#in the scale of my poetry anyway

[pencap]

1. Capture a man. Hold him. Hold him. Hold him. Hold him. Hold him. One day he forgets his own name.

2. Leave no body to be found. Fill an empty grave with dirt. Let the world forget on its own.

3. Give him a name. Give him twenty. Tell him a new history. Teach him a new language. Teach him five. Give him a mission.

Let him go.

4. Take him back. Let him go. Take him back. Let him go. Take him back. Let him go.

He comes back on his own feet.

5. Give him blood and steel and pain until his muscles forget the difference between bone and iron and his skin craves the kiss of leather straps like it craves the touch of gentle fingers.

Drain his veins dry and empty and fill his heart with something new and let the poison spill like lifeblood.

6. Give him pain. Take it away. Bring it back. Take it away. Bring it back. Bring it back.

7. Give him a new name. Give him a new past. Destroy it all.

8. Tear him away from everything he knows. Let him watch his world collapse. Let him see his name wither away. Let him strangle hope with his hands.

9. Make him beg for mercy for respite for death.

10. Deny him.

- how to break a man by sylvie (j.p.)

[margueritegracq]

Godddd I LOVE the change on perspective of Ellington as you read atwq. Like she very much the "femme fatale" mysterious girl archetype (as much as someone who's like 15 can be a femme fatale) to the reader (because ofc we're seeing this through Lemony's perspective and L's gonna L) but then as we go along we have more and more holes poked in this picture L has built up of her until all the stuff we know about L almost comes crashing down in a way in the 4th book as we realize that LEMONY has been more mysterious more suspicious and altogether more "Ellington" than Ellington the whole time

[chekovsphaser]

Not me having a sexuality crisis because I've never written poetry about a boy. I'm bisexual anything is fair game what's to crisis about this?

[solarianastrology]

RANDOM ASTRO ABSERVATIONS!!!

DISCLAIMER: These may or may not apply to you. These observations are from my personal experiences with these placements and energies. Nothing in astrology is the end all be all. The birth chart is simply the possibilities, but you determine the way in which the possibilities go. You are always in control!

Virgo Venus natives hate not feeling appreciated. There's a lot of thought and detail put into the actions they do for others, and it always tends to be something practical like something they notice you need that'll help with a project or something beneficial for daily usage. However, the minute you don't show you appreciate these acts, all that care goes right out the window. Moon in 8H synastry if undeveloped can be very toxic and manipulative. Some cases, the moon will feel the need to mother or take care of the house person. >If undeveloped<, the house person will see this as weakness and abuse the resources of the moon. In other words, you can make some ridiculous financial decisions all because you feel connected to them emotionally, especially if you're not used to Plutonic energy. This synastry could leave you broke or in debt if you haven't learned yourself truly. Libra, you are not seeking balance, you are not trying to find balance, balance isn't this unattainable thing, YOU ARE BALANCE. You're the scales! You were born balanced, now if you don't feel balanced, find out where you're having an imbalance and fix it. One thing about Capricorns, they gone get them some money$$$. Gemini risings with Scorpio moons can have very toxic mothers who probably suffers with mental health issues. They could have also made them clean the house more that needed as punishment. Scorpio risings with Libra Venus are such hopeless romantics and get so attached once in love, they are the definition of wanting to live in their partner's skin. If they break up, they'll continue to romanticize them and may even try to get back with them again. If you're looking for the traditional romance relationship where you're constantly reminded of their affection for you, constant thoughtful gifts, and kisses 25/8 do not go for an Aquarius Venus. It's like they purposefully go against anything too normalized and typical in love but love in a more intellectual language. Don't even bother trying to change them either, they'll just ignore you. (They are still very loving and loyal once committed). Lilith in the 7th house can make you very powerful in relationships and they are all aware of that power. Also, once a Lilith 7H native realizes they are being manipulated, played with, or cheated on the Lilith shadow comes out and you'll never get the same them again. Mercury in 12H synastry undeveloped will have you lying for no reason at all, have you feeling all exposed mentally. PLEASE DON'T WRONG SATURNIANS, YOU GET INSTANT KARMA. I find I get my hair done the most when the Venus is transiting my 1H. Chiron conjunct Mercury, especially in the 3H could have had a very challenging school life. They could have fought with teachers, gotten retained, failed classes, and it truly affected their mental esteem. They are learners by experience and thrive learning independently, though they could attract very wise people to help them along their journey. You are literal geniuses and never let anyone tell you're not. Libra 3H write beautiful poetry. Your Moon sign can represent your Sun sign in your past life. It's who you are, anyway, the actions you portray with no effort, where you feel most comfortable. It's the energy you're used to. You can learn a lot from a person you have 9th house synastry with, true wisdom.

[mikeysbabygirl]

Has anyone ever told you how good your writing is? Like - chef kisses - good? Anyway, awa hello! Draken is such a gentlemen, treat his girl right and is so careful, taking into account his built and strenght… but his girl… his girl want it rough. In fact, she likes it rough enough to border on "bitch, are you okay???"

WARNING : ehhmmm she likes it rough 👀, just a short thing since it's a pwp, Smut, minors DNI, dirty talk, Mean!Dom Draken, aftercare, Reader is a tease, acting all innocent 🙈 Draken literally pounding her, using her as a cock sleeve, nicknames ( love, princess, pretty whore... ), Creampie, Inupi simping over reader... Did i forget anything ?

Note : thanks so much for the feedback, it makes my day 🖤

Draken couldn't believed you would even let him near to you.

After all, what was he but dry blood on knuckles ?

But you, oh you... It's like your aura was made of poetry and roses.

Like a dragon met a lamb, armed in scaled of impenetrable gold, while you were soft and comforting in newborn wool. And upon meeting you, his walls and guards felt threatened by your weak soldiers, a smile, a spark in the eye, and they resisted.

He resisted, until he felt them falling like a leaf from a tree, pink petals lips, so soft to the touch, he never knew falling would hurt so much.

So he spent months covering his sharp edges, scared for your soft fingers to get pricked. Emma's loss left only pieces of him, and you were so reckless picking them all up, assembling all his parts that he feared nothing more than to cut you in the process.

How could he want anything else than to be gentle with your soft heart ? That gentle heart, that refuses to do anything but beat louder and harder.

Through the darkest corners of his mind, you sneak like the softest sunshine, through windows he didn't even knew existed and brush gently over his face, and suddenly his heart isn't broken anymore, he doesn't feel the cold constant bleeding anymore.

Yes, sometimes his wolves still roar a little too loud. Call of nature catches up and rawness tends to bring back the fire in his guts, he remembered perfectly the first time it happened.

As you laid under him for the first time, so fragile, raw, and beautiful, your clothes long discarded on the floor like pages of past he turned, he remembered how clenched his fists were, trying to soften every kiss, to lighten every touch and cancel any pressure his body was dying to apply.

