#ila borders

[dr-lizortecho]

it’s bad enough that you support a terrorist group who stated mission is to kill all Jews, but you really might want to research the roots and intended meaning of that “from the river to the sea” slogan you just reblogged and decide if you want that blatant antisemitism on your blog.

The phrase was popularised in the 1960s as part of a wider call for Palestinian liberation creating a democratic state freeing Palestinians from living under Israel.

The phrase “from the river to the sea” — or in Arabic, “min al-nahr ila al-bahr” — dates to the dawn of the Palestinian nationalist movement in the early 1960s, about a quarter century before Hamas came into existence. It gained popularity within the Palestine Liberation Organization, or P.L.O., as a call for returning to the borders under British control of Palestine, where Jews and Arabs had both lived before the creation of Israel as a Jewish state in 1948.

[richincolor]

New Releases for the Week of May 22, 2023

We have a nice collection of books to look forward to this week with a few contemporary realistic fiction novels, one fantasy anthology, and a story with a bit of a mystery. 

If You Still Recognize Me by Cynthia So Harperteen

Elsie has a crush on Ada, the only person in the world who truly understands her. Unfortunately, they’ve never met in real life and Ada lives an ocean away. But Elsie has decided it’s now or never to tell Ada how she feels. That is, until her long-lost best friend Joan walks back into her life.

In a summer of repairing broken connections and building surprising new ones, Elsie realises that she isn’t nearly as alone as she thought. But now she has a choice to make… — Cover image and summary via Goodreads

Magic Has No Borders edited by Sona Charaipotra and Samira Ahmed HarperTeen

A pair of star-crossed lovers search for a way back to one another against all odds…

A girl fights for her life against a malignant, generations-old evil…

A peri seeks to reclaim her lost powers…

A warrior rebels against her foretold destiny…

From chudails and peris to jinn and goddesses, this lush collection of South Asian folklore, legends, and epics reimagines stories of old for a modern audience. This fantasy and science fiction teen anthology edited by Samira Ahmed and Sona Charaipotra contains a wide range of stories from fourteen bestselling, award-winning, and emerging writers from the South Asian diaspora that will surprise, delight, and move you. So read on, for after all, magic has no borders.

With stories by: ▪Sabaa Tahir, #1 New York Times bestselling author of the Ember in the Ashes series, and winner of the National Book Award and Printz Award for All My Rage ▪Sayantani DasGupta, New York Times bestselling author of the Kiranmala and the Kingdom Beyond series ▪Preeti Chhibber, author of Spider-Man’s Social Dilemma ▪Sona Charaipotra, author of Symptoms of a Heartbreak and How Maya Got Fierce, and coauthor of The Rumor Game and Tiny Pretty Things, now a Netflix original series. ▪Tanaz Bhathena, award-winning author of Hunted by the Sky and Of Light and Shadow ▪Sangu Mandanna, bestselling author of The Very Secret Society of Irregular Witches and the Celestial Trilogy ▪Olivia Chadha, author of Rise of the Red Hand ▪Nafiza Azad, author of William C. Morris Award nominee, The Candle and the Flame ▪Tracey Baptiste, New York Times bestselling author of The Jumbies series and Minecraft: The Crash ▪Naz Kutub, author of The Loophole ▪Nikita Gill, bestselling author of Wild Embers and Fierce Fairytales ▪Swati Teerdhala, author of the Tiger at Midnight trilogy ▪Shreya Ila Anasuya, New Voices selection ▪Tahir Abrar, New Voices selection — Cover image and summary via Goodreads

The Luis Ortega Survival Club by Sonora Reyes Balzer & Bray/Harperteen

Ariana Ruiz wants to be noticed. But as an autistic girl who never talks, she goes largely ignored by her peers, despite her bold fashion choices. So when cute, popular Luis starts to pay attention to her, Ari finally feels seen.

Luis’s attention soon turns to something more, and they have sex at a party—while Ari didn’t say no, she definitely didn’t say yes. Before she has a chance to process what happened and decide if she even has the right to be mad at Luis, the rumor mill begins churning—thanks, she’s sure, to Luis’s ex-girlfriend, Shawni. Boys at school now see Ari as an easy target, someone who won’t say no.

Then Ari finds a mysterious note in her locker that eventually leads her to a group of students determined to expose Luis for the predator he is. To her surprise, she finds genuine friendship among the group, including her growing feelings for the very last girl she expected to fall for. But in order to take Luis down, she’ll have to come to terms with the truth of what he did to her that night—and risk everything to see justice done. — Cover image and summary via Goodreads

Forever is Now by Mariama J. Lockington Farrar, Straus and Giroux (Byr)

I’m safe here.

That’s how Sadie feels, on a perfect summer day, wrapped in her girlfriend’s arms. School is out, and even though she’s been struggling to manage her chronic anxiety, Sadie is hopeful better times are ahead. Or at least, she thought she was safe. When her girlfriend reveals some unexpected news and the two witness a violent incident of police brutality unfold before them, Sadie’s whole world is upended in an instant.

I’m not safe anywhere.

That’s how Sadie feels every day after–vulnerable, uprooted. She retreats inside as the weeks slip by and relies on her phone to stay connected to the outside world. When Sadie’s therapist gives her a diagnosis for her debilitating panic–agoraphobia–she starts on a path of acceptance and healing. Meanwhile, Sadie’s best friend, Evan, updates her on the protests taking place in their city. Sadie wants to be a part of it, to use her voice and affect change. But how do you show up for your community when you can’t even leave your house?

I can build a safe place inside myself.

