax him.

Allison and Scott approached them, each with their own hesitant smiles. Olivia guessed that there was still some awkwardness between them from their fight at the rave the previous week.

"Uh, Jackson's not here," Allison pointed out needlessly.

"Yeah," Stiles' eyes flittered over the empty backyard. "No one's here."

"Maybe it's just early," Scott offered weakly.

Olivia shook her head. "The party started almost twenty minutes ago."

"Nobody's coming because Lydia turned into the town whack job," Stiles commented before backtracking when Olivia frowned at him. "Uh, I mean...yeah, it's pretty early."

Olivia rolled her eyes while Allison spoke up. "Well, we have to do something," she declared. "because we've completely ignored her for the past two weeks."

That's true, Olivia thought to herself, Scott, Stiles, and Allison hadn't really talked to Lydia since Derek tried to kill her.

"She's completely ignored me and Stiles for the past ten years," Scott shrugged, unbothered. "We don't owe her a party."

"Okay, well, she wouldn't be the town whack job if it wasn't for all of us," Olivia pointed out; Peter had bitten Lydia and the rest of them had lied to her about what was going on. "So, if we could please do something."

Scott sighed and looked over at Lydia, who looked uncomfortable with the lack of people. "I guess I could use my co-captain statue to get the lacrosse team here."

"Yeah, I also know some people who can get this thing going," Stiles pulled his phone from his jeans. "Like, really going."

Allison frowned at him. "Who?"

"I met them at the gay club when Jackson was trying to kill Danny," Stiles informed them. "Let's just say they know how to party."

The people who Stiles met at the gay club were drag queens and they were some of the nicest people that Olivia had ever met. With them and the lacrosse team and their girlfriends showing up, the party was actually exciting.

Olivia played her part as co-hostess and answered the door to let everyone in but when the doorbell stopped ringing, she allowed herself to join the party. She didn't usually like parties but it was Lydia's birthday and she wanted to have fun before she had to go deal with out-of-control baby werewolves.

She hung out with Lydia for a while, pointing out the people that Stiles invited because her cousin had no idea who they were, listening to the music that pumped through their backyard, and eating cake. Eventually, Lydia went off to pass out some more punch and Olivia went to find Stiles.

Olivia didn't like dancing in public but the last time she did, she was with Stiles and she had a lot of fun. And she had romantic feelings for Stiles now, so she didn't see a point in hiding them forever. Stiles had told her that he had feelings for her long before she realized her own and they had just shared a kiss—even if it was an absentminded one.

"Hi," she approached him with a smile; he lit up when she stopped in front of him. "Are you having fun?"

"Yeah!" Stiles nodded jerkily, sipping on his punch. "What about you?"

Usually Olivia would play it cool; she'd be casual as she answered him and she wouldn't let on that she was enjoying his company. Not this time. "Do you wanna dance?"

Stiles raised his eyebrows in surprise. "You want to dance?" she nodded. "Are you feeling okay, Livvy? I mean, I practically had to drag you out onto the dance floor last time."

"Yeah, well," she shrugged with a small smile. "I like dancing with you."

Stiles' jaw dropped for a second but it was like Olivia's words gave him a boost of confidence. He quickly set his punch down on the nearest table and firmly grabbed Olivia's hand, twirling her around before pulling her into his arms.

"Wow," Olivia breathed, surprised, as his hands drifted down to her hips while they swayed to the music. "and here I was thinking that we'd be doing the chicken dance again."

"The chicken dance is fun but I like this, too," Stiles grinned at her. "You look amazing, by the way."

"Thanks," Olivia squeezed his biceps. "I like when you wear green."

"You do?!"

"Yeah," she assured him, her smile widening. "but I like blue on you the best."

"Oh," Stiles perked up excitedly. "Well, that's good because my favorite color is blue."

"Really?" Olivia asked in surprise; she would have thought it was red or something. "Why?"

Stiles stared into her cobalt-blue eyes. "Blue is pretty."

Olivia's heart melted right then and there.

-

-

Olivia shifted uneasily on her feet from where she stood next to Isaac, watching as Derek chained Boyd and Erica up in the back of the train car. All three of the newbie betas were uneasy as the full moon got closer but it was really a struggle for Erica and Boyd. It was their first full moon, so they all were expecting them to act out of control tonight. Isaac would have a better chance but from how tense he was, he was in for a rough night, too.

