#I love how my shelf is evolving!

[cashmerecrow]

Some new additions... What will you pick?

[carlsdarling]

No Mercy Part II

This was requested a lot. The hate-love-story between Carl and Y/N, who is Negan's daughter, evolves... Everyone is 18 or over.

WARNINGS: smut, nsfw, unprotected sex, slightly violent sex (consensual), angst, abusive language

During the following weeks you and Carl just couldn't stop doing two things: Fighting hatefully and fucking each other. It almost became a ritual. And the more violently you argued, the better the ensuing sex, which was always rough. After you spent an evening at Ron's to watch a movie with him and Enid, Carl was convinced that you had been drooling over Ron. "You were checking him out the whole time," he kept angrily accusing you as you headed home to Rick's house. "You probably want to fuck him."

"So what if I am? What's business is it of yours, Carl?" you snapped. "Maybe he's better than you? Not that it's that difficult."

By now you'd reached the house. Carl opened the door, roughly dragged you over the threshold and immediately pushed you into the pantry next to the kitchen, where he ripped off your jeans and panties, shoved you face-first against the wall and without foreplay penetrated you from behind, fucking you with hard thrusts. "Carl, yes, please," you whimpered, pressing against him as your head kept hitting the shelf above you.

He buried his face against your neck to silence his moans. "I've wanted to rail you all evening, but you presented yourself to Ron like a slut! How many times do I have to tell you that you're my personal fucking property?" snarled Carl, pounding even harder, aggressively rubbing your clit with his right hand. He covered your mouth to prevent the other people in the house from waking up as you cum and screamed out loud. " Do you see? See? You hate me, and every time you cum on me you beg for more," he gasped contentedly, enjoying his orgasm. His cum dripped onto the floor as he pulled out of you. Upstairs you continued, the whole night was filled with angry sex, and in the morning you both had quite a few bruises, hickeys and scratches to hide.

Subsequently, the situation between you began to change slowly and almost unnoticeably. You started sneaking into each other's room more and more often in the late evening and eventually having sex in bed. What was new was that you didn't always argue beforehand. Then a few times you found yourselves lying together afterwards, cuddling and exchanging caresses. Whenever you became aware of it, one of you would angrily stop it right there and start a fight, whereupon either you or Carl would storm out of the room and the old ways would be reinstated. You hated Carl, and he hated you, and sex was just a way of expressing that hatred and it had to be violent.

Then the day came when Carl went out with Rick and some others, but they returned without him. "Where's Carl?" you asked in a squeaky voice, looking all around for him.

Rick looked utterly distraught. "We lost him," he muttered.

You felt like you'd been thrown into ice water. "Is he... dead?" For some inexplicable reason, the thought of never seeing Carl again shocked you. Even more unbearable was the idea that he might have turned into a walker, soulless and distorted.

"We don't know, we were separated by a bunch of walkers. We need to get back out there now, with more people, and search for him." Rick ruffled his hair.

For the next few hours you couldn't think clearly, nervously pacing from room to room, and when you finally saw Rick and Michonne approaching the house with Carl between them, you felt sick with relief. Carl looked pale and exhausted, and he was completely sweaty, filthy, and stained with blood and other weird substances. "You stink," was the first thing you said to him, and you turned up your nose. „It’s disgusting.“

"Screw you," he said wearily.

You waited for Carl to go into the bathroom and entered ten minutes later when he turned off the shower. He was sitting on the toilet lid, and was busy patching up his numerous bruises. Hastily he adjusted his bandage to hide his missing eye from you; you had never seen it. "I really thought you got killed, Carl," you blurted out.

He stood up and met your gaze in the mirror. "You would have liked that, wouldn't you?" he asked with a sneer, but there was something else in his beautiful blue eye. The one he still had.

You quickly nodded. "You bet," you agreed with him. "Anyway - I'm disappointed you're still alive," you said venomously, and went to your room.

It wasn't long before Carl showed up to throw you on the bed recklessly and wanted to fuck you. You had hoped he would do so; your whole body was craving him, and eagerly you wrapped your arms around him.

But he stopped the attempt shortly after with his face wrenched in agony. There was a bloody Band-aid stuck to his stomach. "Carl, what is it?" you asked, startled. "Are you in pain?" Before he could stop you, you grabbed the Band-aid and loosened it. It wasn't a bite, just a nasty cut that looked infected. The wound was located just below the scar he already had when he had been shot back then and Hershel had saved his life.

"It's not that bad," Carl claimed, taking the Band-aid away from you and reapplying it to the wound.

"Yes, it is," you countered, "You need antibiotics."

"Why do you even care?" he asked dismissively, frowning.

"Oh, I don't," you promptly returned. "Go and do whatever you want. I couldn't care less how you feel. But you can't rail me in this state anyway, so you're useless, so piss off," you hissed, pushing him away and tossing a pillow at him. Carl gathered up his clothes, showed you his middle finger and left the room - but not without turning around once more, winking at you and mockingly throwing you a kiss. You shook your head with an annoyed grin and switched off the light.

Then everything happened very quickly. The next morning, Rick caught up with you in the hallway as you were about to go to the bathroom. Carl had taken some medicine - in the end, he had listened to you - and now he was fast asleep. "'Get your things together,'" Rick ordered. "You're leaving."

"But... why..."

"Your father's people captured Gabriel," Rick informed you angrily. "The Saviours have a hostage, we have a hostage. We'll trade you."

Stunned, you stuffed your few belongings into a bag, then Rick hustled you into the car and drove you to the main gate. "I'm sorry you didn't have a chance to say goodbye to Carl," Rick said.

"Carl and I hate each other," you said coldly. Rick looked at you with amusement, but made no comment.

After some mutual accusations and insults between him and Negan, you were handed over to your father at the same time Gabriel was walking towards the Alexandria gate. Before you realized it, you were sitting next to your father in the car, and you were on your way back to the Sanctuary.

Negan looked at you from the side. "Are you alright? Have these bastards done anything to you?"

"No, Rick treated me well," you said tersely. You had been caught completely unaware of what had happened. Ten minutes later, you felt the sourness of stomach acid filling your mouth. "Stop the car. Stop the car right now. I'm going to puke," you managed to say. Negan stopped the car, you yanked open the door just in time and vomited onto the asphalt.

