#Catchpenny

[bigcats-birds-and-books]

hello fellow denizens of our beloved hellsite, please help me select my next book to read based on ZERO propaganda, only titles and cover vibes. here are The Options:

and here they are, all lined up and waiting:

help me, button-pressing site, you're my only hope!!

[venusbloo]

2024 July Reading Wrap Up

**All links below are to the books’ respective StoryGraph pages for reference. I do not receive any compensation for clicking these links!! How is it already August? I feel like this year has flown by so far, and while I read a ton in July, I once again did not stick to my planned reading. I did read some of what I planned, but I let a few other books go in favor of deep diving into a young…

[lilibetbombshell]

[jolieeason]

March 2024 Wrap-Up

Here is what I read, posted, won, received, and bought in March. Let me know if you have read any of these books and what you thought of them. Books I Read: Books Reviewed: A Fate Inked in Blood by Danielle L. Jensen—review here The American Daughters by Maurice Carlos Ruffin—review here Thirst by Marina Yuszczuk—review here A Smoking Bun by Ellie Alexander—review here Bye, Baby by Carola…

[cerebralinvasion]

not thy will, but mine

trigger warning: yandere, obsessive behavior

summary: godhood isn't as flashy as most make it out to be, your existence was truly not something you took much pride in. it seemes, however, that despite your line of thinking you'd gained yourself a very devoted follower.

pairing: fyodor x reader 

notes: this was inspired by @spacexseven's god reader au! please go check it out they're really cool!!

in your honest opinion, being a god was overrated. at some point in the past, you would have disagreed. but millennia upon millennia have passed since you’ve thought that way. it was nice a long time ago. when there existed many gods each with their own domain, their own concept to be in charge of. back when gods had grand followings and were omnipotent. back when you were recognized as the god of literature, a symbol of creativity, thought, knowledge, and dissemination. but it’s been a very long time since then. most, if not all gods have died, and you have lost your recognition. you’ve lost power. that is, of course, not to say you have no power. you’re undoubtedly more formidable than any currently existing human. but it’s a negligible fraction of the omnipotence you once bore. you doubted anyone even knew your name at this point. you knew your place in this world. above the earth and below the fractured heavens. entirely alone, you’d lurk in your catchpenny apartment, isolated from any of the humans who once adored you. mount olympus has crumbled, there is no home– nowhere for you to return to.

you’d grown used to this treatment, having experienced nothing but it for thousands of years. which is why you were genuinely surprised when you came to the realization that someone was worshiping you. you could hear their prayers, you received their sacrifices. you’ve been acknowledged for the first time since the fall of the gods. it was just one. only one worshiper. you could note a few others becoming aware of your existence, but none going as far as to believe in your existence, let alone worship you. only a singular voice praying to you every night and morning. before every meal, and after every stroke of good luck. they were nothing but dedicated. it warmed your heart at first, to be appreciated once again. but after long enough, it grew to be disturbing. it seemed you were near every other thought on their mind. everything they did, in your name. everyone they hurt, in your name. prayers and prayers of promises that they would complete your desire, enact your will. you barely communicated with them, other than something small every once in a while with your limited abilities. meant to be nothing more than tokens of your appreciation to their care. but they still claimed to act as your hand, as a vessel for you. parading themself as a servant despite you never having asked anything of them.

it was honestly pathetic.

despite how it continuously became worse, you never expected this to end in you being summoned. you didn’t even know you could be summoned. called upon? invited? sure, you’ve been asked to manifest before, but you’ve never been summoned. you’ve never been forced to appear, much less forced to stay. it must have been an immeasurable amount of research and preparation, to confine a deity against their will. but it seemed he was dedicated. when you opened your eyes you found yourself in a throne room. priceless decorations adorning the room from corner to corner, yourself seated on the throne. and a man kneeling on the ground before you. 

a tall and slim young man with long, dark, and messy hair that reached his shoulders. you couldn’t see his face as his head was bowed, but he wore what appeared to be a buttoned white shirt and white pants. he gripped a ushanka in his hand, trying his best to show his respect. you peered down at him, unsure of what to say. he tilted his head up slightly, peeking an eye open to look at you, purple and sharp. just as quickly as he’d stolen a glance, he was back to bowing at your feet. the action was timid and full of fear as the silence lingered.