This full moon felt different than the last for Olivia, too. She didn't know if it was because she was actually aware of the powers she held this time but she could feel the moon starting to affect her. Not in the way that it did for werewolves, it was like the exact opposite. She felt more in control than ever, like her body knew that she had a purpose and she would be fulfilling it tonight while helping Erica, Boyd, and Isaac stay in control.

"What if we break free?" Boyd asked as Derek finished chaining him up.

"Then you'll do anything you can to get out of here," Derek answered him. "You'd probably try to kill me and Olivia, then each other, and anything else with a heartbeat."

"Hopefully I'll be able to help you with your control so that doesn't happen," Olivia gave him a small, reassuring smile; Boyd returned her smile with a trusting nod.

Derek moved onto to the chains restraining Erica. He quickly made sure they were going to hold her before picking up the headband he had showed her that morning. He looked to Isaac and Olivia and nodded back at Erica, "I need you guys to hold her."

Isaac immediately took Erica's arms behind her back while Olivia laid both of her hands on her shoulders. "So," Isaac wondered. "how come she gets to wear the headband thing?"

"Because she'll be able to withstand more pain than the two of you," Derek set the metal headband on top of Erica's head and slipped it down, making sure it was over her forehead. "I've got an extra one if you really want it."

Olivia grimaced and looked over at Isaac, who quickly shook his head. "I'll pass."

Derek looked to Erica. "You ready?"

"Yeah."

As a pack, they all took a deep breath together. Derek started twisting the prong into the skin of Erica's forehead; Erica screamed loudly, fighting against Isaac's hold on her. Olivia held onto her shoulders as tight as she could, but even she felt unsettled with the slight tingling in the same spot on her forehead.

It was hard for everyone to hear Erica's painful screams. At first, it was just the prongs of the headband causing them but then the moon came out and it was all part of her transition. Boyd soon joined her, grunting and groaning while trying to break free of the restraints holding him.

Olivia restrained Isaac while Derek watched over Boyd and Erica. As soon as she was done, they'd switch places and Olivia would take a crack at trying to be an anchor for them.

"How doesn't Derek feel this?" Isaac murmured as she clasped a handcuff around his wrist and tightened the one holding him to the seat.

"I'm sure he feels every second of it," Olivia looked up at him. "He's had more practice, though."

"That's how he controls it?"

"He has an anchor. It's something meaningful to you. You can bind yourself to it and keep your human side in control," Olivia straightened to her full height and glanced briefly at her cousin as he spoke with his betas. "For Derek, it's anger, but it doesn't have to be for everybody."

"Like Scott?"

"Yeah," she confirmed, knowing that Allison was Scott's anchor. "but listen, if you can't find an anchor tonight, don't worry about it. We can work on it," she placed a hand on his shoulder and he visibly relaxed. "It's why I'm here."

Isaac nodded quietly. Erica screamed again, catching Olivia's attention. "Tell me if you need help," she told Isaac before making her way back to Erica and Boyd. "All right, let's do this."

-

-

Stiles was officially bored of Lydia's party. The party itself was still hopping, with dozens and dozens of people drinking Lydia's spiked punch, dancing, talking to their friends, and swimming in the large pool. It was fun but not for Stiles.

He was almost positive it was because Olivia had split a half-hour before. Their dancing had been interrupted by birthday cake and after Lydia blew out the candles, Olivia told him she had to leave to help Derek with Isaac, Erica, and Boyd. He didn't know exactly how she was supposed to help keep three new betas in control but it figured it had something to do with the way her eyes turned purple on the last full moon.

So, now he was stuck next to a stubborn-ass Scott, who kept on sending Allison puppy-dog eyes without realizing it.

"Are you gonna apologize to Allison or what?" he asked his best friend, taking a sip of punch from his plastic cup.

Scott gave him a confused look. "Why should I apologize?"

"Because you're the guy. It's, like, what we do."

"But I didn't do anything wrong."

"Then you should definitely apologize," Stiles glanced back at Allison, where she was chatting with Lydia, and then back to Scott. "See, any time a guy thinks he hasn't done anything wrong, it means he's definitely done something wrong."

Scott thought about that for a moment before insisting, "I'm not apologizing."

Stiles pressed his lips together and gave him a knowing look. "Is that the full moon talking, buddy?"

"Probably," Scott shrugged. "Why do you care, anyway?"

"Because, Scott, something's gotta go right here. I mean, we're getting our asses royally kicked, if you haven't noticed," Stiles pointed out firmly. "People are dying, I got my dad fired, you're gonna be held back in school and if, on top of all that, I gotta watch you lose Allison to a fucking stalker like Matt, I'm gonna stab myself in the face."