"Are you sick?" your father inquired as he restarted the motor. "Maybe the fish from last night was rotten," you evaded the question.

(yessss there will be a part 3... tell me if you liked the plot development 🥰)

[lara-kaminari]

The benefits of the modern era

(Sebastian Sallow x F!MC)

AU University / +18/ ONE-SHOT / Explicit Language / Fantasize.

-----

Note: I had this thought and I had to write it down

----

Sebastian Sallow is a great lover of the modern era.

He loves advances in technology, medicine, music and art. It has evolved enormously in different aspects of everyday life. Who would think that today you press a button and you can communicate with a person twenty countries away? It is exquisite. So much to learn just one click away from achieving it.

However, above all the existing achievements of the human species, what Sebastian Sallow loves most about modern times are short skirts. Blessed invention of this new century, amen to freedom and free expression of bodies!

Perhaps, in a bleak time where light is produced only by candles and not by electric bulbs, Sebastian would be content to see the ankle of some neglected damsel. Now he pities those ancient customs full of false decorum and little skin-to-skin contact.

In fact, if it comes to that, Sebastian also loves the university library: It's comfortable, spacious, has those soft armchairs that are usually backless. Covered by a rigid fabric that can be made of different materials: leather, fabric, plastic, the interior is filled with soft materials such as polystyrene pieces which makes it adaptable to different spaces and uses. Its structure resembles a large cushion as it has no legs, resting its entire base on the floor. He can just lie down with a good book between his legs and enjoy the world from a different height.

The low height allows him to see the girls climbing the moving ladder to grab a book from the high shelf or those who spread their legs a little apart as they sit at the table in front of him.

And there he was. Sebastian snuck up stealthily, grabbed a book and leaned back on the colorful rubber seat in the corner of the place.

If anyone messed with him, he would make believe he was reading some very important history for his exam.

There was not much activity the first hour. Indeed, the warmth of the room and the comfort meant that sleepiness began to wash over him. It would have been a wasted morning except that, suddenly, he heard a stack of books fall and someone groan in pain, very close to where he was.

Sebastian sharpened his vision, the bookshelf hid a girl who now bent down to pick up her books. The position of the two was a blessing for him: the sight of striking green panties greeted him. Quite a sight.

The girl kept crawling to pick up all the scattered books. Something she was whispering, but Sebastian didn't give her enough interest. His attention was fixed on those high socks squeezing her thighs. The sight was enchanting and more so because she was swaying as she picked up each book without realizing she had a shameless onlooker.

Sebastian wondered how hard it would be to agree to such a fuck. Desperate bitches don't usually go to the library. Maybe she'd just be an easy-to-win bimbo. A couple of nice words and he'd have her in the bag. An hour locked up with her and I'd come home with that cute pair of green panties tucked in my pocket.

Those panties that fit those lips perfectly, Sebastian could run his fingers down the middle of those pretty legs and hear her let out good girl squeals. He could rip that fabric and fuck the girl in the middle of those soft couches while the stranger struggles not to scream. Maybe force her to bite the fabric of her panties to keep her quiet while he fucks her ass in the nearest bathroom.

He placed his hand above his fly, settling the future problem between his pants. This was no time to make a scene.

Sebastian moved back into the position of innocent reader when he saw the young woman shake out the bottom of her skirt with the intention of getting up. Perhaps, when she passed in front of him, Sebastian would catch her eye. A good conversation, a couple of compliments, nothing would make him happier than to feel what he could only taste with his eyes.

—Hi Sebastian, studying again?

Shit.

—Hi MC, you know me.

Fantasizing about his best friend he's known since the fifth year of high school is not a source of pride for Sebastian, this could become a problem if he doesn't undo that mental image right then and there. It was just a silly thing, no green panties and short skirts, just a misunderstanding.

—Sebastian, are you all right?

In an ancient era, he would be a man of honor who would not accept false advances. He would stand up, absolutely spotless, and say something like, "Splendid, my dear, never been better," and then walk far away without looking back. But this is the modern era and men don't have as many social skills as they used to.

Stupid modern era.

[gargoyleandgremlinpress]

My final Fanfic Writers' Appreciation Day package has been delivered! Ten Prides in Portland by Leiascully and Simple Machines by coffeesuperhero continue the Leverage OT3 theme I've got going on this year. The fic aren't necessarily a series, but are thematically connected, and also the authors are married to each other. (It happens! My wife and I met writing Due South and Hard Core Logo fanfic lo these many years ago!)

There are some similar things I adore about both these fics. I love the sort of playing with structure in both of them, and watching the characters evolve, and also, seeing the queer community in all of its heartfelt messy occasionally infuriating glory. I also adore the thoughtful Eliot character exploration.

First off, Ten Prides in Portland! What it says on the tin. Ten years post-series at a certain brewpub in Portland, as Elliott finds queer community and figures himself out. This book is the reason I now have rainbow ribbon for bookmarks. As you can see, I went so very literal with this one. Homemade book cloth, acrylic paint, and cardstock endpapers printed with a map of Portland.

I had way too much fun with the layout on this one! It was an easy theme to lean into.

Eliot navigates a relationship with two people he loves, runs a restaurant, and figures himself out. I love the character dynamics, the cast of queer characters, and the way the second fic in the series is structured around brewpub menu items. The titles are from the iconic Mary Oliver poem Wild Geese, which is where the bird theme comes from. I used a really lovely fancy liquid mirror silver paint for the geese on the cover, which is gorgeous in person but hard to photograph.

More geese! Some menu formatting! Also, a food-themed illustration at the beginning of each chapter to match the menu item. (Thank you, stock images on The Noun Project.) This was another fun one to play with.

Not pictured here for either book: the insurmountable printer issue I was having where any page with an illustration turned out extra-dark, and the flip side was correspondingly lighter. BUT. I'm still pretty pleased with how they both turned out, happy to have both of these on my shelf, and even happier to send them off in a set together to the authors' hands.

Happy slightly belated FFWAD, Leiascully and Coffeesuperhero!

[thesirencult]

ICY DIARIES 💍💎

Episode 1 :

THE GIRL THAT NEVER GETS PICKED

Apart from being an evolvement coach by utilising astrology and tarot, I'm also an avid #hypergamy/levelup reader.

I always had strong opinions about how to advance in life and how to make the most of your existence.

I decided to start this series where I will be serving 🍽️ some good ol' soul food and knocking some sense into YOU.