That’s what Sadie learns over the course of one life-changing summer, with some help from her family, her best friend, an online platform for activists, and a magnetic crush she develops for the new boy next door. — Cover image and summary via Goodreads

[runwithskizzers]

LOOK AT THIS COVER

I'm so excited to be a part of this anthology of South Asian stories written by South Asian (incl all aspects of diasporic) writers.

You can preorder here: https://www.littleshopofstories.com/book/9780063208261

A pair of star-crossed lovers search for a way back to one another against all odds . . .

A girl fights for her life against a malignant, generations-old evil . . .

A peri seeks to reclaim her lost powers . . .

A warrior rebels against her foretold destiny . . .

From chudails and peris to jinn and goddesses, this lush collection of South Asian folklore, legends, and epics reimagines stories of old for a modern audience. This fantasy and science fiction teen anthology edited by Samira Ahmed and Sona Charaipotra contains a wide range of stories from fourteen bestselling, award-winning, and emerging writers from the South Asian diaspora that will surprise, delight, and move you. So read on, for after all, magic has no borders.

With stories by:

Sabaa Tahir, #1 New York Times bestselling author of the Ember in the Ashes series, and winner of the National Book Award and Printz Award for All My Rage

Sayantani DasGupta, New York Times bestselling author of the Kiranmala and the Kingdom Beyond series

Preeti Chhibber, author of Spider-Man’s Social Dilemma

Sona Charaipotra, author of Symptoms of a Heartbreak and How Maya Got Fierce, and coauthor of The Rumor Game and Tiny Pretty Things, now a Netflix original series.

Tanaz Bhathena, award-winning author of Hunted by the Sky and Of Light and Shadow

Sangu Mandanna, bestselling author of The Very Secret Society of Irregular Witches and the Celestial Trilogy

Olivia Chadha, author of Rise of the Red Hand

Nafiza Azad, author of William C. Morris Award nominee, The Candle and the Flame

Tracey Baptiste, New York Times bestselling author of The Jumbies series and Minecraft: The Crash

Naz Kutub, author of The Loophole

Nikita Gill, bestselling author of Wild Embers and Fierce Fairytales

Swati Teerdhala, author of the Tiger at Midnight trilogy

Shreya Ila Anasuya, New Voices selection

Tahir Abrar, New Voices selection

Cover credits:

Artist: Jyotirmayee Patra Designer: Joel Tippie

[vsnotresponding]

CHAPTER 21 - THE FRAGMENT - KARMA

masterpost

The text on the page I turn blurs with the next one, the words familiar and set in my brain after many rereads of the tome. It’s a heavy one, long and old, the pages loose and brown with time, the title on the cover faded into nothingness, and the insides filled with scribbles and notes of past owners as well as mine. The language, ilan, is old, as are the stories found in it: of and from the island, of the ancient times before creators, of their era and their myths. Their birth, their miracles, and the doom of those that followed the path of Zaeaf instead of Ila.

And then, what this book calls The Eternal One, the first creator: Jhai, or Khitji, the khithi that gave their life for their people, who came back as a creator with gifts never seen before: healing, healing and power and life. It's one of the many versions of the story: in some they don’t come back, in some they are named, in some, they even had their gifts before Ila gave them.

There’s just one thing that stays constant across all the versions I’ve read across the years: their sacrifice, and the problem they were trying to solve when they talked to the goddess. Just like ours. A sick island, a deathly land, with useless soil and poisonous water. Desperate, they called to Ila, and Ila answered. She birthed the Core and the Iria and the fragments. She gave creators their gifts to communicate with them and to use the dima in the land to light and heat. And then, not long after, she vanished, just like Zaeaf did. Now they are just the wind.

But first, first she demanded a sacrifice in her conditions. There was not only worship and temples to be erected in her honor. There was blood to be spilled, too.

I know myths and legends aren’t always fully true, but the resemblance of what once happened to the situation we find ourselves in now makes me uneasy. I meant what I said to Ira. I fully intend to do anything in my power to keep my promise. And yet, here’s History, telling me that it might not be possible. That I am wrong. That the cure is a sacrifice I don’t even want to think about.

The book closes with a thud, specks of dust flying around the empty library, dawn’s light just coming in through the glass dome two stories above my head. Some of the windows just over the second story, which is barely anything more than a walkway around the perimeter of the room, are open, letting in what little breeze there is to cool the hexagonal room. Piles of books surround me, both in ilan and gair, some even from Derya, which I’m slowly making my way through. Sahare gave them to me before we left. She thought I might find them useful, or at the very least interesting. They deal in coal and how they use steam to fuel their machines, as well as new research the continent has been doing on other sources of energy completely unheard of in here.

We have our Iria, and our imitations, and with the gold and copper we find in our mines, we have access to the power the island lends us. Like creators were meant to once, we light and we heat. Efficiently, precisely, restlessly... until the sickness came.

I stretch my legs before me, head full of how they use energy and how we use our dima, and History, and failure. My back is to the side of a bookshelf that borders the center of the room, clear from shelves to create a reading space, the rows and rows of books going from the center to the outside of the room. The light of the imitations carved into the wood blends in with the golden light coming from outside, and I know that in a few minutes one of the deryan guards that came with us will knock at the door and that the day will start.

Just like yesterday, and the day before that, and the one before that one too. 

We arrived at my mother’s house three days ago, surrounded by the heat, and the oppressive weight of Ira’s silence since I told her what it would cost us—what it would cost her—to come here.

I don’t blame her for it. I can’t. I blame myself. In my fear, in my panic to get out of that room, I bargained with her life without even realizing it until it was too late. She took it better than I expected, once I explained. Her shoulders sagged, and she freed her wrist from my grip. She wouldn’t look into my eyes when she nodded.