As he finished, he was surprised to realize that there actually was something going right in his life. His relationship with Olivia was progressing every day. It almost made up for everything else going bad—almost.

"Don't stab yourself in the face," Scott was staring across the pool. "Jackson's here."

Scott left him, probably to go talk to Allison or Lydia about Jackson. Stiles drained the rest of his punch and started to follow after him when he paused, hearing his dad's familiar voice.

"Why am I wearing black? What are you, an idiot?" Stiles whipped around to see his dad yelling at one of his classmates, dressed in a suit and holding a bottle of whiskey in his hands. "I just came from a funeral. You know, people wear black at funerals."

Stiles' eyes widened in shock as Noah took a long pull of the whiskey. Why was his dad even here? What funeral was he talking about?

"Dude, chill," the teenager held his hands up.  "I was just—"

Noah roughly shoved him away. "Get out of my face."

He took another drink from the bottle and turned to Stiles, glaring at him with hateful eyes. "It's you. It's all you," he held the whiskey bottle up like he was making a toast. "You know, every day I saw her lying in that hospital slowly dying..."

This is about Mom, Stiles realized, his eyes stinging.

"I thought, how the hell am I supposed to raise this stupid kid on my own? This hyperactive little bastard who keeps running my life?" Noah pointed at his son, disgusted. "It's all you. It's you, Stiles. You killed your mother, you hear me? You killed her and now you're killing me!"

Stiles didn't say anything, he didn't move. How was he supposed to react when his dad was saying everything that he blamed himself for? His mom had died and he just stood and watched. He didn't do anything as the life left her eyes.

He flinched away as Noah threw the half-empty bottle at him, the glass crashing against the column he had been standing by. When he looked back at the area his dad had been standing, he was gone.

And then he was submerged in cold water.

Stiles inhaled deeply as he was lifted out of the pool, icy water dripping from his short hair down the back of his neck. He blinked rapidly and coughed, his eyes darting from Scott, who was in front of him, to one of their classmates. It was Danielle, who was known to be quite the character.

"What the fuck?" he spluttered.

"How do you feel?" Danielle asked simply.

"Like I might have to revisit my policy on hitting a girl," he glared at her.

Danielle sniffed, looking at Scott. "He's sober."

"Yeah, thanks, Danielle," Stiles rolled his eyes and got to his feet.

All around him, people were going crazy. There was some girl making out with a plant, two dudes were fighting over the last pig-in-a-blanket, and he had obviously had a hallucination about his dad because why the hell else would Noah even be at Lydia's party?

He turned to Scott. "What the hell is going on?"

When Scott had informed him that Lydia was no longer at the party, they both split up to look for her. While Scott took the inside of the house, where more people were freaking out, Stiles looked outside. There was no sign of Lydia, but there was wolfsbane in the punch bowl.

He hurriedly met up with Scott, who hadn't seen Lydia, either.

"Lydia put wolfsbane in the punch," Stiles informed Scott, trying not to think about how weird the situation was. "Anyone who drank it is freaking out."

Emphasizing Stiles' statement, people started pushing unsuspecting guests into the pool. Some of them enjoyed the little swim they would be privy to. But not Matt Daehler. He didn't know how to swim.

Realization hit Stiles and Scott at the same time. Matt had been in the library when Jackson turned into the kanima, he was the one who owned the camera that had footage of Jackson as a kanima on it. He had been at the rave when Kara was killed. The kanima's master wasn't able to swim and neither could Matt.

And the icing on top of the cake; Jackson—asshole extraordinaire—was the one who helped Matt out of the pool. Their suspicions were confirmed when the police showed up at the party and they tried to confront Matt. He was outside waiting for them, the kanima wrapped protectively around his legs.

Stiles immediately called Olivia, who picked up on the first ring. "Hello? Stiles?"

He could the stress in her voice and fighting in the background. "Matt Daehler's the one controlling Jackson," he told her. "Can you come?"

There was a second where she didn't answer and then, "I'm on my way."

(Gif is not mine)

[brenli]

Questions in the time of Quarantine

Tagged by: @goddamnitkastle (Thanks!!! This quarantine time is really something so the distraction of this is very welcome~)

1. Do you ever make your bed?

Oh yeah, it’s basically the daily routine. Even with me spending a lot of my time sitting on top of my bed, now. I still have to make it before I do so. 