Yup you, the one who always waits for that text back, who doesn't go after her dreams, who has HUGE potential but won't take that mothereffing leap of faith towards your higher self.

I'm tired of getting messages from ladies who beg for a tarot reading or a synastry reading over their scum bag ex who another tarot reader claimed it's their TwIn FlAmE.

ON OUR 1ST EPISODE WE START WITH THIS 💎

[I specifically picked the video above just so you can see the original scum bag's reaction and to be frank ladies ... This is how most men think. NOT ALL MEN. (I love men ❤️)]

"I'm not a pick me girl, I just have never been picked!"

I see you, I feel you my fellow certified lover girls.

I used to be one of you a few years ago. No one asked me on dates, no one flirted with me, no one approaches me on parties. THANKFULLY.

WHY THE HELL DID YOU WANT TO BE APPROACHED BY 17 YEAR OLD JEREMY WHO DOESN'T KNOW HOW TO COOK AN EGG 🍳 ?

Don't let these boys lie to you. They would get it on with a blow dryer if they could. You see them approaching women who are not that "attractive" just to get laid. So, if you don't get approached and you are under 30 take it as a compliment.

Why ?

Because you belong to the TOP OF THE SHELF CATEGORY and boys can't reach that high. That's only for grown MEN.

All jokes aside, your self esteem has definitely taken a hit by not being approached. It can feel very lonely and ostracizing.

What I want you to do is to flip that feeling. What boys like the ones in the video mean when they say "Don't go out with your attractive friends because you won't get approached." is : Don't go out with your friends who are made specifically for the club, who put out and are ready to spend the night with any guy who would approach them (thus looking more approachable).

Maybe you're not a "club type" beauty. Maybe you are a "slow Sunday morning, having coffee at the balcony" pretty or a "spiritual sensual bombshell" type of beauty or an "earth shattering, ocean deep, scorching hot fire, wuthering" beautiful.

My point is, you are winning at the end. Our sensuality is sacred. We are portals to a different part of the universe that allows us to bring life into the world. Don't let anyone shame you, not even your own self.

Sometimes not being approached is a blessing in disguise.

[tableintheteacherslounge]

Abbott Elementary S03E06 thoughts

One of the best of the season so far

BRADLEY COOPER?? This is one for the cold open history books

“He’s just not that into u” “that was rude janine” lmao barb r u trying to set mel up w bradley cooper

Jacob calling him brad lmao

“Everyone was in openheimer” look to camera art

“Shes my sleep paralyisis demon” lmao

I’ve missed Melissa fighting people, feels like she’s lost this key personality trait a bit

And gregory holding her back aw theyve come so far since she wouldnt learn his name 🥺😪

Aw janine teaching jacob the finger heart - but i DO still do peace signs, what does that mean

“I can feel a but” “damn u freaky” theyre really loving avanine this season and im here for it (not in a ship way but respect to the shippers)

Whys melissa on her phone SO much this season, like literally while teaching, constantly in the teachers lounge eyc etc, am i reading too much into it? Does it mean anything? Or is it just like a prop?

Barb being happy bc janines happy aw we really have come so far as a family. They used to just be snarky but now work moms appreciate the importance of things to janine

“Maybe rashid” JACOB 😭

“At this press op- party! Party.”

JANINE MOVING THE MIC AND BEING HIDDEN BY THE PODIUM BC SHES SO SMOL PLS

Jacob having to zip up his hoodie no 😭😭😭

“Bad men..and women! Wait no”

“And the ones that are racist without having to google are priority”

“My clout!” Ava 😭

“I can do that” “janine can do that” avanine are really avanining

“What if she needs to reach a book on the middle shelf” 💀

“Like a handsome moth to cutey patootie flame” Jacob just GETS IT

Barbs purple coat is so cute

HELP NOT A FLAT EARTHER - you know what at least hes not racist, i think its fine, everyone has flaws, do they really have to cancel it?

They shouldve just let mr j do the investigation smh

Melissa high fiving her students as they enter the room awwww

The work moms are really work momming today it’s so cute, I love this dynamic and how it’s evolved

Janine’s out of breath again 🥺 i missed that joke 😪

Janine’s speech 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

Melissa hugging a student aww i love how this tough lady is also so soft

“Which one do u think was the jacob” “none of them” 😭😭😭

I think this ep really proves they’re better when Janine’s there. When she’s at the district it feels disjointed, she belongs in the school

And this one had so much heart. And I feel like this fuels abbott.

Plus teddie (we’re so back)

Plus work wives (who looked sooo married tonight)

Plus avanine

Plus after school crew

The combinations all combining

[moose-a-licious]

Mount Shasta- April 2022

“DJ(JD?) was hung today. He was a good boy.”

The first time I read that line was on the first trip I brought Erin up to spend time alone with my grandparents. On the bottom shelf of the bedside table in the room we slept in, that’s where the book was.

That’s my grandma’s aunt’s journal she kept on their homestead. Both my grandma and grandpa grew up there. I can’t remember if his name was DJ or JD -I should have written it down- he was my grandma’s cousin. Johnson was his last name, that is my grandmother’s maiden name too.

It was the books we bought on this trip together that I think helped me solve who he was.

It was another fire that brought us to where we live today. A literal fire. The 2021 Greenwood fire. The lake we live on now is a seaport, the lodge needed people to help feed the firefighters they were housing. They were still open and operating as well. I served in the restaurant, we saved up enough to take our first vacation alone together.

I wanted to see the ocean. I’ve never seen it before. We were going on a road trip to California. First stop would be Omaha to see family, and Jimmy/his girlfriend. We rented a car and drove the first 13 hours.

This squirrel didn’t want Erin’s trash in the can.

In Iowa we drove next to a tornado. The winds at the rest stop were so strong they tore the flag.

We spent the night at Jimmy’s and his now fiancé’s place our first night. Jimmy constantly brings up how embarrassed he is of their dog, Lemon, and how she treated me when we finally met in person for the first time. Just stared at me and made grumbling chirps. Single barked, and left uninterested. Sour. She warmed up, you just have to be patient.

The four of us shared food, went to the zoo, then parted ways. Erin and I went to my parent’s house. My brother and his wife came too. We all looked together at some pictures my dad put on a flash drive for me to take with.