“my lord… thank you for coming.” he whispered out after what had to be several minutes. he thanked you as though you had any choice in the matter. “my name is fyodor dostoevsky. i am your devoted servant.” 

you opened your mouth to speak, before shutting it. you didn’t know what to say. 

“i know, i'm not worthy of your grace. but, i have been diligent in my work. everything is going according to plan.”

after another moment fyodor looked up at you once again, his gaze lingering for longer this time. waiting a few seconds, you gave a tentative nod of acknowledgement. you didn’t have a clue as to what he was talking about. but it seemed this small display was more than enough to calm his nerves. he exhaled, loudly. body slumping down from it’s stiff position.

“thank you.” he whispered, barely audible. 

in your opinion, being a god was overrated, you really weren’t all that special. but the way this man seemed to worship the very ground you walked on, it seemed your opinion wasn’t shared by all.

[ninja-muse]

2024 Release TBR

🏳️‍🌈 - queer MC     🇨🇦 - Canadian author    ⭐️ - BIPOC MC 📘 - have an ARC bold - newly added

The Secret History of Bigfoot - John O'Connor (travel/history) - February 6

Ending the Pursuit - Michael Paramo (sociology) - February 8

Tomorrow’s Children - Daniel Polansky (post-apocalypse) - February 27

The Baker and the Bard - Fern Haught (YA cozy fantasy) 🏳️‍🌈- March 5

The Tower - Flora Carr (historical fiction) 📘 - March 5

Parasol Against the Axe - Helen Oyeyemi (literary fiction) ⭐️📘- March 5

Those Beyond the Wall - Micaiah Johnson (science fiction) ⭐️📘 - March 12

The Floating Hotel - Grace Curtis (cozy science fiction) 🏳️‍🌈 - March 19

The Angel of Indian Lake - Stephen Graham Jones (horror) ⭐️ 📘- March 26

This Skin Was Once Mine and Other Disturbances - Eric LaRocca (horror) 📘- April 2

Catchpenny - Charlie Huston (science fiction) 📘- April 9

The Proper Thing and Other Stories - Seanan McGuire (fantasy) - May 1

Plain Jane and the Mermaid - Vera Brosgol (YA fantasy) - May 7

Dreadful - Caitlin Rozakis (fantasy) - May 28

Tidal Creatures - Seanan McGuire (contemporary fantasy) - June 4

Echo of Worlds - M.R. Carey (science fiction) - 📘 June 25

Bury Your Gays - Chuck Tingle (horror) 🏳️‍🌈 - July 9

I Was a Teenage Slasher - Stephen Graham Jones (horror) - July 16 📘⭐️

Chaos at the Lazy Bones Bookshop - Emmeline Duncan (cozy mystery) - July 23

The Wordhunter - Stella Sands (mystery) - August 6

The Dollmakers - Lynn Buchanan (fantasy) - August 13 📘

Radiant Sky - Alan Smale (science fiction) - August 27

Buried Deep and Other Stories - Naomi Novik (fantasy/short stories) - September 17

Nightstrider - Sophia Slade (fantasy) 🏳️‍🌈- September 17

The Village Library Demon-Hunting Society - C.M. Waggoner (fantasy) - September 20

Villain - Natalie Zina Walschots (superhero fiction) 🇨🇦🏳️‍🌈 - October 1

The City in Glass - Nghi Vo (fantasy) - October 1

Swordcrossed - Freya Marske (fantasy) 🏳️‍🌈 - October 8

My Kind of Trouble - L.A. Schwartz (romance) - October 8

Shoestring Theory - Mariana Costa (fantasy) 🏳️‍🌈 - October 8

Sorcery and Small Magics - Maiga Doocy (cozy fantasy) 🏳️‍🌈 - October 15

We Do Not Welcome Our Ten-Year-Old Overlord - Garth Nix (middle grade fantasy) 📘 - October 15

The Scholar and the Last Faerie Door - H.G. Parry (fantasy) - October 22

Usurpation - Sue Burke (science fiction) - October 29

The Improvisers - Nicole Glover (historical fantasy) - November 5 ⭐️

Inkworld: the Color of Revenge - Cornelia Funke (middle grade fantasy) - November 12 📘

The Rivals - Jane Pek (mystery) 📘🏳️‍🌈⭐️- December 1 🏳️

[ethaneldritch]

🖊️

"I am the hopes and dreams of a thousand unrealized utopias!"

