#also i made a marra

[oozeofthecovenant]

the many faces of ootc honeycutt

[coldest-bowl-of-soup]

In response to the Neil Gaiman news I would like to share some other authors and books that I think people who like Neil Gaiman’s books would like. Since while Neil might not be the person we all thought he was, his stories are undeniably good. Though there are also so many other authors that write amazing stories. So hopefully this might help someone find another author whose writing you will love just as much. Please share other books and authors you like.

If you liked: Coraline -

The Babysitter Lives by Jones Stephen Graham

High school senior, Charlotte babysit twins the night before Halloween only to find out that she isn’t the only one haunted by the past. This book features a POC lesbian protagonist and an alternate universe.

If you liked: Anansi Boys

The Aunt Who Wouldn’t Die - Shirshendu Mukhopadhyay

A story of three generations of women. Pishima died at 70 years old is intent on haunting her family for forcing her in perpetual widowhood since her husband died when she was 12. Somlata marries into the once proud family and attempts to save the family while being haunted by her husband’s aunt. Then there is Boshon a rebellious teenager yearning for love. It’s a story of family, magical realism, womanhood.

If you liked: Stardust

Nettle & Bone - T. Kingfisher

Marra, a third born Princess goes on a journey to save her sister from an abusive husband. Unfortunately, her target is a crown prince of a powerful country so she must search for help before starting her journey. Filled with impossible tasks, a gravewitch, fairy godmothers, and magic this book is a fun yet dark spin on traditional fairy tales.

Thornhedge - T. Kingfisher

Dark retelling of sleeping beauty told in the point of view of Toadling a human raised by fairies tasked to protect the young princess. A novella that puts a new point of view of a classic tale.

If you liked: Good Omens

The Golem and the Jinni - Helene Wecker

A story about a golem created to be a wife of a man who died coming to America and a Jinni released in New York City. Set in 1899, this story is about friendship, love, and finding a place in a new world. Featuring slow burn love and a bit of excitement.

The Golem of Brooklyn - Adam Mansbach

A Brooklyn art teacher accidentally creates a golem, a creature made of clay to protect the Jewish people during times of violence. After learning to talk after binge watching tv the golem becomes determined to take down a group of white nationalists.

I also liked the following authors:

Darcy Coates - she writes amazing ghost stories

Darcie Little Badger - read Elatsoe, it is so good

[girlfriendsofthegalaxy]

tuesday again 4/23/22

three months unemployed YAY. also wherein i get SUPER pressed about star wars lore

listening

funeral by tele novella. popped open tiktok to see something my best friend sent me and this was there, the first thing on the for you page. let's yoink a description of their previous album from an interview i'm going to quote at length in a bit: "The result was “exactly what we wanted it to be,” a perfumed mist of jingling, jangling, lilting, off-center pop—a strange little snowglobe gathering dust at the back of the shelf."

the lyrics did hit me like a train bc i often find myself mourning places and situations that were not necessarily good for me but were familiar.

Oh, you're not tied up Here comes the train The tracks feel safe because you know 'em

if you had told me this was made in about 2007-2009ish i would have believed you. very spare production in the way folksier songs of the time were spare. a bit raspy and direct in her delivery. there's a bandcamp interview wherein i found out this is the side project of a vintage/antiques dealer and she has a fascinating perspective on her own music:

Her passion for the craft is evident—in our conversation as much as in listening to the band—but music, for her, is a means to an end, a way to transmit stories. “As a musician, I’m mediocre at best,” Ribbons says matter-of-factly. “I think that my talent lies in my storytelling ability. I think that I’m a good storyteller.” It’s something instilled in her by her grandparents, “voracious readers” who were always buying her books and secretly wanted Ribbons to be a writer, she suspects.

i really adored this whole album as a cohesive work. "vampire cowgirl" is another standout for obvious reasons.

You came barrelin' down Rabid with some talk Of a gal who rides at night Picking off the stock

remarkably good at reproducing the general vibe of the midcentury cowboy western album, when tv cowboys were sweeping the nation

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reading

T. Kingfisher's Nettle & Bone. enjoyed it, but not quite as much as her other stuff. whereas her other series are almost always comical and often stray into farce, this one was a bit grim. even with the addition of a demonic chicken. had to stop and really think about if my own experience with funerals and funerary rites (too many, too often) was coloring this for me but i think it is simply not as funny or interested in being funny as her other works. not a ding against it, but not what i was really expecting or in the mood for. image from tor, let's yoink the description from macmillan

This isn't the kind of fairy tale where the princess marries a prince. It's the one where she kills him. Marra — a shy, convent-raised, third-born daughter — is relieved not to be married off for the sake of her parents’ throne. Her older sister wasn’t so fortunate though, and her royal husband is as abusive as he is powerful. From the safety of the convent, Marra wonders who will come to her sister’s rescue and put a stop to this. But after years of watching their families and kingdoms pretend all is well, Marra realizes if any hero is coming, it will have to be Marra herself. If Marra can complete three impossible tasks, a witch will grant her the tools she needs. But, as is the way in stories of princes and the impossible, these tasks are only the beginning of Marra’s strange and enchanting journey to save her sister and topple a throne.

paywalled article, sorry, but i personally have a bone to pick with fanduel due to [REDACTED INCIDENTS] from [PREVIOUS JOB] so it does not surprise me in the slightest that they don't really seem to be doing a single fucking thing about money-laundering. allegedly.

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watching

the bad batch, or the 13/16 episodes of the third and final season that are out. all these images are from comicbookreview bc i watched this on my actual television

one of the plots i hate most is the trying to get someone back plot. for example, i think finding nemo does this really well bc it's also a coming of age/parenting movie. i do not think the second finding nemo movie does this well bc as soon as one person is reunited with the group, through a wacky series of coincidences they lose another member. plus that movie is part of the downturn of modern pixar where they forgot how to tell interesting stories but that's neither here nor there. the bad batch falls into the finding nemo 2 category. it's simply frustrating to watch. it turns into a desperate floundering after whoever happens to be missing instead of using a The Searchers style plot to say something about the act of the search itself. i realize i am once again saying "what if star wars was good" but like. come on.

the bad batch s3 is surprisingly focused on retroactively filling in the backstory of how and why palpatine got cloned with his force powers intact, which is apparently a difficult technical problem. i would have cared about this if this show came out before the last movie and we had a cool breadcrumb style approach leading up to the movie. unfortunately that movie (and the sequel trilogy more broadly) killed a lot of my interest in modern star wars. anyway, this cloning problem leads to a lot of very technical conversations in a children's' show that are interesting to me, a grownup, bc no star wars media has ever successfully explained 1) what midichlorians actually are and 2) the biological processes by which they operate but refuse to be cloned? which is extremely funny to me bc midicholrians aren't supposed to be real. qui-gon has that whole little speech and blood test in the phantom menace but the series had So scrupulously stayed away from explaining how the force works before that. they still fail to explain it but they at least attempt to break two inches of new ground. side note this show gives us TWO canon trans girl clones and i really wish they were in a better show.

it's annoying that i'm annoyed about a children's show meant to sell toys. some fun things: the pyke syndicate shows up, a slew of my favorite bounty hunters show up, this show is much better at painterly backgrounds and has an overall more concept-art feel than the clone wars proper or rebels. i think it would be cool if they stopped whitewashing the clones. i'm going to finish out the season but i don't exactly have a lot going on in my life right now. i am not terribly sad that this is the final season but BOY do they have a lot of loose ends to wrap up in three episodes.

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playing

new genshin update on uhhh thursday and it's kind of exciting bc i THINK it will finally fill in this hole on the map and the associated shorelines of three different countries!

i thought i had long since found all the chests in liyue (the second area released) but in the process of doing a recently released character quest set in liyue i found another chest. this game is very good at hidden objectives and little secrets but i wish it was better at letting you know when you have Actually cleared an area completely of all the little hidden stuff. anyway i have been holding back the last character hangout (ningguang, my best beloved ruthless girlboss business high femme) for a terrible day and that day came! unfortunately hanging out with the fake pretend video game lesbian did make me feel better!

also unfortunately i fucked up and cannot count so the gacha pity system (every 90 pulls you're guaranteed a 5-star character) gave me Neuvillette. who i don't hate but i wasn't really planning on pulling for. i do like his questline and his voice actor, he simply doesn't fit in super well with a mono-electro team bc i play this game like an insane woman.

the real bitch of the thing keeping me from upgrading him is going out in the overworld and collecting enough sea stars. why can't he need flowers or little gears or anything else i have a thousand of.

anyway this gal will be dropping sometime in the next six weeks and i AM extremely excited to pull for her. she has some cool abilities (GUN) and is part of a popular pair with the steampunk lolita character i love and leads my other main team. i hope their abilities play well off each other but she has such a cool storyline and design i don't super care if she fits in with my playstyle. i will adapt for her in a way i am not willing to do with neuvilette

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making

i am once again obsessed with gallery walls, bc a friend has asked me to find the correct gigantic size frames to put some comics on his wall, and that has given me an excuse to go to thrift stores again.

unfortunately i have mostly found frames for me, and the projects i have been working on have kind of a long tail of when they will actually be on my walls. i picked up four 16x20 frames for $2.50 each (solid wood! remarkably detailed!) bc i eventually want to put up these fallout maps in the style of national parks maps up on the map wall in my office. i suppose this means i should join @ruffledringdove and actually play '76, bc that's the one modern game i haven't played. these are getting scuff sanded with 120 and painted with a eggshell paint sample in a bright white u all know the drill at this point. ive painted a lot of frames in the past few weeks.

left is one of the painted 16x20 map frames, right i have also finally sanded and painted both 12x16 deckle-edged wood frames i picked up off the side of the road in MA. and found glass + backs for them! eventually i will procure fancy mats and print + frame my grandmothers' portraits. they will eventually go on the living room wall, which is a neutrals and blue-greens wall of slightly disdainful women. this will help me swap the three maps in there to the office map wall.

i have also acquired this gigantic plaster-over-wood mirror for $15. i am using leftover rub n buff bc i don't have a great spot to spraypaint here without sheeting my entire front porch, and rub n buff is way less susceptible to 80% humidity than spray paint. also i would have to buy spray paint. i am looking up suspiciously bc i thought there was a bug. not sure what mackie was looking at.