One of those was of the golden orb weaver that would visit us at our garden year after year, I was thrilled. Vibrating. I didn’t even ask him to do this, and it was one of the few “photos of a photo” that he put on that flash drive.

My dad taught me about leaving bread crumbs.

He loves symbolism. He also has to process and communicate differently than when I was a child, has for almost two decades now. There’s nothing wrong with that.

My dad taught me to catch grasshoppers, and give them to the orb weavers. The grasshoppers were eating our vegetables. It was such a rush pouncing on them, and fascinating to watch the orb weavers spin around and around.

Spiders spin their webs with intent. They are traps for fuel. Some people are scared of spiders, but they are good omens. Blood drinking insects, vegetation eating insects, things that steal from humans… all can fall into an orb weaver’s trap.

What was my dad telling me. Was he wanting me to become the orb weaver? Evolve and spin my dreams and webs to help people? Trap the bugs myself?

It doesn’t feel right.

Did he want me to find an orb weaver? Offer them grasshoppers that would in some weird way, help humanity? Protect the gardens.

My mom’s voice is warning me. The first nightmare I ever had was when I was around four or five. In real life, she caught me in the garden feeding the orb weavers. Panic and scolding.

“What are you doing?! Spiders are venomous, if you get bit you will die.”

She didn’t give me time to explain. Dad taught me how to identify an orb weaver versus a black widow by their bodies, legs, and webs. I knew what not to feed.

We went inside and washed my hands. That night I had my first nightmare, a giant tarantula the size of a t-rex was crushing all the trailers in the park. I was so afraid, when I woke up I felt silly though. Tarantulas can’t get that big, can they?

I have to find the right type of spider. I don’t know how to find my orb weavers, my dad’s mind changed before we could graduate from identifying spiders to people.

Pt. 1/6

[relaxxattack]

hi i need you to know that bishops knife trick is so beloved to me that if i am ever experiencing artblock i just start sketching ran and evolving his design or robot arm design to explore different concepts. Or i draw a scene from the different chapters!!! This knocks me out of artblock every single time its absolutely fantastic. thank you for making such a lovely story and character to love :D

what the actual fuck how come everyone is so nice to me about that story TmT despite its amateurism i am so very glad that its so beloved by so many people, i really did give ran and jackie my best and seeing that they resonated with so many as comfort characters warms my heart. theyre our special little guys and they always have been... they may be on my brain shelf currently but the fact that some people still think about them every day is something that baffles me beyond words.... i love you all genuinely. hope that those weird little assassins bring you endless comfort continuously

[thepaintedlady00]

Ima gonna need a part two

To the nada story my bestie y/n needs to come out on top 😭

SO sorry this took longer than I expected! But, here is the highly requested second part! 😁

(Requests are officially closed until the next Request Week! Thank you all for participating! 🥰)

Upon returning to The Dreaming after your failed confession to the Dream Lord himself, you were mortified to find everyone preparing for the coming wedding. You'd expected there to be SOME mention of the sudden proposal, but this was a lot... and you were not prepared. Still, you moved quickly toward the library, keen on saying your farewells and staying far from the realm you'd loved so deeply, at least for the time being... at least until the pain faded, if it ever did.

You had already said goodbye to Cain and Abel and Goldie as well as Mervyn and Matthew. But Lucienne was more difficult to reach. She hardly ever left the library and when she did she was almost always accompanied by Morpheus himself, someone you'd been avoiding like your life depended on it. In some ways it did. You couldn't face him, not now... not knowing that you'd likely take your feelings to your grave while he lived his long life happy with Nada beside him.

Lucienne, thankfully, didn't appear to be busy as you strolled through checking between the closest shelves just in case Dream was hovering around. "Lucienne, I need to make this quick."

"Thank heavens! I've not seen you in weeks, where have you been?" Your friend demanded as she set down her book.

You offered her a knowing look. "Away. Far away."

"Avoiding Lord Morpheus, I presume?"

"Yes."

Though you could tell Lucienne wanted to tell you to follow your heart, she didn't say anything except a kind, "What do you need my help with?"

It broke your heart, having to look at her kind eyes and her hopeful smile and fail her, but you had to go. "I came to say goodbye."

That hopefulness shattered. "Goodbye? No. Surely it hasn't come to that just yet."

"Loosh..." you sighed. "He's getting married. He's happy. And while I am glad that he's found that it... it doesn't help ease my own pain."

She sighed but nodded. "I understand. Just know that there will be many here that miss you, Lord Morpheus among them."

"He won't even notice I'm gone," you replied sadly.

Unbeknownst to you and the royal librarian Nada stood behind a nearby shelf and listened to your sorrowful goodbye. Though Desire had freed her under the condition of making her a spy for whatever games they had planned she could not sit idly by while you... Kai'ckul's true match left him and took all chances he had at finding a true queen to rule beside him with you. She moved swiftly through the palace, finding Dream in the throne room speaking with a handful of dreams and nightmares about the coming celebrations.

"Kai'ckul," she said softly, worry and fear filling her once again. Certainly this would end in her swift return to Hell... and this freedom would be long lost.

He turned to her with an ever so slight upward twitch of his lips. "Nada, is everything alright?"

"No. There is something I must confess to you."

She told him the truth, all of it and Dream felt like a fool. Of course Desire had a hand in this... of course they'd expected Nada to spy on him and use her to manipulate him once again with their ever evolving games. It was so obvious... so why hadn't he seen it before? The great King of Dreams knew the answer. He'd chosen not to see the trap before him because he was lonely. Not just lonely, but constantly surrounded by the one he'd longed for most of all... you.

Nada looked down at his feet and shook her head. "Do you intend to send me back?"

Dream considered it for a moment, but the more he looked at her, the more he remembered how much he'd cared for her. "No. I will not send you back to Hell."

Her dark eyes looked up at him, glossy with tears. "You will not?"

"I have forgiven you, for the pain you once brought me. A dreamer showed me the error of my ways and I do not intend to disappoint her by resorting to such cruelty now." Dream admitted softly, relieved that he'd not lost the chance to tell you his true feelings.

"She loves you," Nada told him. "And you must hurry to tell her you feel the same."

"What?"

"Your dreamer... she's leaving." Nada held his hands in hers. "The day I arrived was the day she planned to confess her love for you."

Dread filled him. "And instead she walked into me announcing our engagement."

"Go, Kai'ckul. You can still catch her."