Here's an unfinished sketch of one of my more fleshed-out OCs, Murphy Macintosh!

He's a magical transforming android sent to protect the island of Carcosa from a fatal dimension overlap, after his home universe unsuccessfully warded off a similar fate.

Like a reverse magical girl, he pretends to be a regular human by day, working as a barista and waiter in the Catchpenny Cafe, only to release his full strength at night after the town curfew.

Yes, he's a little cheesy in concept, but compared to his coworkers, his unwavering optimism and generic sparkle magic is a welcome reprieve.

Also that staff is way heavier than it looks. Solid metal and ten feet long, you can knock a man out cold with a light twirl.

[cog5]

9.21. Havnash’s Tomb

The remains of Viscount Havnash and his family reside here. A proud man with frugal sensibilities, the Viscount purchased a single crypt alcove for his daughters to share, to the sisters’ dismay. The entire family died by drowning, when a catchpenny carriage wheel collapsed near a river bank.

[sdrnv]

Khm...khm... before I start my story for today, let me recommend a song that is going to match the atmosphere of a surreal Russian family gathering. And let's begin....

Дорогой читатель or I guess I could also say dear readers,

Today, I embarked on what I thought (actually not, just kidding to make it sound more interesting lmao) would be a simple journey to visit my relatives. Too much... eeerrhmm.. little did I know, it would turn into an adventure that blurred the lines between reality and the surreal.....Бизнес как обычно!

The day began like any other, with the sun casting its warm embrace over my lovely town. I felt a weird or (maybe normal) mixture of excitement and trepidation, but I was eager to see my relatives - yet wary of the unpredictable (shoulda said VERY PREDICTABLE) nature of family gatherings.

Upon arriving at their home formed of marvelous blocks of concrete, I was greeted with hugs and laughter, but something felt pleasantly menacing, as if the air itself crackled with the dark side of the Force. My cousins, aunts, grandma.... oh well easier to say вся моя семья... yeah all my fam.... notorious for their mischievous antics, wasted no time in making me try the famous mashed potato моей тэтки... uhm my aunt.

As I leant over the pot to ladle out a huge chunk for myself...wait...I ladled out all of it xaxa... my aunt seemed to lean in closer, her arms twisting and contorting like ancient guardians of some forgotten realm. I seriously did not feel (believe me, will ya?!) a shiver run down my spine, but I pushed aside my unease, eager to embrace my lunch.

That's when my relatives unveiled their grand plan – to turn me into the mashed potato hair princess. (Obviously, in their minds... as they kept silent.. but let's continue) At first, I laughed off their absurd idea (I'm lying rn xaxa), but as they caught me off guard.... while I was looking for a spoon btw... and began to adorn me with dollops of creamy mashed potatoes, I couldn't help but feel a sense of classic Russian fam betrayal act.

With each dollop of mashed potato placed on my head, I felt myself slipping into a surreal dreamworld, where anything was possible and reality was merely a suggestion. And when I caught sight of my reflection in a nearby mirror, I couldn't help but marvel at the whimsical masterpiece my aunt had created. I wanted to shout: Давай пошли! Мои волосы…. Ааааа.... but losing the momentum in surrealism did not grant me the permission to shout.

Amidst the chaos and laughter, there was a sense of bittersweet nostalgia, a fleeting reminder that moments like these were precious and all too fleeting. As the last clean hair strands dipped below the mashed potato horizon, all my hair danced in the sunlight of the dining room, I found myself cherishing the simple joy of being surrounded by loved ones, even if it meant embracing my inner visible mashed potato hair princess persona.

Та-дааа… родилась принцесса с волосами из картофельного пюре… Mased potato hair princess is born...

And so, dear diary, as I sit here beneath the antique catchpenny chandelier, my hair not only adorned with mashed potatoes, but wrapped up into a massive bulwark... and, of course, my heart full of laughter, I can't help but wonder – whether the chandelier is going to greet the top of my massive bulwark (yes, pictured above) with a thunderous smooch when I stand up right at the very same geographic coordinates where the chandelier is located at.

