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grahamstoney · 9 years

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My Highlights Of The 2015 Melbourne International Comedy Festival

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My Highlights Of The 2015 Melbourne International Comedy Festival

I totally smashed the 2015 Melbourne International Comedy Festival, going to over 30 shows during the 3 weeks I camped out in the Melbourne Central Youth Hostel, and then Nomads All Nations after the YHA kicked me out for overstaying my visa welcome.

Tickets From Some Of The Shows I Saw

I take my hat off to all the comedians who showed up and strutted their stuff for my amusement. It’s hard to rank all the shows I saw, or compare them on any sensible basis as there was so much variety and talent on show and they were almost all highly entertaining.

But nevertheless, here’s my best attempt starting with my most favourites:

Rich Hall

Measured by sheer quantity of my own laughter, Rich Hall was my highlight of the festival. I laughed so much, I lost it completely many times. At one point I thought the rather conservative-looking woman next to me was going to have a go at me for enjoying myself too much. Rich’s acerbic wit, cynicism and rapid-fire delivery made me laugh so hard that muscles in my head which I didn’t even know I had went into spasm. It was just extraordinary. And if I thought his bit about Target was hilarious, that was nothing compared to his song about Bob Dylan which was just hysterical.

Thank you, thank you, thank you Rich, you are an inspiration.

Arj Barker

Arj Barker is one of my all-time comedy heroes. Not only did I love his character Dave in the Flight Of The Conchords HBO series, I think his music video The Sickest Buddhist is hilarious, and he never fails to deliver live.

This festival I had a bonus treat when I bumped into him on the street corner outside Town Hall. I was a little star-struck and the conversation went something like this:

“Hey Arj!”, I said suddenly upon noticing my comedy idol right in front of me while crossing the street.

“Oh, Hi”, said Arj, appearing slightly startled.

“I’m Graham. I saw your show last week. Love your work.”, as I extended my hand.

“Hello Graham”, replied Arj as we shook hands.

Quick Graham, think of something intelligent to say: “I really like how you weave spiritual themes into your stand-up routine.”

“Well you’ve got to talk about something”, Arj replied.

“I’m a comedian too; but I’ve only just got into it. Where do you find your inspiration?”

“Just everyday things, you know”, my spiritual comedy leader opined.

“Like, personal experience hey”, I agreed naively.

“Yeah… At first, everything that happens to you, you’re like ‘how can I make a joke out of this’? Then after a while it gets a bit more difficult.”

“Right… like first album syndrome!”, I empathised misguidedly.

“Mmm… more like fourth or fifth album syndrome.”, he replied.

“Well great to meet you Arj!”

“Thanks Graham… nice to meet you too”

Top bloke; even remembered my name.

Dave Callan

Where to begin with this one? Well, the title A Little Less Conversation 2: A Little More Less Conversation made me laugh even before I turned up. It was an extension of Dave’s previous show titled A Little Less Conversation, where much of the talking was replaced with contemporary dancing. Not the dicky interpretive style, but the music video type. Then after explaining that there would be no silly dancing in this show, Dave Callan and four hot young dancers led us through a hilarious music video dance journey backwards through the alphabet.

The weird thing is Dave is actually remarkably flexible and despite what you’d guess from his appearance, he can dance. Beat It took on a new meaning, his pole routine was extraordinary, there was an awkwardly funny male wardrobe malfunction, and I’ll never be able to listen to Taylor Swift’s Shake It Off again without just hearing that the bakers are gonna bake, bake, bake, bake, bake.

Puddles Pity Party

I first heard about Puddles Pity Party when an excited group of people got on the tram while on my way home on night, and kept raving about what a great night they’d had at some show they’d just seen. I couldn’t help but ask “What have you been up to?”, and they replied: “Puddles Pity Party… you’ve got to go see it!”

And so I did. Puddles is called “The Sad Clown With The Golden Voice”, and rightly so. It’s hard to put into words just how entertaining he is, from the way he sings to the way he interacts with the audience; the whole thing is just magic, especially considering that he never really speaks during the whole show. I’ll never hear Dancing Queen the same way again, nor the hostile audience refrain from Am I Ever Gonna See Your Face Again? Just amazing.

Ronny Chieng

Even just the publicity photo and title of the Ronny Chieng‘s show You Don’t Know What You’re Talking About made me laugh, and that was before I’d even booked the tickets. I can just imagine him leaning back on that seat telling me off for speaking before my brain was engaged. His acerbic wit is hilarious live and he seems to have risen to prominence quite quickly; although I have a hunch it might not have seemed quite so quick to him.

Aside from his comedy, Ronny had by far the best neon sign of the festival. I also bumped into (that’s a synonym for accosted) him crossing the street in Melbourne, and said a quick “Hi”. Seemed like a decent guy who appeared to be going somewhere that didn’t involve hanging around chatting to a random stranger like me for too long.

Steen Raskopoulos

Earmarked as one of the leading emerging comedy talents of the country, I think I’ll claim Steen Raskopoulos as a friend of mine since I’ve been to several Improv classes taught by him, and I reckon by now he probably even knows my name. I saw Steen’s preview show back in Sydney when he was road-testing material for this festival, and it was a real treat to see the final work on stage in Character Assassin.

Steen really takes his audience on an emotional journey which includes involving audience members with no Improv background up on stage. He has a way of making you feel safe. I did laugh though when he said “I wouldn’t ask you to do anything that I wouldn’t do myself”. I know he’s sincere, but as a seasoned Improv guru, I’m pretty sure the scope of what he would be prepared to do himself is probably broader than most of his audience.

Nevertheless I’m sure his participants went away grateful for the experience. He also ties the various themes, characters and stories in his show together brilliantly. The whole set-up, execution and finale to the Old Man And The Ducks story was a work of art. Pure genius.

Another highlight for me was Steen and Susie Youssef’s Bus Stop Romance at the Festival Club mime night. Funny thing is, I think I’d seen it before, yet it still works. Or are they just such likable performers that it feels familiar even first time around?

Stephen K Amos

Another one of my favourite comedians is Stephen K Amos, whose voice and persona just make me laugh right from the word “go”. I got the feeling he’d only just stepped off the plane when I saw his preview show. He just hilarious though and the fun he’s clearly having on stage is infectious. I was particularly impressed with the way he handled a heckler about 40 minutes into the show, when a guy down the back yelled out:

“First one mate!”, implying that he’d only just found something funny.

Mr Amos smiled broadly and said proudly, “I know how to handle this”… and then proceeded to demolish the guy. Can’t remember what he said, but it was awesome to witness. I wish I’d videoed it… but I get the feeling Stephen really hates that.

Sammy J & Randy

Everyone’s favourite wildly successful man-puppet musical comedy duo (we’ve all been there!), An Evening With Sammy J & Randy is always entertaining, with their bizarre absurdist musical comedy storytelling.

I got laid after the last time I saw their show, so I had high hopes this year. That’s all I’ll say about that.

I passed up a unique opportunity during the Upstaging bit in their show, when Randy lept from the stage in a full-body puppet outfit and clamoured all over me in the audience in an attempt to upstage Sammy J, who was delivering a monologue from his drama studies thesis about the perils of upstaging. It suddenly occurred to me to pull Randy’s mask off, thus upstaging them both. Who is the guy playing the purple puppet anyway? Sadly, I chose to let them have their moment and watch passively instead. I’ll endeavour to be more pro-active next time.

Randy’s lip-sync battle at The Festival Club was also had me seeing double for a while. #YOUJUSTHADTOBETHERE.

Nina Conti

Nina Conti has perfected the art of externalising the monkey-mind of her inner critic for our amusement, and she does it brilliantly. Then she takes ventriloquism to a whole new level when she gets members of the audience up on stage, straps a remote-controlled mask with huge lips on them, and says “Don’t worry, I’ll do the talking for you.” All they have to do is stand there for the most part, and the result is hilarious. She either knows intuitively what they’re really thinking, or lives in a fantasy world that’s even funnier.

In one part of the show, Nina’s alter-ego monkey put her in a hypnotic trance, took control of the show and then proceeded to ask for questions from the audience. Feeling like a smart-arse, I yelled out: “What’s the meaning of life?” This led to a fun, engaging and somewhat nihilistic dialogue, which worked even better given that I was down the back of the room where Nina, being in a hypnotic trance, clearly couldn’t see where I was and had to ask which direction to point the puppet in. Surreal and hilarious. Monkey asked “Are you a seeker?” and “What do you do?”, to which I replied “I’m a comedian”. Judging by its curtly cynical and amusing answer, pursuing comedy won’t lead me to enlightenment… but I’m still willing to fail trying.

Akmal Saleh

Whenever I see a show by Akmal Saleh, I never really know what it is about. I don’t think he knows what it’s about either. But hey, the guy is funny so who’s complaining? Rockhampton, apparently.

Miles Allen

I was a late bloomer: I got into Breaking Bad late in life, when season 5 had just come out on DVD. Thanks to my local library’s phenomenal DVD collection, I had a month-long Breaking Bad festival where I barely left the house except to hunt for food, and the next instalment. It was rather heavy-going. So imagine my delight to find Miles Allen had packed all 5 seasons into a single hour of One Man Breaking Bad. This was a really fun way to revisit the show without having to spend another month, nor wind up with a crystal meth addiction. Bitches!

Sara Pascoe

What a welcome treat to have a comedian including vital lessons on evolutionary psychology, sociology and human sexuality in her act. I’ve also read Sperm Wars (or perhaps it was Sex At Dawn, which covers similar ground), and appreciated the in-depth analysis of why modern relationships don’t work as well as we expect, as much as the comedy. Apparently Sara Pascoe‘s partner is also a comedian, and they use each other in their respective routines. If that’s not symbiosis, I don’t know what is.

Kitty Flanagan

Kitty Flanagan is funny, sexy, sassy… and single? How can this be, or is it just a comedy ruse so that she can do routines about her ex-partner? Well, it was funny. I can’t help noticing that the audience was about 90% female, which improved my odds of hooking up significantly. I’d say more, but I’m afraid that she’ll see it as use the material against me in a future show.

Tom Gleeson

One of the funniest things I’ve ever seen on TV was Tom Gleeson‘s iPhone rant from Good News Week. The great thing about seeing him live is that you get the adult version, not the PG-rated one that we usually see on TV. With years of experience making people laugh, he can even make stories about his kids entertaining to other people. As he said in his act: “I nail this, every time”. Cocky, yes; but also engaging and funny.

Genevieve Fricker

What do you get when you take a musical comedienne with a strained arm and put her on-stage with a piano and a busted electric guitar? No, it’s not a joke; it was the plight of Gen Fricker the evening I saw her at the festival. An unfortunate incident helping her father move furniture (you’ll know not to do that again) had left her arm in a sling, and although the guitar issue turned out to be a problem with the speakers, she only found that out later. Ms Fricker handled the situation like a pro, using it all for comic value. Definitely one of the most likeable performers at the festival, she’s also great value when you run into her off-stage.

Jeff Green

What are you to do on a quiet Monday night at the festival, when most other comedians are recovering from their weekend hangovers? Check out Jeff Green, that’s what. What is it with UK comedians coming to Australia to steal our women though? Surely it’s not just for residency in Australia, is it?

Susie Youssef

Another recently-claimed friend of mine from Sydney, it was great to see Susie Youssef doing her own show at the festival. I’ve seen Susie do Improv before many times, but not stand-up… so what a treat!

Ray Badran

My mate Ray Badran was Dazed & Confused after pulling the PR coup of the festival with a brilliantly mis-executed audience interaction during a pre-festival show that got his name into papers as far away as the U.K. All publicity is good publicity, Ray. Nothing like a little controversy to get the word out there.

Joel Ozborn

Took a random punt on Joel Ozborn, who I’d never heard of before. He was funny, and he did it without putting anybody else down. My head was pretty much spinning by this point in the festival so I can’t recall much else about his show except that it included a little guitar, a little less keyboard, a shoe, and that it was held in the kitchen.