He remembered the first time he made one with you, jaw tight, sinking deeper in the ocean of your eyes trying to drown that fire in his guts, burning to just give you all of himself, raw and rough. It took all of him not to just pound in you as hard as he wanted to, sink wolf's teeth deeper in your so soft skin.

But Draken was a gentleman, he would never risk scaring you away of him. You were the shiniest thing to ever graze his sky and he had no problem polishing his windows and the truth, embellishing the wild and romanticizing the rough for you.

Oh but little did he knew...

You might be soft in all the right ways, skin like silk and honey lips. But make no mistake, beneath it all, you mind, will, resolve, were hard as steel.

You were weed not flower, and you knew what was in your power to bring back in him and wanted all of it. Draken was sweet, and gentle with you, but you craved him, his true self, the one you knew he was holding back.

How could you possibly utter the words ? You were his pretty girl, the who who never raised her voice at him, whose touches were never different from those of a feather, who still blushed everytime you were indecently exposed to him even after months.

How could you possibly tell him that you wanted him to fuck you dumb until you forgot what your own name was ?

But no need for words when you owned the probably shortest sundress he had ever seen in his life. Wrapping yourself in the off-shoulder pink fabric and good intentions, you gripped the bento box you brought for him tighter the minute his eyes landed on you, when you entered the shop.

-" Hello " you smiled politely, offering your hand for Inupi to shake. The guy was just as, if not more respectful than Draken, he fought all along the urge to let his eyes slide toward your breasts and bare thighs and shook your hand, almost stuttering when he pronounced your name.

-" Glad to see you " he greeted you, he had saw you few times before and though he did not talk a lot, he still grew into liking you seeing how good and careful you were to his friend.

You smiled and your eyes drifted toward your boyfriend, sitting next to a bike but his hands no longer held any tool, you bit back a sly smile seeing how his eyes never left you.

-" Hi hon' " you approached him, already seeing him frown because you usually never gave him nicknames in front of his friends. But his eyes widened even more, along with Seishu's ones when you bent over to press a kiss on his cheek.

With how that damn dress was short, Seishu must have caught a glimpse of your panties, if only you wore ones... and Draken saw it too, through the glass behind.

Before the rush of anger could reach his brain, he found himself on his feet, excusing himself to Seishu and dragging you by the hand toward the back store. Already by how tight his hand was gripping your wrist, you knew the mission has been a success.

But the minute you reached the back store and he slammed the door shut, pinning you against it, you wondered slightly.

Could it be that you have gone a little bit too far ?

His hand on your stomach was pressing you flat against the wall, and your surprised eyes on him injected the slightest guilt into his blood.

-" The fuck, is wrong with you ?"

Every word of him was a needle sinking deeper in your skin, stern face so close to yours you could feel his warm minty breath hitting your lips.

-" Excuse me ?" You wore the indignation tailor made, gaining a frown from him that told you, you had good acting skills." No, what is wrong with you? I... I just thought you could... Use some lunch ? "

What a devil in disguise, but what he didn't knew couldn't hurt him right ? What hurt him was the little frown between your brows and the tilt of your head.

That oblivious ignorance of yours, that provocation so pure for his carnivorous sense of destruction. That so desperate cute face you made blazing like a hurricane in his lower abdomen.

-" I... Honestly I don't know what's happenin' Ken, did I... Do something wrong ?"

The pressure he was previously putting on your stomach decreased until, as if he was burned, retracted his hand and ran it through his hair, sighing loudly.

What the fuck am I doing ? He thought.

-" Look, I'm... "

He was struggling, obviously. And you felt a little bit guilty for this, fear of having scared you haunting all of his what if's, he didn't even found it in him to touch you again.

-" I'm sorry, 'kay ?"

Leaning on his elbows against the wall, Draken let his forehead gently fall against yours, closing his eyes. Never has he ever apologized, ever. But regrets were nipping at his brain like their last meal, he could not lose you to his rough nature.

-" I just... Can't have you walking 'round like that, can't have everyone eye-fucking what's mine. "

You could not help the slight curves of your lips hearing those words, and he ran his thumb over the plump of your lips absentmindedly.

-" Y'just too pure, princess. Don't know what kind of things your body does to guys. " He gulped down at the parting of your lips. " Things you do t'me ".

He was slipping between your fingers, you could see him slowly putting back the mask and returning to that holy self, and all your efforts would be to no avail. Dropping down the shyness, his eyes widened when you clung on his shoulders, wrapping your leg around his waist and pulling him impossibly closer to you.

-" What kind of things, Kenny?"

Only whispers were left of your voice, your lashes caressing your cheeks as your gaze drifted toward his lips, he swallowed a thick breath and his hands on your waist tried putting some distance between you two, in vain.

-" Wait- shit, Wait-"

His voice fell into a strangled sound, while you started moving your hips slightly. The thick jean of his pants rubbing against your bare pussy was a whole new feeling, his bulge only got harder.

-" What things, Kenny ?" You repeated, voice turning into panting breathing sending shivers down his spine. " Show me what you're oh so desperate to do to me ".

-" Pretty, Fuck- stop this "

But his words were liars, since his grip around your waist got bruising, and he insidiously began rolling his hips against yours, matching your movements.

-" Show me what you wanna do to me, Kenny" you whined at the loss of friction against your clit.

-" Not now. " He tried stopping you, a dead serious look in his face. " If I go down on you now, I might just not be able to hold back ".

Lust was a heavier burden to carry, having your doe-like eyes staring at him with so much care when you should've ran away from his words, calling him a kinky weirdo or whatever.

-" then don't hold back, I want all of you, Ken. Give me your all "

As much as your words were pulling him down, he was holding into his last strings of sanity with a burning palm. Denying you whatever you were asking, scared to hurt you, he pressed his forehead against yours, again.

-" Please, princess. I'm begging you, don't make me do this to you... "

But you cupped his face, and the thread let go under your resolve, letting you seep deeper through his dungeons.

-" Fuck me like you want me, Kenny. " You whispered, brushing his lips with yours, making him lose his breath. " Fuck me like you've been craving. "

The last straw, and soon his lips were on yours already.

You've kissed a hundred times before, but this, this one had something more animalistic, primary. Like he was not kissing to taste, but to devour you and fill the hunger of months spent dreaming of stealing the breath out of your lungs.

His hands did a quick work stripping you off that dress which drove him crazy, and the rest melted into a blur until he had you bent over a desk there, his fat tip nudging your dripping entrance and his hand pulling your hair back, drawing whimpers from you.