[literary-illuminati]

Book Review 54 - Nettle & Bone by T. Kingfisher

I’ve been meaning to read some of Kingfisher’s work for a long while now, but I can’t say I knew a thing about this book when I started it. Or, well, I know it had been nominated for a Hugo, which is the entire reason I grabbed it, but otherwise! Extremely charming book overall, even if let down a bit by some tonal inconsistency at the beginning. But then, I’m kind of a sucker fr the whole faerie tale fantasy aesthetic when it’s done well, and this delivered it in spades.

The story follows Marra, third-born princess of a small coastal kingdom, in her quest to kill the evil prince who married and murdered one of her sisters and is waiting to do the same for her other only until she gives her a son. This involves recruiting the aid of a clever and powerful Dust Wife, a necromancer living among the dead of a necropolis, and walking with her across the land to the prince’s city, recruiting the requisite band of quirky friends and allies along the way. There is a fairy godmother’s blessing/curse, and a dramatic christening, and a visit to a goblin market, and ann adorable skeleton dog named Bonedog. Intercut with the present timeline is Marra’s backstory, dolled out in small chunks through the first half or so of the book.

Tone-wise I’d probably call this, I don’t know, whimsical? Fairy Tale fantasy is probably the best way to put it – Marra’s home is literally named the Coastal Kingdom, and the prince’s is the Northern Kingdom. Humour abounds, though in general it’s more endearing than, like, actually funny. Fairy godmothers and their blessings play a loadbearing role in the plot. Despite the subject matter, it’s all a fun and fairly light read – magic is (despite all the corpses) more wondrous than terrible, the heroine’s fortunes basically follow a straight upward curve from page one onwards, aside from the prince himself there’s not too much of the way of actual evil around, the action scenes are more fun adventure setpieces that traumatic bloodbaths, and in the end cleverness and making friends carries the day and gets the princess her happy ending (which, to be fair, does include ceasing to be a princess).

All that said, my absolute favourite two scenes in the book both suffer from the fact that, as wonderfully evocative as they are, they both seem like they were lifted out of a different and rather stranger book and into this one. One, a detour to a Goblin Market, only slightly, and I adore well done and properly fae and alien goblin market settings so much that reading it made me want to go find a Changeling campaign I could join. The other though, is the opening scene of the whole book – starting in media res as Marra quite literally tears her hands apart picking through a pit of bones to find what she needs to assemble a complete skeleton of a dog with enchanted wire, open wounds growing more infected by the minute as she tries to complete an impossible task before the cannibal spirits who haunt the blistered land she hides within find and feast upon her.

Then she leaves, and never suffers another actually dangerous injury again, and the witch who gave her these impossible tasks tasks is in open mouthed shock she actually did it and just agrees to help her and it’s time for a roadtrip. The whole narrative takes a sharp turn towards whimsy, is what I mean. Not a bad thing, but took some real adjustment.

Otherwise – look, I know that most people enjoy romance subplots in their books. Consider it a value ad. I do not understand that at all. The romance in this book was just a total nothing, felt like it existed entirely out of obligation. Like, inoffensive? But it was tangential and minor enough not to really matter, but still took up enough wordcount hitting all the mandatory beats that I started to resent it.

Also, the protagonist is theoretically thirty, but also carefully written to be sheltered and unworldly/inexperienced enough that if you made her the standard issue 20 y/o fantasy protagonist basically nothing about her would change. Which just, like, why?

Anyway, fun read! Nothing to set the world on fire, but I did enjoy it, and will make a point of digging up some of Kingfisher’s other stuff in the future probably.

[allkordelia]

Keep Me in Your Thoughts (20)

The first snowflake marked the beginning of winter, the windows of the castle were shut and many of the subjects and servants started to wear heavy clothing. Rhaelle hated the winters in the serpent islands, she was not use to this climate and the snow was unbearable especially when she wanted to go for a walk. She use to fear for her poor dragon, rhaemyx, since Magonsæte didn't have a Dragonpit but caves in the mountains. But, now she found the winter to be the best season, she didn't have to worry for the dragons anymore now that they finish the Dragonpit many moons ago. She got use to the cold and walking in thick layers of clothing when she goes on walks, and the cold made it easy for her to sleep at night.

She always took pleasure in outside games with her childern, which it why she along with marra and valaena were in the north wing garden hiding from daemon, baelor, and aeron. Not too long ago, baelor made up a game where you threw snow at each other, it was entertaining game for the family.

Marra squeal when the snowball hit her in the back, some of the snow splatter and touch her expose neck. The young girl turn sharply around to see aeron with a smile and holding two snowballs in his hand, before he could throw another he was hit in the back of the head causing him to drop the snow and let marra run away.

"Aw, he said no snowballs to the head." Aeron groan rubbing the back of his head before turning to his sister with a smirk.

"No, I remember he said the face." He rolled his eyes before he could let out a snarky comment, he was hit in the face with another snowball, he wipe his face looking at his sister laughing. 

Rhaelle look away from her book when she heard a shriek echo throughout the garden, she shook her head gently before going back to her book, she sat on a bench under a willow tree with her favorite book in her hand, she would usually be playing along but decided to sit this one out, she truly didn't feel like getting snow thrown at her. She rather hear the scream of her elder children and daemon go through it than her running and fallen being attack by those little heathens, she also promise baelor morrow to play if he allow her to just enjoy the winter.

The sound of scrunch snow under someone's feet made her ears perk and her head lift up, she sigh closing her book with her finger on the page where she was reading.

"Whoever it is behind me no matter your age, i will spank you with a wooden spoon on your behind if I feel any ice hit me." She warned before turning around in her sit, she gulp when she saw daemon and stood up.

"I...I can not say that I wouldn't be mad if you did, my queen." He smirk as he hands were folded behind his back, rhaelle look down with smile and heated face.

"Apologies, I thought you were one of my children." She took a sit as daemon walk closer to her after waving her away, she slide a bit giving him space to sit down.

"Are you having fun?" She asked after a moment, she look to him as he held a placid smile as he look out at the childern running around and throwing snow.

"I am." He look at her to find her staring at him with soft smile.

"I'm happy you are it is nice to have family around especially ones that are familiar to the children." Daemon could sense the sorrow in her voice at mention of family.

"You should host a family dinner then, it should be a treat to see my cousins," Daemon chuckle as he lean back with his arms cross over his stomach, rhaelle frowned a bit as she glance to the snow beneath her feet.

"As much as I would, I can not..." Daemon look away from the children and back at rhaelle.

"Why not? It is not like they are restricted from the serpent islands,"

"No, but Corlys has made it clear that he and House Velaryon would not dare to come here feeling it to be treasonous to the king." She sigh as she squeeze the bridge between her eyes, "Well, that is what it said in his letters anyway." Rhaelle has been trying to get her mother and siblings to visit for months, but corlys has taken it upon himself to speak for his wife and deny the numerous invitations.

"I doubt the great sea snake can keep your mother from seeing you, she is a wild dragon after all." Rhaelle hummed.

"Yes. But she is also a tamed dragon as well, and there are some things she cannot do to go against her husband." Daemon scrunch his brows together in thought.

"Then, you should visit them, instead. It is not like you are banish anymore." Rhaelle made a noise of disagreement making daemon raise his brow at her, "Did Viserys not bring you out of exile?" He asked.

"Only for Aegon's nameday and that was to discuss his imports of goods."

"But, I heard you two reconcile."

"That was only for Baelor's sake. We as parents are at an understanding when it comes to our...my child. That is it." Daemon look away from rhaelle as he stare ahead.

Our child she meant to say but it had a  hint of annoyance or was it shame, he thought, the words were vexing to hear when he first brought up baelor belonging to viserys. He meant it as a taunt to get a rise out of rhaelle, but to found it was true did not anger him like he thought it would but rather made him feel ashame and disgusted.

"I doubt he ever let me out of exile, the embarrassment I cause him in court basically sentence me to life." Rhaelle sigh tiredly, sometimes she wish she never said anything in court maybe if she just bend the knee and told the court of baelor's true father without evrrything else, she could be visiting her family and the childern wouldn't have to feel bad about living me alone.

"Maybe if I just didn't say anything, maybe things wouldn't be such a mess right now." She whispered, daemon look at rhaelle, he didn't like how defeated she sounded.