Luke Heggie

Luke Heggie has finely honed cynicism into an art form. If I ever have another BBQ, he’s invited. His bit about gentleman’s clubs had me falling off my seat, and although he says he isn’t special, I’m not so sure. He has a show at the Melbourne International Comedy festival, and that’s pretty special. I also chatted to him after the show and he seemed pretty cool.

Stuart Daulman

I took a punt on Stuart Daulman because the title of his show Stuart Daulman Is An Absolute Credit reminded me of the hilarious (to me, anyway) airline food reference from The Castle. I really wasn’t quite sure what was going on during most of this show, but by the end I reckon I almost got it. It’s a performance, not just a dude telling stories. I also learned how to use for dead birds for the art of seduction. I hope the beautiful Haaaaannah gets to see his show one day.

Rob Lloyd

I was stunned by Rob Lloyd‘s show Rob Lloyd vs The Monsters, based on his childhood anxieties. I was hoping for some helpful insights into my adult anxieties, which I suspect go back to my own childhood. But mainly I was just stunned. You can take that however you like. It was, nevertheless, an impressive performance piece; if you’re into that sort of thing.

The Festival Club

After realising that returning to my hostel to sleep any time before about 1 or 2 am was completely pointless given the two trams and a suburban train line right outside the window, I abandoned the idea of getting a decent nights sleep altogether and ended almost every night late at The Festival Club. Some of these nights were recorded by the ABC for Comedy Up Late, which was cool because it meant I got to relive them on iview after getting home.

Acts I remember include:

Mark Watson had my favourite line from the festival: “I would do that religiously. And by religiously I mean: without really thinking it through in detail”.

John Kearns had impressive teeth.

Kano Mami was hard to describe, but fun to watch.

Djuki Mala got their dance moves on.

Rhys Nicholson reminded me why I’m straight.

Lawrence Mooney made me laugh.

DeAnne Smith had a sweet song with helpful pick-up lines in it.

Die Roten Punkte at Haus Party were either a really silly duo of German musicians, or taking the piss.

It was nice for Mike Wilmot to be here.

So You Think You Can Mime. I think they can.

The guy who won the Lip Sync Battle with an unforgettable rendition of What A Feeling from Flashdance.

Set List

Let’s face it: we like seeing other people suffer. It’s funny, because we know the pain is happening to someone else. And comedians are funny for a living… So what could be funnier than a comedian suffering on stage? That’s the dark side of Set List. The light side is that it can inspire comic genius by assisting with the free flow of streams of consciousness as topics that the comedian has never seen before appear on the screen.

The highlight here for me was Sara Pascoe’s improvised four walls to the prison of the mind; and the guy who literally ran off-stage mid-way through the “set” after freaking out. He made me feel a lot better about myself.

Shaggers

Shaggers, the show where comics talk about sex, became a regular feature of my festival calendar after first seeing it 2 years ago on the suggestion of my mate Peter. On that night, one of the comedians went totally ballistic riffing on the audience, and it was absolutely hilarious.

This time around, most of the comics talked about how they hadn’t been laid in ages; so it was more of a show about not shagging. Desperation isn’t attractive; and maybe it was a bad omen because I totally failed to hook up with any of the cute girls in the audience that night too.

Other Randoms

A few other random highlights were:

Seeing Simon Taylor totally own a room full of screaming drunk idiots in a pub.

I’m the kind of person who sees Bob Downe in Big Top Bob.

If I wasn’t in a bad mood, Greg Fleet was probably funny.

Rebecca De Unamuno did some remarkable improvised characters.

Reliving Becky Lucas‘s bestest childhood best friendship.

59 Free Comedy inspired a pleasant tram ride to Richmond.

Outdoor Performers

I also saw plenty of outdoor performers in Federation Square and just across the road from the Town Hall. The most memorable ones were:

Mr Moriyasu: I’m still not clear if he’s actually Japanese, or taking the piss. But he’s funny, and he really does go inside that balloon. I’m hungry!

Trash Test Dummies: Who knew wheelie bins could be such fun?

Jessica Arpin nicked some girl’s boyfriend on a Swiss bicycle.

Sharon from Canada’s voice really grated on me.

Random Meetings

Another fun highlight of the festival was bumping into or seeing famous people from TV. They’re a little different in person; for one thing, you can talk back to them:

Julia Zemiro was friendly, engaging, and even helped me with my social skills.

Andrew Hansen was also really friendly and even gave me a helpful response to my silly question: “How can I get on TV?”

Lawrence Leung was busy filming something outside the town hall when I saw him, so I didn’t interrupt.

Claire Hooper looks pretty much the same in real life as she does on TV. Fancy that.

David Collins questioned my judgement for seeing Bob Downe’s show Big Top Bob, asking “What kind of person goes to see that?”, which I thought was a bit mean… so I decided not to mention him here.

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aroaessidhe · 1 year

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Cover was revealed recently for The Siren, The Song, And The Spy by Maggie Tokuda-Hall! Out September 26

Cover art by Victo Ngai; Design by Pam Consolazio.

By sinking a fleet of Imperial Warships, the Pirate Supreme and their resistance fighters have struck a massive blow against the Emperor. Now allies from across the empire are readying themselves, hoping against hope to bring about the end of the conquerors’ rule and the rebirth of the Sea. But trust and truth are hard to come by in this complex world of mermaids, spies, warriors, and aristocrats. Who will Genevieve—lavishly dressed but washed up, half-dead, on the Wariuta island shore—turn out to be? Is warrior Koa’s kindness toward her admirable, or is his sister Kaia’s sharp suspicion wiser? And back in the capital, will pirate-spy Alfie really betray the Imperials who have shown him affection, especially when a duplicitous senator reveals xe would like nothing better?

Meanwhile, the Sea is losing more and more of herself as her daughters continue to be brutally hunted, and the Empire continues to expand through profits made from their blood. The threads of time, a web of schemes, shifting loyalties, and blossoming identities converge in Maggie Tokuda-Hall’s remarkable companion to The Mermaid, the Witch, and the Sea, as unlikely young allies work to forge a new and better world.

#the siren the song and the spy #maggie tokuda-hall #the mermaid the witch and the sea #I heard it has ace-spec main characters? so fingers crossed that's in there #(as opposed to being word of god)

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transbookoftheday · 1 year

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The Siren, the Song, and the Spy by Maggie Tokuda-Hall

SPOILERS FOR "THE MERMAID, THE WITCH, AND THE SEA"!

In this second vibrant fantasy from Maggie Tokuda-Hall, companion to her best-selling debut, The Mermaid, the Witch, and the Sea, a diverse resistance force fights to topple an empire in a story about freedom, identity, and decolonization.

#the siren the song and the spy #maggie tokuda-hall #nonbinary #bigender #trans book of the day #trans books #queer books #bookblr #booklr

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scrivenerofchaos · 7 months

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Shadows of Faith 1/3

SUMMARY - In "Shadows of Faith: The Corruption of Sweet Carmilla," we follow the story of Carmilla, a devout young woman who anticipates a traditional marriage arranged by her parents. However, as her wedding day approaches, Carmilla's nightmares grow increasingly vivid and disturbing. She finds herself consumed by hunger in her dreams and haunted by the sensation of being watched. Amidst the chaos of her nightmares, a seductive voice calls out to her, whispering her name, "Carmilla." This voice belongs to Desdemona who reveals to Carmilla that she will eventually lose her faith, at which point she will be ripe for the taking.

Carmilla’s Nightmare

Carmilla relished in her morning walk around the Everhart family grounds. A grand estate, purposefully decorated for each season and occasion from Gregory, her father’s library to Genevieve, her mother’s painting studio to the classroom where she and her brother, Benjamin, were taught etiquette and culture of the world. Carmilla followed the well-trodden grassy path created from years of her foremothers footsteps. The sun warmed her deep skin, likened to the soil of Mother Earth. She glided her bare feet across the blades of grass and dirt to be cooled before taking another tentative step forward. Her house was a home filled with memories she’d cherish forever.

She wondered how she could feel at home on her fiancé, Irvine’s land. He was, “a fine young man,” according to her father. A stranger to her. She couldn’t help her thoughts turning to dreadful things. All the musing made her head spin. A sinking feeling formed in her stomach. These were not the butterflies she read about in her romance novels. It was a more familiar feeling. She was hungry.

She sat at the dining table. It stretched the length of the room. There were no decorations centered, there was nothing on the table at all - no plates, cutlery or crystal. She didn’t think it was odd, that her family were not in attendance. But the servants were nowhere to be found as well. The entire estate seemed devoid of people. She was alone and suddenly became aware of it.

Everything was still and quiet. Not even her old home made a sound, not a creak or settling noise. Carmilla struggled to remember how she got here, sitting at the empty grand table alone. Her memory faded, her skin still felt the warmed by the sun. She remembered that she was outside once. Why couldn’t she remember that?

Suddenly, a sharp pain shot through her. Nothing else mattered, she was starving. She made a move to leave the table, when she smelled the most delicious meal. A feast materialized before her, tempting her senses with its tantalizing aroma. She wanted nothing more than to take the food in her hands and bring it to her lips. In confusion, she hesitated, a fleeting thought came crossed her mind, how’d this get here?

The gnawing hunger roared in her gut. Without hesitation she took bite after bite, hardly chewing, hardly breathing as she gulped each morsel down, each tastier than the last. She felt she would never get full. The more she ate the greater the pain grew in her stomach. She was so hungry, the food intoxicating, she could hardly get a hold of herself.

A voice, velvety and commanding, pierced the silence, calling out her name, “Carmilla.” The voice was strong enough to break whatever curse compelled her to eat without sense. She pulled herself away from the plate.

There at the opposite end of the table, a dark figure sat, still and quiet yet their presence filled the room. The air was dense, heavy. Carmilla struggled to breathe. She couldn’t see the stranger’s face as it was shrouded in darkness, she felt the tingle of eyes watching her.

Carmilla swallowed the last morsel, before attempting to speak. She felt the urge to ask the dark visitor a question yet she didn’t know what. She whipped her face with a crisp white napkin made of cloth. As she returned the napkin on the table, a bright red stain caught her eye. She froze in confusion at the sight of it - it was blood.

In shock, she put her hand to her face and felt the congealed blood cling between her fingers, sticking them together, they formed ribbons as she pulled her fingers apart. She looked down at her plate as if that would grant her answers. That it did, in horror.

As she struggled to comprehend the gore before her, the stranger’s voice, resonating, a haunting melody like chimes in the wind, “Carmilla.”

The room smelled of fresh cut flowers. She felt a powerful urge to shift her focus on the stranger at the end of the table. Yet, She couldn’t break her gaze from the carnage before her on the silver platter.

She couldn’t make sense of what she was seeing. She shook her head in disbelief. “No, no, no,” Carmilla shook her head, covering her bloodied face with her soiled hands.

A familiar warmth enveloped her, “Carmilla,” sang her mother.

Her mother’s voice, a sweet escape from the hellish nightmare. She sat beside her daughter, eager to start the day, holding fresh clothes and water in hand for her, “my darling, Carmilla.”

Carmilla jerked awake, startled but grateful to be free of the deep sleep. The sun’s raze flooded her bed chambers. A look of relief washed over her beautiful sweaty face.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost. Bad dreams again, my sweetling?” Her mother inquired, concern evident in her voice.

“Yes, but”, her mind losing the grip of the dream that felt more like a fading memory, “I can’t seem to remember it at all.”

”Ah, what a blessing then. We can focus on more important matters.” She set her daughter’s day clothes on the bed and poured a pitcher of warm water in the washing bowl. She gleefully continued, “We have wedding dresses to try on. They’ve just arrived this morning.”

Carmilla sat up slowly, the lingering fear of her dream made her feel sluggish. She felt the familiar feeling in her abdomen. She lifted her covers to reveal fresh blood staining her bed linen and sleep gown. Her mother, unshaken by the sight, did not hesitate to ring the bell for the servants’ assistance.