2. What’s your favorite number?

3. I don’t really know why; I guess in my head 3 is a very “complete” number?

3. What’s your job?

Welllllll the thing that WAS getting me money was Front of House Management, but, you know. What’s there to house manage, these days~?

4. If you could go back to school, would you?

Probably not to be honest. Not unless I could get like a free ride to a performing arts school, and even then I’m really not sure.

5. Can you parallel park?

Barely. I avoid it at all costs. XD

6. A job you had that would surprise people

I guess that answer varies dependent upon how a person met me, some people get surprised at my Front of House work and some people get surprised that I had a barista stint and some people get surprised that I spent a summer helping a woman prepare one of her properties for a family who were slated to move into it, whilst living in that property.

7. Do you believe aliens are real?

Absolutely, believing otherwise is the peak of human arrogance. I just don’t have many presumptions that we know what extraterrestrial life even looks like, or that they’d even be interested in the likes of us.

8. Can you drive a manual car?

No, I’ve never had the need or opportunity to learn. 

9. What’s your guilty pleasure?

Pffffffffffff I don’t know; it’s honestly pretty hard to pin something on me as a GUILTY pleasure. Like if someone were to come up to me today and be like, “I know you were a MASSIVE Backstreet Boys fan in their heyday and you even wrote fic with a highschool friend of yours!” I’d just bold-faced be like, “And what of it?” (This is true by the way. XD) So, I don’t know.

Can my guilty pleasure be cheesy poofs? I know that artificial cheese powder is bad, but I love it anyway. XD

Can mint chocochip ice cream be my guilty pleasure??? I don’t knooooow.

10. Tattoos?

No, not yet? I have a lot of grand sweeping ideas for getting inked but a lot of it is dependent on ensuring I’m being regionally and symbolically accurate in design, and the delicate balance of trying to marry two different cultures together. (vaguevaguevague Basically I want to marry precolonial Visayan marks with designs that speak toward French rococo design, which is. A very ambitious wish. I’m also attempting to fit a triskele on my body somewhere as a nod toward Gaul. /vaguevaguevague)

11. Favorite color?

Black, white, gold, and warm colors.

12. Things that people do that piss you off?

BOYYYYY. Self-righteousness to a fault is a big one. Being too proud to listen is another. Caring more about money than a person’s well-being is also one, and violating a person’s trust and sense of safety. /vague. 

13. Any phobias?

The loss of my voice. Literal and metaphorical.

14. Favorite childhood sport?

Volleyball.

15. Do you ever talk to yourself?

Absolutely, it helps me process.

16. What movie do you adore?

I mean, there’s a lot depending on my mood, so. Beauty and the Beast (both the OG Disney and the live action remake). Moana. Hunchback. Lilo and Stitch. Pocahontas (yeah I know I know, but listen Kocoum could get it; if it were me I would have happily married him and thrown myself full force into some mission to make his serious face crack into a smile, IT WAS A THING). Andersen-douwa Ningyo Hime. A Nightmare on Elm Street (and also ANOES 3: Dream Warriors). The Blue Lagoon (I hugely blame Mama for this one - can THIS be a guilty pleasure? XD). What Dreams May Come. Wonder Woman. The AOS Star Trek movies. Moulin Rouge. Moon Child... The Last Samurai (because it introduced me to Sanada-san). Ringu (yes I saw this after TLS). Alita: Battle Angel. Audition. The Underworld films... I’m sure more could come to me but I’ll stop here.

Oh! The Crow. Stigmata. The Queen of the Damned (Can THIS be a guilty pleasure thing I know it’s such a WILD departure from the books but like, I can’t help it, Aaliyah is a Goddess and the aesthetics are everything early 2000′s babygoth me lived on~) Okay now I’ll stop.

17. Do you like doing puzzles?

I guess it depends on the puzzle, but I feel like that answer loosely translates to ‘no.’ XD

18. What’s your favorite kind of music?

I’m honestly all across the board but I lean toward the following usually: hard rock, some metal, and grand-scale instrumentals. There are some notable deviations toward pop and r&b, but. Those first three are home, I suppose?

19. Tea or coffee?

It’s always coffee in the morning, but it’s always tea all the rest of the time. Like. I homebrew iced green tea with honey and that’s usually what I’m living on for the rest of my day, after my morning coffee.

20. First thing you remember wanting to be when you grow up?

I basically wanted to be Jem. XD

Tagging: @halorecoil @yacky-jackie @candybunnieholic @lemonedscream @malevolentqueenofspiders @alias-b @anagraves @godofrapture and I don’t know, YOU if you wanna; I’m not your keeper~

[a-man-for-hire-and-his-archives]

Sunder City Goes Global!

