#[written memoirs.]

[briebysabs]

I’m so glad Domi brought this up bc one of Noe’s main character flaws is his recklessness. His straightforward thinking can cause him to have tunnel vision and completely forget his own self. Bc of that some ppl have mischaracterized him as having little intelligence.

But we see that clearly isn’t the case, Noé can think on his feet, observe, and learn from his environment quickly. Noé is very emotionally intelligent otherwise how would he deal with Vanitas on a constant basis? How would he comfort and assure Domi, befriend Roland, inspire Jean-Jacques? But while his reckless nature can be endearing at times, it’s also very concerning. There are several things Noé has done that, from a certain angle, looks kinda crazy. And to me, this all boils down to the fact that Noé does not consider himself in the equation. Him seeing himself as strong or unkillable isn’t from pride or naivety, it’s complete lack of awareness towards himself.

Because Noé doesn’t see himself as a person.

And when you follow that thread, a lot makes sense. His fear of being an Archiviste, the disgust he had when there’s some relief that Louis didn’t kill him, being kidnapped and treated like an object for who knows how long. Teacher calling him “mon chaton” and raising Noé like a fucking pet. Not telling people of his past. And this is what we know of. Noe acts like he doesn’t have an identity, he exists for others, for memories, as a weapon, as a “saviour”. Noé hasn’t realized that he is a person whose feelings are valid, who isn’t a machine and can die or fail, his life matters just as much as the people he cares about.

[winter-tospring]

I rarely feel secondhand embarrassment but god....taylor....😬🫣🥴🫠😞

[francesderwent]

any girl who talks about men as if they’re a terrifying other species, violent or unemotional or uncaring, their humanity dubious for whatever reason, should be forced to read James Herriot.

[good-to-drive]

So apparently Conan is considering a memoir and as much as I would like to know more about his life I'm even more excited at the prospect of a Norm Macdonald Based on a True Story-style absurdist faux-memoir that uses the truth as a springboard for insightful, heartfelt self-satire because I think he would absolutely crush it and also I don't think he could handle NOT going off on insane comedic tangents for anything like an entire book

[rainintheevening]

I was born in a wood just south of where the Archen meets the Great River.

I was born in what should have been the spring of the year, yet my dam’s blood mingled with snow, and frigid air was the first in my lungs.

I was born as white as the ground around us, like most unicorns, yet as silent as the frozen river. I was born mute—cursed, I believed for many years, until the Lion taught me to see otherwise.

My dam named me Erah, or at least that is the closest approximation pronounceable by humans and other Talking Beasts.

Erah, suggestive of good pasture and sweet water, in the language of horses. Suggestive of clear sight and safe herd. Suggestive of hope.

She could not have foreseen that one day I would carry hope on my back. That I would bear the noblest, strongest, kindest Son of Adam Narnia ever saw, into battles both small and great. That I would serve under the glorious rule of the Four Rulers themselves. That I would call the High King Peter my truest and dearest friend.

High King Peter & the faithful unicorn Sir Erah

[hex-xiv]

chapter 1. The Kane family's disappointment

“Did you hear me, Silas?” The older Elezen spoke as he adjusted the clasp tying his shirt together. 

“No, Father, my apologies.” Silas stood there with both hands at his sides, his head hanging low with a red hand mark slapped across his cheek. 

The Kane family came from an affluent background. His grandfather before him secured a place in Ishgardian noble society among others. Their family dabbled in knighthood and the exportation of goods, becoming quite well-known for their products and business. 

Silas Sr., the current patriarch was known to have a quiet disposition, however, even he had his limits. He knew his only child had a troubled upbringing from bullying his closest friend's daughter to causing chaos in Sharlayan’s Studium. When rumours circulated that his troubled son was courting the Eirwen daughter, he couldn’t help but wonder if it was a farce. 

When asked, Silas, his son confirmed that he was courting her. What he didn’t know was that it was a whirlwind romance. Silas was cruel, calculating and mischievous. 

“Silas,” The older Elezen’s voice rang out again, taking Silas from his thoughts a second time. 

“What?” Silas’ tone was low as he pressed his fingers against the bridge of his nose. The slap to his face still stung and he wondered how and when Chione could pack a punch… or slap.

“I’ll say it one more time.” Silas Sr said, turning to face his son. His eyes narrowed upon seeing the hand mark. “Our family will be hosting a banquet and the Eirwen household is invited specifically. Your mother wished for you to have this.”

Silas Sr took the box from his desk and walked towards his son. The box was of a red velvet fabric with black and gold dragon metal carvings. “Use this,”

“What?” Silas asked, looking up at his father, cutting him off. 