-" Fuck, y'like it when I hurt you, dontcha ?" He threw his head back, sinking in you and wincing at the incredible feeling. " Should've told me sooner, princess. Woulda... Woulda never held back from fucking ya dumb o'mma cock "

No need to hide in the dark now that you were swallowing his dirtiest secrets with the lewdest squelches of your cunt,biting your lips to not draw anyone's attention with your moans.

-" Ken- oh god, 's too good"

-" So that's all what that slutty dress was about, huh ?"

Your eyes widened and you hid your blush with your arms on the desk around your face.

-" N-No !"

-" Yes it was. " A harsher thrust of him almost sent the desk flying at the end of the room, making your eyes roll back in your head. " Flashing this tight lil pussy to Inupi, you wanted me to split you open in front of him ?"

It was his turn to widen his eyes, feeling your walls clenching around him. Draken threw his head back, cursing, feeling the blood boiling in his guts, he pulled your hair back harsher and exposed your fucked up face to his eyes.

He swore you've never been prettier, and one more thrust, one more nudge of his balls against your clit sent you to overdrive. The cry you let out at that moment would be forever engraved in his mind's walls with the white rings of your high around his length, he could not help but lean over and take your parted swollen lips in his, wanting to just devour your so beautiful face.

-" Aww, you'd like it huh ? What a dirty little whore, clenchin' on me like a fuckin' virgin. " A strangled chuckle escaped his mouth, your pussy closing around him heavenly in a rhythmic pace.

It felt just so relieving, to think all these times he was covering his sharp edges when now they were kissing your cervix with each thrust. What an euphoric sensation it was, knowing that you could possibly love him, the true him, not the one he tried to be for you.

At that moment, he just thinks he might be in love.

-" Ken, oh goodness... " And as he froze, thinking you were too overstimulated to keep up, your blissful face flashed him an orgasmic smile. " Cum for me, please. Want... Want you to fill me up"

Indeed, he might be in love.

He felt his cock throbbing by the meer sight of your teary eyes and drooling mouth smiling for him, by your words fanning his flame. His other hand sneaked toward your chest, kneading your breast bruisingly and his teeth sunk in your shoulder.

- " Yeah ? 's that right ? My pretty baby wants me to cum inside ? " His mouth replaced the small red bruises with warm kisses along your skin, drawing a mountain of moans out of you whilst his thrust became sloppier. " Wants me to fuck a child inside this pretty pussy ? "

Too overstimulated to even speak, you fervently nodded and arched your back against him, taking him deeper until hitting that hidden spot inside you that had you both rolling your eyes and stilling.

He could already feel his orgasm grazing his fingertips, at a hairsbreadth of losing it all. But in fact he'd never been through such a lust, rollercoaster-like, losing himself in your warmth and wetness made him feel more loved than he ever has in his life.

Draken, Ken Ryuguji, all calloused fingers and bloody knuckles, all cold words and stern voice, held your wrist and started pounding his wild inside you, his pretty, soft little lamb.

His hot tongue licked a stripe along your neck, and already seeing the marks upon your skin could've send him to cloud nine. You were always so immaculate, and now were all stained, all marked. All over your silk, all he could read was

Ken, Ken, Ken...

-" That's right, m'pretty girl. Moan my fucking name, let him hear ya. Y'know I'll never let anyone see my gorgeous bitch, right ?"

Another time tightening around his length, and he was a goner.

All he could make out was his balls stiffening and soon, some of his cum starting to leak between your thighs, waves of bliss crashing and washing over him though he was drowning in a burning heat.

-" I... Fuck, such a good girl for daddy. Look how good you took it, best I've ever had."

Yes, Draken was a gentleman, he would never even think of hurting you.

But having your skin all red and purple marked under him, having his white ropes dripping from you, he must admit it was toxic but it was intoxicatingly addictive.

This image could have haunted his nightmares, months ago. His so strong stature, broad shoulders and big hands towering over your smaller, weaker body. But now, oh now it was the embodiment of his Nirvana.

-" one of... The best idea I've ever had, now we can go back to normal" you smiled absentmindedly, head falling on the desk and ass arching up against his balls. You yelped however as a harsh slap met your ass cheek, he laughed at your gasp.

-" Ain't ya cute thinking you're done with me ?" He chuckled, you shivered feeling his hot breath against the back of your neck. " Been dreamin' of a hundred ways to ruin this pussy, love. Now you gotta lemme try em all on ya. "

I gotta admit this was fun to write, we love a protective Draken 🖤 more Draken requests will come, I'm just at a loss of inspiration for now lol

@kendraken I believe you asked me to tag you in whatever thing I write for Draken ?

Also, I have a draft of something similar to this with Kakucho, I might just drop it someday

Have a good day, mommy Lina loves you

[hyp-fixator]

I'm feeling silly. How about some Katana headcannons???

I think Katana makes his own masks from scratch. He probably has many for separate occasions, or some just for show.

I think he finds it quite therapeutic to model something with just your hands and to feel it in every stage, start to end.

It feels very in character as well that he'd reference the stages of making a mask or a vase from scratch in his everyday speech (which is basically just poetry. Why you so soldier, poet, king...)

He's just the kind of guy to make something for the sake of making it... if it makes him at least a little happier then why not? There's no need to look for external validation in the things he likes to do.

I can imagine him finishing a mask and then just going through the rest of his day with small patches of dried ceramic along his tail and arms.. he does not care!!!!!

because I'm stupid and don't know how to draw Katana's on model mask and make it look good, I've decided that that's just the mask he wears if he's going into a Phight. He probably made it thicker and more durable so it wouldn't shatter, while the one in the design I drew is more comfortable, but fragile, also being the mask he's had the longest, being shown by the small cracks along the top.

I've also thought of how the different textures of his arms and legs would work? The skin of his arms and legs would probably feel like unvarnished ceramic with a few ridges and a lot more texture, but still keeps that kind of sandpaper feel, the scales feel like the varnished and smooth ceramic, while the palms of his hands and finger pads feel somewhat like leather. Lastly his beans????? I guess???? Are cool to the touch and smooth.

yes, I also headcannons a few things about Prince hold on.

Prince is a barn owl (duh), but I feel like. Prince would be a she. Like come on. Girlboss owl. Plus with my headcannon of hyper giving prince to Katana, i feel like it would be funny if he got a female owl by accident and kept the name just so princess and prince would match.

Katana doesn't keep Prince around for a long time as well, because he knows Prince knows how to somewhat take care of herself, and is not usually an animal to be domesticated. Prince treats Katana's apartment like a den or a hollow, checking in on him from time to time, coming for food if she's hungry, or staying if the weather isn't the greatest.

I also want to think that prince is somewhat trained in like. Return and call commands?

Another thing with Katana's arms, Prince can safely latch onto Katana without fear of hurting him because of how tough his arms are. He barely needs any arm protection when it comes to Prince flying down and latching onto his arm like it's a branch.

