#my cane is Suzanne

[strugglinguist]

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They'll be here on Friday. YUS!

[averagewriter-inthedark]

The Old Therebefore 🐍🕊️ | A Six of Crows Imagine

Takes place after the events of S&B S2

My masterlists

Characters & Pairings: gang leader!reader x Crows (platonic). Kaz Brekker x reader (slight tension)

content warnings: profanity, mentions of violence and death, typical SOC themes. | female!reader (she/her) | wc: 4k

Premise: it’s not often Kaz Brekker needs assistance to a job involving anyone other than his Crows. Yet, there is always a first. When a job comes involving not only a high cash prize but also chances of coming out alive slim, Kaz accepts it is out of his skill level. So, what does he do? Take a risk by recruiting his top rival since Pekka Rollins was run out of town….she’s got the charm of a snake with a voice of a songbird. 

Note: so as you can tell by the title of the imagine and song linked, I saw the new hunger games movie (back in November) and literally could not stop thinking about this song/scene. Then of course my hyperfixations like to collide and wallah: here is the end result.

Disclaimer as always: the song and lyrics belong to Suzanne collins and all the SOC characters belong to Leigh Bardugo

---------

“You know, Kaz, I know better than to question you on most things,” Jesper scanned his surroundings, voice low with slight concern. “But I can’t help but wonder why you’ve decided to drag us to the ‘Snake Pit’ tonight.” The sharpshooter sipped his glass of rum after a close inspection, “mind telling us.” 

Seated around him, Inej, Nina, and Wylan expressions bore the same unease. All on high alert the moment Kaz led them through the doors and down the spiral staircase into the Barrel’s infamous Snake Pit. 

Located deep on the opposite side of the Crow Club, the Snake Pit was an underground bar/club. Home of the legendary crime gang, the Blood Serpents. They’d been around since Kaz was 15, their leader to have been the same age as him. Yet the public knew very little of the notorious boss. Only by their code name. 

The Snake Charmer

Of course, this information made Kaz lose his mind at times. Unable to identify his anonymous rival who’s bested him on multiple occasions. If the opportunity arose, Kaz would pay any amount of kruge to find out who the Snake Charmer was. It’d been well over a decade. His patience was running thin.

Finally, the wait would pay off in the form of a messenger boy. 

Knowing Inej was too recognizable, Kaz sent a young member of the Dregs--who was under the radar to the other gangs--to infiltrate the Snake Pit the week prior. The boy returned hours later to relay a crucial piece of information. Now, Kaz was to test that theory. 

Clutching his cane, the crime boss did not spare a glance to his fellow Crows the second they entered the Pit. Even when they took claim to a rounded booth in a far corner by the bar. His attention was occupied. Analyzing the club and its features. Mentally noting the Blood Serpent members, who were identifiable by their red snake tattoos on their hands. 

One of which was the bartender that served them drinks. A young woman about their age, she wore a maroon pin-stripped 5 piece suit although the blazer was forgone. The tattoo was on full display. Kaz assessed her lingering on him when she pushed the tray of drinks toward Jesper. Likely recognizing him and by default the rest of the Crows. The bartender didn’t say anything after, only giving a nod before moving to the next customer. 

To the other Crows, they thought Kaz’s intense stare on the bartender was either because he thought she was attractive or making note she was just another member of the Serpents. But, what they did not know was Kaz figuring out if she was the Snake Charmer.

“A woman?” he questioned the boy, narrowing his eyes. “You are telling me the Snake Charmer--leader of the Blood Serpents--is a woman and works under the guise of an employee at the Snake Pit. Are you positive?”

The boy nodded profusely, “Yes, Mr. Brekker. I can assure you it was no man singing that song. She sounded like a siren if I must say. She calmed the snakes like it was nothing-- I see why they call her Snake Charmer.”

So a woman was responsible for a lot of Kaz’s failures. Not to mention winning the territory he’d hoped to gain when Pekka was defeated. They’d come to a settled agreement through a middle man. An action that annoyed Kaz. But he knew better than to wage war with the Snake Charmer. 

So far the women in the gang he’s managed to identify besides the bartender were two serving girls, a door bouncer, and two poker dealers. A total of six. Of the men, most of them were standing on the walls and mingling along the floor. 

Bet she didn’t expect him to enter her den. 