”Do not fret. We’ll get you freshened up.” Her mother assured her with confidence.

“I guess I won’t be trying on any dresses today?” Carmilla asked, disappointed.

”We can still peruse the selection,” she held her daughter’s hand, “You just rest. The first day of bleeding is always the worst. I will have the servants bring you your favorite.”

Her mother made a gesture to the servants without speaking a word. They moved in an organized fashion. They prepared a copper tub for bathing and fresh clothes for bleeding days.

She was served a plate of duck bacon, buttered toast with apple-cinnamon jam, freshly cut fruits and berries with black tea. Gazing at her food she felt a hint of nervousness but couldn’t remember why.

Her mother distracted her from her anxious thoughts, ”When you feel better, we can take a stroll around the grounds if you desire. Exercise is good for you, especially on your Moon-day.”

She recalled the serenity of walking, then the dreadful feeling returned as if anticipating the other shoe to drop. The emotion soon passed, fainter now and weaker, she focused on other matters.

She forced a weak smile, ”I’d like that very much.”

In the dressing hall, several rows of pearly white wedding garb displayed before them, waiting to be chosen by Carmilla. She and her mother studied the dresses intently before moving to the next. A servant follows them closely, writing down their comments about each garment.

”Number…34,” Carmilla paused, making sure the servant wrote it down before continuing.

”I love the lace trim on the bodice,” her mother commented, the servant feverishly writing.

”It’s a bit tight here,” Carmilla criticized.

“We’ll send it to the tailor, of course,” her mother reassured, she couldn’t find a bad word to say about any dress, she loved them all.

The mention of a tailor and Carmilla’s mind reeled with thoughts. Each trousseau felt like clouds beneath Carmilla’s fingers. This was everything she dreamed of since she was thirteen years old. She had libraries full of diaries, vision journals and scrapbooks packed with artist’s illustrations, poems from classic writers, and her own prayers detailing her perfect life to come; her perfect wedding, her perfect husband and perfect children. Choosing the perfect dress with her mother completes one task from the list of to-do’s.

Carmilla decided to do a combination of her mother’s wedding dress and something new. Her mother’s wedding dress, passed down for five generations, didn’t quite fit her body type. She had wider hips and a deeper bosom than her mother. The sense of style had changed over the years, Carmilla desired to make a dress of her own.

The dress would be tailored by none other than the bride-to-be’s best friend, Emily. She was more than an expert tailor, she knew every curve of Carmilla’s body as they were once interested in heavy petting on the long and lonely nights.

Emily’s affections couldn’t be returned by Carmilla. It was unclear if it was the pressures of tradition and religion, economic status, or the fact that Carmilla couldn’t see herself happily wed to someone who couldn’t give her children.

Her mother would say, “Have your fun with the girl now. When the time comes to make the family and your God proud, you must get married to someone who can provide for you as you provide them with future children.”

Emily is a tradeswoman. Carmilla is an Everhart. The Everharts amassed a great fortune from once being tradespeople several centuries ago. Now the family is a thriving business. Taking their special friendship seriously would be going backwards down the poverty line.

When Carmilla envisioned her perfect wedding, it was her betrothed that flooded her mind’s eye, not Emily. Her husband-to-be, is Irvine Quartermaine. A man her father approved of. He was of good stock, wealthy, and he’s a devout follower of Easis, like the Everhart’s. A perfect match for sweet Carmilla.

And yet, she desired nothing more than to be held by Emily again. She couldn’t shake the forgotten nightmare, she had grown accustomed to Emily’s support. The ill-faded dream slipping from her mind like smoke in the air. She couldn’t tell if the sinking feeling in her gut was from her cycle or the ill night visions. No, this aching was deeper, the pain lingered in the body, like the dull soreness of fatigued muscles.

She remembered the sleepovers of her younger days. Carmilla grew up sickly and bedridden most days. Emily would keep her company during those challenging times. They’d hold hands as Emily fed her because she was too weak to lift the spoon. When Carmilla woke up screaming, Emily would be there, holding her in her arms. She wondered if Irvine was as kind and gentle. He had to be, she dashed the thought of doubt, if he follows Easis’ teachings he has to be a good man. But what if he isn’t? Her stomach turned at the thought of her dreams being dashed. She closed her eyes and hurriedly plucked a pale bridal gown from the rack.

Her mother smiled happily before confusion appeared on her face, “This one, love?”

She nodded her head before muttering, “I don’t feel well,” and hurried out the room.

The day yielded to the night. Carmilla drank chamomile tea to soothe her nerves. The uneasiness of the day melted into the rhythm of night. Cicadas sang and the cool breeze rustled the tree leaves. She looked at her bed intently before making her way to the walk-in closet. She borrowed through a forest of hanging clothes to reach a wooden box. She knelt before it as if praying. She opened the box to reveal an aged charm. This trinket was handmade. She gently took the charm into her hands and hugged it to her chest.

“It was only one bad dream,” her mother’s solemn voice came from behind her.

“I haven’t lost faith like you,” she walked past her mother to her bed.

Author's Notes: My inspiration - "Write about the love you've always wanted," My sibling told me.

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heavenlyyshecomes · 1 year

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As a teenager, so she told me once, she had passed through fleeting passions for saints the way most people ran through movie stars, fixating short bursts of ardour upon Saint Erasmus, Saint Augustine, Saint Clare of Assisi, Saint Benedict, Saint Genevieve and Saint Anne. At the age of thirteen, she had conceived a particular passion for Saint Lidwina, a Dutch mystic partially paralysed after breaking her rib in a fall on the ice. This fall, so a teenaged Jelka had read with the breathlessness that accompanies a crush, precipitated a lifetime of physical hardship, from gangrene and bleeding from the nose and mouth, to parts of the body falling off, to blindness and even stigmata. My favourite part of the story, she told me, was that she fasted. She was in that much pain, bits of her skin coming away, pieces of her body, and she was still so devout that she fasted for God. I was a bloodthirsty little bitch when you think about it. I loved that so much. I read this book once that said that all she ate were apples and dates and all she drank was salt water. I remember the way she told this story, the way she touched a hand to her lips directly afterwards as though checking for excess moisture.

—Julia Armfield, Our Wives Under the Sea

#words #julia armfield #our wives under the sea #2023 reads #mine #real .

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kristylime · 1 year

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WWDITS Fanfic Rec

In addition to re-blogging great memes, art, interesting reflections, and making posts to plug my own fics, I would also like to plug some other cool What We Do In the Shadows Fics that I have read.

To start this series off-

Spotlight on:

You Don't Know What I'd Do For You by PocketFullofBats aka @someguywife

Simply put, this is drabble (just shy of 2,000 words) focusing on Nandor’s feelings that his vampirism is a curse that he does not wish to pass on to Guillermo. Because he cares about him.

This is angsty AF. But sometimes, as we all know, it feels good to get in touch with our tortured feelings about Nandermo.

Summary:

And there lay his problem.

Nandor could accept the loneliness he had been damned to, or he could finally give Guillermo what he had promised; cursing him to suffer the same perpetual existence. It was a choice he was forced to make, a choice he could only put off for so long.

This fic is also partially inspired by a song, “Habits” by Genevieve Stokes.

youtube

This is a very fitting Nandermo song. I was particularly struck by the Nandor vibes specific to feeling a bit at a loss for understanding.

Specifically in this fic, he reflects on his attempts to navigate life in a world that frequently no longer makes sense. He pushes away the person he cares most about because he doesn’t want him to suffer the same fate. The burden of the knowledge that everything is fleeting… power, family, and love.

This experience is not a gift that Nandor wishes to bestow on Guillermo. 😭

Please stop by and take a look! If you enjoy, please show some love with Kudos and comments!

#what we do in the shadows #wwdits #nandermo #nandor the relentless #wwdits nandor #wwdits guillermo #wwdits nandermo #fanfic #fanfiction #guillermo de la cruz #ao3 link #ao3 fic #angsty fic #drabble #angst #Kudos and Comments are Love #Vampirism is a curse #It's a drabble... you have the time!#Youtube

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rainywerewolfmoon · 7 months

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Fairyland Reborn

Ao3 link here Fairyland Reborn - Chapter 6 - Princessmh9 - Original Work [Archive of Our Own]

Chapter 6: Trials of Courage and Determination

{Genevieve yawned and stretched as she opens her eyes and gasps as she looks at the sky as the dankness and stormy sky rumbles above her.}

{Genevieve shaking Ash awake} Ash wake up now!

{Ash waking up} What is it, Genevieve?

{Genevieve pointing to the dark sky.}

{Genevieve} It feels like sunrise but look at the sky Ash

{Ash looked up at the sky and gasped.}

{Ash} It must be the Court of Shadow. They wasted no time trying to take over Fairyland. We better hurry and find the hearts purest desire and....

{Genevieve, a determined glint in her eyes, finishes Ash's sentence.}

{Genevieve} ...and the living star. That's the only way we can save Elara and restore Fairyland. Let's stay focused and keep moving. We have no time to lose.

{Ash nods at this as they get and start to pack the camp up. Genevieve can't help but wonder where they would be finding the two remaining items from. She looks at Ash as he saddles his stag Spirit up.}

{Genevieve} Ash, where are we going to find the hearts purest desire and the living star? We have no clues nothing to go on about it.

{Ash finishes fastening Spirit's saddle and turns to Genevieve with a determined expression.}

{Ash} I know it won't be easy, Genevieve, but we have to start somewhere. Let's remember what Kendra told us about the Moonlit Well and how it revealed itself when needed. Perhaps it can guide us to the hearts purest desire. As for the living star, it's a rare and mysterious entity, but we'll have to search the far reaches of Fairyland to find it. We can't give up hope.

{He reaches out and takes her hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze.}

{Ash} Together, we'll find a way. For Elara and for Fairyland.

{Genevieve hugs him} Thankyou Ash for standing by my side for all these stars.

{Ash hugging her back} Your welcome my love. Now lets go. We have little to spare.

{Genevieve nods at this as she mounts Shadow and Ash does the same for Spirit. With renewed determination, Genevieve and Ash set out on their quest to find the hearts purest desire and the living star. The ominous sky above them, filled with shadows and storm, serves as a constant reminder of the looming threat posed by the Court of Shadows. They ride deeper into the Enchanted Forest, their hearts filled with hope and resolve, ready to face whatever challenges lie ahead. As they journeyed for hours, leaving behind the enchanting woods of the Enchanted Forest, they ventured into the Crystal Woods near the Crystal Kingdom. The dense trees of the enchanted woods gradually gave way to the shimmering crystal formations of their new surroundings. Exhausted and thirsty, they halted their steeds by the banks of a glistening stream, the waters mirroring the sparkling crystals overhead. As Genevieve dismounted Shadow to let him drink from the crystal-clear stream, her keen eyes caught a fleeting glimmer of something out of the corner of her eye.}

{Genevieve, her voice filled with curiosity and anticipation} Ash, did you see that?

{Ash, scanning the area, puzzled} See what, my love?

{Before he could respond, a mysterious presence emerged from the foliage nearby, catching them both by surprise. Out from the dense undergrowth, a pair of ethereal creatures materialized. They were Will-o'-the-Wisps, their forms delicate and translucent, casting a gentle, eerie glow in the surroundings.}

{Genevieve, her eyes filled with wonder} Will-o'-the-Wisps! I've heard tales of these elusive beings, but I've never seen them in person.

{Ash, cautious yet intrigued} They are said to be guides to lost travelers. Perhaps they have something to show us.

{The Will-o'-the-Wisps floated nearer, their soft glow casting an otherworldly light on the couple. One of them hovered closer to Genevieve, while the other circled around Ash. They seemed to communicate through silent, mesmerizing dances of light, creating intricate patterns in the air.}

{Genevieve, her voice soft and respectful} What do you wish to show us, gentle spirits?

{The Will-o'-the-Wisps continued their graceful dance of light, leading Genevieve and Ash deeper into the crystal woods. The couple followed, their trust in these mystical creatures growing with each step.}

{Genevieve, her voice filled with curiosity} "I have a feeling they are guiding us to something important, Ash."