Anyways that's it!!!! I honestly think Katana needs more love apart from shipping because like. He's actually such a cool character I love him so much.. I swear as soon as I drew his design for ANIMALS! I instantly knew he was one of my favourite characters..

[angevinyaoiz]

saw Dune 2 (2une?), and since I don't have my dune blog anymore I'll post here, since blah blah this is my place for posting about Dynastic Weirdos. This is long but NO MAJOR SPOILERS, except about like, small detail things that aren't plot things but whatever

Tbh it was disappointing. It had all the correct elements to be liked but one thing grated on me the whole time...the Bad Dialogue and lack of Elevated Speech! Why the hell were all these characters saying stuff like "these guys" "we're ok" and "literally" it took me out of the fantastical world sOOO bad. Super bummer because what I loved about Dune 1 (D-uno?) As someone who went into it before reading or knowing anything was how much it didn't explain, how it let the visuals and the world unfold before you, and how serious and somber it was in a way that gave it a sense of scale and time.

I can only wonder if WB saw all the complaints and tweets about people being like "we didn't understand the first movie!!! It wasn't funny and quippy!!!" And decided to simplify it down so characters just SAY things really obviously and inelegantly. The writing has some competence in moving the story forward but there's no poetry or rhythm to the way characters say things, it's serving "Rings of Power" scriptwriting to me lmao. And it's not like any of the actors are bad? I've seen them do well in the previous movie and in other things, so wtf was going on with the direction. I know people complained Abt Villeneuve saying that whole thing about being more into visuals than dialogue but maybe he was right...there needed to be LESS WORDS. bc much of the words we had were NOT GOOD.

Positivity: the middle and latter part was where the movie picked up for me. The Harkonnen Freak Villain behavior was everything I could have wanted! Finally instead of EXPLAINING everything obviously we got to see a LOT of character building, for Feyd specifically in a very short amount of time. I know a lot of us complained about Bald Feyd-Rautha but Mr Elvis did a very good job. And we got Madame Fenring and weird scifi femdomming finally, which is Essential for the Duniverse! Wonderful fantastic no notes.

Of course, getting back to our heroes, I anticipated this 2 years ago sadly and it was true...the Fremen were badass but SWAGLESS. More Learned ppl have already written about the frustration with the erasure of the Arabic/North African cultural presence so I won't reiterate that here since I'm not super knowledgeable about the specifics of that but even as a casual watcher there was a weird emptiness to the way I feel the society was portrayed. There were individual good character moments, such as fun bantering among the Fedaykin etc, but for Pacing or Whatever they cut out the community aspects that served to make them feel more like well, a People rather than just either Grizzled Soldiers/ Religious Fundamentalists aka Marks/Panicked refugees. I have to guess this was ppl were like "we can't show a culture too cool and colorful and the part with Harrah (Jamis' widow) would feel too ORIENTALIST!!! But the result is something sadly very dry. At least in more older orientalist works, the interest comes from when the ~exotic~ stereotypes figures are able to have charming personalities and personalities and be known as people despite the cliches sometimes but this sadly wasn't even like that....

Jamis' funeral is a good example of this; in the Book, it's a moment where you first get a good look of what rituals are like in this world, and how people relate to each other and to the dead. In the movie, the funeral is looks more foreign and even a little creepy as the water is extracted from the body. There's not really a Personal or community connection aspect to it at all.

The ending was pretty good as it satisfied all the Cool Dune Moments I think we all wanted to see, and also did literally the end of The Godfather Part 1 Framing which was hee hee heh. Anyways, Messiah is MY favorite book of the series personally so curious how they get to that.

Maybe I've been too spoiled by Cool Historical Fiction lately? I've been watching too much of The Devil's Crown where action happens mostly off screen but the dynastic drama is written and acted so compellingly, the historical mindset and setting so alien and yet so human and relatable, it's frustrating to see when works try to do the opposite? Idk??? Dune books themselves is fun in how action is mostly an "offscreen, offstage"' thing.

*if ANYONE in the Universe is a quippy Bastard, it should be Leto II esp in God Emperor where he literally has nothing to do all day but quip all day to terrified acolytes

[batrachised]

Hi! I'm so excited that there's a Blue Castle book club happening, it's one of my favorite L. M. Montgomery books and also one of my favorite books of all time and seeing all the posts have made me so happy! I'm planning to reread Blue Castle via audiobook so I can catch up soon! :D

Also, I would love to know your thoughts on Jane of Lantern Hill - I love Jane, and the ending where her parents get back together always makes me cry 💜

I also loved your Blythe kids ranking post, my favorite is Rilla but Walter is a close second, and I have such a soft spot for Rilla/Kenneth.

Anyway, thanks for listening to my rambling, your blog is amazing and I'm thrilled to see more l m montgomery/blue castle fans come out of the woodwork because of the book club!

Oh my gosh...someone asking me my opinion of Jane of Lantern Hill? Giving me an opportunity to talk about my FAVORITE LM Montgomery book??? A GIFT

First of all, about the blue castle book club: WELCOME!! I'm excited to read your thoughts as we approach these next chapters!! It is also one of my favorite LM Montgomery books and favorite books of all time, so I'd like to commend you on your taste. 😌 Rilla and Walter absolutely deserve the top two spots in the Blythe kid ranking as well!

I've written a post about Jane before, but I'll happily repeat some of my thoughts here.

I think Jane of Lantern Hill was one of the last LM Montgomery books I read. After reading so many, you develop expectations about who the main character of an LM Montgomery novel is. Without fail - Anne, Emily, the Story Girl, Rilla, Pat, Valancy Stirling- all of them are dreamy, sensitive, and poetic. This definitely ranges - Valancy is more acerbic than Anne, who is gentler than Emily, who is less ditzy than Rilla - but I think it's safe to say these are the hallmarks of an LM Montgomery main character (excluding short stories - never forget alexander abraham).

Jane is a wee bit of an outlier in this respect. While Valancy pores over John Foster, and Emily and Anne write poetry, and the Story Girl keeps audiences spellbound--Jane is noted to be brilliant in math. She definitely possesses many of the hallmarks listed above, from hating ugly houses to having a flair for reciting, but Jane has a hard practicality that isn't quite as present in the others. Unlike Anne, for example, Jane is very down to earth. That's why she's probably (okay this changes like every day but still) my favorite LM Montgomery heroine; I find her competence and sense appealing.

Now that I think about it, the book shares a lot in common with the Blue Castle. Much like Valancy, Jane is miserable at the beginning of her book, and much like Valancy, the book focuses on her finding a safe space and making it her own in a way. However, if The Blue Castle is romantic, Jane of Lantern Hill is cozy. It is extremely re-readable to me because it is the epitome of cozy. Jane also has to learn to stand on her own two feet and gain her own autonomy, but on its on a homier scale than Valancy's is.