“It’s your mother’s engagement ring, the one I’d given her at your age.”

“What do you,” Silas couldn’t finish his sentence when his father opened the box. Inside was the rose gold band with a red stone in the centre of smaller diamonds that circled the stone. Along the band were other small diamonds that split off into two before reconnecting making the band whole. Silas knew of this ring, he’d seen it growing up. 

His mother always wore it proudly as it was the Kane family heirloom. A staple in jewellery to showcase their wealth and power. A piece of jewellery that now mocked him of a future he couldn’t have with the one he loved most. 

“No,” Silas muttered, closing the box. 

“The banquet will be held in three days, I hope you’ll have something written. Make sure it’s from the heart and what your intentions are, Beau Eirwen will want to know. Chione is his only daughter and you are my only son, but you two have a history…”

“Father, I said no,” Silas spoke louder, cutting his father off from saying any more. He looked up to his father and quietly shook his head. 

“Why not?” Silas Sr asked, narrowing his gaze again. 

“I’ve done something, I did something stupid.” Silas shook his head, lowering his head. “I hurt her.” He whispered. 

“What did you do?” His father asked, his tone low and menacing. 

Silas watched as his father's hand gripped around the box tightly, but careful enough not to break the metal pieces. His father repeated his question while lifting his son's chin with one finger. 

“She thought I was cheating,” Silas started but was cut off. 

“Did you?”

“No!” Silas quickly answered, shaking his head. 

“Then why does she think you cheated and left you with this mark on your face?” The older Elezen used that same finger to tap the bruise forming on his son’s cheek. 

“I was playing a stupid game with my friends and I said some things to make it more believable.” Silas tilted his head away, avoiding his father’s gaze. “She wasn’t meant to hear, but she heard everything.” His voice was low and apologetic. 

“Apologise to her, now. Head to the Eirwen estate and get on your knees if you must.” Silas Sr said with absolute certainty before turning to make his way towards his desk. 

“No! Did you not hear me? She thinks I cheated on her, she wants nothing to do with me!” Silas yelled following his father. 

“That is why I told you to apologise, make things right with Chione or get out. I will not have my son ruin our family name because he couldn’t keep it in his pants.”

Silas gazed up at his father with disbelief followed by a scoff. His words were like venom and once again his father was turning his back on him. 

“I will not apologise. If you wish to throw me out into the cold winter air then so be it.”

Silas Sr turned towards his son and gripped his arm tight. “If you will not go willingly, I will make you go.” His eyes filled with anger. 

Silas knew of one way to get his father off him. He still held the box in his hand, but his attention was on him and his arm. He quickly took the box from his father and tossed it behind him, shattering the delicate metal wings, neck and tail of the dragon. 

On reflex, Silas Sr raised his arm and balled his fist then crashed it into Silas’ left cheek. “Get out. Don’t return until you’ve made things right with the Eirwen girl.” His voice trembled with anger and sadness. 

Silas got up to his feet, his nose and lip bloody from the punch. “That will never happen.”

“Then I disown you, you are no son of mine. The Kane family disowns you, Silas. Leave or I will have you escorted out.” Silas Sr said coldly. 

Silas quickly left his father's office, tears in his eyes when he stopped at the top of the stairs. There stood a portrait of him and his parents. His mother, Aliette was ecstatic to finally have an updated portrait. The last time they’d had one done was when he was just a baby, barely able to form his first word. And now he was standing there with his family at 16 years old, just a bit shorter than his father and taller than his mother. 

“Young master Silas,” Carlyle called out, grasping his attention. “Your father… you know he means well. Don’t take what he said to heart. He only wants you to secure a future. He…”

Silas lifted his hand to silently cut him off. He continued to gaze up at the portrait when he pulled a flip knife from his belt. 

“Young master, don’t do anything you will regret later,” Carlyle spoke and watched as Silas moved towards the portrait. 

He stabbed the bottom of the canvas where he stood and heard the steward gasp. “Young master!” Carlyle said a little too loud just as the patriarch was exiting his office. 

“What’s the meani-” Silas Sr’s voice echoed out. “SILAS! STOP!” He yelled running to his son.

But the moment his father pulled him away, Silas had already cut the bottom of the canvas and continued to rip the canvas even as his father pulled him away. 

Silas dropped the knife and canvas. He was successfully removed from the portrait with his eyes filled with tears. Servants and guards who heard the commotion only saw the damaged portrait and the young master descending the stairs. 