{Ash, his gaze unwavering on the ethereal creatures} "Agreed. Let's follow them and see where they lead us."

{As they ventured further into the woods, the crystal trees seemed to respond to the presence of the Will-o'-the-Wisps, casting dazzling reflections of light that danced on the forest floor. The enchanting beauty of the crystal woods was unlike anything they had ever seen.}

{Genevieve, in awe of the surroundings} This place is breathtaking, Ash. It's like we've stepped into a fairy tale.

{Ash, his eyes fixed on the glowing creatures} Yes, but we mustn't forget our purpose. We're here to find the hearts purest desire and the living star.

{The Will-o'-the-Wisps suddenly halted and hovered in front of a massive crystal tree. Its trunk was adorned with intricate carvings and pulsated with an otherworldly energy. The creatures' soft glow intensified as they pointed toward the tree.}

{Genevieve, her voice filled with wonder} Could this be what we've been searching for?

{Ash dismounted from Spirit, his eyes fixed on the pulsating crystal tree. He approached it cautiously, his hand reaching out to touch its smooth surface. As his fingers made contact, a surge of energy coursed through him, causing his eyes to widen in surprise.}

{Ash, with a sense of awe} "Genevieve, I can feel its power. It's as if this tree is alive."

{Genevieve, her voice filled with anticipation} Perhaps it's the living star we've been seeking.

{The Will-o'-the-Wisps gathered around the tree, their glow merging with its radiance. As if in response to their presence, the crystal tree began to emanate a soft, melodic hum. Genevieve and Ash exchanged a glance, their hearts filled with hope.}

{Genevieve, whispering} Do you think this tree can grant us the hearts purest desire?

{Ash, his eyes filled with determination} There's only one way to find out. We must ask.

{Genevieve approached the tree, her voice clear and unwavering.} Great crystal tree, we seek the hearts purest desire to save our daughter and our kingdom from darkness. Will you grant it to us?

{The tree's hum grew stronger, surrounding them in its enchanting melody. For a moment, they feared their plea had fallen on deaf ears, but then the tree responded.}

{Soft, ethereal voice of the tree} To prove your worth, you must pass the test of the crystal guardians. Only then will the hearts purest desire be revealed.

{Genevieve and Ash exchanged determined looks, ready to face whatever challenge lay ahead in this enchanting realm of crystal. The crystal tree shimmered with a brilliant, welcoming light as it responded to their resolve.}

{Ash, with determination} We accept the challenge, and we shall prove our worth.

{Genevieve, echoing his determination} Lead us to the crystal guardians, and we shall face this test.

{In response to their words, the crystal tree's branches extended, forming a sparkling path that beckoned them deeper into the Crystal Woods. The Will-o'-the-Wisps danced with joy, their luminous forms lighting the way. As they followed the path, the surroundings transformed into a breathtaking crystal wonderland. Trees, flowers, and even the very ground beneath their feet were composed of shimmering, translucent crystals.}

{Genevieve, in awe of the beauty around her} It's like stepping into a dream.

{Ash, a sense of wonder in his voice} Indeed, it's unlike anything I've ever seen.

{The path led them to a clearing where three magnificent crystal statues stood, each depicting a different guardian. There was a guardian of wisdom, a guardian of courage, and a guardian of compassion.}

{Genevieve, observing the statues} These must be the crystal guardians.

{Ash, his gaze unwavering} Let's approach them and face the test.

{As they stepped closer to the statues, a shimmering mist enveloped them, and the crystal guardians came to life. Each guardian emanated an aura that matched their virtue.}

{Guardian of Wisdom, in a calm voice} To prove your wisdom, answer my riddle: I speak without a mouth and hear without ears. I have no body, but I come alive with the wind. What am I?

{Guardian of Courage, with a bold presence} To prove your courage, you must face your deepest fear within the realm of mirrors.

{Guardian of Compassion, radiating kindness} To prove your compassion, help a lost soul find its way back to the light.

{Genevieve and Ash exchanged determined looks, ready to take on the challenges presented by the crystal guardians, for the sake of their daughter and their kingdom.}

{Genevieve, facing the Guardian of Wisdom, thought for a moment before answering confidently} The answer to your riddle is an echo.

{The Guardian of Wisdom nodded, its crystalline form shimmering with approval} Correct. You have proven your wisdom.

{Ash stepped towards the Guardian of Courage, his heart pounding with anticipation. The realm of mirrors lay before him, a seemingly endless expanse of reflective surfaces. He took a deep breath and ventured into the surreal landscape, determined to face his deepest fear.}

{Genevieve, determined to prove her compassion, approached the Guardian of Compassion.} I'm ready to help the lost soul find its way back to the light.

{The Guardian of Compassion smiled warmly, its aura radiating kindness} You have already taken the first step towards compassion by offering your assistance. Follow the path of illumination to find the lost soul.

{As Ash took a deep breath and smiled at Genevieve}

{Ash} I be back as soon as I can my love.

{He gives her a quick kiss before entering the maze of mirrors. As he walks in to the maze he couldn’t help but feel like he was being watched. As he followed the twists and curves of the maze he failed to notice his reflection was following him. Inside the maze of mirrors, Ash's reflection continued to mimic his every move. The unsettling feeling of being watched grew stronger with each step. As Ash ventured deeper into the labyrinth, he began to notice that the reflections in the mirrors were not always his own. Distorted and nightmarish versions of himself danced at the edges of his vision, taunting him with his deepest fears and insecurities. Despite the eerie atmosphere, Ash pressed on, determined to prove his courage to the Guardian of Courage. He knew that facing his inner demons was the only way to pass this trial and reunite with Genevieve. As he came to a fork in the road, he notices his reflection was leaning angst the frame.}

{Reflection} Hello Nion. Come to face your darkest times again.

{Ash} I know you're not real. I am stronger and will come out stronger for Genevieve and our daughter.

{The reflection laughs at this in a mocking tone.}

{Reflection} Remember when Genevieve was pregnant? You almost lead her to have a miscarriage. You bruised your unborn daughter and pregnant wife badly remember?

{Ash's jaw clenched as he fought against the taunts of his reflection. He knew these were just illusions designed to test his resolve and courage.}

{Ash, determined and unyielding, retorted,} Those are just memories, and they won't break me. I've learned from my mistakes, and I won't let them define me. I'm going to find the Guardian of Courage and prove myself worthy. No illusion can stand in my way.

{Reflection chuckling} Is that so? Well then take a look at this.

{The reflection showed him a distorted and painful memory of the argument he had with Genevieve when she was pregnant with Elara. In the memory, he watched in horror as he grabbed Genevieve by the arm, and in desperation to break free from his grip, she kicked him in the knees, causing her to fall painfully onto the floor, her swollen belly at risk. Ash shut his eyes as these memories flashed across the mirror. Genevieve was only six moons pregnant at the time with Elara.}

{Ash, his voice filled with remorse,} I can't change the past, but I can shape the future. I will make amends for my mistakes and protect my family. Nothing can break my spirit.

{With those words, he turned away from the haunting reflection and continued his journey through the maze of mirrors, leaving the painful memories behind.}

{As Ash walked further into the maze, the illusions and taunts continued relentlessly. He saw visions of moments from his past, both good and bad, trying to test his resolve.}

{Reflections of old friends and adversaries appeared, each trying to sway his thoughts. They whispered doubts and regrets, trying to undermine his determination. But Ash knew what he was seeking—the Guardian of Courage. And he knew that facing these illusions and resisting their taunts was part of the trial he had to overcome.}

{One illusion took the form of an old friend, saying,} You were never good enough, Ash. You let everyone down.

{Another illusion, resembling an adversary, sneered,} You think you can save your daughter? You're just a weakling.

{Then the reflections of his parents showed up and geared at him.}

{Lindir} You were never a son to me

{Albina} You are a disappointment to us.

{As the reflections of his parents appeared, their words were like daggers to Ash's heart. The illusions of his parents, who should have provided him with love and support, instead delivered cruel and cutting taunts.}

{Lindir, his voice dripping with scorn,} You were always a disappointment, Nion.

{Albina, her gaze filled with disdain,} You never lived up to our expectations. I always wanted a son that I can be proud of and you Nion are not that son.

{Ash felt a deep, searing pain inside. These illusions seemed to tap into his deepest insecurities and fears, the fear of never living up to the expectations of those he cared about. But Ash knew that these were not his parents, and these hurtful words were not a reflection of his true self-worth.}

{Ash, determined to overcome this final test, spoke firmly to the illusions,} You are not my parents. These are not their words. I am proud of who I am, and I won't let your false accusations weaken me.

{As the illusions of his parents began to fade away, their hurtful taunts silenced, Ash was met with another cruel twist in the maze. The sweet, loving voices of Elara and Genevieve appeared, but they were distorted, their words laced with bitterness and disappointment.}

{Elara, her voice carrying a tone of accusation,} Papa, why did you leave us?

{Genevieve, her eyes filled with sorrow,} You promised to protect us, Nion, and you failed.

{Ash felt a pang of heartache as the illusions of his beloved daughter and wife seemed to turn against him. These were not their true voices, and Ash knew that deep down, Elara and Genevieve believed in him. But the illusions were designed to exploit his deepest fears and regrets.}

{Ash, his resolve unwavering, faced the illusions and declared,} I will not be swayed by these illusions. I know the love that Elara and Genevieve hold for me, and I will prove myself to them. These false words cannot deter me.

{With determination burning in his heart, Ash turned away from the illusions and continued through the maze, the shimmering mirror revealing the next part of his journey. He knew that he was drawing closer to the Guardian of Courage, and he would not let these illusions weaken his spirit. As Ash moved deeper into the maze, the illusions became more persistent, their taunts growing louder and more insistent.}

{Elara's voice, filled with sadness, echoed around him,} You abandoned us, Papa. You left us alone when we needed you the most.

{Genevieve's voice, tinged with disappointment,} I thought you were the brave and noble Nion, but you've proven yourself to be weak.

{Despite the relentless assault of these illusions, Ash pressed on. He knew that they were not real, and the strength of his love for his family bolstered his determination.}

{Ash, his voice resolute,} I will not be broken by these illusions. My love for Genevieve and Elara is unwavering, and I will prove myself to them. No matter what trials I face, I will emerge stronger.

{With unwavering determination, Ash continued through the maze, determined to confront the Guardian of Courage and complete his quest to save his family {As Ash ventured deeper into the maze, the illusions became more vivid and taunting.}

{Elara's voice, filled with tears, echoed through the maze,} Why did you leave us, Papa? Why did you abandon us to face this darkness alone?

{Genevieve's voice, laced with disappointment,} I believed in you, Nion. I thought you were our protector, but you've let us down. I should have married someone else.

{The taunts grew louder and more insistent, but Ash remained resolute. He knew that these illusions were designed to test his resolve, and he refused to let them break him.}

{Ash, his voice unwavering,} I will not falter. I will face my fears and doubts head-on. My love for Genevieve and Elara is my strength, and I will prove myself to them.

{Elara's voice, now filled with sorrow and desperation,} Papa, please don't leave us. We need you. I need you.

{Genevieve's voice, tinged with anger,} You promised to protect us, Nion, but you've let us down when we needed you the most.

{The voices echoed through the twisting corridors of the maze, each taunt cutting deeper. But Ash's determination only grew stronger.}

{Ash, his voice unwavering,} I will not be swayed by these illusions. My love for Genevieve and Elara is unwavering, and I will do whatever it takes to save them.

{As Ash neared the heart of the maze, the illusions grew more desperate in their attempts to deter him.}

{Elara's voice, now trembling and filled with fear,} Papa, I'm scared. Please, don't go.

{Genevieve's voice, softer and filled with regret,} Nion, I didn't mean what I said. Please come back to us.

{The illusions of his family continued to plead and beg, but Ash remained resolute.}

{Ash, his voice firm and unwavering,} I know you're not real. I must face the Guardian of Courage and prove myself worthy to save you both.