Andrew Stuart is also one of my favorite male characters LM Montgomery has ever written. He holds strong in the top three with Walter and Barney every time. He's technically (on the most technical of technicalities) a romantic interest, but the lens of the book is Jane, and so the lens on Andrew is as a father - and this, this is where the book really shines.

Also, as I've written before, Jane of Lantern Hill is about father-daughter relationships in the most heartwarming way. Jane of Lantern Hill is a love story, but it's the love between a father and his daughter. Andrew Stuart, for all his flaws, is an exceedingly likeable character. Jane--and through Jane, the reader--feels safe with him, and it comes through on almost every page. I think this is what makes the book so cozy. It's the story of a little girl who lives a very cold and lonely life, only to find someone who loves her very much and in that someone, a home.

[catilinas]

hey Tate :^) randomly popping up to say that i just finished both 'The king must die' and 'The bull from the sea' in (almost) one go instead of working/eating/sleeping. and i can't thank you enough for recommending these books, the first one especially! so... maybe you have some other myth retellings or historical novels in mind to recommend?

hi!!! i’m so glad you enjoyed them / that i’m not the only person who felt like that reading them. the king must die especially Yeah. holy shit.

for Other Recommendations. the few ~myth retellings~ that i’ve read alas mostly are not novels. the genre of ‘myth retelling’ novels < the genre of weird long poems that Do Things with specific ancient texts rather than ‘myths’. but i do read a Lot of historical novels so i definitely have recommendations there! as long as you care about like. the roman republic. anyway here’s a list:

memorial - alice oswald. a ‘translation’ of the iliad, but only the death scenes (often just lists of names!) and the epic similes. it frames itself as yknow. a memorial. to the dead minor characters of the iliad but imo it also speaks to the futility of epic memorialisation. i have read the two page introduction approximately One Million Times.

nobody - alice oswald. you will be missing out if you don’t read this one against memorial. it’s a ‘retelling’ of ‘the odyssey’ and a lot of other myths that involve the sea at any point. a lot of the oresteia too. but it also never names any of its characters or indicates where each story starts or ends. oswald’s best poetry is always about water and this book is Mostly About Water so it snaps supremely.

war music - christopher logue. similar concept but completely different vibe to memorial. also a king poetic Selective reinterpretation of the iliad, but focusing mostly on combat scenes. i’m a big fan of the deliberate anachronisms and framing of the poem through camera angles / film terminology like it’s such a sexy way to ‘translate’ the omniscient moving narrator. AND it pushes you towards a v different emotional response than oswald like memorial is lowkey War And The Pity Of War (The Poetry Is In The Pity) while war music is like. uncomfortably fun. i think comparisons of ancient epic to modern (war-focused) action films can be Lazy or Done Badly (thinking only abt Violent Action Scenes Made Heroic and not the role of the listener/reader/viewer) but the elements of that in war music Work! also agamemnon gets called a piece of shit

tv men: hektor - anne carson. the spectatorship element of war music made more obvious and on a much smaller scale (it’s just one poem in a sequence). also v cool things going on w different degrees of Looseness of translation stacked inside one another

autobiography of red - anne carson. based on the fragments of stesichorus’ geryoneis but bcs the original is so incomplete it can’t really be a ‘retelling’ so much as an imagining of what the poem could and definitely Could Not be. technically a novel but A Novel In Verse. also one of my favourite books of all time ever. it’s in third person but the claustrophobia of the narrative style / the way the protagonist is often closed off to parts of his own thoughts is Weirdly Similar to theseus in the king must die? ALSO geryon ends up with a photography motif. this time we are also using it to think about the subjectivity of which fragments of a poem end up surviving / what gets cut off outside the edge of the photograph

red doc> - anne carson. rip so much carson But this is the sequel to autobiography of red. what happens when you live past the end of your myth. namedrops the battle of ager falernus. prometheus is there. (and also: h of h play - anne carson. i didn’t know whether to include this because it is A Play. like it’s a ‘translation’ (loosest sense of the word) of euripides’ hercules. but geryon (or a version of him) is there for long enough that it counts as the final installment of autobiography of red. to me.)

lavinia - ursula le guin. the second half of the aeneid told from the perspective of lavinia. BUT what sets it apart from other What If Myth—But Woman ‘retellings’ is like. v close engagement with the aeneid as a story and specifically A Story Written By An Actual Author who created his fictionalised past in very deliberate directions. like it doesn’t just treat the aeneid as an authorless body of mythic stories. vergil’s ghost is a character also. fate is real also. ALSO the setting in The Mythic Past As It Becomes The Historical Past + le guin’s decision to include vaguely supernatural elements but never the gods directly is like. very similar to the texture of worldbuilding in renault’s theseus books.

fire from heaven - mary renault. speaking of her. she wrote a whole bunch of other historical novels which you might like! this is the only other one i’ve read so far though. it’s the first of a trilogy about alexander the great. alexander has lot like theseus in that they are both deeply fucked up little guys :-)

dancing with the lion series - jeanne reames (@jeannereames hi 👋). also about the early life of alexander the great. i’ve only read the first one of these (again) but like. i read the whole thing in a day. the level of historical detail is also absolutely nuts. which makes sense bcs reames is an alexander specialist. but still!!!

cicero trilogy - robert harris. welcome to the rome zone. this is the series that got me into roman history :/ it follows the life of cicero from the perspective of his secretary tiro (the inventor of a shorthand system!). It Makes Roman Politics Fun I Promise. for real though these books manage to cover a very complicated period while also not getting bogged down in it And showing you cicero’s Wit. like i know i’m tumblr user catilinas but these books mean i can never really dislike cicero

roma sub rosa series - steven saylor. but if any books Could make me dislike cicero. well. these are a Long series of detective novels set at the end of the roman republic. catiline is there And He’s Sexy. you WILL get invested in the fictional detective’s family drama. also the author is gay and writes lgbt characters in a way that like. actually thinks about what that means In Ancient Rome. catilina’s riddle (book 3) is one of my favourite books of all time ever. also congrats to saylor for writing detective novels which really get into the function of the figure of the detective / Who Is The Detective Really Helping Here / cicero is a massive bastard etc

masters of rome - colleen mccullough. i’m just going to link the review that convinced me and also my entire family to read these. they are terrible they are amazing marcus livius drusus is there. they are massive they cover almost one hundred years of history sulla is sexy and kills people and you will know so much of the minutiae of roman politics If you get through them all

the key / the lock / the door in the wall - benita kane jaro. the key and the door in the wall are a duology about marcus caelius rufus and his relationships w catullus and then caesar. and also clodia. the lock was written later but i’d chronologically in between, and is about cicero and his conflict with clodius. BUT also all three books repeat A Lot of the same events, just from slightly different angles. the unreliability of the narrator helps / makes this v fun. the prose is A Vibe also a lot of the focus is less abt the political situation than like. caelius being young-ish as the republic collapses.