The Snake Pit was exactly like what the boy described. Dark wood floors and walls up to the high ceilings. Dangling chandeliers, poker tables, two bars on either side. Booths aligned the walls. The most notable and unique trait, however, was the glass snake enclosure right smack in the middle of the floor. It was cylinder shaped at the bottom, lining the floor to the ceiling where it branched out on either side to resemble a tree. Plants and dirt filled it. 

As did ten serpents. Ranging from tiny garden snakes to a python.  

Jesper cringed when his eyes landed on it. Wylan looked deathly afraid. Nina found it amusing. Inej thought it was fitting. Kaz was pleased to see it. To him, that was ammunition.

Kaz answered Jesper with one word that told the whole story, “Business.” 

“What business could you possibly have with the Snake Charmer?” Inej questioned, hand on her side close to her knives. “Don’t you think we should be discussing the plan?”

“And we are,” Kaz rebutted, leaning into the booth with his gaze set on the enclosure. “We’re here to flush out the Snake Charmer.” 

Jesper choked on his drink, meanwhile Nina and Inej looked at Kaz like he was crazy. “You’re fooling us aren’t you?” “Boss, jokes aren’t really your thing--.” “You’re insane, Kaz, if you believe that’ll happen.”

“You see that enclosure?” He cut off their rambling. All responded with a look of, ‘Of course we see the ginormous Snake habitat in the middle of the club full of our enemies.’ Kaz nodded to it, “we need to destroy it.”

Once again, Jesper choked. This time on his saliva. “You’ve lost it,” he ignored the glare from his boss, “Did going through the fold change you, Kaz? Clearly you’re not actually thinking we let loose a dozen snakes,” he leans forward to whisper, “we don’t even know if they’re venomous. If their bites don’t kill us, surely their owner will.” 

Analyzing Kaz, Inej lowered her tone, “what are you not telling us, Kaz?”

Giving one last scan of his surroundings, Kaz addressed his Crows with the truth of why he brought them to the Snake Pit. “I have a lead on who the owner of this establishment is.” Their reactions were immediate, Kaz continued. “A week ago I sent a young messenger boy here to scout out the place--find anything that could help identify the Serpents boss. During closing he snuck into one of their storage closets,” Kaz attempted to locate said closet, somewhere behind one of the bars. 

Kaz paid close attention to the bartender and the poker dealers. “At some point in the night, one of the snakes got loose. Or,” he turned to Jesper and Inej, “my theory is they use those snakes as a means to get information on people.”

“Great,” Nina sighs, “you want us to free the Serpent's torture method. Well done, Brekker. Excellent plan if I must say.” The heartrender received a glare, but Kaz did not entertain it further.

“As I was saying,” his tone was stern, making the others hold onto any additional comments. “The boy overheard the panic of one of the Serpents. Turns out, the Snake Charmer doesn’t take kindly to her pets being mishandled.”

“I can see why,” Jesper mutters, glancing at the enclosure. 

Kaz gripped his cane, watching the female bouncer approach the bartender and exchange words. “He then heard a woman’s voice. Singing.”

Wylan raised a brow, “Singing?”

“Whatever it was, it calmed the snake. Allowed her to return the animal back to its case. The boy said he heard arguing between a couple members who hoped to clean up their mistake before the boss discovered it.” Kaz shifted in his seat, “didn’t end well for them.”

“Did you get a look at her face?” Kaz peered out his office window, facing the direction of the Snake Pit’s location. Moonlight shining down, almost as though the Saints wanted him to see the building. Behind him, he heard the boy clear his throat.

“No, Sir.” He stuttered, tensing at the sight of Kaz lowering his head. “The door didn’t have any cracks or holes I could see through. I tried looking underneath, but only got a glimpse of their shoes.”

Kaz pinched the bridge of his nose, deep in thought. “What happened after she finished singing? How’d you get out?”

“Once the snake was handled, she ordered them to her office. She sounded….calm, but you know how you just know when someone is masking their anger. That’s how it was when she addressed them.” Kaz hummed, indicating he understood the boy’s implication. Considering he was guilty of such.

“And then?”

“I waited a few minutes until I was sure they were gone. The direction they went sounded like it was the far left of the club--opposite side of the spiral staircase that’s both the entrance and exit. I think there's a secret back entrance where they were because when I came out it was completely empty.”