"Will you remain here?" He asked. "You are welcome to."

Nada shook her head. "No. I should like a second chance, I think... to live the life I gave up."

"Then it shall be done. Thank you, Nada. For everything."

"Be happy, Dream Lord."

You were already past the Gates of Horn and Ivory, wanting to savor one final moment on the shores of The Dreaming before you left for good. The black sand oozed between your toes as you stood in front of the waves, watching the sun set in the distance. This was where you'd met him for the first time. Where the two of you had often walked while you spoke to one another about anything and everything that came to mind. It was perhaps the place you'd miss the most, and a fitting end to this dream.

"Dreamer!" his voice called out to you, once... twice before you turned to look at him.

"Shit." You pushed your hair behind your ears and wrapped your arms around yourself. "Dream... what are you doing all the way out here? It's a bit far for wedding planning. Unless..." The words caught in your throat for a moment as the pain of the possibility hit you. "You and Nada plan to have a beach wedding."

He stopped in front of you, eyes wide and face set. "You truly intended to leave without saying goodbye?"

Shame brought heat to your face as you looked down, kicking a small hill of sand. "Did Lucienne tell you?"

"No."

"Matthew?"

"No."

"Mervyn?"

Dream practically growled. "No."

Silence filled the space between you for a moment before you quietly asked, "Cain and Abel."

"No." He answered again, far more harshly.

"Then how-"

"Nada. She overheard you saying goodbye to Lucienne."

"Fuck." Your eyes shot up to his. If she'd heard your goodbye then she'd heard everything else too. "Dream..."

He took a step forward, pushing you to step back into the water to keep some space between you. "Lucienne. Matthew. Mervyn. Even Cain and Abel you went to... you gave your farewell to. Why did you not come to me?"

Shaking your head you shrugged and fought against tears. "I just... You were busy."

"Dreamer."

"I couldn't. I can't..." You finally admitted. "I can't be around you, Dream. Not now."

"Why?"

"Because if I have to look up into those stupid, beautiful, eyes I won't be able to keep my mouth shut any more. I'll open the floodgates and I'll ruin everything."

Dreams head tilted down to you slightly. "Tell me."

Your lip quivered. "I can't. You don't deserve to have your happiness ruined because of my selfish want to keep you."

"Tell me, Dreamer." He stepped closer again. "Say it."

Fuck it. You closed your eyes and sighed. "I'm in love with you. I have been for a really really long time now and... I was going to tell you earlier but then you found Nada and that's great! I'm happy for you. I am! It's just... I can't stay and watch you marry her. It's selfish of me, I know that and I'm sorry I didn't say goodbye to you, but you have to let me go now so you can get married and, and, be happy."

"No." He said, softly and yet with a firmness that let you know that this was a command.

You opened your eyes and looked up at him with furrowed brows. "No?"

Dream smiled. "No. You do not get to leave, Dreamer."

"I just went over this. I can't stay and watch you-"

"Nada is gone. She told me the truth of her release... Told me of my siblings involvement in her freedom and her agreeing to marry me." Though he appeared to be hurt by this, the bright hopefulness in his eyes never faded. "She also told me of your conversation with Lucienne... of your true feelings for me."

An embarrassed blush rose to your cheeks. "So this whole time you knew and you still cornered me and forced me to say it?"

"Yes." This motherfucker. "I had to hear you say it... had to be certain it was true before I told you I felt the same."

"What?"

"I love you, Dreamer."

You'd stopped breathing... You were dead and this was all just some really vivid dream or something. "You..."

He chuckled, reaching out and taking old of your shoulders. "I should have told you long ago how I felt, should have offered you a place at my side instead of Nada. I was afraid. Afraid you would not return my feelings and that you would leave... Losing you is not something I think I can bear."

"This isn't real..." You muttered, tears finally spilling down your cheeks.

"Why would think that?"

"Because you're you!" You let out a hoarse sob. "You're perfect."

His hands slid up to cup your face as he closed the remaining space between you and smiled down at you. "I was going to say the same of you, my perfect Dreamer."

"I..."

"No more words," he insisted as he lowered his lips to yours and kissed you. A chill ran up your spine as your hands clumsily latched onto his coat and pulled him closer. The waves echoed in the distance as the sun set behind them, but you and Dream didn't notice the bright array of colors that lit up the sky, all you could see was each other all you could feel were your lips finally meeting in kiss after kiss after kiss.

[hoorayiread]

Best Books I Read in 2023

A lot of these I didn't review because I only just started this blog a couple months ago.

5. All Tomorrows by CM Koseman

Apparently the writer of this book has fallen out of love with it, but I think it's excellent. It only exists as a PDF you can download for free on the Internet, but I still count it as a book. All Tomorrows tells the story of how humanity evolves into different species over the course of centuries with amazing and haunting illustrations.

4. House of Leaves by Mark Z. Danielewski

I've had this book on my shelf for YEARS and tried to read it several times, never getting very far (this is a thing that every person who has read this book has said). This book, with its twisting text and layered story structure, really makes you feel like it's actually cursed. Excellent horror and completely worth it.

... if you dare.

3. Bunny by Mona Awad

Speaking of books that make you feel like you're losing your mind, Bunny! A great horror about women and friendship. There is so much to dissect here and I can't get it out of my head.

2. There's No Such Thing as an Easy Job by Kikuko Tsumura

I have talked about this one at length on this blog, so I'll keep this brief. An excellent and calm book if you're stressed about work!

1. Convenience Store Woman by Sayaka Murata

I fell in love this year. Specifically, I fell in love with this book about having no desire for a romantic or sexual relationship. Never have I felt so seen. Sad, but ultimately uplifting, this is not just my favorite book of 2023, but my new favorite novel of all time.

Honorable Mention: Hell Followed With Us by Andrew Joseph White

I'm still mentally digesting this book, so I'm not sure where exactly to put it on this list. It does belong in the top 5, though.

It is a thrill ride cover-to-cover. White's follow-up book, The Spirit Bears its Teeth, is one I will eventually have to read. A great read for any queer person, especially trans men, who has religious trauma. So... all of us.

[cryptid-kay]

Is this really a writing post?

I maybe don't actually like write ABOUT writing much, but I wanted to get on here today and state that I've been writing for around 12 years. Started as an edgy fanfic writer, and somehow evolved into maybe a decent writer?