attis - tom holland. legally i have to include this :/ i don’t even know how to describe it like it’s a cryptid of a book you might have to get it through interlibrary loans. it’s not even brilliant it’s just so so weird and also the author cannot explain why bcs he can’t remember what happens in it. it’s about catullus (archeology student?) in a modernised alternate history version of rome (90s london?) being involved in a mystery involving ritual murders (tom holland HAS read girard. if you were wondering). there are also clowns.

hostis - vale aida ( @valeaida hi also 👋). first in an in progress series abt an alternate history version of the second punic war. i read the whole thing in a day instead of writing one of my essays earlier this year :/ have you ever read livy/silius and been like uurfgjhgh the narrative parallels between the lives of hannibal and scipio…… What If That Was A Book. you will go nuts over the barcids

augustus - john edward williams. my highschool philosophy teacher recommended this to me :-) it’s a kind of epistolary novel In That it’s framed as a collection of (imaginary) texts like. letters and biographies and memoirs, all showing Sides but never the entirety of The Emperor Augustus over the course of his life. i read this around the same time as A Source Book for the augustan period and was like. yeah.

[revoevokukil]

People ask many things, feelings, motivations etc, I'm interested in something really important. What is it with this fanon stuff concerning Avallac'h's cock being enormous? Not that I don't like it, did I miss something in the games?

Honestly, it's about time people started asking the real questions, anon.

First of all, I don't think it would be in the spirit of fanon if everyone and their mother did not have enormous cocks. My impression is that a fanon cock is a perfectly amorphous and self-adjusting entity, and rises to the occasion no matter the anatomy.

Anyway...

'Are you fond of light poetry? What do you think I ought to add to the painting?' 'Draw huge erect phalluses on the primitive hunters.' ‘That’s a thought.’ The elf dipped his brush in the paint. ‘The phallic cult was typical for primitive civilisations. It could also serve as the birth of a theory that the human race is yielding to physical degeneration. Its forebears had phalluses like clubs, but their descendants were left with ridiculous, vestigial little pricks… Thank you, Witcher.’

I'll bet you the particular "ridiculous, vestigial little prick" in question was Cregennan's, and this bit in TOS moonlights as a dick-measuring contest. Perhaps cock-size is commensurate to the conceit and dickheadishness a character is capable of w/o breaking a sweat? At any rate, Avallac'h is canonically "extremely tall" and irl the cruel joke goes that the shorter the man the more of a problem they might have with their metaphorical and literal dick size in comparison to other men. (The joke's cruel, but also has legs: preference for taller male partners figures as one of the more prevalent biases among women.) An instance of mr "perfect on paper" (for breeding) getting a cold shower? I don't know how much of a consolation prize an enormous cock can be when the woman you love leaves you for another (and dies as a consequence), but I can see the... light poetry.

(afaik, dick size does not actually vary according to height consistently, but literary choices are for effect.)

Oh, but also! Speaking of effects! Regarding size and the... games. Let me show you something.

This is how Aen Elle height was handled in relation to other character models. It certainly makes you do a double take. Kudos to the community for raising this vital topic in the past and providing scale models for science.

[bettsfic]

Hi Beth! I’ve tried to get a couple essays/poems published in literary magazines, but it is always so painful to get rejected, and I’m wondering if it is even worth it to continue pursuing publication. Do people even read the stuff that comes out in literary magazines anymore? There are a few that I read occasionally, but honestly, it feels like a waste of time and emotional energy to read and submit to magazines that in the long term won’t really change anything for me.

Should I just keep writing and posting stuff to my own social media/blogs instead?

that's a great question! the answer depends on your goals.

if you want to get into an MFA program...

lit mag publishing is helpful but not necessary to get into a good program. moreover, part of what you'll be doing in the MFA is learning about publishing, so you'll be doing that work there anyway. the MFA is also for exploration, so if you don't really have your own aesthetic defined yet, it makes sense to wait and focus on your writing sample for your grad application.

if you want to become a creative writing professor...

hands down, if you want to be in academia, you need to be well published. submitting is more or less a part-time job. rack up those CV lines.

(for this you'll also need an MFA, so that's the first step regardless.)

if you want to get an agent and publish a book...

lit mag publications can be helpful when querying agents, and once you sign an agent, those publications will help them pitch your book to editors. it shows that you've been through a formal editorial process on a smaller scale before venturing to one on a bigger scale. in some ways, if it helps, you can see lit mag publishing as practice for book publishing.

if you want to be read...

write fanfic.

what i mean is, you're right, other than like The New Yorker and Granta and whatnot, lit mags don't tend to have a wide distribution. if you have a greater readership and more meaningful interaction on social media, then it makes sense to share your work with the audience you've already built.

however, if you get published in an online magazine, you can have the best of both worlds: it's a formal publication *and* your existing readership will have access to it. also, if you're publishing poetry, a lot of my poet friends screencap the poem from the publication and share it on social media. but i'm not a poet, so i'm not sure what exactly the etiquette there is.

if you want to make money...

hard stop, you won't make significant money publishing in lit mags. you could make significant money pitching articles to news outlets and regular magazines, though. a lot of writers make a career on that.

if you want to live the writing life...

what i mean by "the writing life" is the big picture of things. it's not about publishing, it's about everything. when you choose the writing life, you're choosing to put your writing above all other things (professionally, i mean. lots of writers have families and a social life).

the writing life is a gamut: you get an MFA, you maybe get a PhD, you teach, you publish, you edit, you apply to grants, you keep up your CV, you get some awards, you go to residencies, and so on. and once you get a book out, you get ARCs, you blurb, you mentor, you do readings, you go on book tours, you do interviews.

and if that's your goal, lit mag publishing becomes occasional but eternal. you're settled in for the long con and so you don't have to push so hard. for me anyway, i only submit when i come across a magazine i like. i spend most of my submission and rejection energy on residencies and grants.

i went to a talk by Mary Gaitskill once and someone asked her if publishing ever gets easier. she said that book publishing gets easier because you can become established and gain an audience, but lit mag publishing is always hard. she's one of the most lauded living American writers, and she said she still gets lit mag rejections.

if you've finished something you're proud of and want to find a home for it...

this is why most writers publish, i think. it's less about clout and prestige and whatever else, and more about putting your work on a shelf and being able to say, "this belongs somewhere that it can be seen and appreciated." i have a folder in my drive called "homeless stories" and it's full of pieces that i either tried to publish and gave up on, or stories that i didn't feel like sending out. i have probably 10x more original work that hasn't seen the light of day than work that has.

if you hate the idea of sitting on a story or a poem, then keep looking for a home for it.

if you want to avoid rejections...

there's no way to avoid rejections. they're inherent in any pursuit where your work has to go through a gate of approval. but i promise you, rejections are meaningless. your favorite author has received a thousand of them. a rejection means your work didn't suit the taste of the editor, and when you receive a rejection, it's helpful to remind yourself that their taste probably sucks. a rejection means your work met a slush reader who had a headache that day and wasn't reading closely enough. a rejection means a magazine got hundreds of submissions and maybe you made it to the longlist or the shortlist but you'll never know because not all mags tell you that. a rejection means that maybe one of the editors fought hard for your piece and lost.

handling rejection gets easier as you accumulate acceptances. every acceptance you get means some editor somewhere read your piece and vibed with it, and values the work you're doing.

in short:

stop submitting if you feel like you're not ready to publish, or

keep submitting if you're ready to and you're in it for the long con

and in closing, i'll tell you what every professor and mentor i've ever had has told me (and which i hated to hear): publishing will always be there for you. there's no hurry.