In February 2020, The Last Smile in Sunder City will be released in the USA, UK, and Australia. Since I first announced the book, I’ve been flattered that so many people have asked me where else it might be coming out, and in what other languages.

As of writing, I’m excited to say that there are now four translations of The Last Smile in the works. A couple of these I’ve mentioned on twitter already. Others, I am able to announce for the first time.

These have been my favourite emails to receive over the last few months. New publishers coming on board, bringing the book to new countries, designing new covers, and teaching Fetch Phillips to speak a few new languages. My agent Alexander Cochran and the team at Orbit have done amazing work to make this happen and I feel like a very lucky debut author.

I don’t think any of these versions have a locked-in release date yet but I’ll do my best to update the information as it comes to me.

So, The Last Smile in Sunder City, the first book in The Fetch Phillips Archives, is going to be translated into…

German! – courtesy of Verlagsgruppe Droemer Knaur!

Portuguese! (Brazil) – with Nova Fronteira!

Italian! – coming to you from Triskell!

and Spanish! from the good people at Trini!

It’s still early days, but I’ll share more information about each release as I get it. I hope this is exciting news for some of you. It certainly is for me.

No firm travel plans yet, but you can bet I’ll be using this as an excuse to bounce around the world as much as possible when the book is out.

See you soon!

[incantalibriblog]

28 Agosto - "AVVENTURE E DISAVVENTURE DI UNA DIVORZIATA" di Tracie Podger

28 Agosto - "AVVENTURE E DISAVVENTURE DI UNA DIVORZIATA" di Tracie Podger Link Amazon https://amzn.to/2YGE02l

Titolo: Avventure e disavventure di una divorziata Autore: Tracie Podger Genere: Contemporaneo Casa Editrice: Independently published Lunghezza: 409 pagine Prezzo: Ebook €4,43 – Cartaceo €11,53 Data di pubblicazione: 28 Agosto 2020

ACQUISTA

SINOSSI

Cosa fai quando tuo marito se la dà a gambe e rimani da sola, ma la vita da single non ti si addice?

Lizzie ha deciso che la vita da single non fa…

[alchemisland]

The Moors Mutt - II

https://www.wattpad.com/676844776-the-moors-mutt-ii

II. Limbo

Rising early, if rising it was and not merely stirring from a wakened restive state, I walked a barren stretch. At pale dawn birds like Aztec idols flighted at my stirring. Cold light stained the pasture either side. Sleepshod, the road to Cairn Cottage found me quiet company. Even the tinkers were not yet to the road in their triskeled wagons.

When the machine architect of our world was in infancy, men of old, men of renown, used more than sight in their primitive observations of our world. Already we, we as mankind, had realized what appeared as reality was deeper yet than simple tangibility. Further back towards the chaotic and infinite churn of the burning epoch, when mankind had not language to manifest destiny and lived subordinate to Echidna's descendants still fearsome on the plain, parts of the brain which one day became memory centers first stirred to life, elongating the possibility of human memory. Scent still is brother to memory.

The air was heavy with scent when I relinquished vision, only for a short time, and let wind corral me. The breeze carried faint lavender.

A pebbled stretch I crossed stirred a memory of my late father and a codex of heroic tales he purchased, whose high adventure stirred me like nothing prior. At six, maybe seven years old, tales of old Arabia appealed greatly. Fabulous kingdoms wrought of yellow stone against a tangerine haze, swirling tarot sun bemused of countenance, scorpions armoured like chargers sending rodents to their redoubt, the cloying madness of it all. I visited them in dreams, jumping from the path of unruly camels, watching the impenetrable waves humbly part in the wake of Royal palanquins.

Their heroes were unlike our knights. More often broody boys who preferred quill to falchion. Brooding teenagehood made me relish the stranger stories, tales without lessons existing solely to unnerve, speaking on the bleak lives of Tartarian wizards. Older, into adulthood, I came to enjoy Greek tales most. The tragedy of Ajax in his lover's plate leaking on the golden sand moved me. Waves, caressing the moored fleet in passing, bursting against the shale where the pyre burned. Since, when I hear crunching pebbles, I think of soldiers marching on the beach at Troy.