Kaz found the secret back entrance. Camouflaged as a bookcase. He was able to spot the hinges carefully placed to where the light made it difficult to see them. But Kaz Brekker knew the art of illusion in the back of his hand. 

“This is what’s going to happen,” he became serious. The Crows lean in to hear him while maintaining their alert. “We need to expose those snakes from their enclosure. They’ll be our bait. From there we wait. If my theory is correct, those snakes only answer to their master. Or charmer in this case.” Kaz paused to locate the female workers in the club. “Her act as an employee is a ruse.”

Jesper followed his gaze, once again becoming riddled with unease. “You’re implying the Snake Charmer is either the bouncer who let us in, the gal who served our drinks, the serving girls working the floor or one of the poker dealers?”

“That’s exactly what I’m implying, Jesper.”

“Why would she do that?”

Nina snorted, sipping at her whiskey, “Isn’t it obvious?” she didn’t wait for an answer, “no one would pay a second glance to a worker. They are either too drunk or too naive to assume the pretty bartender or serving girl is the boss of one of Ketterdam’s deadly gangs.” She gestured to the serving girl closest to her. “My money’s on her being the Charmer.”

Jesper scoffed, “no way. To be a ghost and retain anonymity all these years you have to have a great poker face.” He states the obvious, “it’s one of the dealers.” 

Inej rolled her eyes, “are you seriously making this a competition?”

“You don’t think it could be the bouncer?” Wylan asked, scratching the back of his neck to relax the tension he felt. 

“No,” Jesper replied with a wave of a hand, “that would be obvious, don’t you think? Although….,” he rubs his chin, “considering they let us in -- and we know how much you and the Snake Charmer have been rivals so to speak all these years, boss -- you don’t think by letting us through that we walked into some sort of trap?”

Inej immediately straightened, “Jes has a point.” Nina stopped munching on her calamari, waiting for Kaz. She too realized the potential threat.

Kaz, however, remained relaxed. “It’s not the bouncer, but I know the Charmer has already been notified of our presence.” Wylan’s worry intensified.

“What makes you think that?”

“As we’ve been talking I noticed all the women working the club have interacted at some point. Some making it obvious to point us out,” He was referring to the bouncer nodding her head to the one serving girl. “Others are more discreet.” That was to the poker dealer and bartender. 

“And yet,” Jesper groans. “You still want us to make a scene. We are literally in a place crawling with snakes--pun not really intended.” the table rolled his eyes at him, save for Wylan who found the joke amusing. “Point is….you want to unleash the Snake Charmer’s serpents into a club full of innocent people--.”

“Innocent,” Nina scoffed under her breath. 

“What if one of us gets bitten?” Jesper kept his gaze on Kaz with mild concern. “I don’t believe for a second the Snake Charmer will kindly hand over the antidote to save our lives. She’ll take pleasure in watching us suffer a horrible death.” Picturing the scene, the sharpshooter downs the rest of his drink, cringing in the process. “Saints, this is not how I pictured I’d die.”

Kaz rolled his eyes, “No one’s dying today. No mourners.” Everyone glanced at each other.

“No funerals.”

“Right then,” It was time to work. “Here’s what we’ll do….”

A prayer slipped past his lips before Jesper inhaled deeply and let the bullet fly. The sound caused gasps from around him, though he was quick to hide the weapon in its holster before one noticed.

“Who did that?!” came a shout from the bouncer. Patrons were already making their way toward the exit. Not wanting to get caught in a crossfire. 

Jesper occupied himself with his rum, glancing over his shoulder to Inej, who signaled to him the bullet did not penetrate the glass completely. Sighing, he downed the contents, waited until it was clear, and shot again. 

The second bullet hit the glass with a loud clunk. Once again alerting the occupants of the Snake Pit. Many searched themselves for any sign of blood for fear they were shot by an unknown assailant. 

“C’mon,” Jesper whispered, peering at the enclosure. He saw the evidence of his bullet, a chip in the glass near the bottom. If he could time it right, without someone getting in the way, he’d hit the mark. 

Meanwhile employees of the club were trying to calm the crowd, “everyone please remain--.” Another shot rang out, more shouts echoing. Kaz’s patience was running thin. Their door to escape started to close as he noticed the security begin to close in on the Crows. No doubt suspecting they were to blame for the chaos. 