When I tried to talk to her about it, when I struggled to find the words to apologize for it all, she glanced at me, and went back into the guts of the palace.

She hasn't really talked to me since.

I was so confident that coming here would help, that the fragment would prove useful. And now we are here, being as unsuccessful as we were in the palace, her connecting without any real useful results, silent as she was on our way here when she’s not explaining what she sees in her connections. She can’t get to the Core from here, hitting the wall the Iria is again and again; she can’t see anything wrong with the fragment at the house or those close by she reaches from here.

Yet there’s a wrongness on the island, the weakness of the illness, and the pain that’s always been there. The earth is sick and dying, the soil is arid and dry like I’ve never seen it before. The glow of the sea at night seems brighter, threatening with his poison. The air feels heavy with the heat, with our fear, with my guilt, and with her silence. And on them echoes her anger in the Iria.

How she starved, how the island wouldn’t let her die, how she blames us for the sickness. How we, the énna, brought it to the island.

I keep going back to her words every time I close my eyes, to her tear-stained face and clenched jaw and fisted hands. I’ve gone over old and new records of the island, trying to find out when this sickness really started, but it’s been here for so long, and there’s so little left from before our arrival here, that I’ve come empty-handed.

The knock comes then, jolting me away from my thoughts, but instead of a guard, it’s Garvan’s voice that fills the room, looking for me. I let out one last sigh, and wait for him to find me.

He’s the one who came here with us to help, or to babysit, as he’d say. Áine didn’t want to, and Emhi was needed at the palace, both to train the rookies and to manage the situation in the city.

They are organized now and have been joined by some citizens. They aren’t énna, khithi, or aldamu, though they were, once. Emhi explained they were attempting to negotiate some resources, not only for the khithi, but for the lower classes of the city too. But the palace’s answer is always the same: the khithi have the process, and the rest of the people have their work. She told us, in a whisper, that the attacks on the factories had increased, and that they were still trying to figure out how they'd done it, machines rendered useless and no option to repair them even if there was no outward damage to be found.

“Hey.” Garvan raises his eyebrows and looks down from where he stops right in front of me once he makes it through the rows of books. He looks at the piles around me, at my tunic crumpled on the floor, and at my boots haphazardly thrown to one side.

“Hey,” I answer. There's a pause as he looks around the room and at me, amused, for some reason.

“Everything alright?” 

"Why?" I take the hand he offers to stand up, and brush the dust out of my pants and shirt without really looking at him. He’s usually the last one to be up, maybe because I barely sleep, and I don’t think Ira does either, so I don't know what he's doing here at the crack of dawn.

“You’ve been cooped up here every second we haven’t been watching Ira hit another wall with the fragment” he picks up my tunic from the floor and I struggle to catch it when he throws it to me “, reading the books we’ve already gone over countless times, thinking the gods know what.”

“Yeah. Well.” I shrug, trying to find the correct sleeve. “Ira?” His look tells me he knows I’m avoiding his unasked questions. I ignore him by putting on and righting my tunic.

“In her room, eerie silent like she’s been since we got here.” I make a noncommittal sound as we walk to the double doors and exit into the hallways of the mansion.

I appreciate the contrast they provide with the glaring white and gray of the palace, built in the ilan style, the tones warm and welcoming even in the sections that have been rebuilt across the years with énna materials.

“So, you aren’t going to say anything?”

“Is there anything to say?”

“You’d know.” He grabs my arm to stop me, and I look at him. “Karma.”

“Garvan.”

“I know you argued.” His words make me fidget in place.

“We didn’t argue.” It's true. He snorts.

“Sure. But something happened.” A glance shot down the hallway. “You are not talking.”

"We talk." Also true.

"Yeah, you talk about the fragment, and different ways she can approach connecting, and the latest maybe useful but most likely useless thing you've read about the island and the Core. She nods back."

"So?" I know what he's referring to. We don't talk like we used to before, or at least she doesn't listen to me ramble like before, because once the work's done, she just leaves, her guards on her trail. 

Garvan and I started walking again at some point, and he grabs my arm to stop me again.

"So?" he echoes back, mimicking my higher pitch of voice. "Something happened."

"You already said that."

"You do realize that your grumpiness isn't helping your case here, right?" I frown and look away, immediately unfolding my arms when I become aware that I've crossed them. 

He smirks at me. I give up.

"She won't talk to me."

"I gathered as much." I frown at him, and his expression softens, his arm falling over my shoulders for a second. "I'm here to talk, you know that?"

"There's nothing to say." His eyes don't leave my face, and I lean back into the wall. "I made a mistake." Silence fills the hallway. "I'm just... giving her space, I guess."

"I think you should talk to her."

"We've established that she doesn't want to talk to me, Garvan."

"I'm just saying," his shrug is playful. "I told you, she's scary when she's silent like that." My frown in response amuses him even more. He claps my back, gently pushing me forward towards the dining room. "Let's get some food into you before you make me endure another awkward fragment session."

The heat is worse in the fragment.

At least in the palace, the Iria's chamber was fully underground and kept cool and protected from the sun. Here, though, the tower where the fragment can be found is open to the hot air outside, which gathers on the lower part as we walk down the stairs to where the glowing orange light meets us.

He's big, as tall as Garvan and as wide as the room allows him to be, half buried in the dirt that stains our shoes in the middle of space. The stairs and the structure are made of stone from the mountains, dark and slightly red, and over us there's a wooden ceiling that makes up the floor of the first floor.