"You were made to keep this secret for years and suffer in silence, all you wanted to do is speak your truth, rhaelle." Daemon's warm hand grasp her cheek and caressing it gently, "If my brother was half the man I thought he was he wouldn't have felt embarrassed but ashame and he would have never sentenced you to exile." Rhaelle gape speechless at daemon's words.

"So, do not feel like you have lost just yet, I know you still have some cards up your sleeves, my queen." He smile.

Rhaelle move her head nodding, she was too confound to speak. If anyone was to give her words of encouragement, daemon would be the last person to think of mostly because family especially his brother meant so much to him. Her heart flutter at the thought of him believing what she did was right, only a few people did anyway but it nice daemon is one of them.

"I will keep my head up," he smirk, rhaelle could see how his eyes flickered around her face before he lean forward pressing a kiss to her hairline.

He pulled back and rhaelle look at him in awe, daemon was reculanted to pull his hand away from her cheek but he did anyways as he stare at her with the same look. The same look that made rhaelle's face heat up and stomach get tied in knots, the look that tells anyone whose watching that he look like a fool in love.

Rhaelle flinch when a snowball hit daemon's chest breaking the sweet moment, daemon snap his head straight ahead to see Aeron and Corwyn grinning at him. Daemon glare over at rhaelle as she laugh behind her hand, daemon narrow glare soon turn to a soft one at rhaelle he haven't heard her laugh like that  for some time. Her laughter was cut short when a snowball hit her in the chest causing some of the snow to get inside her gown, rhaelle groan angrily as she wipe the snow from her chest.

"Corwyn, you better hope–" Her words were replace with a squeal making her get up, aeron threw one at her chest but this time some of the ice got inside her cleavage.

She shrill as she repeated the word cold over and over again, when the snow melted and damp the inside of her undergarment. She look to her boys to see them laughing when her boys were distracted she scoop up a two ball of snow and threw there way hitting one in aeron's back and corwyn's head, she holler in victory before feeling the tug of her collar being pull back and feeling a bunch of ice go down her making her bite her tongue and turn to glare at daemon who wore nothing but a mischievous smirk.

"I'm going to kill you." She grits out.

"You have to catch me, first." Rhaelle launch at daemon as he hurried away, she flew past her sons as she chase after daemon.

It was hard for rhaelle to catch up with the man with her flats slowing her down, daemon was down the path just a few steps away from her before he spoke, "Come on, my lady. I know you can run faster than that or are you just getting old." He taunts with a smile, she scoff at him with a simple eyeroll.

She is not old she is barely twenty-nine, "That's rich coming from you, my prince. Aren't you pushing fifthy." She taunts back only to make daemon laugh holding his stomach as he taunts her some more.

"How about this..." As Daemon was talking rhaelle toe off her flapts and had to refine from grimacing at the snow under her feet, she stare at daemon before he could finish his sentence.

She rushed forward as she hold up her dress to run better, daemon was caught off guard and rhaelle underestimated how slippery the snow is on the grass and before either of them knew it. Rhaelle slammed against daemon knocking him and her own the cold ground, the young queen groan in pain not only from the impact but from her feet. Rhaelle didn't realize she was staddling daemon until, she heard a painful groan below her and finally sit up with her hands faming daemon's head. She look down at daemon with concern at how red his face was and his eyes squeezed shut as if in pain as well.

"Oh, daemon. I'm so sorry. Are you hurt? Is anything broken..." she babble out as she sat on her knees, daemon groan turning on his side making her slide by him, "Oh, gods. Daemon say something do i need to get the maester?" She asked watching him, daemon mumbled something.

"What?" She asked as she leaned down close to him.

"I said your going to pay for that." Rhaelle frown before pulling back as she look bemused, before could run away she landed on her back.

She struggle with daemon as he got on top of her, she tried to crawl herself from under him as she realize what her punishment was going to be.

"Nooooo, daemon..." she squeal as his hand made his way to her sides as he attack her with his wiggling fingers, "No, Daemon–ahhh–you know how I hate being t-t-tickled." She try to grasp his hand but they kept slipping out from the wetness, she shout as his hands crawled up near her underarms making her kick her legs.

"Please...stop, I'm sorry...oh I'm sorry please." She couldn't stop laughing and neither could Daemon, she heard someone coming her making her turn her as far she could.

"Ba...Baelor. M...Ma..rra. Help me. Save me from this madman," Rhaelle giggle as she tried to hide her neck from daemon as he taken to try to tickle her there.

The sound of yelling made rhaelle's ears perk as the tickle attack was sudden stop, rhaelle hiccup as she took in deep breath before sitting up on her elbows to see daemon being pin down by baelor and marra.

"Apologize to the queen this instant, and maybe just maybe we will spare your life." Marra said as she held daemon's right arm down while baelor held his other arm.

"Never!" Daemon shouted.

Rhaelle laugh as the children move to give out the same punishment that daemon previously gave to her, soon enough the triplets came around to find them.

"Uh, who shoes are these?" Valaena asked picking up rhaelle discarded flats, the young queen held up her hand with sheepish smile.

"Yeah, that's mine. Would you be a dear and–" Her words were cut short when she felt the skirt of her dress get lifted up by daemon making her slap his hand and then his head, "What do you think you doing, you fool." Daemon ignore her as he move away from the children to her.

"Your calling me a fool when your barefoot in the cold," Daemon help her up as she roll her eyes, she didn't think it was a big deal it wasn't like her feet was going to fall off.

Rhaelle nearly fall to her knees at the numbness of her feet, lucky for her daemon was there to catch her and sweep her off her feet.

"Valaena, go get a maester and tell them something is wrong with the queen's legs." Rhaelle slap daemon's chest as he carry her, "Nothing is wrong with my legs or my feet, it just numb." The prince shook his head as he ignore her and continue to carry her inside the castle.

@cleverzonkwombatsludge @beggarsnotchoosey @avidreader73 @green-lxght @watercolorskyy @supermassiveblackhope @stormgirlfriendd

[aurik-kal-durin]

My final Hilda episode ranking for all seasons, plus the movie.

S Tier: Most of these should be self-explanatory. The standouts I feel I must explain are The Nightmare Spirit, The Windmill, and The Yule Lads.

The Nightmare Spirit is one of my favorite episodes in the entire series because it introduces the Marra, and has some absolutely spellbinding folklore behind it, as well as some great character development for Hilda and David. I couldn't NOT put it in S tier.

The Windmill and The Yule Lads I feel are two of the more underrated episodes; the former is a superb David centric episode where he ends up being the unlikely hero, and the latter just has some really good folklore behind, and is a unique take on the Christmas special. It also has a very sweet moment between Hilda and David at the end, which makes it even better in my book.

A Tier: These episodes are not as good as S tier, but are still brimming with charm, and thus are a joy to watch. Whether they have some fascinating folklore behind them, some good character development, or some just some funny or otherwise iconic moments (like David standing up to the Marra, or telling off Frida) these episodes are just as infinitely rewatchable as S tier most of the time.

These episodes formed the backbone of the series and kept me watching from beginning to end. They form a key element that is missing from most other cartoons, and made the difference between keeping me entertained... and feeling like the series was being padded out with unnecessary filler, as has been the case with the majority of shows I've watched in the last 15 years.

B Tier: This is more of a matter of personal preference, but episodes in this tier I just found were a bit of a chore to get through.

The Black Hound, I felt, was a lackluster ending to an otherwise amazing first season.

The Draugen wasn't bad, but I always found it to be pretty "meh" compared to the episodes I have in higher tiers.

C Tier: The House in the Woods was just kind of a boring episode, and I have mixed feelings about The Mountain King. My biggest issue with the movie is with Trylla, the mother troll, her warped justification for kidnapping Hilda, and the fact that she almost got Johanna KILLED while hiding the truth from Hilda. Sorry, but I cannot overlook that.

D Tier: Episodes in this tier all had something that held them back, but weren't so bad that I had a hard time watching them from start to finish.

The Troll Circle was a bland and meandering opening to the second season, and it introduced us to Ahlberg, who was at his most annoying in that episode.

The Beast of Cauldron Island had a lot of things I didn't like, such as the continuation of Frida's awful character arc for Season 2, and David being reduced to a useless coward yet again.

Strange Frequencies made all of the characters unlikeable and OOC while focusing too much on the nisse, when it should've focused on Hilda's dad.

F Tier: These are the few episodes in all of Hilda that I consider to be genuinely bad to the point where they're unwatchable.

The Witch kickstarts Frida's awful character arc for Season 2, dumbs down Hilda to make Frida look smarter, strips the Librarian of her mystique from Season 1, and introduces some unlikable and annoying new characters in the form of the Committee of Three.

The Eternal Warriors uses all of it's runtime to make fun of David, reducing him to a useless coward, and giving us some really cringe-inducing scenes when he becomes fearless.

The Jorts Incident is the single worst episode of the entire series, wasting the potential of the tide mice on a forgettable side character and a lazy Ghostbusters homage... while also reducing David to a useless coward yet again!

The Giantslayer is a pointless time travel side quest that portrays the giants as victims even as they're carelessly stepping on people's houses and ruining their entire lives.