With tears in his eyes and a broken heart, Silas left the Kane estate with the clothes on his back and never returned. 

|| @chioneeirwen for mentions ||

[transneilyoung]

omg apparently that scifi book neil had been talking about writing is almost done and he said it during that nya subscriber zoom call the other day 🧘

[cruyffista]

—excerpt from Marco van Basten's diary (taken from his autobiography)

[pynkhues]

Anne in Louis wrote all the qualities of herself she finds the hardest to accept which is mainly his passivity abd inability to engage with life and it's why he rarely appears in books in tne future but also why his ending is very lovely. Lestat has a lot of her hjsbands qualities but is also largely based on who she kinda wishes she was or naybe believe she could be if she was born a man there's a clip going around twitter where she talks abt this so i think fans know.

(x)

Totally! I'm not disagreeing with that at alll, but for me it's like - - mm, Anne was perpetually shocked when people related Claudia's death to her own daughter's death, right? And yet that is understood by both people who study and understand Anne on an academic and critical level, as well as fandom broadly, to be an absolute truth. It's certainly understood by Rolin in adapting the show, who's brought it up plenty.

Anne herself was impulsive, litigious, prone to getting swept up in movements, prone to bursts of anger and feuds with people who arguably should've been irrelevant to her professionally. Those traits are Lestat, not Louis, and it reminds me a bit of seeing Junot Diaz on a panel many years ago where he said you don't see yourself how you write yourself, and other people in your life don't see themselves how you write them.

That doesn't mean Rolin and the other writers aren't connecting dots. They have the benefit of being outsiders in the same way the rest of us are, and again, I think to give Anne's prose to Lestat is both a fascinating choice and a beautifully realised one because as a writer, I can say that I think she latched onto him as a POV character for a reason.

[ladysophiebeckett]

i will defend every fantasy and sci fi genre hater. that shit is boring and you shouldn't have to suffer through that for anyone.

[dykenav]

okay I’ve gathered a decent number of seemingly promising recs for lesbian fantasies but now I am just literally asking and begging for any book with a butch main character that is not a Sad Contemporary

[la-cocotte-de-paris]

Happiness is a bolt of lightning. It dazzles and blinds you; one doesn't recognise what it is until after its passing, with stupor and nostalgia.

— Edwige Feuillère

[memoirs-of-a-sapphic]

12-15-23

Astronomy- the study of you

When I was a kid, perhaps twelve,  I learned astronomy; and oh, How my mind always dwelled On black holes and galaxies. Woe! My Roman empire, a hell, The things I'd never know.

I learned all the terminology- Stars, planets, moons, rings - I yearned for all the knowledge, For all of the forbidden things. But we keep them in the colleges - Behind a paywall, basically.

I longed to travel across the stars - Dwarves, comets, asteroids,  Red giants and white dwarves, Nebulae and meteors,  Black holes, beaming pulsars, Dark matter and quasars.

But all for naught, I had accepted I would never see these things. But then something unexpected,  Something I hadn't foreseen Happened when you, undetected,  Showed up and intervened.

You showed me a love so freeing - So beautiful and new- And, in your presence, your being, I suddenly saw anew - The sights I'd dreamed of seeing, I saw them all in you.

Stars dim when you smile, A sight so joyous to behold. Eyes beautiful like nebulae Of warm amber and gold. In your arms, I feel the sun Whose warmth you somehow stole.

Synesthesia, such and such, You trace lines along my back And I see galaxies in your touch. And I can't really keep track, But I do know this much- It's never just pure black.

Freckles on your skin - Stars and constellations - I trace along your arms Your scars, like comets, in rotation. I hold you close, can't let go - Can't handle separation. 

One night, before I slept, you said I'm the stars in your inky abyss. Truth be told that, to me, You are the entire universe; Painting celestial wonders With every touch, hug, and kiss.

And stars are in your blood,  Running through your veins. Galaxies are in your cells,  That which life sustains, Held together by the threads Of empyrean remains. 

I'd spent years fantasizing about life. What would it be like, to know All the secrets of the light, All the things we can't show? Exploring all of what's outside, All the things that glow.

Sitting here, reminiscent, Remembering what I used to do. And now I've found a secret, The final solving clue - Astronomy isn't just space, my love, Astronomy is the study of you.

-OvV-

Starting off strong with one of my favorite poems I've ever written.

aaaa

[saints-who-never-existed]

Interested in the roles the remaining Terror lieutenants take at the Hickey/Tozer execution.

Little standing up and proclaiming the long list of crimes and transgressions for all to hear, voice ringing strong and true.

Hodgson acting as some kind of scribe, writing down and recording those same crimes and transgressions for posterity.

Trying to decide if I think there's more to those choices and if so, what?

[aidenwaites]

Thinking about the poem Clyde wrote after Bonnie wrote The Story of Bonnie and Clyde