The guards stayed behind on the surface, so it's just us three here. The imitator sits himself on the stairs against the wall to watch the proceedings, and Ira positions herself in front of the fragment. She hasn't said a word on the way here, not that I expected her to. Garvan tried to joke around with her, and she only looked at him and moved faster to lead the way.

I move to the board Garvan and another guard hauled down here, and erase some chalk to rewrite the half-blurred text to avoid looking at her. The note isn't extremely important, just some notes on the words Ira's used to describe what she's seen, but the process helps me distract myself while she prepares, even if I can't help myself from looking at her from the corner of my eyes when she takes a deep breath.

There's no need for words. She knows she needs to connect, to try to get to the Core from here, again, and then if that doesn't work, like it hasn't so far, try to search the parts of the island the fragment gives her access to for signs of the illness, again.

The air fizzles when she gets ready to connect, and the imitations on the wall turn off when she does, suddenly dimming when her hand touches the stone, to then come back to ebb with whatever rhythm Ira's imposing on her connections. We wait for what seems like hours, when in reality it's just a few minutes. I turn the chalk in my hands, dirtying my fingers and then clothes when I try to wipe them, and my thoughts drift away.

Back to her words, and Khitji's sacrifice, and the island wanting her back. They go back to all our efforts these past few months, to the heat and storms of a too long summer, to the times we've gone over the same facts, again and again and again. I'm tired of it all: of failure, which started even before I met her, of going back to the theory because we find ourselves lost, of the hopelessness I need to keep fighting daily because we have to find a cure.

This was our last chance, and we've wasted it.

Realization hits me, finally. There’s nothing I can do to fix this. We have no cause, only symptoms, and without that, there's no cure we can create.

But I don't want to give up. In between the hopelessness and fear and doom, there's the anger that arose at Ira's words in the Iria. It stirs inside me. This, what we do, it isn't fair.

Then she grunts, her shoulders fall, and her left hand comes away from the stone. The light on the imitations settles, the air loses its static, and Ira turns, cleaning the drop of blood that starts to fall from her nose with the back of her scarred hand.

I look at her, she looks at the floor, and Garvan looks at the both of us.

"And?" he asks. She shakes her head in answer.

"Anything new?" My voice sounds strange even to me. Thin, higher than it usually is. She glances at me for an instant, then looks back down at her hands and the blood on them. Another shake.

"Same as yesterday." She talks in Garvan's direction. Their eyes stay on each other for a long second, then the imitator stands up and lets her pass upstairs, her steps silent.

Once we hear the guards leave, he sighs, and I lean backwards, hitting the back of my head with the board.

tag list (ask to be added or removed): @my-cursed-prince @on-noon @aquil-writes @e-klair

[dark-twist-fairytales]

Listen, I don't have an explination, it came to me in a daydream.

The Music Dragons belong to @bluetorchsky

Everett is referred to with They/Them and He/Him pronouns interchangeably.

If it seems a little all over the place, I apologize beforehand.

~~~

Although a typical day around the Toppat Orbital Station, but something felt off to a particular illusionist felt a little adventurous in wondering around the station. This wasn't new for them, but this was the only time Frankie felt off about this adventure. This didn't go unnoticed by his husband, but certainly worried the both of them.

Gherry moved his hands to rest on Frankie's, with Frankie quickly grabbing hold of his husband's hands. A bit of rapid blinking, as well as tight gripping, heavy breathing of bordered panic, it soon calmed down as Frankie moved to make eye contact with Gherry.

"So..?" Gherry questioned, in a whisper as to not overwhelm Frankie as much as possible. It started to worry him with Frankie's silence, before the other shook his head. "This.. It has to play out.. No interfering.. I think..?" Frankie gave a frustrated grunt at this, resting his head on Gherry's chest. "It's.. It's like all of them, but I can't tell which call is the right one.."

The small humming coming from Gherry's chest slowly eased his mind slowly, giving a small sigh. "Well.. Let's let it play out, okay? Maybe it's.. One of those unbelievable scenarios that doesn't actually happen because someone else." He said, getting a nod from Frankie. It's happened before from outside, so why not now?

~~~

... Now, back to our illusionist. Why are they being brought up? Well...

After the small incident with Ila making her way onto the station, somethings got a little.. weird for the ghosts and those who can see ghosts. A strong aura had been going around, a disfigured person. But, what would this have to do with the illusionist?

Everett, the Music Dragon's illusionist, had started on their adventure. Heading around the station, into rooms he hadn't seen before, it felt.. Wonderful. Freeing, even! He got into a new room, glancing around to see that it was pretty dark, a room that wasn't exactly used much any more. Smelting things, buckets and buckets of ammo casings, but mutliple gas tanks had labels on them that read 'DO NOT USE'. Huh, why weren't they in use? Probably something he'd have to ask-

"Well, hello there. I wasn't expecting to see you in here." The voice came off super smooth, words practically rolling off of their tongue. Feminine voice, powerful.. Where was it coming from? Everett glanced to the door, seeing it still locked shut, before looking around a bit more. They backed up just a but, but felt themself bumping into a body.

Turning around quickly, their arms were caught before he could fall, eyes wide as he looked to the person talking to them. "Running off so soon?" The woman asked, her whole aura a deep and hauntingly dark purple. Two pieces of hair framed her face, the rest being hidden behind her head, but by the small bumps, it was in two braids and a bun. And her eyes.. They were so bright.. Inviting.. Oh no..

"I.. I really should be going-" Everett gave a yelp when he felt their arms let go, and rather being grabbed by their shoulders, being twirled a little. "Aww, come on.. You're really gonna leave me here alone? Stay with me, just a little longer.." She trailed her hand up to his jaw, lightly dragging her fingers from the joint to their chin.