[readingaway]

Danielle Babbles About Books - Nettle and Bone by T. Kingfisher

What made you want to read this book? - @ninja-muse read the arc and posted a rave review and I loved the title and cover and skimmed the blurb so I decided to read it. I actually had never read T. Kingfisher before so this was like a gateway drug, maybe.

What elements stuck out to you the most? - The narrative style. It's written in a classic fantasy fairy-tale style with a slow build-up, a detached narrative voice, and little explanation for the fantastical elements. Particularly with things like the goblin market. In regard to the plot starting towards the end of the impossible tasks was... a choice and one that is difficult to make work since starting in the middle of action and then going back and explaining more about the characters and the world is a well-worn and often poorly used method. But I think it does work for this book because the impossible tasks are not the end of Marra's journey or even the middle, so it's less like throwing the readers into an action sequence and then slowing things down, and while the tasks are relevant and important, it wasn't necessary for the audience to read along the entire thing.

It's also funny. Not all the way through and not at a high level but there's a lot of humor to go along with the sad, the macabre, and tension.

[scotianostra]

Happy 97th Birthday a true comedy great Stanley Baxter.

Born in Frergus Drive in Glasgow in 1926, Stanley began his long career on BBC Scotland's edition of the Children's Hour. He developed his performing skills further during his national service with the Army's Combined Services Entertainment unit, working alongside comedy actor Kenneth Williams, actor Peter Vaughan, film director John Schlesinger and dramatist Peter Nichols, who used the experience as the basis for his play Privates on Parade.

After a return to Glasgow and civvy street he spent three years at The Citizens Theatre before seeking more work and wider fame by moving to London in 1959, it was a move that paid off straight away, that same year he won a Bafta for co-hosting the satirical sketch show On the Bright Side. He also won two years running, in 1973 and 1974, for The Stanley Baxter Picture Show, and again in 1981 for The Stanley Baxter Series.

Some of his best-loved comedy sketches include Parliamo Glasgow, in which the Glaswegian dialect was presented as a foreign language. It included phrases such as “Izat a marra on yer barra, Clara?” "Zarraburdorahairywullie" and the uniquely Glaswegian word “Sanoffy”, as in “Sanoffy cold day”

Stanley didn't abandon Scotland though, throughout his career he remained a favourite of the Scottish panto circuit, often playing the gloriously costumed dame alongside Angus Lennie, Jimmy Logan or Ronnie Corbett, until he retired in 1992.

In 1994 he returned to radio, appearing in plays and sitcoms. In 1997, he was honoured with a lifetime achievement award at the British Comedy Awards. The Stanley Baxter Playhouse ran on Radio 4 from 2006 until 2014.

Even though he retired from TV comedy some 30 years ago, Stanley Baxter continues to hold a special place in the viewing nation’s heart.

He eats well, likes a glass of wine and enjoys a quiet domesticated life. Well into his 80s he was still cycling and swimming. Even when he was in the public eye, he shunned personal publicity, rarely doing interviews or appearing on chat shows.

In his retirement he has written an autobiography but refuses to allow it to be published until after his death, not apparently because it contains any hugely scandalous stories of his celebrity friends, but because he didn’t fancy "schlepping "round the country doing promotional appearances, press interviews and book signings, let’s hope it is a good few years before it is released then!

A widower since 1997, he says he doesn’t find it difficult to fill his days. “You wonder how you ever had time to work,” he says. “I miss talking to actors. I can relate to actors better than real people. I have so few friends left. “I suppose I’m a bit of a loner. I’m not the kind of person to drop in on the neighbours.”

In 2020 Stanley in an authorised biography, The Real Stanley Baxter told for the first time of his struggles to come to terms with his sexuality, his efforts to keep the fact that he is gay secret and the effect his troubled marriage had on his life.

The book charts the career of Baxter, from his early days to the complex relationship with his wife Moira, his early sexual encounters as a teenager, and the strenuous efforts he made to maintain his privacy in later life, including taking legal action over the publication of the diaries of actor Kenneth Williams, a long-time friend, after he had passed away.

Baxter described his discomfort with his homosexuality in the book, writing: "Anybody would be insane to choose to live such a very difficult life. There are many gay people these days who are fairly comfortable with their sexuality, fairly happy with who they are. I’m not. I never wanted to be gay. I still don’t.”

If you want to know more about Stanley I recommend watching the feature length documentary, Stanley Baxter’s Best Bits - and More, it’s on 5 and you don’t have to sign in to watch the show, it’s just over an hour long so settle down with a cuppa before viewing.

https://www.channel5.com/show/stanley-baxter-s-best-bits-and-more

[airborneice]

they’re getting ready to go trick-or-treating :) 

so this isn’t very canon-compliant…I don’t think any of these properties exist in the time-frame that Hilda and her sis are set in, but if they did these would be their costume choices. and i’m gonna ramble about why under the cut because I can

.

Arwen - Saoirse from Song of the Sea. the more I think about it, the more I think this would absolutely be Arwen’s favourite movie. she would see a lot of herself in Saoirse, with them both growing up on the coast and Saoirse being non-speaking for most of the movie, and she’d like being reminded of her home. this is definitely a regular comfort movie for her and her dad. her costume is just a robe that they glued a million sparkly gems onto but she loves it

Mattie - Matilda from….Matilda. they have the same name, both have magic, and if it existed in the Trolberg library this is absolutely the book Kaisa would’ve used to get Mattie into reading at a young age. Mattie would love the themes about kids standing up for themselves and breaking the rules to right wrongs - even if she’s personally more a fan of the rule-breaking itself than anything else. she probably complained to her parents that she didn’t have enough books to go with the costume until Kaisa caved and put a weightlessness spell on a whole stack so she could carry them around with her all night

Harvey - Ash from Pokemon. there’s nothing deep going on here, I just love pokemon so Harvey also gets to love pokemon, as a treat 😌 he’s already a fan of videogames and I think he’d identify with the idea of striking out on your own and going on adventures and meeting weird creatures, especially since that’s kind of his day-to-day life with his friends anyway. also since pokemon started in the 90′s and that’s broadly hilda-time-period-adjacent I think this could actually straight-up be canon for him lmao. the first time he sees a marra he tries to throw a pokeball at it

also Mattie’s trick-or-treat bucket is Hilda’s old one from my drawing of her last year, I just wanted to point that out :> and thanks for reading if you made it this far down :)

[mrs-nubenueve]

bokuaka fic recs

only one person asked for this, but that's enough for me! however, compiling this list has also given me the chance to locate fics i read and loved during quarantine but did not, for whatever reason, bookmark or otherwise save...

i will say that my past experiences with 'dead' fandoms has made me perhaps a little too forgiving of blips in characterization, but i genuinely enjoy/ed reading these gems

all recs are complete

hit-never-miss authors

norio

mocaw

mystictwirl

canon compliant

soft blue by graninlynch (g ∣ ~6k words). akaashi can draw well and bokuto finds out in an invasive way.

slow on the uptake by dalyeau (m ∣ ~1k words). akaashi realizes his boyfriend is hot. pwp but it's so beautifully written it doesn't feel that way. this author is very popular, too; however, i haven't read too many of their other works!

denouement by ftld (t ∣ ~9k words). akaashi's struggles with coming out to his parents about his established relationship with bokuto.

wisdom (perception) check by allicanseeispink (t ∣ ~12k words). an incredibly lovely piece wherein bokuto watches a movie and introspection occurs. this is part of a series that i've yet to read, but i read and understood this as a stand-alone fic. wonderful authorial voice. everyone should read it.

the strange music of your heart by caniculeo (t ∣ ~18k words). akaashi falls first. i must say, i love love love the fukurodani interactions in this one.

alternate universe

what a hoot by moonyfest (au - college/university & wrong number ∣ t ∣ ~2k words). delightful little chat fic.

red tattoo by choir (au - soulmates ∣ t ∣ ~2k words). soulmate-identifying marks but with a twist! platonic kuroaka and minor kurodai.

running, running, running by deusreks (au - archery club ∣ t ∣ ~4k words). a lovely get-together piece.

it's a miracle when our worlds collide by darlingwendy (au - soulmates ∣ nr ∣ ~6k words). oh nooo i sped past you on my way to work but you're my soulmate :((

first train home by marras (au - ghost & age changes ∣ t ∣ ~10k words). akaashi takes the train, and an apparition sits beside him. poignant but beautiful.

never bleed, never grow by sketchedsmiles (au - bodyswap ∣ g ∣ ~27k words). a glorious bokuaka & iwaoi body swap.

static by twinkrevali (au - robots & androids ∣ g ∣ ~8k words). i think about this fic way too much...bokuto is the engineer, and akaashi is the android. kuroken sequel and bokuroo prequel.

quiet by silvercistern (au - fairytale ∣ e ∣ ~41k words). as the author describes, "a meiji-era retelling of the fairytale the six swans." this writer is also very popular, as well as the story. but if you're into the fairytale/fantasy scene and haven't read this one, it's a delight.

right in the head by mysecretfanmoments (au - zombie apocalypse ∣ e ∣ ~52k words). bokuaka against zombies.

the hands we're given by lessonsfrommoths (au - zombie apocalypse ∣ m ∣ ~37k words). also bokuaka against zombies. this one becomes plot heavy and is very inclusive of other characters. it's part of a hq!! vs zombie universe/series, and there is a sequel to this specific piece that is ~70k words.