And I wanted to write a post about the importance of writing what you connect with.

Recently a friend started asking about our processes of writing. In this, they asked us about writing exercises/prompts/ etc.

I'm not here to tell you NOT to write using them. But I wanna make a few points.

Writing is Exploration I think I'm not wrong in saying writing is for many of us a way to explore language, explore ourselves, and yeah, sometimes it's therapy. Writing little exercises for me was always super boring because I didn't connect. Or I had to really dig into my brain to find some little piece of me that was interesting enough to write about, and then I'd get lost in it and forget the exercise. It was just a struggle.

IMAGE PROMPTS PEOPLE Alright, I just dissed writing prompts/exercises, but I think if you REALLY need some inspiration. Pinterest. Open the app. Lose yourself in it. Find some artwork that speaks to your SOUL. Then go write about it. Set a timer, whatever your process is. If you want an exercise, use images. Art is emotional, it's personal, and it's interpretive. It's a wonderful foundation for an idea or exercise.

Why I just really hate writing exercises (and you can disagree with me) I didn't grow up with books on how to write. I grew up as a 12-year-old kid who watched movies, read books, and fell in love with characters. And when I ran out of stories on my shelf, I made them up in my head. I practiced writing by writing. There wasn't a "write in the 3rd POV" exercise when I started. There was no, "imagine yourself in X situation," there were just characters and stories and stories, and stories. When I finally got around to wanting to be better at writing I tried the exercises. I tried writing every day. I tried writing what I saw. I tried journaling. I tried basically all of it. I got books, I got online classes, and somehow...none of it improved my writing, it just frustrated me that I couldn't sit down and do a writing exercise like I could an essay question. It lacked all soul and I hated the words I produced. I took a whole creative writing class and came out of it almost determined I'd never be a good writer. Then last year I got stuck after working for 12 months tirelessly on a mess of a trilogy. I hit a wall. And I sat down and wrote a fanfic. Heck, I wrote two. And I read books. And I became 12 again, with stories in my head, music blaring, characters talking, no prompts, no exercises. And I improved. Now I wanna be clear, I challenged myself in my fanfic. I chose POVs I wasn't proficient in, I pushed the boundaries of my prose, but I didn't make it an exercise, I made it a story. I needed that POV because the character needed to be viewed that way. I needed better prose to showcase the nuances of my silly little fanfic. But most of all I needed to connect with the story and have fun. So I'm not knocking writing exercises, but I do wanna say, to all the fanfic writers, to the people languishing because you can't follow the prompts in some "how to write" book, you're not a bad writer. Writing is supposed to be fun. Writing is supposed to connect with us. It's all one big sandbox, so go play in it.

[thephantomtheory]

A small note,

So as SnK is now officially ending, I just have a few thoughts I’d like to share — and in many ways, this is a thank-you note. I feel like this is a place where I can do that and no one will pass judgment on me for feeling so attached to a story (and forgive me, as I’m feeling very sentimental). So thank you, if you decide to read what I’ve written below. 

I was just 13 when I watched Attack on Titan for the first time, all the way back in 2013/2014. I remember my friend introducing me to it and I can still remember sitting on my bedroom floor while she showed me the first episode. Back then, it was such a different show. Or at least, we didn’t know that the story which was unfolding before us could only be told for the first time, once. There is no going back. Once you learn the truth of it, you can only return to realize that it was always this way, the signs were all there — you just didn’t know how to read them. What a way to tell a story. What a way to build a character, with that same approach. 

It’s been 10 years and my love for SnK has only grown as I have. I was 13 then, I’m almost 23 now, and so much has changed. Within all that change, I’ve always been able to revisit these beloved characters as every new chapter or season released. Despite the horrors they’ve endured, I found comfort in their perseverance. I grew up with them, and so as a new graduate, in which I’m watching my childhood sunsetting before me, it makes it twice as hard to say goodbye to them now. Sure, the manga ended 2 and 1/2 years ago, but there is such a sense of finality now that the anime is coming to a close as well. 

SnK is a masterpiece. In my opinion, it is one of the most brilliantly crafted stories I’ve ever read, and trust me — I’ve read a lot. As a writer, I look to stories, in any medium, as a foundation from which to build my own. I will look to SnK over and over again as a model for my own characters, my own arcs, and mostly as a way to answer the question: How do I tell the story I need to tell in a way that matters? Because at the end of the day, no matter how many flaws are littered within the pages of SnK, the story that’s being told matters. It matters to me, and I know it matters to so many of you, too. 

In many ways, the characters from SnK are my heroes. Truly, I often find myself wondering if I am acting with empathy and compassion the way Levi does. If I am able to grow and lead the way Jean does. If I’m allowing myself to be me, shamelessly, the way Hange does. I think about my relationship with my brother, and I think about Connie and Sasha — two halves of a whole. I try to love wholly, and fervently like Mikasa. I try not to doubt my abilities, the way I know Armin does so often and shouldn’t. Am I acting before I understand something? Can I hold onto my hope, breathe life into it, the way he embodies it? And every once in a while, I hear Eren in my head — fight. I have so many dreams and I’ll never get them if I cannot fight for them. I won’t live them if I don’t try. 

For what will I dedicate my heart? 

It has been such a pleasure to experience this story from beginning to end, to watch how it’s evolved and how it’s been received. And it’s been so humbling and beautiful to be able to experience it with all of you. It’s been so much fun. 

Here’s to many more years of loving this story, even when the dust on the shelf begins to settle. 

“Maybe the reason I was born was so that the three of us could be racing there. I thought the same thing when I read books at home on a rainy day. When a squirrel ate some nuts I gave it. When we all walked around the market, too. I felt it. That these trivial moments… might actually be precious.” - Armin Arlert

“I was very happy to spend time with readers that I would never have been able to experience if I lived a normal life. Also, now that the series is over and I’m free, I want to walk around an unfashionable town with a cup of sake in my hand. I think that’s what freedom is all about.” - Hajime Isayama 

See you later, Eren. 