"I don't think that's how I raised you." That voice.. That one held much more power behind it. Everett dared a look, turning to spot and much brighter figure behind them, eyes glowing a bright green, and much warmer than the one currently on him.

"Psh! Like you know anything." The dark female spoke, shoving Everett down and away. Before he fell completely to the ground, however, the brighter one caught them from behind, gently setting them down on the ground, before standing in between Everett and this darker figure.

"Hillary. It's time to let go. You've held on for too long, sweetheart, and it's hurting you." The lighter figure spoke, with the darker figure, now named Hillary, gave a scoff and tried to get past the lighter one to Everett. It didn't work, much to Everett's relief. "Like you know any better, mother!"

The lighter figure took this closeness as opportunity, beginning to hum a certain tune. Her voice was so distant, yet so there, and it was clearly distressing Hillary. But, why..? 

"Even if you're beyond the grave

A mother's love is not to cave

But thou has hurt the one I love

My precious, sweet, little dove..

Now I lay you down to sleep

For the curse is one that I shall keep

I'm sorry, my daughter, for what has come

But know I am here, even just for some.."

As she spoke, Hillary's distress became less and less, her body going limp in her mother's arm. The dark color moved from her entire being to a shell necklace that the light figure held in her hand, and slowly, the body disappeared from her arms.

She gave a sigh of relief, before turning around and sitting on her knees. Now able to get a closer look: Her hair was short, yet very orange, with a flower behind her ear, and hair being held up by a green headband. She moved her hand to lightly hold Everett's, her eyes holding nothing but concern. "Are you okay, my dear?" She asked, making sure her hold wasn't harsh enough to keep him down.

Everett, albeit a bit shaky, nodded at her question, seeing her smile and a bit of the concern leave her eyes. "That's wonderful.. You might feel a bit better going to that group of yours to try and de-stress and calm down.."

"What.. What was that song..? How did you know it?" Everett asked, moving their hands away from this woman. "Who are you?" He asked, stepping back just a bit. His tense posture soften as feeling her hand lightly cup their cheek, much different than Hillary before, much more softer and caring.. He leaned into it, nuzzling lightly into her hand.

"All in due time, my dear.. Do not freight.." She spoke, leaning close and giving a small kiss to the bridge of their nose, smiling softly. "Just, tell Frankie.." She got close to Everett's ear, whispering something, before pulling back and smiling. "Can you do that for me, please?"