[ashyronfire]

Red Sky at Morning || Chapter 29: Tell Me No More Stories

Title: Chapter 29 - Tell Me No More Stories Rating: M Characters: Grimm, The Grimm Troupe (including OCs), The Radiance

Warnings: Introspect-Heavy, Found Family, Pre-Canon, Time Travel Fix-It Adjacent, Grey-and-Grey Morality, Torture, Aftermath of Torture, Dismemberment, Graphic Depictions of Violence, The Author Likes Gore

Summary:

“Atlas says you’ve improved.” She looked at Pyre, then turned back to say, “Greatly. He keeps talking about wanting to fight you in the Nightmare. He says he feels like you are crippled here, even with your magic.”

Author’s Notes: In the interest of making this available to more people after AO3 crashed, I'm gonna put the chapter itself under a cut as well. Right now AO3 is up and probably fine -- but just in case. :>

CURRENT CHAPTER || READ FROM THE BEGINNING

The Second Cycle - Mulake

Grimm shared in the child’s memories.

There was more to it than just seeing. While he did look through its eyes, he could not describe it as simply viewing. Whenever Pyre brought the child back to the camp, its experiences came flooding back to him like a tidal wave. Every little scratch, every touch, the whispered words, the affection. The spell that bound the child to the charm also bound the charm to Pyre.

Their lives were woven together, kindling to flame and the ash that remained in their wake. He was terribly attached to the hybrid already. Sparring with him was going to be… an experience.

And they had an audience.

Pyre did not seem to mind. He looked very calm as he stepped into the makeshift arena. It was a particularly large grassy field that the Troupe had helped clear out the night before at Grimm’s suggestion, so that the grass was shorn short for ease of viewing and any rocks lingering around were removed to avoid unintentional injury. Pyre had shed his usual cloak in favor of bracers that protected his arms and legs, and a chestplate in crimson that matched Grimm’s own natural coloration. He’d brought with him an elegant nail inlaid with a webbed pattern that brought to mind a damselfly’s wings; the engravings ran from the pommel all the way to the tip, giving the optional illusion of angles to the shape. It was a curved longtail; that, it seemed, was Pyre’s weapon of choice. Grimm did not fight with one at all. He was not that kind of fighter. He was a magician. But Atlas was trying to teach him to fight without the use of his flames.

Against Atlas, that was going terribly. Pyre, he hoped, would prove to be another story.

“Are you sure you do not want to arm yourself?” Nightshade asked him. She had a new set of daggers in sheaths at her side; she held one out for him to look at. “Atlas is adept at forging; he’s been –”

“He is?” Grimm asked, puzzled.

“Yeah,” the moth answered. “He’s been making weapons for all of us. He made Marra the most wicked scythe I’ve ever seen. Alula has a long nail, Atlas has his axe – that thing’s heavier than I am, by the way – and he even gave Reed some daggers like mine. He’s been teaching Mist to use a staff, too. Mist doesn’t really like blades.”

Making weapons for everyone but him, it seemed. He’d known Atlas used an axe, although he’d never bothered with weapons when fighting Grimm. He rarely needed to. He had the physical advantage.

He handed the dagger back. He had a staff, made elegantly by Marra, but he considered it to be more of a show piece than something for actual use. He’d be devastated if it was damaged in combat. All he actually used when sparring was his claws. Maybe he should learn to do more, but it was a rather redundant thought right before a sparring match.

“He never told me he was a smith,” Grimm observed; he glanced into the group assembling around them. Every Troupe member was present, but what fascinated him the most was that Mist was perched near Fae and ignoring everyone else entirely. And he had something over his head: a piece of filmy fabric held in place by woven bands around his mask. “When did our butterfly become so fond of the flashier twin?”

“Fae’s been teaching him about butterfly culture, actually,” the moth hummed. “Pyre gave him that veil. Apparently, there is a lot about butterflies we did not know.”

Did not remember, more like.

He knew, instantly, that veils had significance. The memory came flooding back, unbidden: wearing veils was a social symbol among their kind. Different colors denoted different things. Black was, traditionally, mourning, but adorning it with gems meant that the wearer was of considerable status. The twins did not wear veils, despite being half-butterfly, but clearly, they knew the importance of them.

He did not often think about such things. Who they were before the Troupe was of no great consequence to Grimm. They were his people and he was fond of them as they were. It should have occurred to him, though, that Mist would want to know more about where he came from. Especially since they were both the very last butterflies left in the world of that particular tribe.

Grimm would speak with him after the fight. Not just because he wanted to know what Fae was teaching him, but he also wanted Mist to know what memories he had from Luster. That had felt like a forbidden topic for so long, considering how young the butterfly was when he’d joined them, but…

Not anymore.

Mist was not young in truth now, and he would never be old, either.

“I like his veil,” Nightshade continued. “He’s very fond of it. It belonged to their mother, the twins. Pyre seemed to like that it was going to someone who would take good care of it. That it would be worn for eternity.”

That fit. Pyre was a sentimental creature.

“Speaking of him,” the moth continued. “He brought back the little one. It’s mean of you to send the baby away. Do you not realize how cute little-you is?”

He knew. He even agreed, strange though it might have been for him to admit.

“It is better,” Grimm told her.

“How is it better? You are a part of this family, you jerk. You need to remember that.”

It was better because he wanted to be more than he was. He wanted to be a thing apart. He wanted to learn from others, to take in their experiences, to –

To what?

To fix the holes in his heart, ever glowing like his eyes? To fix who he was, in hopes that he would become someone more worthy of the love that people offered him? Perhaps. Or maybe he was projecting. Maybe he just wanted to look into the mirror and like the person looking back at him.

(Time. Time would give him that.)

“Root for me,” Grimm asked of Nightshade; he twitched his tail and smiled behind his mask. “Your husband beats me up often enough. I need something to assure me that I am not totally hopeless.”

“Atlas says you’ve improved.” She looked at Pyre, then turned back to say, “Greatly. He keeps talking about wanting to fight you in the Nightmare. He says he feels like you are crippled here, even with your magic.”

That was eerily close to how Cross had once described him and, inadvertently, it dug deep into an old wound. There was a time when those words would have paralyzed him. He did not think Cross would ever be a wound that fully healed. He saw the snail in everything. But Grimm was surprised to find that while it did feel a little like being slapped, the sharp ache to his heart faded. Atlas was not Cross, and Atlas meant it as a compliment, in his own way.

(And Atlas hadn’t given up on him, either. Stubborn moth.)

“If I manage to win, I will grant your husband’s wish,” he told her. “I will let him find out what it is like to fight the real me.”

“Can I watch?”

His tail playfully undulated to the side. “Perhaps.” But likely not. He did not like disrupting dreams, but he would make an exception to challenge Atlas in the Nightmare. He wanted to let him see exactly how right he was… because he was correct: in the real world, he was crippled, bound by mortal laws, tied to a physical form. He was not physical in his own world. He wasn’t anywhere close to crippled there.

He'd enjoy that fight immensely. But only if he managed to win. Only if he managed to prove that he could. Otherwise, what was the point? To lose to Atlas, as he had so many times before? No, thank you.

Grimm turned and crossed the field. The clearing was good enough for a normal spar. Pyre met him in the middle of it, and the child left the hybrid’s shoulder to fly over to him. He held one hand up and stroked its wings before sending it to settle on Nightshade’s lap (Complain less, moth).

“Are you sure that you are up to this?” Pyre asked him. “Iris told me you’ve been taking her venom. If you are not well…”

How sweet.

“I assure you that I am fine. Do you intend to use magic?” Grimm hummed, turning his head to the side. At Pyre’s nod, he said, “Then I will, too.”

“I would hope so.”

“Are you ready, my friend?” Grimm asked, with Pyre nodding again, and then he offered a flourishing bow, one wing spread at his side. “Then dance with me,” he purred. The lilt in his voice was impossible to miss. Musical.

He did so like to put on a show.

Pyre did not bow back, though he did hesitate (as though considering doing so – perhaps he’d never seen anyone bow in combat, considering that he had so little experience in it in a less life-or-death situation?). He launched forward with a slash, and Grimm teleported away with a soft ‘pop’ – which was perhaps not the most charitable response, but he was not about to be hit while he was being polite.

Rude, Pyre. Very rude.

He reappeared on the other side of the hybrid, who had whirled to meet him. Pyre raised his nail to parry Grimm’s clawed slash and then struck downward. Grimm danced out of the way of it and swiped again, and –

There was a tempo to it, wasn’t there? He’d called it a dance, and fighting was a dance. One-two step.

(Did practicing with Atlas have a similar flow? You slice, I slash. You back up, I step forward. I retreat and you close distance. Was it always like that?)

The sound of metal hitting his claws was loud. They reverberated and felt numb to him. He needed to get better protectors for them if he was going to use them in physical combat, he realized.

Slice. Parry. Scratch.

Rhythm. There was a melody to each movement and he hummed quietly to himself to match it. Pyre no doubt heard him but did not question what he was doing – which was kind of him, as Grimm did not know.

What he did know was that Pyre failed to dodge one of his attacks, and his claws ripped through his shoulder nastily.

Lost the tempo. Fell out of step. The next two hits landed soundly: one-two scratch.