I heard the crunch of a trap and waited hopeful until the crude plume fixed atop the horses head appeared like the mantle of some deposed pagan lord. Ixion's disc four times divided had been fixed to bear this chariot. Its trundle ground debris to powder. I hailed the man, a being of wind, every strand of hair or cloth lank enough to lift stood in disarray. A peak stole his brow, but a smile waved me aboard. He never spoke, though carried me within shouting distance of the manse.

Inside chaos reigned. Lady Sizemore's estate was measured first in paper, not coin. Hundreds, thousands of jaundiced sheets, all in disorder busying every surface. Before a single coin changed hands, a great many hours I spent hauling boxes, within which were more boxes where spiders large as potatoes spun temporary wonders above the invoices.

I wonder what effect prolonged tedium has. Such thoughts are entertained in the avoidance of work that should never be given lucid credence. An entire day dedicated solely to translating letters in incomprehensible cursive, it felt ridiculous. My mind, perhaps reflecting its surroundings, felt dulled, unfocused. So long I stared, when I pried my eyes I found feint margins plastered across reality.

The previous night's visitations I had pondered, ultimately chalking to anxiety. Nothing substantially portentous. Unfortunately, another day was required before I indulged my cryptozooligcal fancies.

*

Darkness in ravenfeather arrived prematurely. I gathered my belongings, wondering where the time went, then ran to the track and the sounds of the the last husbandmen bound for Sperrin. I found easy passage. Too easy perhaps; I was cursed to endure indignity on a wagon halfheartedly scraped of its stinking contents; with my legs lolling over the side, I was soaked in every splash. I arrived back mud-caked, a shambling golem. Lar tended bar. I wondered had he stirred in my absence. Anticipating my thirst, two mugs were set.

I dropped my satchel, enjoying relief akin to weightlessness by contrast, and we drained tankards like soon-to-war Saxons, speaking of weather. I asked had anyone noteworthy visited, mostly from politeness. When asked had the room served, I replied it had done so more than adequately. Again, politeness.

Not wishing to seem overeager, I spared him my dream. If the tale was relayed to me, I should say how convenient the very man hoping to find the beast would experience a vision.

Besides, in the unlikely event we found a mangy badger after I'd described a prehistoric horror.. perish the thought.

'Do we depart tomorrow?' Lar grunted, pretending to clean.

'Short delay actually. I'd have said from the doorway, only for the ale calling. Alas, labour remains. My charges lust for satisfaction. They are at Rome's gates! Distant cousins write in droves. By air, land and sea their letters come, squeezing through grates, shimmying down chimneys. Forget the beast, if they find me I'm dead.'

'We sank tankards enough last night. I've seen folks pale on the dizzy morning after the night before. If this delay is to spite me, let me allay concerns, I'm the man for this job. We're the men for this job.' He shot a glance at Fergus, a pale lance cleaving his brow.

I looked to my empty cup then longingly at his selection. Lar fingered a cask, but reached further back and took another instead.

'My god, man. Boil a pot and toss it down your trousers. No such notions occurred to me. We're expedition mates! I didn't make a dent in the work, really.' I raised a silencing finger to hear the splash of ale. 'There you have it. Mystery solved. If the mystery of the beast is this easy, we're laughing.' I inhaled its aroma. Fruity, potent, sickly almost. 'This expedition diary I mean to publish, any thoughts?'

Lar's measured tone returned. Careful as a tiptoeing sinner, he asked 'You good?'

I smiled. 'Only Ben Adhem saw the book, ask him.'

Lar stove the ashen helm crowning his cigarette, plunging the embers into the cold bronze bowl. 'At writing.'

'You should say! I tease, I tease. To answer your question, yes is the answer. Humbly, in my hand, the pen is like the master mason's chisel, from whence grand cathedrals spring forth from their less divine constituent parts.' Lar was fumbling for his tobacco already and I thought what small use that vice would be in peril.

'I'm convinced.' Lar spoke quickly, stumbling over the words to get them out. I took no offence at his zeal to change the subject. 'Do you have a manuscript at hand?'

'Not with me, unfortunately.' He stifled a sigh of relief. 'Upon returning home one story heavier, I'll ensure you receive signed copies of every one. I'll sing them My favourite tub of Lar. Yours literately, Beastman. That way you'll know it's me.'

Lar's ale, a home brew, was a swift agent, promising to travel from your mouth to the toilet's in twenty minutes. I joked he might patent it for a medicine. Call it the Midas touch. Everything it touched turns to gold: toilet seat, floor, shoes if you weren't careful.

I spied Fergus. His thumb led a blunt edge across the ribbed bark of a sprig, from which he had carved two lidded eyes and a pursed mouth.