Everett gave a nod, hugging her tightly and giving a 'thank you' to her, before they were off. She gave a smile, sighing afterwards and looking to a seashell necklace in her hand, seeing the angry purple it was, but also seeing a little light shining through the middle. "I wish things were different.." She muttered, tucking the necklace around her neck and dropping it underneath her shirt, before leaving off to Earth.

~~~

"No, I'm telling you! Shane! Back me up here!" Everett was becoming increasingly distraught at not being believed by most of the Music Dragons, but Shane could only shrug. "Dude, I'm sorry, I really don't know what you're talking about.."

"What's going on?" Frankie asked, coming into the same room as the Music Dragon's. This caused Everett to perk up and look to Frankie. "You!! She mentioned YOU!" Much confusion fell over the clan, before Everett stood up and began telling the story again. And while Gherry stayed confused, one glance over to Frankie told him everything: This was the vision from earlier.

"Hold on, you said she mentioned me.. Who and what did she say?" Frankie asked, his arms crossing over his chest.

"That's the thing! When I asked who she was, all she said was 'in due time', but she told me to tell you something? Uh.. It was something along the lines of... 'Sorry for the memory, but may you go on to see the harmony'?"

This got Frankie to think, trying to revisit the vision himself. "Memory... Memory..?" He muttered, his eyes widening and looking to Everett. "And, that dark figure- Her name?"

"It was Mallary, I think? No- Molly? No- Hillary! It was Hillary!" Everett shouted, with Frankie's eyes widening at that, and Everett -well, everyone really- turning worried. "Frankie..?"

"Memory and Harmony.. Memory and Harley.. How..?" Frankie's mind couldn't seem to grasp it, glancing towards the door and just staring for a moment. Everyone kept silent to let him think, with Gherry being the most concerned about him. "So.. You were saved by Memory, who warned you about Harmony, and took out someone named Hillary. With a seashell necklace?"

"I guess so? It all went by fast for me, Hillary caught me off gaurd, and it.. it felt like-"

"You were being taken under control against your will.. Mental Magic. It's a powerful thing.." Frankie said, earning much confusion around this concept. Through all of their years, alive and dead, not once had a few of these members heard of 'Mental Magic'.

"It's.. It's a horrible thing. It's why we tried to help build immunity for Music Magic, as it helps restrict Mental Magic as well.." Frankie gave a sigh. "That doesn't matter- What's important is that you're okay."

Everett nodded quickly at that, rubbing at his wrists a bit. "Yeah- Yeah, I'm okay. I'm okay." They spoke, growing confused of how Frankie knew all of this, but not questioning it. Frankie did look relieved at it, nodding and sighing.

"Good.. Just, keep this experience in pocket for now. All of you. I.. I feel as though this is going to call for a lot more than we think." Frankie said, going to leave out of the room, before spotting a deer in the doorway, staring right at them. "Oh, come on, Ila." Violin spoke, while picking the deer up. He glanced into the room, giving a small wave. "Hey guys. Anything happening?"

"Just- A lot. Hey, Ila? Do you mind giving a 'Thank you' to Memory?" Frankie spoke, with the doe nodding and relaxing from the brief petting she received. "Thank you, Ila.." He then stepped out to get to somewhere quiet, no one following to respect Frankie's privacy.

"What's up with Frankie?"

"Something happened with Everett, another music magic user? None of us are really sure." Shane spoke, with Violin nodding in understanding.

"It's been a long day for all of us. Try to rest your souls, okay?" Violin spoke, which caused a wave of agreement to come across the entire group, as he walked out with Ila trotting beside him, refusing to stay held by him.

Once the two made it to the communications area, Violin did get stunned for a moment by seeing a woman sat on the floor, with Ila approaching and resting beside her. Her hair was orange, eyes green, and she just seemed happy, but also drained of her energy. Violin soon talked with the teleportation manager at the time to get Ila back to Earth, again, before he looked to the two. Why wasn't anyone saying anything about her? Unless..

His question was answered with her using the last bit of her strength to use Ila as a way of transportation to Earth. He did blink a few time in confusion, but felt a weird sense of calm rush over him. He simply nodded to himself, walking out to get some rest after a long day.

[theshadesofwords]

The Shadow Lines by Amitav Ghosh

Amitav Ghosh's writing stole my heart. In a novel without a central plot, a story told only through the mishmash of human memories, Ghosh creates something sublime and heartbreaking. Straddling events from World War 2 to Bangladeshi independence, Ghosh writes of people in its shadows and the human need for belonging.

In 200+ pages Ghosh creates a story of a family of cousins separated by cities, continents, and borders and yet connected by that tenuous collection of blood and shared memories. Ila, Tridib, Nick Price, May, Grandmother…they are all shadows and we only see parts of their whole. But not sure what magic Ghosh weaves, and as I close the last page, I feel I have left them behind and it breaks my heart.

The Shadow Lines will hit the top of my reading list this year.

P.S - I am feeling the giddy joy of discovering an author whose work I know I will love - and now I have an entire collection of his works to discover.

[ceruleanbender]

"You've traveled a long way to these parts. What is someone from the water tribe doing so close to the desert border?"

Those who made their home within the sun-drenched desert, Ila could only admire; it was the reason why she travelled all the way to challenge herself. She couldn’t think of a more disadvantaging place to hone her skills. She gave the man in front of her a proper greeting before she replied. “A test of endurance, sir.” Her blue-toned ensemble was a death give away: wearing a long-sleeved tunic, a long scarf wrapped around her neck, which she could easily use to cover her head, baggy trousers, and traditional Water Tribe boots. Around her waist, she wore a thick leather corset lined with fur. Not to forget her cross-belt waterskins.

"My name is Ila, and I hope to be accepted by the inhabitants of the desert. If anything, I can offer my services as a healer to compensate for my presence," she added.

@desertgourd

[myfrenzi]

Cross-Cultural Love Stories

Cross-Cultural Love Stories: Celebrating Love Beyond Borders

In a world that is becoming increasingly interconnected, love knows no boundaries. It transcends borders, languages, and cultures, weaving a tapestry of emotions that bind us all. Today, we delve into the enchanting world of cross-cultural love stories, celebrating the beauty of love that defies stereotypes and expectations.

Love Across Cultures: A Universal Language

Love is a universal language that resonates with people from all corners of the globe. It’s a force that can bridge the gaps between different cultures, bringing together individuals who may have never met otherwise. Cross-cultural love stories remind us that love is not bound by geographical borders or cultural norms. These stories inspire us, touch our hearts, and remind us of the power of love.

Movies on OTT: Exploring Cross-Cultural Love