(Give him a minute to get up.

Would a real opponent? No. But it wasn’t a real fight.

He’d drawn hemolymph first.

But he wanted to win. He wanted to win.

He wanted to win fairly. Give him a minute.)

Grimm scurried backwards, giving Pyre more space. The hybrid leapt back to his feet and then –

Threw his nail across the field. That was unexpected. Grimm dodged out of the way of it, only to be sliced on its return as magic propelled it back to its owner. He felt the wound gape in his side over tender scar tissue.

One-two slice.

He dodged. He parried. He moved like he owned the ground, and Grimm was surprised to find that he felt like he did. There was something incredibly satisfying about keeping the tempo, keeping to the melody, like – like –

Left. Right.

One-two scratch.

(You slice, I back up. I fill the distance with my own claws.)

He landed more blows than he took, but Pyre’s nail managed to nick his wings in several places, and at least once on his arm. It was good practice, even as his fingers started to numb from using the length of his claws to block attacks.

(They were going to be so, so sore.)

Every time one of them fell out of the tempo, they took a hit, he noticed. There was synergy between the two of them, and as long as he continued to hum along to it, he… didn’t falter.

Dirt kicked up under scuffling feet as Pyre dashed at him, both hands clenched on the hilt to swing the blade down, and the reaction was instant. Grimm jumped and landed, squarely, on the edge of the blade. He perched, crouched, fingers on one end and feet under him; his claws came up, then, to catch the hybrid’s face; Pyre’s grip on the blade faltered under his weight, the nail hitting the ground, but Grimm himself did not fall, levitating in the air.

Fire danced from his fingertips and flared, blindingly bright, right in Pyre’s eyes.

“Live up to your name. Burn for me.”

As he spoke, Pyre hissed and half-screamed, stumbling back and clutching his face. That was almost enough to make him feel guilty.

Almost.

Grimm skittered backwards, essence spirals trailing in his wake and he stopped far enough away to avoid a counterattack.

He could end it now. He could –

That thought was interrupted by fire igniting underneath him. Unlike his own flames, which were undeniably scarlet, Pyre’s were a rich orange that seared up like a vortex. If he was anyone else, he would have been screaming as his wings shriveled in the heat.

Instead, he called magic into them. His intention was to use them to wrap up Pyre, to disable him, but that was not what happened. No, as if of their own accord, his wings shot into the ground, burrowing serpentine beneath it. Flames rolled down his back, trailed over the extended lengths, and exploded out of the ground directly in front of Pyre, sending him careening into the air.

…when had he learned—

In the middle of a fight was not the best time to think about the fact that his wings seemed to have taken on a mind of their own; he could analyze it later.

He teleported, then, and when the still-blind hybrid hit the ground, Grimm landed on top of him, claws wrapping around his throat, piercing shell a little.

Pyre coughed. His throat spasmed between Grimm’s fingers. “You’re fast,” he panted. “And your fire is nasty. I relent. I need – I need –”

“Alula will have a salve for your eyes,” Grimm answered, releasing his throat. “You seared my wings.”

“You started with the fire.” Pyre coughed and brought his hands up to his eyes, his nail falling to his side. “Going for the eyes. That is a bit dishonorable—”

“It’s fucking brilliant, actually,” came the brusque correction. Grimm looked up to see Atlas approaching, one hand held out to the fallen twin. “Where the fuck is that when you fight me, princess? Where is this jumping on blades and dodging by a hair’s breadth instead of getting punched in the guts like you like it? Where the hell is any of this coming from? I’ve never seen you do most of that.”

One-two slash.

Pyre took Atlas’s hand and sat up. “Brilliant or not, my eyes –”

“You’ll be fine.” Atlas did not sound sympathetic at all. Grimm had thought that he and Pyre were friends. Or… at least friendly? “Alula will fix you right up.”

Pyre looked incredibly unhappy.

(Pyre was a bad patient, Grimm realized. As bad a patient as Grimm himself was. Even if he was fond of Alula – and he clearly was – he was not relishing the idea of being doted on. Grimm felt some sympathy for that. Good luck.)

The child rose from Nightshade’s lap and flew over to daintily land on Pyre’s shoulder. It mrrr’d quietly, bumping its head into his chin, and the annoyance on the twin’s face dissolved away immediately.

“Your father is a bit mean,” Pyre told the child, to Grimm’s quiet laughter. The hybrid leaned down conspiratorially. “I forgive him, though. Even if you and I are more alike right now than usual. Both of us blinded.”

“It can see,” Grimm corrected. “Through my eyes.”

The little buzz of wings told him that Pyre was aware and did not care. Dissociating the two of them, father, and child, seemed to be preferable. Easier for him to process, perhaps.

Pyre patted the child’s back and looked sideways at Grimm. “Next time, you will not get a chance to use such underhanded tricks. Think of something more clever.”

He was very hung up on it being ‘underhanded.’ Grimm was of the opinion that winning was more important than honor, to some degree.

He would ask Atlas if he was wrong about. But it did not sound like he was.

A real enemy would not ask permission before wounding someone, after all.

-

“I want to keep records.”

Grimm lifted his head to look over his shoulder. Mist stood in the entrance to the tent, arms folded, the short veil that Pyre gave him covering his face, and his wings were twitching slightly at his lower back. Usually when they moved, it meant that he was agitated. His voice alone gave that away, though. Mist sounded positively distressed.

Grimm had meant to talk to him, he had – he’d just… put it off, in part because of dread, in part because of being busy.

“Fae has been teaching me,” Mist continued.

“Has he?” Grimm hummed. He’d noticed the two of them together while he was dueling with Pyre; he’d retreated to his tent after the fight to let the hybrid and Alula have some alone time, for his own injuries were superficial by comparison. He did not ask where Fae went after the fight. The older twin was still something of a mystery. He’d taken to Mist immediately, but not to Grimm.

“Yes. About butterflies. About my culture.” Mist sat on the end of the table, pulling his knees up to his chest.  “I didn’t know that our people have an oral tradition of storytelling, or that – that some of them keep complex recordings of every culture they visit. Nomadic. Like we are.” He took a long, shaky breath. “We are bad at being butterflies.”

Perhaps.

“So you want to keep records of the kingdoms we’ve visited, then?” Grimm asked, his tail coming up to undulate behind him. He was fiddling with the enchantments on a hilt not unlike the one he’d made for Iris. “What is stopping you?”

“I want you to, too.”

Ah?

He’d been keeping records for a long time. Ever since his first life. He’d started keeping them after Cross – at an off-hand suggestion from Nightshade. They were wrapped scrolls and bound into shellwood or silks to form books. No one in the Troupe had ever seen them. He did not intend to speak of their existence, either.

“Have you seen my handwriting?” Grimm teased. “It is barely legi—”

“You carry on my brother’s legacy. You owe him this.”

Oh, Mist was pulling no punches, was he?

Grimm turned his head to the side and then exhaled. This was bound to come up eventually, he thought. He’d learned of butterfly culture from Luster’s memories. Though it had been so long (how long? Centuries?) he could recall the events of his first body’s life with absolute clarity. In many ways, it was almost as though he and Luster had become one. The others did not remember him – including Mist. Mist knew of him, but could not recall Luster’s face, Luster’s voice, anything about him. All that he knew was what Grimm deigned to tell him.

He'd thought that kinder, once, but –

Maybe it was not.

Butterflies, as a culture, had oral traditions: they told stories around their campfires every night, for their children and for their adults. Legends. Myths. Some were invented on the spot and some were passed down. They performed music for one another, too, and he could not help but wonder if his fondness for it was at least in part fueled by Luster’s. They’d invented string instruments (was that why he’d picked one?). They existed in small packs and traveled. They never stayed anywhere too long. And they kept intricate, highly detailed chronicles, scrolls and books.

Mist was right. Butterflies were nomadic the same way that the Troupe was. Were they really all that different? But the tribe that he and Luster hailed from was different, because they’d settled in one place. They’d devoted their existence to the worship of the void at the shores of the great swell of darkness. Their people adopted Alula and Nightshade’s family and the others that had come with them. When they died, they threw themselves into the void sea as an offering, to return to the nothingness from whence they came. And when they became adults, they partook of it, ingesting it to forever be dying.

Luster’s past was poisoning him, slowly. The void did not give back what it took.

“ – please, I know, but—”

Speaking. Ah. He’d – he’d missed part of that.

“Come again?” he asked. Mist gave him a funny look. “I was thinking about what you asked.”

“I was reiterating that… bad handwriting or not. You’re the last of my people. Other butterflies exist, but you’re the last of my kind. Our kind, really, you’re one of us, but –”

“No, you had the right of it,” Grimm corrected. “Your people. I am a thing apart and I am not the god that they worshipped.”

He’d been thinking the same, though, that while he’d long abandoned Luster’s body, he had a responsibility to uphold his memory. In many regards, he considered himself a living tribute to a people long deceased: the last will and testament of a culture long gone. With that in mind, did Grimm not think that it was a good idea to preserve all that he knew, in case he himself forgot? In case he, himself, faded?

(He, who could not die?)

But…

He was not sure that ripping open that scar was the best of ideas. Mist did have a right to know. He did have a right to learn about the culture that he’d come from, the people he’d left behind. Alula and Nightshade would want to know what they’d lost, too. The problem was that poking a festering wound risked letting them remember it, and they’d given their memories up willingly to him in order to escape them.