Kaz Brekker coming to the Snake Pit with his most trusted advisors for only a drink? Yeah right.

Then, almost in slow motion, the sound best described as ice cracking filled his ears. All eyes turned to the enclosure. Fear surfacing as they witnessed spiderwebs painting the glass. Then all hell broke loose when the glass gave way, allowing the beasts freedom from their isolation. 

Screams ensued. People climbing from the floors onto tables and chairs. Hissing from the snakes intensified the hysteria. Kaz even found himself moving when the python pivoted in his direction. Jesper of course found himself on top of a chair the moment the glass shattered. Inej was high up on a balcony on the opposite side of the club. How did she get up there? No one knew. Wyalan was close to Jesper. He too found safety on a stool. Nina meanwhile was listening to the heartbeats around here. The number decreased each time a patron made it up the staircase and out the door. 

Seconds passed and no sight of the Snake Charmer. Kaz was getting worried. Fearing the plan was a failure. His worry increased when he found himself scurrying on top of a poker table. Distracted with trying to find the workers he suspected of being the Snake Charmer to realize the cobra had got close to him. Had he not acted fast, the man’s leg would’ve fallen victim to its fangs. Catching Jesper’s eye, they shared the concern evident in their expressions. Wondering just how the fuck they were going to escape the situation. 

Suddenly his prayers were answered in the form of an angelic voice. Causing the screams to disappear…..

“You’re heading for heaven, 

The sweet old hereafter, 

And I’ve got one foot in the door. 

But before I can fly up, 

I’ve loose ends to tie up, 

Right here in The Old Therebefore.”

Heads turned, facing the direction of the sound. Their expressions turned into pure shock. Kaz may have had his suspicions, but it still came as a shock to discover he was right all along. 

Ketterdam’s notorious crime boss, leader of the Blood Serpents….was the Snake Pit’s bartender. 

Walking around the bar, crunching against the glass of broken bottles on the floor from the hysteria of customers fleeing to get away from the snakes, the woman kept her gaze on slithering animals. The hissing continued as she inched closer, however she did not seem fazed at all. Her singing continued.

“I’ll be along, 

When I’ve finished my song, 

When I’ve shut down the band, 

When I’ve played out my hand, 

When I’ve paid all my debts, 

When I have no regrets, 

Right here in The Old Therebefore. 

When nothing is left anymore.”

The hissing got quieter. The animals turning so they were in line with the woman. Slithering slowly but surely toward her. Confirming to everyone she was their master. Their charmer.

Off to the side, a few of the Blood Serpents rushed in with crates. Pushing people aside. Meanwhile the woman got to her knees, leveling down to the snakes who were now moving toward her. Eyes locked, face serious. The Snake Charmer was obviously trying to keep herself together. But Kaz felt the rage seep off of her. 

“I’ll catch you up, 

When I’ve emptied my cup, 

When I’ve worn out my friends, 

When I’ve burned out both ends, 

When I’ve cried all my tears, 

When I’ve conquered my fears, 

Right here in The Old Therebefore. 

When nothing is left anymore.”

The snakes smaller in size slithered up her outstretched arms. Covering both limbs in a tangle of scales. One slithering up to encase her neck, almost like a necklace. The Cobra took claim to her waist. The python circled her, almost like it contemplated joining its fellow serpents. 

Around Kaz, he made out the faint gasps of customers who had yet to depart. Glancing around, he witnessed them all in states of shock and awe. Even his Crows were at a loss of words. 

As was he.

The Snake Charmer’s voice turned strong. Echoing through the entire club as she belted out the next verse. Bringing chills to everyone’s arms.

“I’ll bring the news, 

When I’ve danced off my shoes, 

When my body’s closed down, 

When my boat’s run around, 

When I’ve tallied the score,

 And I’m flat on the floor, 

Right here in The Old Therebefore. 

When nothing is left anymore.”

Rising from the ground, she was covered by the creatures. Her python has wrapped itself around her leg. Its tail was on the floor while its head perched by where the cobra had secured itself on her belt. From the neck down the Snake Charmer was a sight to behold. Revealing why the nickname was not only because she was the leader of a gang filled with snakes. 

It was because she was gifted with the talent of charming their namesake.