Aaaahh... should I push my UNluck by executing this set of vertical movement??? Perhaps reality is just a canvas, waiting to be painted with the brushstrokes of our wildest dreams.

Thank you, dear reader for staying with me....

Until next time,

Le Xandra Kalapova

Ле Ксандра Калапова

[enricocavillo]

#2

So, Enrico decides to go through one more PR stunt. Nothing new about that. The odd thing about this situation was seeing Enrico gladly parading with an unknown - now exposed as a promiscuous bully - during pandemic restrictions.

Spectators felt as if Enrico was rubbing privileges on people's faces by parading with a woman considered an escort imported from the US for this PR, when there was still a pandemic to fight.

Meanwhile, more came out about Vicious, the latest PR. It was said - including by the paid tabloids - she was once in a TV show for 15-min fame humiliating friends publicly, on national TV. She was also accused of being racist for an apparent failed attempt to record a commercial.

This commercial news release was followed by supposedly racism accusations against Vicious as well as an article with disturbing catchpenny explanation and retraction. But, the entire process - from the commercial news release to the retraction - was a planned and paid clickbait to call attention to her.

The PR stunt became a circus and his team did a great job motivating hate on the internet, while putting spectators against spectators. It seemed they had something to hide, needed to discredit someone who was going against him and decided to then, blend this person in as another toxic spectator.

And, whoever was planning this circus started using old PR stunts and its reports and Netflix plots to build a narrative for the latest PR, while they gaslighted to confuse, using Vicious as a diversion.

This racism accusations had happened when Enrico dated Jena Corino. The first couple pap walk also brought similarities to a pap walk with the ex PR, Jelly Coconut. And, it was interesting how the tabloids were being paid to portray Vicious as a model, reminding one of Enrico's old girlfriends, Farrah Prince.

They accused his spectators of jealousy for making severe critics to his immoral PR management strategies. But, jealous of his old girlfriends and PRs was Vicious, who tried to be compared to them the entire time up to the point she went through surgical proceedures.

This latest PR was nothing, but a circus which made fun of all his old PR stunts and dates. His team was completely lost and the impression was he had lent his management to an irresponsible and childish retarded.

[venusbloo]

June Reading Update

Well, despite my best intentions, I have already let the year get away from me!  I meant to do regular reading updates here on the blog – at least monthly – but I’ve lapsed terribly.  Most of that is due to reading slumps, but I also struggle sometimes with feeling obligated to stick to my reading plans when I just want to mood read.  So, I’ve decided to change my reading update format a…

[jade-eclipse-lithium]

I’ve been spiked by Squadron X, dripped in ghe smeltin’ pool, framed for treason, shot into the sun. And i was the only ‘bot still trapped inside the nightmare engine when everyone else woke up.

I’ve seen of every rinky-dink, catchpenny Decepticon rust-picker, and i got the dents i my knuckles to prove it.

End of the say? I’m ready for anything you can throw at me.

Nova Prime threw Cyclonus at Kup

[jolieeason]

WWW Wednesday: March 20th, 2024

WWW Wednesday is a weekly meme Sam hosts at Taking on a World of Words. The Three Ws are: What are you currently reading? What did you recently finish reading? What do you think you’ll read next? Here is what I am currently reading, recently finished, and plan to read from Thursday to Wednesday. Let me know if you have read or are planning on reading any of these books!! Happy…

[dwellordream]

Notable American Women: BLAVATSKY, Helena Petrovna Hahn (July 31, 1831 - May 8, 1891)

“... Educated by governesses who indulged her taste for supernatural folktales, and deeply impressed by the haunting liturgy of the Russian Orthodox service, Helena grew up a wild and imaginative girl. Her mother died when she was twelve, whereupon she was sent to live with her grandfather Fadeev, the governor of Saratov on the Volga. Later his household moved to Tiflis, where, on July 7, 1848, sixteen-year-old Helena Hahn was married to Gen. Nikifor Vasilievich Blavatsky, the forty-year-old vice-governor of a neighboring province. 