(They are not the same people that they were that day on the banks of the void sea. They have grown. They are not alone anymore. No longer are Alula and Nightshade barely adults who’ve lost everything that they’ve ever loved. No longer do they have nothing left in the world but each other. They have you. They have Marra, Atlas, Mist, Reed. They may even have Iris, Fae, and Pyre. They are not alone. Will it hurt them, truly, if they should get those memories back?

Do you want to risk it?)

“You would have me record your people’s history, as Luster knew it, then?” he asked Mist; he let his tail flick to the side. “You may remember things that you would rather forget. Reading it could bring back the memories you gave to me. I cannot promise they are lost forever. If you stare too far into the dark, you cannot be surprised when eyes meet your own. Is that a risk you would be willing to take, my friend?”

Mist may have looked like a child but treating him like one would be disrespectful. Even if it felt kinder to hide from him the things that Grimm knew would hurt. And they would hurt.

Those were not memories that he would enjoy having.

That culture was dead, but they’d suffered in their dying. They were hurt, tormented, purged like a sickness from the earth by his sister. She’d burnt them away with fire. In their dying moments, they prayed to a god that did not answer and might not have even existed.

The void did not feel. It was a vast reservoir of power, yes, an endless fount. And it felt nothing at all for their problems. What care had it, when in the end all would return to it eventually?

The butterflies of that tribe worked hand-in-hand with the snails who worshipped the void’s magic, who were fixated with understanding its very nature. Cross was one such snail, and Grimm – Grimm had his memories, too. They’d intrinsically understood the nature of the void, of Soul, and of the beast that slumbered near that sea, whose blood flowed cerulean and could heal any wound.

Where there is death, there must also be life. All things in balance.

“I need to know my history. I need to know where I came from,” Mist told him, his head bowing. “I want to be a butterfly in truth. Right now I’m just… a strange moth at best.”

“The Moth Tribe has a very similar outlook on history. They do not tell stories as much, but they do keep records. Butterflies and moths have ever been two sides of the same coin. One flies in the day and the other under the cover of moonlight, but you are not that different of creatures.”

Mist fluttered his wings, agitated. Grimm lifted one hand to brush his fingers over the butterfly’s mask. “You know your history. You know your past. You are yourself. You have ever been. What you remember is your truth. What came before is what you left behind.”

That got him a slanted look, a slight glare, and Grimm smiled, a squint of scarlet behind the mask, and then he said, “But I have given you warning enough. I will grant your request. If your heart breaks at the history that you learn – for it is not the most pleasant story to tell, why else would you have given it up? – that is not something I will be held accountable for. Do you agree?”

He could deny Mist nothing.

He’d promised Luster, once upon a time, to look after his brother. Keep him safe, happy, give him the life that he deserved. He might not have always succeeded at that, but he was trying to get better, and if nothing else, he deserved acknowledgment for the effort.

Grimm was trying.

Mist shook his head. “I… I agree. I won’t blame you. But you can’t protect me forever. Not from everything.”

So sayeth he. That would not stop Grimm from trying.

-

Alula’s tent smelled heavily of medicine: a little bitter, with the heavy stench of alcohol only barely disguised by floral notes found in the soaps and cleaning agents. She combatted that scent with candles and her sister’s herb sticks, but there really was no way of ‘fixing’ it. She cleaned wounds. She kept the majority of her tent sterile. She was always soaking utensils. If she was in the process of taking care of someone or had recently, it would always be particularly pungent.

He found it comforting.

It was the dead of night, well after the sun had set. Pyre had retreated to one of the empty tents, with Fae and presumably Iris, and strangely, Marra was not with Alula. She was by herself.

He found her wiping down one of the chairs. Probably where she’d sat the hybrid down when she treated his eyes. Grimm had waited a few hours to give her plenty of time quite intentionally, but –

“The eyes were a vicious move,” the moth scolded. “In a real fight, the right choice. We really must teach you the difference between that and a spar, though.”

“He will heal, will he not?” Grimm asked curiously. Alula leveled him a disapproving stare from behind her mask as he crossed the threshold to sit on her table. He perched like he owned it. She always looked annoyed when he did that – which was, of course, why he did it. “And it gave you an excuse to give him medical treatment. Should you not be thanking me?”

“He’s as awful a patient as you are. Barely sat still once his sight returned. Kept insisting that he had things to do. And do you know, I considered pinning his wings to the floor.” She sounded so exasperated; he was deeply amused.

Grimm pulled his legs up and crossed them underneath him. “I might have been a little mean on purpose. I might be… still upset on behalf of Marra.”

That declaration earned him the most withering look. She pulled her mask off, stepped over in front of him, and yanked him down by his horns to meet his gaze. “Then you should be dropping firebombs in Marra’s eyes as well, because they are as much in the wrong as –”

“Lulu, I am on your side on this. I told them to talk to you,” he interrupted. “Do not berate me so.”

“Stay out of it then.” Her tone was sharp. Disapproving. And exhausted. He immediately felt guilty.

No. It was not his business or his place to tell Alula what to do with her relationships, and never would he presume to do so. She deserved to be happy, whatever it took, and if that meant being with Pyre instead of Marra… he would try to understand. He was attached to the dragonfly, she knew that, but he was also becoming very fond of Pyre. It was a complicated situation.

And she was right. It had nothing to do with him. He was not at all in a position to tell her what to do with her life. But…

He brought his hands up to catch her face and pulled her closer to press his forehead to hers.

“I want to see you happy, mama.” She was not his real mother but she was close enough that he was willing to fake it for her. “If it makes you feel any better, I promise that I will not say anything to Pyre, nor will I try to sway any of your decisions or Marra’s. I simply told them to talk to you. To make choices with you, instead of excluding you. That making them on their own without you involved was an injustice to you.”

The moth sighed and brought one hand up to scratch his horns. The shell was a little loose there, over the ridges where they tapered, and her claws gently dislodged some of the shedding bits. It chased away the itch, so he leaned his head into the touch instinctively.

“They did talk to me,” she told him. “For all the good that it did. It is Pyre that they need to talk to. But you stay out of it. And stop bullying Pyre because you’ve got a favorite. Marra would not want you doing that, either.”

She was right, he knew.

He laid his head against hers, closing his eyes slowly.

“I want them all three to stay with us,” Grimm told the moth and Alula laughed. “Oh, stop. It is not because of the twins at all. They are… an added bonus. For you and for Iris. But she is the reason I want them to stay. She is, not them.”

That made her somber up a little.

“She reminds you of your hurts.” At his nod, Alula continued, “And what you’ve overcome. What you have survived. That’s a poor reason to want to keep someone, though. You shouldn’t offer unless you have a better one than that. Iris deserves to be more than just a monument to your pain. She’s a living, thinking person, with feelings and hurts of her own. You’re not the only one who has suffered.”

He knew that. He did. She was right, though, to say it. Just because he was aware did not mean that he was consciously thinking about it at all.

“And you.” Alula’s words drew him sharply out of his thoughts. “Mister chronically single, wants no relationships, needs no one else, happy-by-myself. When you are in a committed relationship, then and only then do you get to start trying to give me or anyone else advice on that matter. Do you understand me?”

He laughed. She was right. He did not want any kind of relationship of that nature. He was not exactly ‘happy,’ but he did not want to give his broken and damaged heart to anyone else.

Better that he be alone than ever subject someone else to the storm that was his entire being. His was a soul on fire, burning forever. No one else needed to sear.

“Yes, mother.”

[ukrfeminism]

3 minute read

A transgender woman convicted of raping two women while she was a man should not be held in a women’s prison as it raises safety concerns, an SNP MP has said.

Isla Bryson was on Tuesday found guilty of raping one woman in Clydebank in 2016 and another in Drumchapel, Glasgow, in 2019, following a trial at the High Court in Glasgow.

It is understood she is being held at Cornton Vale women’s prison in Stirling while awaiting sentence for the crimes, which she committed before she began transitioning to become a woman.

SNP MP Joanna Cherry said she is “very concerned about the safety of women prisoners, with whom a convicted rapist has been placed”, while other politicians have also voiced concerns.

It comes after the UK Government blocked controversial gender reform legislation in Scotland which would speed up and simplify the process for trans people to obtain a gender recognition certificate (GRC).

Ms Cherry said that Bryson should be held in a men’s prison.

She told Times Radio: “To many people, it will look like this convicted rapist has gamed the system in order to try and garner sympathy, and to end up in a women’s prison. And I think a lot of people will be shocked by that.

“So I think we should be talking about these cases. And women in prison are very vulnerable. Many women in prison have themselves been abused, and have suffered injuries over the years. And so they’re particularly vulnerable. And perhaps some people would say nobody really cares about prisoners.

“But the point about human rights is that they’re universal, and they apply to everyone. So I’m very concerned about the safety of women prisoners, with whom a convicted rapist has been placed.

“And under Scots law, the crime of rape can only be committed by somebody with a penis, and that’s a man. And I think we should call, I think we should call out what’s happened here.”

Interviewer Stig Abell asked: “So, this is a man who’s committed a crime and should be in a male prison?”

To which Ms Cherry replied: “Yes.”