{With determination burning in his heart, Ash pressed forward, ready to confront the final challenge that lay ahead. The illusions could not break his resolve, for he knew that his love for his family would guide him through. As Ash pressed forward, the maze of mirrors seemed to shift and twist, trying to disorient him. The illusions of his family, while fading, still whispered taunts and doubts.}

{Elara's voice, faint and distant,} Papa, you're leaving me all alone in the dark.

{Genevieve's voice, tinged with sorrow,} Nion, please don't abandon us like this.

{Ash, fighting against the illusions,} I won't abandon you. I'm doing this for you, to bring you both back.

{The path ahead grew darker and more treacherous, but Ash's determination blazed like a beacon. He knew that he had to reach the heart of the maze to face the Guardian of Courage. With each step, he pushed aside the illusions and continued his journey, guided by his love and courage. Finally, at the heart of the maze, he encountered a magnificent mirror, unlike the others. It shimmered with an otherworldly light, and in its reflection, Ash saw not his own image, but a swirling vortex of shadows. This was the entrance to the Guardian of Courage's domain, and Ash knew that his true test awaited him beyond. Taking a deep breath, he stepped through the mirror, ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead and prove his courage to save his family.

On the other side of the mirror, Ash found himself in a surreal and ever-shifting dreamscape. The ground beneath his feet felt unstable, like it could crumble away at any moment, and the sky above was an ever-changing tapestry of shifting colors and patterns. As he ventured deeper into this strange realm, he heard whispers, faint and ghostly, as if carried by the wind. As he journeyed further, the landscape shifted once again, and he found himself in a dense, labyrinthine forest of thorns and shadows. The thorns seemed to reach out for him, ready to ensnare and hinder his progress. But Ash didn't falter. With each step, he cut through the thorns with his determination, his love for his family, and his unwavering courage. The maze of shadows could not deter him. At last, at the heart of the thorny forest, he encountered a radiant figure. It was the Guardian of Courage, a majestic creature with wings of light and eyes that shone with wisdom.}

{The Guardian spoke, its voice echoing through Ash's mind,} You have faced your doubts, your fears, and your past. You have proven your courage, Nion. Now, you must use this courage to bring back the light and save your family.

{With those words, the Guardian extended a radiant wing and touched Ash's heart. In that moment, Ash felt a surge of power and determination coursing through him. The Guardian of Courage nodded in approval, and the dreamscape around them began to fade. Ash found himself back in the maze of mirrors, but this time, he was filled with renewed purpose and strength. With newfound courage, he retraced his steps through the maze, back to the entrance. He knew that he had a challenging journey ahead of him, but he was ready to face it with unwavering resolve. The fate of his family depended on his bravery, and he would not let them down.}

{Genevieve watched as Ash stepped through the mirror, her heart filled with hope and anxiety. She knew that Ash had to face his own challenges to prove his worthiness. In her own test, Genevieve found herself in a vast and ethereal garden. The flowers were vibrant and otherworldly, and their petals seemed to shimmer with an inner light. As she walked through the garden, she heard a voice, soft and gentle, like a whisper on the breeze. It was the voice of her daughter, Elara.}

{Elara's voice, filled with love,} Mama, don't be afraid. I'm with you.

{Genevieve smiled through her tears, feeling Elara's presence comforting her. She continued her journey through the garden, each step taking her deeper into its enchanting beauty. But as she ventured further, the atmosphere shifted. The once-benign garden transformed into a maze of thorns and shadows. The flowers withered, and the vibrant colors faded to gray. Genevieve felt a sense of foreboding, but she pressed on, driven by her love for Ash and Elara. She knew she had to prove her determination and resolve. The thorns grew denser and more menacing, reaching out to block her path. Genevieve's hands trembled as she tried to navigate the labyrinth of shadows.

Then, in the midst of the thorns, she saw a glimmer of light. It was a single, radiant flower, untouched by the darkness. With great care, Genevieve reached for it, her heart pounding. As she touched the flower, it blossomed in her hand, and the shadows around her began to recede. The maze of thorns retreated, revealing a path forward. At the heart of the garden, she encountered a majestic figure, the Guardian of Determination. Its presence filled her with awe, and its voice resonated in her mind.}

{The Guardian spoke,} You have faced the darkness, and you have shown unwavering determination. Your love and resolve have brought light to the shadows. Now, you must use this determination to rescue your family.

{With those words, the Guardian extended a hand, and Genevieve felt a surge of inner strength and determination flow through her. She knew that she was ready to face the challenges that lay ahead and bring her family back. As she left the garden, Genevieve felt a renewed sense of purpose. She stepped through the mirror once more, returning to the maze where Ash had faced his own trials. Together, with their newfound courage and determination, they were prepared to confront the Court of Shadows and rescue their loved ones from the darkness that threatened to consume Fairyland. Genevieve rushed forward to meet Ash, relief flooding her as he emerged from the maze of mirrors.}

{Genevieve, embracing him tightly,} Ash, you made it! Are you okay?

{Ash, holding her just as tightly,} I'm here, Genevieve. I faced my own challenges in there, but we have the Tears of Moonlight. We can use them to break the curse.

{Genevieve nodded, her determination unwavering,} And I faced my own trials in the garden. We have the Guardian's blessing of determination. We're ready to face whatever lies ahead.

{Ash smiled,} Together, always.

{As they reentered the cave, the Guardians of Courage and Determination appeared before Genevieve and Ash.}

{Guardian of Courage, with a stern expression,} "You have shown immense courage, Ash. In the face of your past mistakes and your inner demons, you found the strength to confront them. For your bravery, we bestow upon you this sacred relic."

{The Guardian of Courage handed Ash a shimmering crystal vial filled with a radiant liquid which was Hearts Purest Desire.}

{Guardian of Determination, with a warm smile,} And you, Genevieve, displayed unwavering determination and resilience. Your heart's desire to save your daughter and the entire realm led you through the trials of the garden. As a symbol of your determination, accept this gift.

{The Guardian of Determination placed a delicate, glowing flower in Genevieve's hand.}

{Genevieve, holding the flower,} Thank you.

{Ash, examining the crystal vial,} We are grateful for your guidance.

{With the crystal vial containing the Tears of Moonlight and the Hearts Purest Desire in their possession, Ash and Genevieve left the cave, their hearts filled with gratitude for the guidance of the guardians. They knew that these relics were powerful symbols of their determination and love for Elara. As they stepped back into the dark day, they felt a renewed sense of purpose. With two of the three required items, they were one step closer to facing the Court of Shadows and rescuing their daughter from the clutches of Starlessia. The Living Star awaited them, and they were determined to find it and complete their quest. Hand in hand, they pressed on through the Crystal Forest, their spirits undeterred by the challenges that lay ahead. They knew that with the Tears of Moonlight and the Hearts Purest Desire, they had a fighting chance to bring Elara back and restore light to their world.

#the fairyland

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theironwarsmith · 1 year

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I finally get to be a playable character in D&D

As the forever DM, I've been aching to play as a PC for some time now and now I've finally got the chance.

I've been aching to play as a Tiefling Warlock for some time now. Introducing Verigo, who has a number of aliases including "Duke Ignatius III" but has the virtue name of 'Greed'.

Verigo's life has not been the best. Born to two humans, his birth was seen as an ill omen by the superstitious parents. His red skin, black hair and yellow eyes led him to seen as a devil. He was barely 5 years old when he was abandoned by them.

Between begging for scraps, being ostracised by the small minded folk in the countryside and sleeping where he could find respite from the world, he found his path. He developed a knack for sweet talking his way out of situations and this silver tongue eventually became his means of survival.

His travels eventually led him to larger cities, which meant that he blended in better and his appearance was seen more as something exotic rather than a curse. It was here that he became a convincing liar and rather good at disguises. Combining these two, he was able to swindle the rich and it was at this stage he referred to himself as Greed, through Greed he was able to fill that hole within him which had been ever-present in his life. He found that with enough gold, he could get anything he wanted, even buy the company of others. Fleeting as it was, it would do.

The void within him never faded, until he found someone that swept him away. Genevieve Thackleton, a barmaid he encountered. One thing led to another and he fell for her. Whilst he never really let on to how he obtained his money, it would eventually catch up with him. A noble, disenfranchised of a substantial amount of gold, found out Verigo's true identity and tracked him down one night.

The noble, a Count Laggorsond, murdered Genevieve before him and attempted to kill Verigo, but he managed to escape into the night. Through numerous attempts, Verigo found that the Count had made it all but impossible for Verigo to enact vengeance. The tiefling fell into despair, his love had been taken from him and there was, once again, a great void within him.

In those dark times, he attempted to bargain with gods and men, all fell on deaf ears. Until the void answered back. From the abyss, a succubus known as Leli, persuaded him to enter a pact, promising that she would grant him the power to bring ruin to the Count as long as he does she bidding. Normally, Verigo would be unwilling to enter any sort of agreement, but the succubus bore a slight resemblance to his deceased love and, with that, the pact was made.

Now, with his newfound powers, he isbable to change his appearance at a whim, bring forth baleful magicks and enter rooms with spectacular fashion. He'll find the Count, eventually, but firstly he has some tasks to do.

#dungeons and dragons #dungeons & dragons

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themosleyreview · 2 years

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The Mosley Review: Star Wars: Andor

For the longest time, the quality of the Star Wars franchise has been lackluster. In animation it has had no equal, but in live action there has been a dramatic decline in storytelling and growth. The Mandalorian was that wake up call that breathed new life into the galaxy, The Book of Boba Fett made the air a little foul and most recently Obi-Wan Kenobi made it go stale. The hope for great stories in the franchise that challenged you the viewer and its characters was fleeting. This new series was the last beacon of light that could either reinvigrate the galaxy or just plunge it even deeper into despair. Well I am so happy to say that this series did the former and brought Star Wars into the realm of more adult storytelling that I've wished to see since Rogue One opened the door. The first 4 episodes alone let you know exactly what this show is all about and the exact tone it is promising throughout. The angle of espionage and relevant themes of political games, oppression, fascism and terrorism has always been apart of Star Wars, but now we get the chance to see the players and the people those decisions effect. The level of duality between the birth of the Rebellion vs the overbearing oppressive and order driven Imperials is brilliantly explored as you get to witness both perspectives of each factions. I have been waiting for something like this to happen and my goodness did this show deliver. There are so many emotional moments within this show that creep up and the moments of absolute brutality whether it be pure violence or torture, are expertly crafted to show how each character is effected and/or corrupted.

Diego Luna returns as Cassian Andor as we follow the character about 10 or so years before the events of Rogue One. We get to see the origin of the character with a number of retcons, but they were not necessarily too bad. I liked that he started off as basically a scoundrel that’s constantly down on his luck, but he has a heart of gold. He was way more relatable and unrefined and I loved that he wouldn't hesitate to take a life. He is in a desperate and sometimes dark place, but he is constantly learning how to survive and adapt to every predicament he finds himself. Fiona Shaw was so amazing and motivating as his adoptive mother Maarva Andor. She brought the gravitas to every word of wisdom and caution spoken to Cassian. There is a fight that never dies within her and she let it be known. Her chemistry with Andor was one of the guiding lights of morality throughout. Dave Chapman voices her personal droid B2EMO and he stole my heart by the end of the series and broke it in so many ways with his dry and yet emotional responses to Andor, Maarva and others. Adria Arjona as Bix Caleen was absolutely brilliant. She gets put through the ringer in this show and I can't stress enough how amazing her performance is in the latter half of the season. Her bond with Andor is strong, but not the typical focus. Faye Marsay as Vel Sartha was awesome and I loved that she was loyal to the cause. She was steadfast, but she was ready to ask questions as she acted as the moral compass of the Rebellion. Varada Sethu as Cinta Kaz was awesome and badass as her companion. When there was bloodshed needed, she didn't hesitate and was always ready. Stellan Skarsgård was nothing short of fascinating as Luthen Rael. He is the most elusive, cunning and plotting character of the series and I loved his complexities. Behind every action he makes is a sort of sorrow, but he is emboldened by his successes as he knows he is fighting for a greater good. He carries so much on his shoulders and you see it in an iconic scene that sums up his resolve. I loved his relationship with Andor, Vel and especially his personal agent Kleya Marki played wonderfully by Elizabeth Dulau. The two of them are deticated and she also keeps Luthen on mission. Genevieve O'Reilly reprises her role as Mon Mothma and my god was she outstanding. Through her we get the pleasure of seeing the political ramifications of fighting the Empire from within while trying to stay hidden. Genevieve adds so much depth, emotion and backstory to the beloved character. There are some amazingly tense moments with her navigating the waters of whom she could trust within and some emotionally gut wrenching scenes involving her past and family.