[artbyblastweave]

Gideon The Ninth Liveread, Chapter 5

Gonna add some disclaimers here (if I haven’t already? I forget) that a lot of my predictions are at least partially going to be polluted by stuff I picked up via tumblr osmosis; I’m getting nice “oh, snap” moments from time to time but most likely not when the Author intended that I would. Here we go:

We open with a nice, domestic scene of mutual domestic hatred. Kind of interesting that apparently, they are capable of coexisting in a living space if necessary; you could infer that, because they can’t have been in a state of violent cartoonish warfare all the time, there are situations where they’d have to be off the clock, but there is this fun tension to the whole sequence, like those looney tunes gags where the wolf and sheepdog both clock in before starting to fight.

(also there’s a kind of. Homerotic face painting scene. reminds me of that one meme.)

I like the attention paid to the gross nitty-gritty of actually applying the badass war paint. I've done full-scale zombie paint on myself and that stuff looks cool and sucks ass, respectively.

Thanergy! This is I think the first big indicator we’ve gotten of how necromancy works mechanistically, and it implies a handful of nasty things:

Harrow is likely disproportionately powerful because most of the Ninth house is dead or headed that way; her power is inseparable from the collapse she’s (fruitlessly?) attempting to stave off. (I sense a prompt for a worm trigger event lurking in here somewhere.)

The Empire likely requires a continuous death mill for necromancy to be as culturally and logistically ubiquitous as it is; I suspect this setting has something like the flower wars going on, endless expansion where death is the natural resource being extracted.

First House, if it’s first but also has almost no one on it, may have been the site of a mass casualty event or depopulation, thus rendering it an ideal meeting ground for necromancers.

Side note: Thanergy is a very Homestuck kind of Portmanteu (complementary.)

So this is a Con- there’s no Ortus, there never was an Ortus, Gideon has always been the Cavalier, we’ve always been at war with Eastasia. Harrow expresses concern that her inability to control Gideon will convey to the other houses that The Ninth was unable to control Gideon- and that’s an appropriate fear, because they’re one and the same. Going full Sun king “I-am-the-state” is a double edged sword.

Side note: this whole set-up seems massively transmittable to fake-dating AUs, Regency Pride-and-Prejudice AUs, et al et al. Wouldn’t be surprised if the Author did so deliberately (and this is one of the few times this is not meant to be a remotely cynical assessment, I think this slaps.)

“When I’m a Lyctor, everything will be different-“  Oh, Okay, So Harrow is Taylor Hebert except textually a lesbian instead of by fandom consensus, and with more aggressive religious trauma. “When I take over the city, I can fix things!“ Want to get those two in a room and see who eats who first. Also, does Harrow have a reason to want to bolster the sinking ship that is Ninth House, or is she just fully inculcated on that as The Thing To Do?

So here we get some more detail that the Ninth (read: Harrow) has been isolating itself on purpose; the collapse makes a bit more sense when you realize that the group has been putting up a front while rotting from the inside out. Unless I’ve got the timeline wrong, and this is something Harrow’s parents started that she just continued, This marks a pretty specific harm that Harrow specifically has caused Gideon; there used to be strangers Gideon had to be dragged away from. There used to be outsiders. There used to be the faintest hope of outside intervention.

I get the sense that when, of course, this all ends very, very badly, I’ll be pining for the AU where all that happened was Ortus reading poetry over the still brawling corpses of Harrow and Gideon.

Anyway, to close things out, this strikes me as the kind of book and author where I need to keep that bone-meal-chestburster trick Harrow floated in the back of my mind, waiting for the moment where it rears its ugly head.

[skeletonsandbutterflies]

introducing…

hiiii my name is charlotte, call me Charlie im new here on edtblr, still learning the ropes. Tumblr is sort of a secret safe haven for me and im here for motivation

I’m fifteen

She/her

I have struggled with a secret ed for two years now

and shitty friends

and depression

cw: a grand 105 lbs

gws are: 100,95,90lbs ugw: 85 lbs

my parents got rid of the scale so I’m just guessing atp, some tips on where to get a good one would be appreciated :)

I love art, writing poetry, reading, and sad music

Orthodox Jew

ok anyways I’m kind of alone in this and I like the idea of sharing and also I need mutuals/buddies

I’m here if anyone needs to talk/vent

stay safe loves:3

[ohsalome]

On June 18th, on the opening of Berlin Poetry Festival, ukrainian poet Halyna Kruk made a powerful speech. It was translated from german into ukrainian by Claudia Dathe, and I have translated it (much less professionally) into english. If you speak german, you can read the original here.

English translation (my apologies for the quality):

In June 2014 I was in Europe, giving a talk on one of the literary performance stages. At the same time, convoys of russian tanks were invading Ukrainian Donetsk and Luhansk. Back then I expressed an opinion about how hard it is for us, Ukrainians, to talk about poetry in these circumstances. In response to this the moderator, a 30-year old russian literature major from Berlin started patronizing me about how poetry must be above the war, that the great russian culture has always been above the war; that Tsvetaeva, Ahmatoma or Pasternak would never stoop down to topics such lowly and “hype” as war, because they were gazing into eternity, therefore they were “above” all of this. And what does russia have to do with this anyway? For the next eight years, we were trying to make ourselves heard: hey, we're at war, a part of our country is under occupation, and we are being killed every day. In response, we were treated as unintelligent children, patronized and told not to shoot back, and this will end; to be wiser, and stand above this. During the same eight years, russia was growing its appetite and gathering its military resources for a full-scale invasion. At the same time, russian poets were stubbornly gazing into eternity, paying no attention to the fact that their country is turning into an authoritarian state that only imitates democracy while cherishing narratives about imperial greatness. Those who got uncomfortable from living in these conditions moved out, continuing to spread russian culture as its ceremonial facade. I understand that you don’t like what I have to say, you, people who were raised on the best examples of the russian culture. You can’t believe my words, just like the people from Borodyanka, Gostomel’ or Bucha who couldn’t believe it when russian soldiers came to kill them, defenceless civilians, with no sense or reason. With no care if it were men or women, children or the elderly. To kill them, rape them, crush them with tanks. I do not have any metaphors to make these words more appealing, or at least less shocking. Metaphors don’t work against people with rifles. No poetry can protect you when you are being crushed by a tank while attempting to flee from the war with your family. There is no place for poetry in your life when you are standing for days near the rubble of collapsed houses, hearing your children and grandchildren screaming for help from underneath, but not being able to do anything. This is a very powerful story, some European authors could probably write a book about this and cement their place “in the eternity”. But a person who has lived through this would not write such a book. Because there is no power that would be able to live through this and remain able to explain their pain to the others.