Now, let’s dive into some of the best movies on OTT platforms that beautifully depict cross-cultural love stories. These films capture the essence of love that knows no boundaries and will tug at your heartstrings.

1. “The Lunchbox” (2013) — Netflix

Set in Mumbai, India, “The Lunchbox” is a heartwarming tale of two strangers brought together by a misplaced lunchbox. Through handwritten notes exchanged in the lunchbox, Ila and Saajan develop a deep connection that transcends their cultural differences. This film is a testament to the idea that love can blossom in the most unexpected places.

2. “The Namesake” (2006) — Amazon Prime Video

Based on Jhumpa Lahiri’s novel, “The Namesake” tells the story of Gogol, a first-generation American born to Indian immigrant parents. The film explores Gogol’s journey to understand his cultural identity and his relationship with an American woman named Maxine. It beautifully portrays the challenges and complexities of cross-cultural relationships.

3. “Lost in Translation” (2003) — Hulu

In the bustling city of Tokyo, two lost souls, Bob and Charlotte, find solace in each other’s company. Despite the language barrier and cultural differences, their connection is palpable. “Lost in Translation” is a poignant exploration of the transient nature of life and the deep connections that can be formed in the most unexpected circumstances.

4. “The Big Sick” (2017) — Amazon Prime Video

Based on the real-life love story of comedian Kumail Nanjiani and his wife Emily V. Gordon, “The Big Sick” is a heartwarming and hilarious film that delves into the complexities of cross-cultural relationships. Kumail, a Pakistani-American, navigates the challenges of dating while dealing with his family’s traditional expectations.

5. “Before Sunrise” (1995) — Netflix

While not explicitly a cross-cultural love story, “Before Sunrise” is a timeless tale of love that transcends time and place. Jesse, an American, and Céline, a Frenchwoman, meet on a train and decide to spend a magical night together in Vienna. Their conversations about life, love, and dreams resonate with viewers from around the world.

In conclusion, cross-cultural love stories are a testament to the power of love to break down barriers and unite people from diverse backgrounds. Best movies on OTT platforms beautifully capture the essence of love that knows no borders. So, grab some popcorn, cozy up on your couch, and let these films take you on a journey of love, laughter, and heartache that spans the globe. After all, in the realm of love, there are no boundaries, only connections waiting to be discovered.

[sinceileftyoublog]

Selwyn Birchwood Interview: Blues Sorcery

BY JORDAN MAINZER

“Blues musicians are exorcists,” Selwyn Birchwood told me over the phone last month. In some ways, Birchwood is a traditional blues artist like the magicians he refers to. The Tampa guitarist, vocalist, and songwriter, who cut his teeth playing with Sonny Rhodes and has opened for Buddy Guy and Robert Cray, wields a dusty voice and expressive guitar style, traversing the worlds of Chicago blues and Southern soul, subjects from heartbreak to swamp folklore. In other ways, though, he’s uniquely modern. For one, unlike blues stars then and now, Birchwood doesn’t play covers, standards, or traditional tunes. He also doesn’t write original songs that border on self-parody because they try so hard to sound like standards; instead, his pieces are biographical, centered in the places they were created and aim to illustrate, skirting notions of rockist purity to use contemporary recording techniques. And thankfully, his songs still do rock, whether emphasizing Birchwood’s lap steel, longtime baritone saxophonist Regi Oliver’s horns, or the rhythm section’s deftly controlled tempos.

Exorcist, Birchwood’s latest album out tomorrow via Alligator Records, is Birchwood’s most assured release yet. “I’ve always felt like I’ve been trying to find my own sound, and with this album, I’m confident [I have],” Birchwood said. “The music is imaginative, with real emotion and relatability.” From the soulful and sharp opener “Done Cryin’” to the album’s upbeat closing instrumental “Show Tune”, Birchwood takes us on a journey through not only the weird creeks and absurd depths of his home state, but the peaks and valleys of his mind. Of course, “FLorida Man”, given today’s political climate, is a hilarious standout. Beginning with studio recordings of real news headlines to come out of the Sunshine State, Birchwood leads the band through a horrified, yet strangely affectionate tour of the place “where rebel flags meet Mickey Mouse”. (“People outside of Florida think we are crazy. People inside of FLorida KNOW we’re crazy!” Birchwood has said about the track.) And the mighty “Swim At Your Own Risk” features field recordings from “a woodsy area by my house,” Birchwood said. “I put it all together on my laptop. COVID put me headfirst into [editing].”

Sure, Birchwood’s enraptured-but-doomed relationship songs, from the “love gone terrifying” title track to the blistering, 6-minute “love gone wrong” jam “Horns Below Her Halo”, are phenomenal. But the true centerpieces come when Birchwood has time to reflect. “Plenty More To Be Grateful For” is a refreshing slice of perspective, 7 minutes of pure blues, while “Underdog” is a bit of psychedelic autobiography. And piano jaunt “ILa-View” perfectly combines Birchwood’s contemplations with knowing smirks, his similes for his affection akin to vices rather than romantic expressions. “I’ve heard so many songs that say, 'I love you,’ so if I say, 'I love you like the church loves money,' you believe me now,” Birchwood said, displaying the same sense of humor that’s obvious on record.

Birchwood’s last record, Living in a Burning House, made #1 on the Billboard Blues Chart, and he admitted he’d like to see Exorcist “hit some of the same numbers.” More importantly, though, he’s always looking to experiment. For instance, he played bass on a few songs on Exorcist, his first time doing so on a recorded album. In general, he recognizes that any record is momentary. “The finished albums are a snapshot,” he said. “I’m always moving, always growing.” One thing, though, will never change: Birchwood will continue to wield his voice and his axe, whether expelling the evil spirits of lost love and rabid demons, or even just sitting back and appreciating how far he’s come.

[bankabc]

Bank ABC’s ‘ABC Labs’ named as one of the World’s Best Financial Innovation Labs by Global Finance

The international banking group was honoured by world’s leading tech and finance experts, for its ‘Top Innovations in Finance’ and as one of ‘World’s Best Financial Innovation Labs.’​  

Manama, Bahrain: Bank ABC has won two distinguished awards at Global Finance’s much-coveted The Innovators Awards -2023. The Bank’s innovation and digitisation centre, ABC Labs, has been named as one of “the World’s Best Financial Innovation Labs”, a recognition given to leading financial innovation labs that are driving the digital revolution in the global banking industry. With its ground-breaking initiatives and a forward-thinking, agile innovation approach, ABC Labs was commended for driving transformative change in the region and beyond. 

ABC Labs, led by Bank ABC’s Group Innovation function, was launched in 2019 and operates from a cutting-edge facility, with state-of-the-art digital tools. The Labs run an extensive and unique enterprise-wide innovation programme aimed at disrupting traditional banking models. The ABC Labs team closely collaborates with customers, regulators, technology providers, financial institutions and fintech’s across the Bank’s global footprint to foster growth and transformation within the industry and broader economy. 