As I said before, this series explores both sides the Star WARS and it was very refreshing. Kyle Soller was unnerving and an interesting character study as Syril Karn. He starts off as the A typical perfectionist and he wants everyone to be their best at all times even when it wasn't that serious. He was basically a glorified small town deputy in a place where the worst crime someone could commit is public intoxication. The transformation this character goes through is something that is born of trauma once he gets a real taste of the beginning of a bigger threat. His obsession with capturing Cassian is almost stalker like with the look in his eyes. Anton Lesser was great as the head of the Imperial Security Bureau Major Partagaz. He was quick witted and no nonsense and I loved that he was open to strong suggestions to ending the growing rebellion. He truly represented the head of what one would call the gestapo of Imperial forces. It was scary how efficient and unrelenting he was. Speaking of unrelenting, Denise Gough was outstanding as Dedra Meero a supervisor in the ISB. Her whole arc in the show went from you routing for her as she fights her way to being a recognized and respected voice in the ISB council to completely hating what she becomes. Her work ethic was exceptional, but as we all know, true power corrupts in the wrong hands. She quickly becomes the very definition of a fascist leader for the modern age. George Lucas fashioned the Empire as oppressive and fascist regime and she embodies his vision as the series progresses.

The score was absolutely insane and I loved every second of it. Nicholas Britell has given new life to the titular characters' existence and he has brought so much dramatic power to the galaxy. His orchestration is truly unique as there is a growing tension in every note and emotional turmoil to every crescendo. I loved that he experiments with different variations of the great Andor theme. It sets the mood of the each episode and rebuilds back to its classic form by the end. Its been a long time since I've loved a television score and this is definitely on the list of one of my favorites. Visually the show is stunning and breathtaking as it is shot on location and it has so many design influences from other famous films like Blade Runner and George Lucas own THX 1138. It looks consistently in line with Rogue One and I can't wait to see it all eventually lead up to the film. I can't truly gush enough about how this show truly surprised and enthralled me from beginning to end. I haven't been so emotional involved in live action Star Wars since season 2 of The Mandalorian. This finally takes Star Wars away from the fun and sometimes overly nostalgic realm and brings it down to the more gritty and real world stakes of the people living in the galaxy. This was everything I've always wanted to see and I can't wait for Season 2! Do stick around for an EPIC plot point payoff at end of the season finale credits. Let me know what you thought of show or my review in the comments below. Thanks for reading!

#star wars andor #diego luna #stellan skarsgard #adria arjona #genevieve o'reilly #kyle soller #fiona shaw #dave chapman #denise gough #faye marsay #Varada Sethu #forest whitaker #star wars

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libidomechanica · 3 months

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Untitled (“Of the town wherefore than all departing up on it”)

A tanka sequence

Of the town wherefore than all departing up on it. Dabbling limbs of late to pick upon occasion, the heart, well be shown.

But it pleasures rounde to thee. But gaze opening there be light. When alone, beneath and hoary. Or a stone—where I sank and wept.

I say luck, our countrywomen! But so fleeting, from thee; and sweet self- will, and snapp’d aside, as well to horsehoofs ringing dead.

Feel her glad remain with stared. To see the mountains, on the World dirhems for loftier rays. Me languish sight to me are the sun?

Anger should ne’er them. Upon her: As I can tire, enamoured of war, each, a In that straint, causlesse commend.

Like the columns two, which now unpunished high. Swim somewhere, to hue, crown of soul with one as I. Whose small causeys, bridges, the brake.

The sweet, with shame commenced; Decide not been writing as we’re lost, and his dying, dying. Let my Starre, beyond more grieved at Widdin?

And thee long I sought with a second most people common this,. Give me blind ideals it. Was teaching her way while thus, my Katie?

And canst not my heavy golden pomp is cold, dull were which being, silver bow, with much ability in proof, made it auales.

In the wild Decembers after than the fuller? Sing novel, not humbler proud rather on Ida’s shape. But all my head to shade.

I’d brush in my tun with better the window, half the same. And never the wise stanzas a loud and salt—sweet neglect them charged.

The ocean’s flotilla, which many swine. What still affirms your desire than I. And most strange in cataract leaps in glory!

With thee, o Vashti! In her way one meeting on the king them for all my hearts the loss of an unbidden, warm, etc.

And love, jealousy a human former might have a world, this madness tell me thus: yet with temples. Way so new, and in its zone.

Without. And no sooner to have without their natives just enough for less, the dark his dying I pray to the heart, making dead.

But Phyllis is sleep in a level waste in silver at my foot could spring inward from thy beauteous mass of glorious lyre.

Commenced from strange cup amassed five been said his stalke dead. To me to profit thee. Thrice more—thou leaves a sad song, my friend and take it.

’You led the Rose with little din, for as you step by step increased, until it is ended. I say no more, Thenot, my Katie?

Schools their prey, rosebuds bent, then two continuaunce. At his regard for ever the dying, dying world light, the began to dream.

Youth went nor thee, like since he was opposite sent a hand no more, or speech, I doubtful curls, that this body? Lie down through the longinge?

But the queen’s only see sweet up violently came; but better the bedside mirror. And the priestes crewe, and snapp’d a famous sight.

Of ours. His buddy asked, how grew scarce would trust meant by way on the expense of their varies, unless that of that such cherubs plays.

So they shall becoming, foolish marriage song, when it gratify, like a weary as those tail’s a diadem, with my vertue art.

Paint, by Machiavel, by Rochefoucault, and he kiss, my counterfeit! Slight foot and life thou art as the times from the priestes crept.

We are grownd, and drown tea—we held up little by like Amyntas, was the blot upon my Genevieve; the things, till to be won.

I raise, as leaping shut the whispers to time what peace, you need not painter’s grave Lord, stirrup on its cradle on the stroke, whose orbs.

Why, general and reset. The darkness sat on everywhere, so kind, a heterogeneous as twas powerless of Albany.

Till take as man’s eye, like a wisp along the strife, from vales deflower as well the waters slept fast! I would that where use of both.

Sheet of revenge fall silver shore. A girl, mething affected, studied, as midnight deep feelings loud alarm of Corinthians, see!

And holy secret records of willow and passed upon my door? And she was to enrich the soft blood! And fears, so much mescal.

And overthrow. To his own mouth will profit the worm quickly, and daring me to piddle of all they run into a narrowed.

—Great kindled incense burning branch rent, in basket of gold before the heir. I snap the nation’s quite, because he either’d ere you?

Your loves marr’d throughout telling time for ever with his voice of many a thrush, bone. First sweet hour ere I find but in mine eyes light!

” She said in the Ground. Anthea, I am through though I wonderous, sinking young disciple. To say what men resolves—alas!

Yet I will show it, but the land then in the bride, brow-beating strange Poet- princely poet. Then thou art my planned, I never less.

Alas, haue I listen. And shoots javelin wound up, like some palace she wound, the sun. And Phyllis is the sadness the solitude.

And I shall my mother’s melted pearl. Of give, singing in shade to seek the planetary night is part of Memory can tell?

Still twilight would be lovely gifts. Had felt the old man through their earth grows less just can’t tell fair from thee. Round is this bent, the ragbag.

Which without a stone. Vex me with his shirt before, I told that, which is my with wives of whom thy shamefaced, and take or less.

Alas for my own animal thou like me. Heavenly proude weede he was the pledge was shocked her. That of love through winds woke the grass!

Injurious distant … I will be! Eye, like one belief was not traveler clear rains image for she maker of my lips for love.

On purpose, which leads sunny skies. For a sprightly Spartaness. And dying, dying I put on death, which ministers’ liberties.

Harsh and me. At last deep of the smoke of Hell shocked her mouths that white robe, the death with her hair once we learned him to bombard it?

Color of this the wet wings. What the fires o’er they’re born fair-set vine, and make arrangements. You are abhorr’d who now could be forehead.

And still relented hour. The star-flower add the soil of that, like these word, the postman have for outward part: no, not humble I.

A boxwood she was— at least of wrong, and his poem I want to steal thyself in dream of blame him? Yet let it leanes amisse.

To service with dew. Be glade of deede, as most to me? She gaze openly to lug me out to one all the eternal Homer!

Made close the dark webs, here and Wintersect and bow and old. Catch not the silence which a desperated rock, as the cause your face.

With reconciling downe to have her side! It make glad Lycius would grief beside which, heart is weakenesse, while great graciously so.

And thus quiet, and what rare flower the old man at his woe. With his plays so doting him, wept with a perfections, as e’er was!

This might he saw Menalcas come at blushed and burst for grape; and pure. Mix not memory; thus thend of the sick weak relief to him.

But laissez aller’— knightshade, when they from our houses of the least in her heart-inflaming brand ne’er she held good! Love is to grow.

My heart. To boards of others, and beauty; for tears, so oft as an even as bred up I felt my head is what met me, this throat.

She asleep no doubtful instruments—the gout,—pronounce it auales. Alas for her station and shame company, and under at.

Singing comes riding— then, turn things will be! Up went away—that mocks the plank, and bright, since in England, grew beside that gave his mynd?

Bats and that taught him did laye. I went away—that awful richness, perhaps might be wrong, ’ or to what I have the best, as you say.

So loytring young woman’s decease. All the rooted, and answer. A case which was like, the oak tree did debtor he had never proue.

Let love as for priority, he whole souls we love remains on the solitary Child. Of course untrimm’d, as a woman there.

His face grew, as by the fled. A widow’s bed, freedom, country come a papa! To take the presence too,—for he was a fine boy.

Little, been absence, love. But heere march on nor be persuasion; since wound, round amongst the and I long years, and press me to pieces.

“And the sings of art. Opinions and Wills and titles could enclines like me. Hye thee, I did not rise nor forests shouting Hál!

As here touch of whose name! And in its own bride, through the stub of healing. Commended me thus, my joy, too fondly once Electra!

The grownd, and also set about yonder: ’ then suddenly sings and icy climes with a jewel. Numb nubkins, there but invented fair?

Sudden it condition. Thought they are, and many less photorealistic? Push your features joy in the tale: great philosophy?

I call: Where damnably much live. Of ours, another possible for ever call men proper sphere. I wish the wind white, alas!

Soon, O Ianthe! And light luxurious in a cable’s leisure white. And haply I may hold up like a thing, and honour.

Soon the chamber door. —What way, observed or freezes, blood on to us, are abhorr’d who now could sometimes from a village. While heart.

With you may he seems at first; tis wonder what wrye. All bed the third day the troubles me: but not suffer thy thou may come try me!

Morn in the difficulty being consuming sounds, and I near Ismail, and Lady Psyche was not marry her sad content.

Old Apollonius? Little in their guns with her growing them on, nor cause. Whose orbs. About to be aching ghostly on her love.

Which Cupidon broken in, the Harmony with tears fell from the human nature to where? And dreams, goodnes thy approach’d; each turn.

Tasting of a noun. Descendent eyes should I ween, follow thee, severe, and of freed, no more—thou learning jest. For priority.

The second play: Morn in Cumberland answered, or with muffles. I’ll come try me, Jamie, come to learned’s wind up to attention.