Bryson first appeared in court as Adam Graham in 2019 and was later named in court papers the following year – around the time she decided to transition – as Isla Annie Bryson, formerly known as Adam Graham.

The court heard in agreed evidence that Bryson now identifies as a transgender woman and was previously known by the “dead name” Adam Graham.

Giving evidence last week, she said she knew she was transgender at the age of four but did not make the decision to transition until she was 29, and is currently taking hormones and seeking surgery to complete gender reassignment.

Bryson, who denied the charges against her, told the court “I’ve got my top half,” referring to her breasts.

Other politicians have also voiced concerns including Labour MSP Jenny Marra who on Tuesday tweeted: “Cannot quite believe that the Scottish justice system has just put a violent man convicted today of raping two women in women’s prison Cornton Vale housing some of the most vulnerable women in our country.

“Ministers need to explain why and take responsibility.”

Scottish Conservative MSP Russell Findlay said: “We now have the utterly perverse situation where a Scottish court refers to someone who says he identifies as female using ‘her penis’ to rape two vulnerable women.

‘We warned of the inevitability of this happening if the SNP’s gender self-ID law passed, but for it already to have become reality is deeply worrying and an affront to the victims.”

A Scottish Prison Service (SPS) spokeswoman said: “Decisions by the SPS as to the most appropriate location to accommodate transgender people are made on an individualised basis, informed by a multi-disciplinary assessment of both risk and need.

“Such decisions seek to protect both the wellbeing and rights of the individual as well as the welfare and rights of others around them, including staff, in order to achieve an outcome that balances risks and promotes the safety of all.

“Where there are any concerns about any risks posed by an individual, either to themselves or others, we retain the ability to keep them separate from the mainstream population until an agreed management plan is in place.”

[the---hermit]

Nettle And Bone by T. Kingfisher

I have just finished the audiobook of this novel as I am writing this review. I can't say I am totally happy with the ending and all. This fantasy novel follows Marra, the youngest of the royal family of a small region. She will embark in an adventure with the goal of saving her older sister who has been married off to a very abusive prince in another reign. The premise is not bad, it's actually an interesting idea to start the adventure, and the book was quite entertaining overall (although the theme is pretty dark there's some humor in the story, making in more lighthearted than you'd think). I did not like the main character at all, the author tried to make her clumsy and insicure, which could have been a good change from your typcal fantasy MC, but she ended up being annoying most of the time, and moreover very out of character for her age. We are told multiple times she is in her 30s but she often reasons like a teenager, which at least to me made the story feel less credible. I would have rather have a younger character that would have made more plausible being so naive as Marra often is. There's something else I really did not like, but it counts as spoiler so I'll talk about it under the cut. Overall as I was saying I feel like this book although entertaining could have done more with the characters. The story itself wasn't too bad, the starting point as I said was a really cool idea, and there's some characters who are fun to read about, like the dust-wifea witch who helps Marra for most of the book. I don't feel like recommending it, since as I said there were a couple of things I really didn't enjoy, but if it looked interesting to you give it a try, I guess. I heard many people really loving this book, it's definitely a fantasy novel that is easy to follow and doesn't require you memozie a bunch of names and places, which I know it's one of the main things people find intimidating in fantasy.

As mentioned under the cut there's a spoilery part of the review.

So the spoiler-y thing that I really did not like, and that I will admit lowered my raiting a lot was the romance between Marra and Fenris. It was so unnecessary, I felt it coming because of course if there's a female MC and one good guy who helps her they have to fall in love in the end don't they? It would have worked perfectly as a friendship. And to be honest it would have also made sense with the characters in my opinion. I mean Marra is overall shown as really naive, so I would guess what is happening to her sister with her very abusive husband, would not only shock her for her sister's safety, but would probably affect her own sense of safety around men. I don't know I might be reading too much inot it, but as I said I felt that romance was the last thing the book needed, it did not add anything to the plot other than a very sterotypical narrative in my opinion.

[hakkiest]

Tagged by @turn20. Sorry it took me so long to do this bby I'm a chronic procrastinator </3

5 most recent Spotify plays (except I made it 6 cause I only do things with numbers divisible by 3) (except I made it 9 cause I really like all these songs) (and also I talk about each one of them cause I really really like them)

9: 늑대가 나타났다 There Is A Wolf - Lang Lee

This song is literally haunting. It's the kind of song you listen to and are like wow... Music like those Addison Rae tweets. It's literally insane. It's like a folk song in a weirdly taunting way, like a mockery of folk songs. It's enthralling.

8: Mireya - Ande Estrella

I love Ande Estrella. This is not my fave song from hers, that title easily goes to Purple Flowers (which you should also listen to) but Mireya is lovely. Her voice is sweet and the lyrics are soothing.

7: Granada - BIAB

Brazilian Lesbians do ynu better and it's simply true. This song makes me want to rebolar e pegar mulher. Not much to say except VEM CHEIA DE MARRA BEM SILENCIOSA TIPO GRANADA BOTA FOGO EM TUDO ESSA MENINA AINDA ME MATA

6: Killing Eve - Benét

I want to fuck the singer so bad. The lyrics are fucking insane, every time I listen to it I need to replay it 5 thousand million times to Absorb all of it. Literally absurd.

5: White Rabbit - Jefferson Airplane

Despite what the name suggests, this one is also by a woman - in fact all of these songs are from my Women only playlist. I really like how the lyrics keep you on a trip.

4: Observer Effect - The Nychillharmonic

This one is one of the newest additions to my playlist, and I really do enjoy it, but can't say a whole lot about it.

3: Vanishing Paycheck - Stella Jang

I LOVE STELLA JANG SO MUCH I've been a huge fan of hers for so long and this one is actually the first song of hers I ever heard. And it is Such a Vibe, the rhythm, the melody, the vocals, it just Fucks SO MUCH. You cannot listen to it without at least bobbing your head along.

2: Precious - Esperanza Spalding

THIS WOMAN'S VOICE... ILLEGAL MAN. JESUS CHRIST. I cannot tell you the lyrics I literally can only pay attention to how beautiful her voice is. Fucking Incredible.

1: Risk - Mega Mango

This song hooked me from the very start from the first time I listened to it. It's haunting in a weird way, like you're hearing someone in the middle of a horror movie, juuust as things start to go wrong. It leaves you breathless in the best way possible.

Tagging @evergardenwall @thisgaybitch00 @left-the-room @ all of the muwutuals I won't tag everyone individually @nicohate @butchlobotomy

[vitalphenomena]

GET TO KNOW ME BETTER! repost / don't reblog

ALIAS / NAME: lye/lyra

BIRTHDAY: nov 20.

ZODIAC: scorpio but DONT talk to me about it.

HEIGHT: average height

HOBBIES: this. i used to quite enjoy baking but i actually have some baking-related trauma at this point lmfao. i used to roller blade but i dislocated my shoulder. so yeah. just this.

FAV. COLOUR: purples and blues and greens. all the cool colors

FAV. BOOK: tender is the flesh. bet you're shocked i didn't say a constellation of vital phenomena aren't you.

LAST SONG: this is my spotify top 5 on repeat.

LAST MOVIE / SHOW: "the dark tapes" for movie, "90 day fiance: before the 90 days" for show

RECENT READ: lapvona!

INSPIRATION: succession's writing inspires me quite a bit. my character playlists are also inspiring, as well as the playlist i made exclusively for second gen.

STORY BEHIND URL:" We wear clothes, and speak, and create civilizations, and believe we are more than wolves. But inside us there is a word we cannot pronounce and that is who we are. Life: a constellation of vital phenomena—organization, irritability, movement, growth, reproduction, adaptation." - anthony marra

tagged by @rvolving

tagging: @swallowpit @ruinaa @withbeasts @corsey @midcenturies @jupiter3 and..YOU!

[nisse-room]

Mother’s Day reflection on Remorse of an Adventurer #5

That’s right, this is the fifth mother’s day since I killed Hilda’s mum. Remorse was my first ever published story and my first ever fanfic. A series of coincidences brought it to life. Putting your heart out there as a writer is such a wild thing, and it hasn’t stopped being that way as I’ve done it over and over. Remorse is kinda trash now compared to how I write in  2023, but six years will do that to you. I still respect it of course, I built an entire AU around it, with multiple stories. Remorse got a sequel and a spinoff. This is not to mention my trilogy of Marra stories set in that same universe. My only real strong feeling about remorse at this point? is that because it was a huge hit, and because I’ve only had one story do remotely as well since (Seventeen Forever, by the way. How are you out there, Twelve Forever fandom?) Remorse left me with a lot of impostor syndrome. I’m also not quite as edgy as I was back then, life changes, I’m almost 30 now, ETC. I’m glad I made Remorse 2 overall sweeter. Anyway. I will update Remorse 2 when time permits, as well as Halfway to Nowhere (although Halfway is going to be rebranded to a new series soon, one I’m calling the Huldiverse Stories) I’ll also be updating one of my original stories today, Love’s Gross. Huld Codices Links (these will all be for AO3, but they are on FF and Wattpad too) Core Remorse Stories: Remorse of An Adventurer, Remorse 2: Tangled Paths Marra’s Codex: Viridescent Shadows, The Nightmarish Nine, Gemma Chronicles Huldiverse Stories: Halfway to Nowhere