Lar lit a cigarette from the flared end of the last, then discarded it on the ashen pyre.

Lar had to raise the hatch spoiling any hope of a dramatic exit, but I hovered over the stool while I spoke. 'Departure two days hence, on the strict proviso no unpleasant libel suit comes once the story hits print. Rest assured, I'll include nothing untoward, but I reserve the right to artistic licence. Print the myth.'

'Libel is a city crime.' Anticipating my desire, Lar walked while he spoke. I mirrored his step, slipping through the open portcullis to sleep, perchance to scream.

*

Lying in bed, I wondered what to include in my chronicle; exciting details only, or every charged exchange? Nobody asked how the shipwright felt constructing thousands of ships without prior notice. They only wanted Achilles. The reader will concede, I have included much of the mundane.

Well-oiled, I slept easily. Set like a star I saw things past, dark present and murky future, useless without chronology, stifling their prophetic nature. The beast came again, shaking the ground.

Waking, it seemed I fell to the mattress from a height. Not far enough to endanger, but enough to worry the springs. I lurched, took my journal from the bedside locker, levered its purple tongue to split its leather cuirass and let it whip to a clean page.

One mark on the opposite face demanded attention. A black circle, subtle as a bearded chin, formed by the swift fury of a graceless wrist, its blackness total.

How strangely the lines blended. One moment a nest of fastened rat tails, one mark indistinguishable from another, the next a clear set of growing rings. In its swirling centre around the maelstrom's eye, the paper tore with the fury of the quill.

I found the pockmark on every page. Someone strained greatly to make an impression so indelible. First I thought Fergus with his ham hands, unknowingly forcing the nib through the page. When he had the chance, or the notion? It seemed unlikely. Throughout the workday it was with me, resting once for a moment unattended on the desk.

Despite concerns, I knew no progress could be made at this hour. For now it seemed safe to be about my duties without much extra precaution. I returned the journal, pulled the duvet across my shoulders and turned to sleep, when suddenly a violent jolt racked the shutters so fiercely they juddered back into place with a great thunk.

I winced toward the disturbance and found mocking empty blackness. As my head sank back into the pillow, a shuddering pulse shook the building. A rippling seismic attack. Unlike quakes from within, which sally in waves, this was a single detonation, like a dying star; one magnificent shockwave that stirred everything in the world at once, only for a moment. I stemmed panic, falling to courageous platitudes that would embarrass the most shameless Kipling-mimic. Without panic, I deduced more likely my head sharply turning had disturbed my equilibrium, giving the walls the appearance of motion. As if in answer to my doubt, dust sprinkled from the rafters.

Nothing else came. I waited, steeled. I pretended to be brave and at some indeterminate point, felt into a brave slumber.

*

Lar, blackbird that he was, rose early. He emerged from the fugue state that best pleased his constitution and stretched, his wingspan filling the alcove.

He found me in my linen cell, bewhaled as Jonah.

'Terrible day.' He drew the shutters. I pulled the sheets down over my face to the sight of Lar's stocky silhouette in the dirty light. Tapping his pipe twice on the sill, he plonked one cheek on the ledge and struck a match. 'Anything you want from town? I'm going to get supplies. I should be away most of the day. There won't be a return trip before we go. Speak now or forever hold your peace.'

'Ambulo in pace.' I tapped my journal, 'I have everything.'

'Do you have a mac?' The rain beat harder.

'No, we're English, some Irish. Although I heard tell that a distant branch traded their roses for thistle stalks.'

Lar shuddered, ill-humoured before midday, despite protestations he needed no proper rest. 'I mean a waterproof.'

'Oh give me credit. That's humour.'

'We in the smiling countryside call it idiocy. There's a time for revels. Unless you've been up all night, dawn isn't it.'

'I don't have one and I'd like a loan if that's what you're asking, thank you. I didn't sleep well now you mention it' I tossed my feet onto the cold ground and felt for a sock.

Lar watched the rain spilling in romantic sheets. 'You'll need an ark to get back. It's like a bog when it rains. No one will be able to get you. Not me, not the constabulary, nor anyone else. If the weather worsens, make sure you get back in time. Otherwise, everything will be closed until further boatice.'

'Boatice?' I said.

'Now that is humour. Rain, boats, further notice. Get it?' Lar left more spritely than when he entered.

[jeannereames]

How you get a translation of DANCING WITH THE LION in your language...