War creates a chasm between those who have lived through it and those who stood at a distance. And with each day I see how it gets harder and harder to explain to the people from the outside what it’s like to be here, inside. And I have less and less will for any explanations. We are speaking a growingly unintelligible language that has no place for poetry. It’s hard to be “above this'' when your husband is at war, some relatives are under horrible occupation in the Kherson region, and other relatives are under constant shellfire in the Kharkiv region; when you need to constantly hide from the airstrikes because sometimes don’t get shot down at time and kill people. In these conditions, poetry changes - it turns into spontaneous prayer, a scanty testimony, a lament or a curse. This isn’t the kind of poetry that modern European culture is used to. It is functional and ritualistic, too primaeval in its emotions, too subjective, too dramatic, too intolerant. Well, it’s hard to be tolerant towards the enemy that is killing you or your children. Because once he is done killing them, he moves on to the others. I don’t think you would be able to “stand above this” either. Today, ⅕ of my country is occupied. I am sorry that this isn’t a metaphor. People from those regions are being killed, terrorized, moved to the filtration camps in russia, separated from their families, and denationalised. No poetry in the world has words for this. My Facebook news page consists of pictures of beautiful people - men and women, parents and children; all of them killed by russia. This isn’t a metaphor. Facebook blocks or deletes these pictures because it is “sensitive content” that can upset the users. But those people weren’t born to die in this war. They didn’t study to die in a war. They didn’t hone their talents to die in a war. The loss of these people will always remain as a wound in our souls, in our culture, in our science, economics, industry, and society overall. This is not a metaphor.

I don’t know any poetry that could heal this wound. This war is killing all of us, each one in a different way, even though we may look intact on the outside. Now, we move through life through short runs, even when we’re in open space. We shudder from loud noises and our children, who know what it’s like to hide in the bomb shelters from air strikes, don’t cry from fear anymore. They are so small, but they already understand that that cry can cost them their life. This isn’t a metaphor either. The war makes everything so univocal it leaves no space for poetry. Only for testimony.

But who is writing deep and beautiful poetry aimed for eternity about this war? It’s our russian colleagues. They are writing from safe places in emigration, not under fire, honing their creative pursuits without distractions of the filthy and ghastly reality. Nothing prevents them from concentrating on creativity - no sirens, no shots, no tanks of occupants with rifles.

I am sorry that poetry doesn’t kill.

[a-touch-of-yellow]

9 people you'd like to know better

tagged by: @rillabrooke in a similar one that I’m making up for here but also @cassiantheburrito thank you guys!!

last song: “I Call Your Name” by The Mamas and the Papas

favorite color: Pastel yellow but green is slowly creeping into first place

currently watching: reruns of “Whose Line Is It Anyway?” until I find my new obsession

currently reading: “To The Lighthouse” by Virginia Woolf for class

sweet/spicy/savory: Savory but with a little spicy

relationship status: very happily in a relationship

current obsession: I’m kind of floating in between hyperfixations right now but I just discovered William Blake’s poetry so who knows how far I’ll go with that!

last thing I googled: “prefix between pre- and post-” cause I needed it for a paper. Turns out the prefix for during a period of time is “peri-” :)

currently working on: small scale: a “Paradise Lost”/”Genesis” reading for class. Medium scale: a thesis about critical theory combatting neoliberal policy in higher ed. Large scale: a horror TTRPG of my own design!

Tagging: @friendofthefellowshipsnerdblog @madphantom @owieduet @bbcwhereareyou @gothmothinc and that’s all I got rn lmao

[niigata-division]

Later in the day, in the city of Niigata, Lyall Shiba received three gifts for his birthday.

The first two items were from Kureha Koizumi of Saitama Division, gifting him a poetry book and a beautifully crafted jar in the form of the Egyptian God of funerary rites and care of the dead, Anubis.

“Happy Birthday, Lyall.

I hope your day is going well, I apologize for not sending the gifts in person but I got called over to deal with some business at my art studio. Speaking of, you were right, thank you for giving me that wonderful book, it truly gave me inspiration. I hope you enjoyed the presents and once again, happy birthday.

— Kureha Koizumi.”

The third gift was from Joey Kurusu of Kanazawa, gifting him a figurine of a what he assumed to be a video game character that reminded the detective awfully of himself in a way.

“Happy Birthday, you sexy goth man you

Nah but for real though, happy birthday dude! Sorry I couldn’t be there in person but just know that I’m squeezing the hell out of you and whispering the birthday song in your ear in spirit. I hope you liked my gift, I’m sure you already made the connection but I couldn’t help it! He looks so much like you! Anyways, have a super badass birthday and give Isis a ton of kisses for me! Later dude!

— Joey Swoll Kurusu”

Happy Birthday Lyall! 💙

“Anubis, Guardian & Guide. To you, I pray…”

Lyall lit the several candles on his altar, watching as the wicks were set aflame. Finally, lighting the final one blew out the match in his hand. Closing his eyes, Lyall knelt at the altar, which now held the jar gifted to him by Kureha and hilariously enough the figurine to him by Joey. He had placed it there by accident and was going to move it somewhere else before he felt that Anubis seemed amused with the figure as well.

Taking a deep breath, Lyall blocked out the world around him, focusing entirely at his altar in front of him. The scent of his candles filling the room. Taking a deep breath, saffron, myrrh, and honey entered Lyall’s mouth. Then, he began to recite a familiar set of words.

“Grant me peace and calm as I honor you with these words.

In your many names.

O Magnificent Jackal,

He Who Checks the Scales,

Great Messenger of the Duat,

Lord of the Two Lands,

He Who is in the Necropolis,

He Who Gives Air in the Coffin,

O Beautiful Guardian of Souls,

I kneel before you, I praise your might.

Anubis, may my words bring you honor.

Guide me, Lord of Jackals,

Lord of the Knife,

Strict Gatekeeper of the Duat,

Bring me peace and calm.

Anubis, to you, I pray.”

Thanks For The Gift!