[molsno]

I love how shirakaba's art style has evolved throughout the course of otherside picnic. like, you can even tell from just the covers. the way they color their illustrations has gotten more and more distinctive. the style really changes starting with volume 4 but I think comparing volume 1 and 6 really shows it best

volume 1's cover is good. it does a great job at conveying what the series is about: two girls exploring a strange and dangerous world together. I don't think it stands out very much but it has a very pleasant aesthetic to it

volume 6 on the other hand has a really cool cover. it's an interesting action shot, with three girls standing on roller coaster tracks ready to kick your ass with karate and guns. a lot of objects and light effects are distorted, which really sells the strange nature of the otherside. the colors are especially distinctive, with lots of reds and blues, and very little of any other color. if I saw this on a store shelf and didn't know what it was, it would absolutely catch my interest

I think the novel inserts are where you see the biggest change though. the early inserts weren't bad by any means, but for the most part they took on a pretty typical yuri style, with the occasional detailed action scene

but later on the illustrations get so much more distinct. sure, you still have some pretty typical inserts that are just to show a character or situation, but what really strikes me is how much variation there is now. shirakaba experiments a lot with their novel inserts. the way they play with lighting and distortion gives each piece its own flavor. they use a lot of cross hatched shading now too which gives every illustration more of a horror manga vibe. each one perfectly evokes the emotion you're supposed to be feeling when they appear

I completely understand miyazawa's way of thinking now. I see stuff like this and I'm like "yep. it's totally yuri". thank you shirakaba for breathing so much life into this series

[mywifeleftme]

190: White Noise // An Electric Storm

An Electric Storm White Noise 1969, Island

I’ve read a decent amount on how White Noise’s An Electric Storm was made over the course of a year of painstakingly splicing tape by hand in a London flat, but not why they decided to make their pioneering electronic music opus so ooky-spooky. I guess when you coop up folks whose day job is making Dalek noises, you’re going to get something a bit deranged. The opening side’s psych pop is jaunty enough, though there’s often something vacant-eyed in its whimsy, like a carnival in a Stephen King story: your ear is drawn to the incongruous details that hint at some darker working behind the cutesiness. It prepares you well for the flip, where across its 11-minute runtime “The Visitation” opens multiple echo chambers full of sobs, previews the next decade of horror film title themes, and digs pits of gurgling electronic unease that spored whole genres of dark ambient music still evolving to this day. The album ends on a literal (well, fake literal) Satanic ritual in the form of “Black Mass: An Electric Storm in Hell,” which turns jazz drummer Paul Lytton into the Jacob’s Ladder poster. Leader David Vorhaus likes to wryly shake his head recalling how the A&R people at Island Records didn’t “get it” when he turned in the LP, but even as someone who does “get it” I uh get why they didn’t!

An Electric Storm is chiefly discussed for the means of its production, and that’s fair: despite digital advances in recording technology that make the most advanced techniques found here (phasing, flanging, looping) virtually effortless, it is uncanny hearing them deployed so extensively on music of this vintage. It’s the equivalent of watching a film from the ‘60s and seeing effects that look like The Terminator. The music rarely goes more than a few bars before melting into some other shape (a melodic phrase begun on one instrument is spliced so it resolves on another; the music drops out entirely, replaced by a collage of ratcheting noises, electronic bloops and choking cries somewhere between anguish and laughter). By turning over a third of “My Game of Loving” to cringey orgasm sounds, they even initiate the nascent electronic pop genre into the elite fraternity of styles that are a little too eager to prove they fuck.

The lyrics won’t win any prizes, but I do take issue with how dismissive some writers have been of these songs as songs. An Electric Storm is steeped in the psychedelic tropes of the day, but it doesn’t sound like the work of avid fans of like the Electric Prunes or whatever. One senses that Vorhaus and BBC Radiophonic Workshop regulars Delia Derbyshire and Hodgson have a general but disinterested notion of what the kids are into, and they feed it back to us through the filter of their own predilections. Derbyshire’s two co-writes in particular are anything but generic. The rippling transformations of “Love Without Sound” are as wondrous and eerie as a Winsor McCay Little Nemo strip, but it’s the opiated vocal by the otherwise unknown John Whitman and the strolling melody that ebbs in and out of the collage that give it a dreamy logic. “Firebird” has a Beach Boys-y bounce and gorgeously arranged harmonies to go with an array of synth tones so solid and colourful I want to play with them like toy blocks.

Though it didn’t set the charts ablaze, An Electric Storm developed a reputation as a tripper classic, and I was pretty psyched to find a copy in not too battered condition for a reasonable price at a shop this summer. I’m glad to have it on the shelf, and with the exception of the 45 seconds that makes my neighbours think I’m listening to weird and bad porn, I always enjoy the adventure when I get it on the table.

190/365

[keldau]

Throwback to the beginnings of my costuming journey. Though this armor has since been retired, mainly due to my unfortunate physical growth, I think back on these times fondly. I like to think the time and care I put into my first build shows, but I may be a touch biased.

The completion of this armor lead to a great many things in my life. Some of the most fun I've ever had, some of the best friends I've ever made, and some of the coolest opportunities I never thought I'd have.

In 2016 I was invited to attend a convention in Salt Lake where I met the man himself, big boss Boba Fett, Jeremy Bulloch. While it was a brief (but incredibly cool) opportunity, he wasn't the only hero I got to meet that weekend. While attending a panel for Mark Hamill, I also got a high five from Jason David Frank (RIP). Another man I've loved and respected for as long as I can possibly remember.

While manning the Star Wars Costuming Clubs booth that same year, along with a new friend, we were blown away by a random surprise visit by Michael Rooker. Though I regret missing this opportunity to get a picture, the conversation we had without a massive group of people interrupting him, is all the memory of the event I need. What a genuinely cool guy.

Over the years my armor evolved and grew with me, but continued to open doors I never thought possible. Growing up in the middle of nowhere, no real money to my name, and no opportunities to truly geek out with the people left in my hometown, I never thought that Comic Cons and costume groups would be part of my life. I had followed what the 501st Legion was doing since I was a kid, and was truly blown away when I saw them on tv marching in the Rose Bowl Parade in 2007. Still, I never thought anything like that would exist in Montana. At that point, the Mandalorian Mercs were just starting, so I hadn't even heard of them yet.

By the time I started college, I was made aware of the existence of the MMCC. Sitting in my dorm dreaming that I'd have the money, time, space, skills, etc, to start a build of my own some day. Then one day in 2015, I saw this helmet for sale from Headshot Props, and I knew it was time. I had to make this purchase. I checked my accounts, moved some stuff around, skipped getting groceries for a few weeks, and 2 months later, there it was in all of its glory. Sitting at my doorstep when I got off work, I don't think I had ever been that excited. I took it inside, ripped open the box, knocked off just enough of the sharp edges to put it on without cutting myself, and low and behold... it didn't fit.