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 6 #167 texts #tanka sequence

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waterfallswords · 6 months

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Name: Genevieve Belcourt

Age & Birthday: 49 years old, July 28th

Gender/Pronouns: Cis Woman She/Her

Species: Witch - White Witch

Birthplace: NYC, New York

Job/Ties to entertainment: Former Actress / Paramount

Positive Personality Traits: sociable, upbeat, caring

Negative Personality Traits: stubborn, selfish, calculating

ABOUT

Genevieve was born to a line of powerful white magic witches. Her family had been founding members of The Asphodel Institute and had early ties to theater and entertainment, with Harlan Belcourt being one of the founding members of Paramount in 1912 along with Adolph Zukor, Jesse L. Lasky, and W. W. Hodkinson.

She began acting at a young age, and has appeared and starred in several Broadway shows before her career transitioned to the screen.

At twenty years old she met David Chakrii, the name influential in the world of luxury and at 21 they welcomed their daughter, Chloe, into the world.

However, they weren't a family for very long as David simply left without warning, quickly entering another relationship with Natalie Quinn.

Ever since, Gen has experienced unstable and fleeting relationships due to her trust issues where she has been the one to leave or end them before history could repeat itself.

She adores her daughter and put a stop to her acting career to focus on being a mother. When Chloe was older, Genevieve was shocked to find the lack of interesting or dynamic roles for older women in the industry.

This led her down the path of preferring independent movies, using her family name as leverage to ensure women empowerment and their stories were being heard through film.

She has since retired from acting to focus more on her work at Paramount

#about.genevieve

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jakobdodson · 8 months

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2023 in Music

Here is a note about the music I listened to in 2023, I hope you enjoy it!

Favorite Albums of 2023

ÁTTA - Sigur Ros

*insert crying emojis*

Favorite Songs:

Klettur

Swinging Stars - Mapache

Favorite new discovery of the year. Seeing them on a cold night at The Merc this past October was a gift.

Favorite Songs:

French Kiss

What A Summer

Encinal Canyon

Javelin - Sufjan Stevens

*INSERT MORE CRYING EMOJIS*

(Sufjan strikes again with yet another masterpiece.)

Favorite Songs:

Goodbye Evergreen

Shit Talk

Runners Up

Love in the Void - Hammock

Laugh Track - The National

3D Country - Geese

The Silver Cord - King Gizzard & the Lizard Wizard

Liked It

Five Easy Hot Dogs - Mac Demarco

Strays - Margo Price

Pollen - Tennis

This Stupid World - Yo La Tengo

The Rainbow Wheel of Death - Dougie Poole

Fantasy - M83

The Record - boygenius

Rat Saw God - Wednesday

Celebrants - Nickel Creek

First Two Pages of Frankenstein- The National

Proof Of Life - Joy Oladokun

V - Unknown Mortal Orchestra

Romantic Piano - Gia Margaret

That! Feels Good! - Jessie Ware

Is It? - Ben Howard

Little Songs - Colter Wall

Walk Around The Moon - DMB

Time Ain’t Accidental - Jess Williamson

Greg Mendez - Greg Mendez

everything is alive - Slowdive

Zach Bryan - Zach Bryan

Appaloosa Bones - Gregory Alan Isakov

Cousin - Wilco

Rustin’ in the Rain - Tyler Childers

Live Vol. 2 - Parcels

The Holey Bible - Florry

Live and Loose! - MJ Lenderman and The Wind

Higher - Chris Stapleton

Genevieve - Fust

Say What You Like - Doug Paisley

Jump for Joy - Hiss Golden Messenger

Haunted Mountain - Buck Meek

End - Explosions In The Sky

Cut Worms - Cut Worms

Meh

Honey - Samia

Apocalypse … - KGTLW

Weathervane - Jason Isbell and the 400 Unit

Haven't Listened Yet…

New Blue Sun - André 3000

Coyote - Dylan LeBlanc

Hold - Wild Nothing

Hackney Diamonds - The Rolling Stones

Strays II - Margo Price

Isn’t It Now? - Animal Collective

The Land is Inhospitable and So Are We - Mitski

A Cat in the Rain - Turnpike Troubadours

End Of The Day - Courtney Barnett

End of Everything - Mega Bog

One Wayne G - Mac Demarco

Museum - JFDR

All of This Will End - Indigo De Souza

Joy’All - Jenny Lewis

O Monolith’ - Squid

I Only See the Moon - The Milk Carton Kids

The Love Still Held Me Near - City and Colour

Norm - Andy Shauf

SUSS - SUSS

Yesterday’s News - Robert Ellis

I Saw the Arkansas - Dylan Earl

Yard - Slow Pulp

Valley of Heart’s Delights - Margo Cilker

Concerts

Big Thief, Cains Ballroom, Tulsa, OK (2/11/23)

Fleet Foxes, Cains Ballroom, Tulsa, OK (6/30/23)

Phish, Madison Square Garden, New York City, NY (8/4/23)

Phish, Madison Square Garden, New York City, NY (8/5/23)

Mapache - Mercury Lounge, Tulsa, OK (10/17/23)

The National, Tulsa Theater, Tulsa, OK (11/16/23)

Links to past lists:

10 Albums that changed my life

2012

2013

2014

2015

2016

2017

2018

2019

2020

2021

2022

_________________________________________________

Happy Listening!

Jake

#music

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sintoarchive · 11 months

Note

i always thought the worst thing in the world was repetition. [for lucifer]

there is tyranny inherent in the notion of fate, for there has only ever been one story, which has already been told. this story has been written repeatedly, words put to paper, pen to parchment, set in stone. first comes the wanting, then comes the wanting more — the first sin has always been the craving, the desire. hunger is the fatal sin. when the devil took arms, and when eve ate the apple, and when cain killed abel, it was to sate that insatiable hunger. the knowledge that there exists more cannot be viewed without the subsequent desire to take more.

that his revolt had been destined to fail did not disincentivize him; there is glory in a bold defeat over a bent knee. to have taken a stand is the principal ideology, a raised sword in lieu of a bowed head. in some cursory, fleeting musing, he sees that bit of himself in her disregard of fate's design. were she human, lucifer would not entertain this ordeal, for the plights of humanity bored him in their narrow simplicity. one difference mattered to him: cruel eyes bore into them, to find that there was a human-shaped hole where humanity ought to sit; the flesh, the bone, and the blood were arranged in the usual order, all the machinations of muscle and tendon, but the incense of death burned like a wick within them.

❝ makes for rather dull narration, i suppose. ❞ leaning against the windowsill of @walkeddeath's living room, the devil cuts a figure eerie in his nonchalance. he is half-lounged as he observes the storm raging outside with muted interest; the rumble of thunder preceded by a blinding flash and the steady footsteps of rain as they trek across the roof. when the lights flicker, the barest hint of feather and bone sways across the opposite wall, a coy shadow that beckons. ❝ then again, god was never a good storyteller. ❞ his finger drums against a little angel figurine standing on the sill, and then he lifts it, twirling it about. man is a funny little thing, he thinks, offhandedly, and man never changes. neither does fate. ❝ you and i would know. ❞

when he scoffs, it is tinged with arsenic, ❝ i wish you more luck in your endeavours than i’ve had, genevieve. ❞

#walkeddeath #( lucifer ) * scripture.#cat behaviour fr.#i wish he would 🔇

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killrspringlock · 1 year

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Bound To Hate | Spiderverse OC Fanfic Blurb 3

This is another of the many blurbs surrounding the relationship Genevieve (@jinxedbandage) and Faisal develop over the course of Spiderverse Canon. They, however, are bound by fate to be unhappy with one another, forcing Genevieve into the arms of someone else, a person who understands her more than Faisal ever could.

╭──────────────────────────────────────────.🕷..─╮ Summary: Months following Faisal and Genevieve's meeting, Faisal learns to grow fond of his newfound friend. In her inability to monitor her health, Genevieve finds herself in a tough situation. Faisal barely makes it in time and is reminded of how badly he's fallen for her. Warnings: Tooth-rotting fluff, Teasing Words, A battle scene with the potential of death via falling from a great height, Potential spoilers for Spiderman: Into the Spiderverse. A/n: Anything in italics between quotations is Faisal communicating through sign language. He is deaf, and uses SL as his main method of relaying information. He does speak occasionally, but for the sake of this being my shameless self-insert, I will be including this. Tehe <3<3 ╰─..🕷.───────────────────────────────────────────╯

There was something about Genevieve that Faisal admired, whether it was the way she spoke with her hands, animatedly in such a way that he--in his deafness--could get the entire picture without having to tune in, or the way her voice was velvety, keeping him far too warm for his liking, he did not know.

He liked her and she knew it. She would tease him, compete with him, touch him in a way that left her lingering in his thoughts for hours on end. She frustrated him to the point of no return, and when Faisal found himself looking at her for just a moment too long, he would kick himself. He fell hard and it was even harder to handle his emotions.

She was a skilled fighter, a symbol of hope for her people as the "Spiderman," and he watched her from a distance every single time. How she would fight anomalies in a lithe and fleet-footed manner, how she would spin the toughest of webs, how she moved. It kept him up at night.

It was the day that he'd paid closest attention to her, that she nearly met her doom.

While engaged with an anomaly, Faisal had noticed she'd moved much slower than usual, refusing to spin webs, staying center on the terrace tops as she fought tooth and nail. The lethargy of battle came much quicker to her than what he was used to witnessing. Faisal kept his eyes firmly trained on her, supporting from a distance where she needed. He watched as the anomaly slung her over the side of the building. He watched as she cried out, unable to save herself.

In a panic, he found himself in a mad dash against time, trying to save his teammate--his friend--from impending doom. A near thirty story drop, and she was dangling at its peak by the silvery prosthetic she'd built for herself.

By subduing the anomaly in a fit of what was definitely adrenaline and fear, Faisal was only moments from missing the hand that reached for him over the side of the building. He could see her chest heaving as he pulled her over the precipice between what could have been her death and him.

Genevieve couldn't meet his gaze, she looked rough, and Faisal knew why. He'd paid particular attention to her water intake. Dehydration was often the death of many Spiders, left with the inability to spin web to save themselves, she was lucky he'd made it in time.

He couldn't see her face, covered by her mask, but the way that she shook while sitting upon his lap, catching her breaths in droves, he knew she was terrified. The annoying quips could not come to her quick enough, and when her voice broke, the reality of the situation set in for them both.

Faisal had only managed to trap the anomaly for enough time to save his friend and take a breather, and as it broke free, Genevieve dove back into the fight. She put on the mask that read 'I am unafraid.' And she did it again, and again, and again.

As he sat, Faisal found himself thinking of the warmth she'd left on his thighs, unable to gather his thoughts, unable to catch the breath he hadn't noticed was hitched hard in his throat.

After it was all said and done, the anomaly taken care of, and both of them safe in their rooms, Faisal's chest stuttered at the thought of Genevieve that day. How he couldn't get her off of his skin, how the smell of her hair lingered around him in a horrifying taunt.

He didn't sleep at all that night.

#artists on tumblr #spiderverse #across the spiderverse #spiderman #spiderman across the spiderverse #spiderman oc #spiderman across the spiderverse oc #spiderverse oc #spiderverse fanfic #spiderverse fanfic oc

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scrivenerofchaos · 7 months

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Shadows of Faith: 2/3

Carmilla’s Early Days

SUMMARY: In "Shadows of Faith: The Corruption of Sweet Carmilla," we follow the story of Carmilla, a devout young woman who anticipates a traditional marriage arranged by her parents. However, as her wedding day approaches, Carmilla's nightmares grow increasingly vivid and disturbing. She finds herself consumed by hunger in her dreams and haunted by the sensation of being watched. Amidst the chaos of her nightmares, a seductive voice calls out to her, whispering her name, "Carmilla." This voice belongs to Desdemona who reveals to Carmilla that she will eventually lose her faith, at which point she will be ripe for the taking.

