out of pure curiosity, I think I remember you mentioned you were writing a sydrichie fic. Is that still the plan?
“I think I see,” he’s saying, and he’s still got that stupid scuzzy grin on his face that makes her want to stab him. Again. Except it’s fading a little bit now, fading, falling till there’s a pique in his brow and his eyes are blowing dark. “Think I see what’s going on. Sydney needs to get laid, huh. That’s it. Little baby Syd needs to come before she kills someone. That right, princess? You want to fucking kill me?” // She swallows: sharp. She says, “Yeah. Yeah—maybe I do, Richie. Maybe I fucking do.”
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Valley of the Dolls (1967) dir. Mark Robson
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Reblog if you write fic and people can inbox you random-ass questions about your stories, itemized number lists be damned.
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Marina Tsvetaeva, from Bride of Ice; “Yesterday he still looked in my eyes”
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Cardoon and Carrots – Juan Sánchez Cotán // Quince, Cabbage, Melon, and Cucumber – Juan Sánchez Cotán // Vide Noir – Lord Huron
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i've seen you rec cormac mcCarthy a few times. do you have a favorite book by him?
i. the road
ii. blood meridian; or the evening redness in the west
iii. no country for old men
iv. the border trilogy
v. suttree
vi. the passenger / stella maris
vii. outer dark
viii. child of god / the orchard keeper
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could you rec other books you loved reading? besides Lanny and starve acre?
⎯benediction by kent haruf
⎯the mirror & the light by hilary mantel
⎯maps of our spectacular bodies by maddie mortimer
⎯human traces by sebastian faulks
⎯the road by cormac mccarthy
⎯the field by robert seethaler
⎯achilles by elizabeth cook
⎯circe by madeline miller
⎯the year of magical thinking by joan didion
⎯the spinning heart by donal ryan
⎯a girl is a half-formed thing by eimear mcbride
⎯on earth we’re briefly gorgeous by ocean vuong
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ALL THE ROTTED FRUIT // BY CHARMTION
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Velimir Khlebnikov, from “The Poet”, Collected Works, Vol. 3: Selected Poems, tr. by Paul Schmidt
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SO LITTLE IS A STONE // BY CHARMTION
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Anaïs Nin, from The Diary of Anaïs Nin, Vol. 2. 1934-1939
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charm, omg hello! i was just scrolling through the paul x irulan tag (like a new obsession) on ao3 and i was soooo surprised and thrilled to see your fic there, so so excited to read it!!
hello, beautiful friend 🫶🏼 I love how fic like brings us all back together in the end, how you see familiar names in unfamiliar places, & think wait!! I know you. it’s one of my favourite things about posting stuff, truly; I hope you enjoyed all the rotted fruit, I had so much fun writing it—#prulan forever. ✨ x
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though i am heavy, there is flight around me
wendell berry, the fall of icarus, f. scott fitzgerald, christophe vacher, hozier, galileo chini, mahmoud darwish (tr. catherine cobham), rubens, akwaeke emezi, alfred schwarzschild
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another snippet please x
If it is a lie it does not taste like one. She thinks of rain, the lady and the mother. She thinks of lotus flowers and lifts the sheet to cover her body. // He bunches it inside a fist where he stands at the foot of the bed. He pulls it: hard, quick. She is bare in the bloody light. She shifts against the pillows, watches as he leans a knee onto the bed. Starts to crawl. (Always the feeling of an animal; half-wild, treading water. Waiting to snag a claw into your throat. Bite it deep, tear it out.) 🫀
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Naomi Shihab Nye; “Burning the Old Year”
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