With the first volume of the Italian Dancing with the Lion due out Sept. 22nd, I've had several questions about getting the novels translated into various other languages. I'm sharing this because it's exactly backwards of how I thought it worked, and didn't know any better myself until another writer friend (then the publisher) explained it to me.

A request to translate a novel must come FROM a publisher in the country wishing to translate it. Riptide doesn't shop it around. There are some ways that publishers can put a book out for awareness, but small boutique publishers like Riptide simply don't have the money.

Triskell Edizioni approached Riptide, asking to buy the novels, in order to translate them into Italian. Riptide then negotiated a deal on my behalf (and obviously theirs too). Triskell did that because someone (or someones) wrote to them, asking them to acquire the novels. (They do a lot of translations of English novels, including m/m romance.) So the request got to the right publisher, who was interested.

Once one translation is made, it's usually a bit easier to get a second or third. But it really just depends on whether a publisher in that other country wants to pay to acquire the rights, and then pay a translator to make the translation.

I know at least one person says they plan to write to some French publishers, but whether anything will come of it, who knows?

Ergo, if you're really keen on a translation in your mother tongue, that's how it happens. :-)

[alessandroiiidimacedonia]

"Dancing with the Lion" by Jeanne Reames will be translated from 🇬🇧 to 🇮🇹 by Triskell Edizioni

“Dancing with the Lion” by Jeanne Reames will be translated from 🇬🇧 to 🇮🇹 by Triskell Edizioni

Articolo in due lingue – Article in two languages 🇮🇹 in Italiano 🇬🇧 in English Buongiorno a tutti sono Elena, grazie di essere su Alessandro III di Macedonia- Alessandro Magno e Ellenismo. Prima di tutto buon anno nuovo, buon 2023! Auguro a tutti voi miei lettori un anno sereno, che vi porterà tante soddisfazioni e tante nuove letture su Alessandro – e qualcuna spero di consigliarvela io 😀 -.…

[gintastik]

15, 24, 25, 26?

15: Would you rather visit a zoo or an art museum?

Definitely a museum, since I am not a very big fan of zoos.

24: Is there a certain quote you live by?

Yes, although it sounds better in my language but I guess the direct translation would be: ‘Get up, the day wont get fucked without you.’

25: What’s on your mind?

Currently I’m worried about whether I’ll pass my English exam on Wednesday or not, since I’ve only just picked up the books...

26: Do you have any tattoos?

Yes, two of them - an ivy shaped as a triskele on my shoulder and a rat skeleton on my shank.

Thank you! :)

[hareandfern]

My new business artwork by the amazing @linnsetane 🌿 Many asked about the meaning of my new name. Previously, I mentioned my old name was confusing and hard to remember for my non-pagan audience, so I wanted a new name that will be both "ordinary" and have pagan connotations for those who see them. Another criteria was that the name should reflect my connection with Ireland. That's how "Hare and Fern" was born... Rabbits and hares are heavily featured in Irish folklore (as well as British). Being an important part of Irish landscape, they were long revered as magical, related to the aes sídhe, fairy race that originated from Tuatha Dé Danann ("people of the goddess Danu") who retreat to live in the Otherworld, beneath the mounds. Burrowing under the ground (under the sídhe), rabbits and hares act like messengers of the gods. Cesaer wrote that the Celts regarded them as taboo food. Seen as an emblem of fertility for thousands of years, hare's symbolism has been demonised with advancing Christianisation. Wise women or witches were believed to shapeshift into a hare or use hares as their familiars. Coincidentally, a wild rabbit's gestational period is 28-31 days, the length of a lunar cycle and woman's menstrual cycle, thus cementing women's "cunning nature". Just like other elements of the old religion, hare's mythological place blended into new folklore as a part of the peculiar nature of Celtic Christianity. Even as late as the end of the 19th century, there are records such as one from Co. Kerry where people apparently didn't eat hares; the souls of their deceased grandmothers were supposed to have entered into them. One of the most "magical" depictions of hares is that of a Moon gazing hare, which is what I chose for my new logo. The hare is standing next to another characteristic feature of the Irish landscape, a standing stone, which has a Celtic Triskele engraved on it. A fern is growing next to the stone, chosen as a plant traditionally believed to mark the entrance into the Otherworld and attract the fairies. Finally, I've decided to translate the new name to Irish (giorria agus raithneach) and write it using Ogham. Hope you all like these changes! (at Northern Ireland) https://www.instagram.com/p/Byf5Fa1n6Xx/?igshid=1eadgd5n3r314