Soon regretting her rashness, she ran away after three months to Constantinople, where (according to the memoirs of her cousin, the Russian statesman Count Sergei Y. Witte) she became an equestrienne in a circus. In 1850 she visited Egypt and explored Cairo with Albert L. Rawson, a young American student of Islam. Returning to Constantinople, she became the mistress of a minor Hungarian opera singer, Agardi Metrovich, whom she thereafter accompanied on European tours. During a stay in Paris she worked for a time with Daniel Dunglas Home, a celebrated spiritualist of the day.

…By 1870 they were living in Odessa, where Madame Blavatsky struggled to support them both by giving singing lessons and working in various shops and factories. In 1871 they embarked on the S.S. Eumonia for Cairo, where Metrovich hoped to revive his faltering career. On June 21, however, the vessel exploded at sea and Metrovich lost his life. Madame Blavatsky, one of seventeen survivors, continued on to Egypt.

Now taking up spiritualism in earnest, she tried to organize a Société Spirite, but her seances were characterized by various petty deceptions and soon collapsed. She drifted back to Odessa, then to Paris, and on July 7, 1873, arrived, via steerage, in New York City. Here she lived in a Home for Working Women, doing catchpenny spiritualism and various odd jobs. …The turning point in her life came that October when she read in the New York Daily Graphic of the seances being conducted by the Eddy brothers of Chittenden, Vt. 

She hastened to Vermont, displayed her own psychic aptitude, and ingratiated herself with Col. Henry Steel Olcott, the lawyer and spiritualist who had written the Graphic articles. Olcott was deeply impressed by this exotic Russian, and the following March, when he received a mysterious message from “Tuitit Bey” of ”The Brotherhood of Luxor” instructing him to become her neophyte, he readily yielded. 

…Here on Sept. 7, 1875, was born the Theosophical Society, named by an English member, Charles Sotheran, who had discovered the word, meaning “divine wisdom,” in the dictionary. Olcott was chosen chairman, and later president; William Quan Judge, a young Irish clerk in Olcott’s law office, was made secretary-treasurer (later, as head of the American section, he led a schism from the parent group); and Madame Blavatsky, who preferred to remain in the background since she was not a good speaker, became corresponding secretary. 

The organization’s declared object was “to collect and diffuse a knowledge of the laws which govern the universe.” By 1880 three basic goals had emerged: to promote the “Universal Brotherhood of Humanity”; to investigate the “unexplained laws of Nature and the psychical powers latent in man”; and to study comparative religion, philosophy, and science.

…When the Theosophical Society failed to thrive in America, Madame Blavatsky, (or “H.P.B.,” as she now called herself) and Olcott decided to move to India, a land known for its occult lore and one where Olcott had recently established a promising contact with the Arya Samaj, a strong new organization advocating a return to the ancient principles of Hinduism. Before setting out for India, Helena Blavatsky took out American naturalization papers, correctly anticipating that she might be regarded by the British authorities as a Russian spy.

…In 1882, with the aid of wealthy Indians, Madame Blavatsky and her followers purchased the grounds for a beautiful international headquarters at Adyar, on the outskirts of Madras. Here, with the help of her young Hindu “chelas,” or assistants, she amazed visitors with various psychic marvels, including “precipitated” or materialized written communications from the Mahatmas, most notably one Koot Hoomi. Her reputation grew despite occasional embarrassing setbacks, as in 1883 when a “Koot Hoomi” letter was proved to have been plagiarized from a recent address by an American Theosophist.

At this apogee of her career, Helena Blavatsky was a person of curious contradictions. Far from spiritual in appearance, she was extremely obese, with protruding eyes and short crinkly hair. She loved to play solitaire, smoked incessantly, and frequently gave way to towering rages and profane outbursts drawn from the forty languages she was said to have at her command. While taking great relish in attracting new converts, she always retained a wry self-awareness that was one of her more appealing traits.”

- Notable American Woman, Volume I: A-F, 1971

[stuart-boehmer]

ABOUT STUART BOEHMER

I'm a mathematician and writer interested in the foundations of physics and mathematics and in philosophy of science and in autobiography and fiction. my personal website is stuartboehmer.com; on this website you will find my thoughts on the foundations of relativity and quantum theory as well as some of my literary dabblings, mainly short short stories, often with a humorous twist, among other things.I have written a book, Catchpenny Anecdotes, available on Amazon in print or kindle.

[electronic-devices]

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