Bank ABC has also been presented with the ‘Top Innovations in Finance’ award, an accolade that underscores the Bank’s outstanding Digital Transformation Programme which delivers an unparalleled, personalised banking experience to corporates and individuals.

The Bank’s ongoing digital transformation journey is dedicated to building a digitally-empowered, sustainable ‘bank of the future’. Guided by an agile, Cloud-first digital innovation strategy, the multi-year initiative is designed to drive further operational efficiencies, disrupt legacy banking models and systems, and enable the Bank to achieve digital leadership by truly transforming the way banking services are delivered to its customers. 

Bank ABC’S Group CEO, Mr. Sael Al Waary said: “Innovation is at the heart of our strategy as we continue our digital transformation journey to build a more intuitive and sustainable bank of the future. We are honoured and proud to accept this prestigious recognition for our world-class innovation lab, ABC Labs. This award acknowledges our commitment to staying ahead of the curve and embracing emerging technologies such as AI, Blockchain and Data Analytics. It is a testament to our commitment to delivering enhanced customer experiences and encourages us to continue to invest in our innovation and digital initiatives.” 

“I would like to sincerely thank Global Finance for this recognition, our Board of Directors for their continued support for our ambitious innovation and digital transformation journey and, thank you to our dedicated employees across the Group for embracing innovation and continuously working to deliver the Bank’s vision for the bank of the future.” 

Global Finance’s Publisher & Editorial Director, Joseph Giarraputo notes, “Bank ABC continues to put digital innovation as a key strategic priority in providing world-class customer focused banking initiatives. It is playing a key role in the Gulf region’s first blockchain-based cross-border instant payment solution. Through ABC Labs, the Bank is collaborating with several central banks, including the Central Bank of Bahrain ‘CBB’, in studying and launching central bank digital currencies and is now scaling up its payment services for corporate clients.” 

Since inception, ABC Labs established the digital architecture and agile methodologies to enable the Bank’s strategic objectives. These steps enabled the launch of ‘ila Bank’ - a revolutionary digital mobile-only retail offering, and the development of an emotionally intelligent AI-powered digital assistant ‘Fatema’ among other achievements. 

Bank ABC’s digital transformation programme has resulted in multiple ground-breaking digital deployments. Most recently, the Bank introduced a regional-first digital corporate onboarding service, reducing the account opening process to less than a day.  It is also digitising its Supply Chain Finance, Documentary Trade Finance and Cash management businesses. 

In its eleventh edition, Global Finance Innovators Awards celebrates entities that consistently identify new paths and design innovative tools in finance. The winners were chosen by a distinguished editorial board in consultation with experts in the innovators’ areas of focus. ABC Labs excelled across the selection criteria and emerged as a winner of the Financial Services Company Labs category.

[girlsplaybaseball]

One of Our Heroes: Ila Borders | Lavender Magazine

https://lavendermagazine.com/our-scene/ila-borders/

[baseballaroundtheworld]

#14 - Ila Borders - P - St. Paul Saints (1997)

[farminglesbian]

https://narratively.com/the-hidden-queer-history-behind-a-league-of-their-own/

[vsnotresponding]

CHAPTER 15 - THE DIMA - IRA

masterpost

I don’t know how I didn’t think about this before.

Though, probably, it’s because I’ve avoided thinking about what happened as much as I can.

It doesn’t matter, there’s no time for doubt. This is something that, realistically, could work. I just connect to the island and into the Core through my creation, look at his registers and come back. It sounds way easier than what it really is, but it could be the solution to all our problems. If I discover the origin of the illness, they can work on a cure, and bring the island back to normal.

I feel the weight of my creation in my palm—remembering her, familiarizing with her all over again. The cracks that cut my skin, the deep orange color, blood-red in some areas. I squeeze her in my fist—I’m doing this.

We haven’t talked much about the island’s current state. Of the state of the earth and the khithi, nothing beyond what the mirzaan told me that first night. It’s not like I've asked, anyways, but I can guess that’s bad. Worse than ever before.

The smoke of my visions comes back, the rain and blood. The Ecco appears at the corners of my vision, but I ignore it, sitting cross-legged on the floor, the bed at my back and the others sitting around me.

I look at the mirzaan, who looks back at me. He doesn’t look too convinced, but I don’t let his doubts get to me. I focus on Áine instead, who encourages me with a tilt of her chin. I let it give me strength.

I connect.

It’s faster than it had ever been before, something instant I manage with half a thought. It’s sudden and it makes the floor disappear from under me, the room following. I clench the creation in my healthy fist at the brightness that welcomes me, the nothingness that surrounds me.

Under my feet, but at the same time inside of me, it’s the island. Ila, that flashes me, hot spots of brightness in the city, on the palace. They blind me.

Panicked, I try to look away, but I can’t. The brightness is everywhere and everything. It’s in me.

I think that, back in the room, I open my eyes. It’s a faraway sensation, alien to me, to the me that falls in a well of light, drowning in it as the irregularities of a creation that’s not here dig into my skin.

Sudden movement, then air, wood against my back, I’m siting again. My stomach turns, I breathe with difficulty. Someone might be talking to me, but their voice reaches me muffled and faraway. I feel something cold and metallic pushed into my hands, I rest my brow on it, its border painfully connecting to skin.

Heat reaches me from my creation and I feel the avalanche of energy of the last time escaping me, flowing from my fingers to expand. They keep talking to me, a hand on my back, smoothly moving up and down. But I can’t answer them, I can’t even open my eyes, which I clench as hard as I can, the brightness still there inside my eyelids. It’s too bright. I focus on breathing, on pushing it down.

I smell the sea when I take a deep breath, I smell salt and heat and water. It surrounds me, embracing me. I shake, the Ecco's claws biting my arms, whispering in a language I don’t know in my ear, forcing me to open my eyes.

Helplessly against it, I do. The brightness blinds me, it throws itself at me to blind me more. I touch it, pushing it away from me.

But it stays, flashing me, burning my retinas, laying waste to my irises, my pupils.

I manage to close my eyes again, bending over myself.

Everything is too bright.

tag list (ask to be added or removed): @my-cursed-prince @on-noon @aquil-writes @dotr-rose-love @e-klair

[aagciii]

#41 - Ila Borders - P - Duluth-Superior Dukes (1997-1999)

[cecilcooperstown]

Ila Borders