Motivation: demolished. Faith: gone.

I was, frustrated, to say the least. I'm the type of person to take setbacks like this extremely personally because of how often it seems like it happens to me. I set it on the shelf and looked at it for a few days. I knew there was nothing I could do about a return because the dimensions were posted, and I measured my head. It should have fit. I didn't take into account the cheeks of the helmet being a tighter spot, and my bigass fivehead just wasn't gonna do it without breaking the helmet. I had to do something though. I sanded the hell out of the inside of the cheeks to the point that you could see light through them, and I could get the helmet on, though it wasn't a pleasant experience. I then took my heat gun, thinking there's no way this will work, heated the resin just enough to push the cheeks out that little bit extra, and I'll be damned. It was just enough. The helmet was still tight, but it fit, and it was back to game on.

The course of the next few months brought on a ton of changes. I was lucky enough to be working at a sign shop at the time I began this journey, and that shop had a seemingly endless supply of foamed PVC board and a flatbed CNC machine. I was able to trace out my armor design and just have it cut right there! Barely even had to trim and sand anything! It was amazing! I started learning skills I never even knew I wanted. Using a heat gun to form shapes, learning to paint, kit bashing parts to make in-universe looking props, it just never seemed to end! Halfway through my build, I moved, but I didn't let that move ruin my motivation. In that tote was a pile of loose parts and a helmet. Within a month of moving into my new place, it was wearable. Rough, but wearable. Around Halloween that year, I had met up with some local guys that were also building armor, and we handed out candy at the Zoo! It was amazing, and I had so much fun. Met some of my future best friends that day.

Over the years of doing local events, I've been humbled on a few occasions. Mostly from people who joined the group later on that have told me their journey started when they saw me at one event or the other. That's such an incredible feeling and honestly makes all the time, effort, money, stress, blood, and love I've put into this build worth it.

If you've stuck with this post this far, I applaud you. You can probably tell I'm not much of a writer and I'm all over the place with no real conclusion to any of it. I'm really just reminiscing. This weekend I will be parting out this original kit, or at least most of it, in order to help new costumers, new friends, get a foothold in their build, and hopefully motivate them to continue.

If you've ever wanted to build a costume, regardless of what fandom it's for, don't let anyone tell you not to do it. Buy it, build it; piece by piece or all it once, it doesn't matter. Just do it. Solid chance you'll never regret it.

[caassette]

here's my ranking of every corvette model purely on aesthetics, from C1 to C8

C1

Obviously, it's old. It looks old. There's essentially zero hard lines, as every piece of it is curved and connects smoothly without any angles. You can see the front-engine design that pushes the cabin towards the rear, which would be the defining visual feature imo for the corvette line as time goes on. Kind of timeless tho.

C2

This thing looks space age as fuck. I don't think I would fit in that cabin at 6'2", but they've leaned even harder on pushing the seats back about as far as they could go and giving what looks like fully half of the body, the front half, over to the engine. They've also kept a lot of the swoopiness and smoothness in the design, but you can start to see some hard lines on the side panel towards the front wheel, and an actual honest-to-god angle on the A pillar. I feel like this aged worse than the C1, but that's mostly my personal preference.

C3

Now we're fuckin talking !!! To me, this is some top shelf corvette design. The cabin is pushed back and the swoops are still present over top of the wheel wells, but they've gone for a more aggressive and angular front bumper design and some choice chrome.

C4

Flopp....to me, this is like the catfish camaro; it's kind of neat, but it looks nothing like the rest of the generations. This is like, there's no swoops. Or there is, but it's in the wrong places. They've taken out that gorgeous grille up front and hidden the vents on the side. I don't like it very much.

C5

LETS GOOOOOOO i love this one. Maybe I'm biased cuz this is the model I grew up seeing, but they brought back the smooth flowing curves and reimagined that side panel line from the C2. I wish it was just a touch more angular on the front bumper, maybe even borrowing elements from the C4 design (but ideally C3), but to me this is a huge return to form after the C4 flop. I know it looks kind of weird honestly and it's probably not for everyone, but I like it.

C6

This is textbook, truly stunning, a masterclass in modern corvette design. They dialed it back a bit from the frankly offensive curvature (even though...I love it...I know it's too much for most people) of the C5, and re-incorporated a bigass intake to the front. They've kept the C2, C3, and C4 elements I love and combined them with an evolved C5 chassis to create what is, in my opinion, the greatest 'vette look since the iconic C3.

C7

Ok so bad take maybe but to me the C7 is where we're starting to slip. It looks good, don't get me wrong -- it's angular, it's sharp, it looks mean and fast and all the things you want from an expensive car. But it's starting to look less like a Corvette, to me. There's still the front engine position, but look how much the cabin has crawled forward since the C2. Since even the C5. And where's the swoopies? The curves? This looks kind of like if a Camaro and a Ferrari had a baby -- which is kind of distinctly far from what a Corvette should look like. To me.

C8

And there is it...the C8.

Let me tell you a story. My grandfather, may he rest in peace, owned a C3. It was in brown, which is kind of the worst color, but a beautiful machine nonetheless. And my father, his son, drove it with startling regularity. Can you blame him? If I'd had access to a Corvette in my teen years I would have driven it just to drive it! He loved it so much that he totaled it, and I never got to see it in my own lifetime.

I say all this to say: my dad knows what a Corvette looks like. He spent a huge chunk of time in his formative years driving one. Through my childhood he would often tell me stories, mostly the one of him totaling it, of him driving it. And the first time he saw this car, he asked me what it was.

BECAUSE IT DOES NOT LOOK LIKE A CORVETTE.

The swoops; the long nose; the engine in front of the driver -- even the side vents have been repurposed as additional air intake and shoved way back! If you squint, it kind of resembles the C7. But that's cuz they're lying: that classic bubble cockpit doesn't cover just the seats, but also the engine. This isn't an FR car. This thing looks practically indistinguishable from anything coming out of Maranello.

They've said the C9 is going to be built on the same base as the C8, which is pretty disheartening. I hope once the line switches over to being electric, they're able to make it look more like it's supposed to.