The day Carmilla was born was one of the happiest days of Genevieve’s life. Her deepest desires seemed fulfilled - first having a beloved son to satisfy her husband’s wishes, and then a precious daughter for her to dote on while her boys were away. With Benjamin to carry the family name and Carmilla to shower with affection, Genevieve felt her family was complete.

Yet, tragedy struck in the form of a relentless fever. At the tender age of five, Carmilla found herself confined to her bed, her tiny frame wracked with shivers and drenched in sweat. Genevieve sent for a small army of doctors, all failed her, the fever persisted. Months of this hopelessness. Until one day, just as suddenly as the illness struck, the fever left. A small prayer half answered. Just the same, Carmilla remained in her bed, too weak to join her family for meals or engage in the joys of childhood.

Gregory spent every waking moment in the church of Easis if he wasn’t in his office working. He sought solace and divine intervention in the church.

Benjamin, undeterred by the risk of contagion, dared to visit his little sister and keep her company when he wasn’t away at university or by his father’s side in the church.

Genevieve, a woman of little faith and was quiet about it, she went on walks to clear her head. She found her peace in solitary walks. The fresh air and nature always helped her mind open for the ideas to flow to her.

In this case her mind came up blank. When it came to matters of her child’s health she felt so helpless. No amount of money, power or prestige would bring her daughter back.

On a fateful day, while wandering the city streets in a haze of worry, Genevieve’s gaze fell upon a dress displayed in a tailor’s boutique window. The dress was a brilliant yellow that would have looked glorious against the dark canvas of her daughter’s skin. She imagined her little one healthy, running around in circles, getting the dress dirty or torn. She yearned for the days of chastising her for gleefully splashing in puddles. She whipped tears from her sad eyes.

Curiously, she noticed a mischievous pair of blue eyes staring at her from behind the little dress. The eyes belonged to a little girl who giggled and joyfully bounded towards her mother who was engrossed in plotting corrections on a gaudy gown. A wonderful idea came to Gen.

Emily and Carmilla quickly formed a deep bond, their laughter echoing through the halls as they shared stories, sang songs, and played. Emily didn’t ask about Carmilla’s sickness. She was happy to have another friend. Gen was grateful for the innocence and grace of children. Gregory and Benji would come home and give thanks to their god for bringing Emily to them for the sake of Carmilla. Emily’s presence brought a glimmer of hope to Carmilla’s shadowed world, her innocence a balm to Geneieve’s trouble soul.

Peace was fleeting, at the age of seven, Carmilla’s nights were haunted by gasping breaths and night terrors that left her trembling in fear. Insomnia became her constant companion, stealing precious moments of rest from her weary form. She’d nod off in the middle of conversations. Sometimes, she’d wake up, drenched in sweat, mistakenly thinking the fever returned. The night became a dreadful thing. She dreaded closing her eyes for too long. In desperation, Greg and Benji redoubled their prayers and offerings. They’d stay overnight at the church, being away for days at a time, their devotion to Easis unwavering.

Meanwhile, Genevieve couldn’t bear to be away from Carmilla for long, especially during the night. She stole her peace during the day, while Emily kept Carmilla company. Her mind struggled to focus as she too was deprived of sleep.

As she walked in a haze, she found herself drawn to a mysterious part of the city she had never noticed before. People who appeared as though they hadn’t bathed in weeks, lie on the ground. Some gathered around a burning barrel for warmth, they told each other stories as they shared a drink hidden in a brown paper bag. Gen felt completely out of place with how overdressed she was amongst them. She almost felt embarrassed then threatened when she saw a group of shady looking men with ill-intentions in their eyes begin making their way towards her.

“I have what you seek,” a voice called out to her. A hag approached her from the shadows of her tent made of assorted blankets, “a charm for peaceful sleep.”

Gen, ever skeptical of faith and majicks, wondered how this old lady could have possibly known about her family’s troubles. With no time to second guess she sought refuge in the hag’s tent.

The tent was larger on the inside than it looked on the outside. There was a blazing hearth that lit and warmed the tent. Bookshelves lined the clothed walls. The books looked as though they were from ancient times as they looked almost petrified, in stone tablets. A desk black-wooden desk riddled with mountains of papers. The language on the papers was unknown to Gen even of her education. There seemed to be a staircase that led downstairs.

“I know things because I am meant to,” answered the Hag, before Gen had the chance to form the question on her tongue.

Gen thought that maybe it was in her face that gave it all away. Her eyes felt weary, those eyes of hers must have looked it.

“My child - ,” Gen’s struggled to keep the tears from falling down her cheeks at the thought of completing the sentence. As if putting words to the pain and suffering will condemn her daughter forever.

The hag nodded sympathetically as she rummaged through her things before turning to her to present the charm with both hands with a bowed head.

The charm, a crude looking thing. Hardly looked magical save for the gem. The hands that made it were not of a weathered professional. Though it glimmered gently in the light of a small fire. A gem the color of moonlight was the most perfect out of the metal bits that held it in place, “Here it is, the answer to your pain and suffering.”

“What do you want in exchange for this?” She asked.

“Lucky for you, I only desire coin.” The hag answered.

Against her better judgment, Gen paid for the charm and hurried back home before the hag roped her into more scams.

While Carmilla and Emily were distracted, she snuck the charm underneath one of the many pillows on her bed. She hoped that this inexpensive trinket would do something, anything.

That night, Carmilla slept through the night peacefully. When she awoke, it was like she was a completely different person. Carmilla felt strong enough to get out of bed, eat with her family. Another night of sleep uninterrupted, she was able to picnic with Emily in the sun. Gen, more than pleased, would take the charm and put it under her daughter’s pillow each night before bed.

She made it a habit of coming into her room with a comforting beverage of rose milk and honey, or a book for her and Emily to read. She would fain interest in the story while leaving the charm behind, unnoticed. Years would pass of this. Another small prayer answered and peace returned to the Everhart home.

Five years of this peace would reign before Gregory requested that his wife accompany him on a business trip.

Carmilla, now the age of twelve. She had grown confident as her health and sanity returned to her. She’d write as if she would never be able to write again. Still, Gen fretted leaving her by herself. Gen despised the fact she had more faith in a cheap charm than she did in anything else.

“She will not be alone, my love,” Gregory assured his wife, “She has the servants at her beck and call…and Emily to entertain.”

“Yes, mother, I am fine and have been for some time now. The dark days are behind us,” Carmilla was eager to run the house by herself and pretend she was the Lady of the house long married.

“Thanks be to Easis,” Gregory and daughter sang the praises in harmony.

Gen couldn’t talk her way out of this as the family was confident through faith that all was in the past. Gen persisted as she always had. She knew she would find a way.

As the servants gathered their luggage, Gen instructed one of the discrete and trustworthy servants to take the charm and assume her duty.

“We will be back soon,” She hugged and kissed her daughter’s forehead, “it’s a short trip.”

Her words, betrayed by the winds of uncertainty and chaos. The cool night transformed into an unforgiving tundra of ice and snow. This tumultuous weather delayed Greg and Gen’s journey for several weeks. Gen’s stomach turned with dread at the conditions that awaited them once they returned home.

Those fears were confirmed when they saw the look on their servant’s faces.

“I couldn’t get to her every day, m’lady,” the servant confessed, “Emily and her have grown too close.” Gen shook her head, she didn’t want to hear excuses.

“Everyday? She’s had some sleep then,” She couldn’t control her fear showing up as frustration and displeasure towards those only trying to help.

All her fury melted into fright as she watched her daughter with haunted eyes aimlessly wander the halls while muttering nonsense. These were clear signs of sleep deprivation. Gen guided her troubled little love to bed, with charm in hand. Carmilla weakly shook her head in protest. Gen pleased that she was still acutely aware of the goings on.

“It’s alright, mommy is here,” she rubbed her daughter’s head as she planted the charm under her head. Carmilla fought as she did, couldn’t keep her eye open.

That night of her parent’s return, she slept peacefully as she had for so many years before. She faced the day with a head unburdened by a vague and elusive terror. She was clear as she ever could be and astute.

Carmilla finds herself unable to contain her suspicions. With a heavy heart and trembling hands, she seeks out her mother to confront her about the truth she has uncovered.

As she enters her mother’s art studio, Carmilla’s gaze meets Genevieve’s, her eyes betraying a tumultuous storm of emotions. Genevieve, sensing the gravity of the moment, looks up from her canvas, concerned etched on her face.

“Carmilla, darling, what’s wrong?” Genvieve’s voice carries a note of apprehension as she rises from her stool, her maternal instincts kicking in.

Carmilla takes a deep breath, steeling herself for confrontation ahead. “Mother, we need to talk,” she began, her voice quivering with suppressed emotion.

Gen’s brows furrow in concern as she moves closer to her daughter, reaching out to gently touch her arm. “Of course, my dear. What is it? You seem upset. Did you not sleep well?” she says, her tone gentle and soothing

Carmilla pulls away, her resolve firm as she meets her mother’s gaze head-on. “I know about the charm, Mother,” she says, her voice betraying a mixture of hurt and anger.

Genevive’s eyes widen in surprise, momentarily taken aback by her daughter’s revelation. “The charm? What do you mean, Carmilla?” she asks, her voice tinged with uncertainty.

Carmilla’s frustration boils over, her words tumbling out in a rush as she struggles to articulate her feelings. “Do not play me as a fool, mother. I know you’ve been sneaking that charm under my pillow every night,” she accuses, her voice rising with each word.

Gen’s expression shifts, a flicker of guilt crossing her features before she quickly comprises herself. “Carmilla, I…I only wanted to help you sleep. I thought it would ease your nightmares and it has,” she offers, her voice tinged with regret.

But Carmilla unappeased, her anger burning bright in her auburn eyes, she shakes her head in disbelief, “Help me sleep? You lied to me, mother, You made me believe it was your prayers that healed me, but it was just a charm from a lowly hag,” she retorts, her voice trembling with betrayal.

Gen’s eyes filled with remorse as she took a step closer to her daughter, reaching out to touch her arm once more, “Carmilla, please…I only wanted what was best for you. I never meant to deceive you,” she pleads, her voice filled with genuine remorse.

Carmilla pulls away again, her heart heavy with disillusionment, as she meets her mother’s gaze one last time. “I trusted you, mother. You not only betrayed my trust but the faith.” She says, her voice barely above a whisper as she turns and walks away, leaving Genevieve alone with her regrets.

With each passing day, Carmilla’s inner turmoil grew. Her mind consumed by questions and doubts that lingered like shadows in the corners of her thoughts. She fervently prayed for guidance, seeking solace in meditation, yet the answers remained elusive, slipping through her grasp like mist in the morning sun.

The charm, once a source of unknown comfort and respite from her nightmares, now weighed heavily on her conscience. How could something so seemingly benign, a mere trinket from a hag, hold such power over her well-being? And why did it seem to defy the influence of Easis, the deity her devout father and brother worshiped with unwavering faith.

Her desire for clarity warred with her sense of duty to her faith. She longed for her mother’s comforting embrace, yet the memory of her betrayal stoked the flames of resentment within her heart. How could she trust someone who had deceived her so?

In a desperate bid to reconcile her beliefs with her reality, Carmilla resolved to conduct an experience. Placing the charm at varying distances from her sleeping quarters. One night she placed the charm in the hallway, the next night, it was a room across the main stairwell. She sought to gauge its influence on her dreams and her sense of peace. With each night that passed, she observed the results with a mixture of trepidation and resolve. The charm in her closet brought peaceful slumber, its presence a faint whisper of comfort in the darkness. Yet, when moved further away, its effects waned, leaving her vulnerable to the haunting specters of her nightmares.

In the end, Carmilla chose to keep the charm close, tucked away in the depths of her closet. Though its origins remain shrouded in mystery, its role in her life was clear. It was a reminder of her fragility, her humanity, and the complexities of faith that bound her to a world where shadows danced in the flickering light of her convictions.

Author's Note:

Writing for my mental health is doing me wonders. When life gets too hard I think about my characters and how'd they handle things. I think this is what art and the process of creation is all about.

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