Moving toward her subordinates holding crates, no doubt to keep the animals contained, the woman passionately sang the final verse. Giving it all she had. 

“When I’m pure like a dove, 

When I’ve learned how to love.”

Tone dropping, she leaned to lower the snakes into the crates. Gently as though they were newborn babies. Kaz caught her stoke the pythons head, her singing so low it was good the place was dead quiet. 

Right here in The Old Therebefore. 

When nothing is left anymore.”

Finally, after what felt like forever, the snakes were safely stored in the crates. Lids dropping shut with the gang members hurrying from the floor to transport them to another room. No one moved. Any and all eyes focused on the woman in the pinstripe suit. Back turned to the Crows and other patrons, but from the fearful look of her door bouncers, everyone silently prayed they’d make it to the morning. 

Moving her neck in a circle, a low crack from the joints that had been stiff, she slowly turned to face the audience. A clenched jaw and fury in her eyes made it clear what was going through her mind. Especially to Kaz, who was fighting to not look away when she instantly met his gaze.

Oh, she knew alright.

“Well…” the Charmer’s tone sent chills along the Crows' bodies. “You’ve certainly got my attention, Mr. Brekker.” Her spite was evident. Complete rage. Likely planning every means of torture she wished to bestow on her rival and his comrades. 

It was so quiet. So thrilling. Nobody dared to move a muscle. Patrons watching the stare down between the King, and now the unmasked Queen, of the Barrel. It was captivating yet terrifying. Wondering who would make the first move, and if it will end in a blood bath.

Then she snapped, “Everyone out!!” The floor cleared in seconds. Leaving only Serpents and Crows. They knew better than to attempt an escape. Plus the moment their boss addressed Kaz, the Serpents had circled them to prevent any sudden attack. 

Kaz remained composed. Watching closely as the Snake Charmer moved to the bar to pour herself a drink. “Before I kill you, Kaz Brekker, and your little birds too,” she did not look at him, paying attention to the liquid filling the glass. He tightened his jaw. “I want to hear you explain to me why you brought yourselves to my club,” bringing the glass to her lips, she downed half the alcohol in one gulp. Drawing her eyes up to make contact with him, “And destroyed my babies' home.”

Her footsteps echoed, walking toward the center of the floor where Kaz stood. “You’re a smart man.” She took another sip, this time slower. “Not only did you manage to draw me into the light, but you knew exactly how to do so.” A smirk plastered on Kaz’s face. A bold move considering the threat lingering at displaying his smugness to the Serpent Queen. Her lips were in a thin line, “What brings you to my den?”

Straightening his posture, Kaz stepped closer. Their distance is only a mere foot from one another. Making everyone--Crows and Serpents alike--suffocating from the tension between the two. 

“You won’t be killing us tonight, Charmer.” If only he knew her real name. Only having her title felt like she had some reign on him. Superior in a sense. The whole Barrel knew him as Dirtyhands, but Kaz Brekker had his own reputation. For her, people can now put a face to the name Snake Charmer. A beautiful woman with the voice of an angel. So powerful it made snakes bend to her will. 

Also, people would be shaken by the fact the deadly gang leader served them drinks during their visits to the Snake Pit. Hidden in plain sight. Listening to them spill their drunken secrets. 

Kaz leaned closer, the scent of her perfume hitting his nostrils. Jasmine. A flower known to attract snakes. He understood why she wore it. The smell was alluring. As was her presence, but Kaz dismissed the thought as quick as it came. “Doing so will result in you losing an important job I’m willing to negotiate your assistance on. Believe me, the reward is more than generous--enough for the both of us to share.” Now he got her attention, confirmed by the way her head slightly tilted, brow raised. 

“Humor me, Brekker.”

“Have you ever heard of jurda parem?”

[captaindanvers89]

Prompt 5: My mother adores you

For @lucy-westenra-apologist

“Why are you so nervous? My mother adores you,” Ava reassured Beatrice who was breaking out in cold sweat and whose hands were trembling.

“Which one? Because one’s dead, the other has a cane sword and the other could kick me into the arc,” Beatrice replied making Ava roll her eyes at her soon-to-be wife’s dramatics.

“Suzanne and Jillian likes you too much to kick you into her arc,” Ava replied, “And Suzanne loves you, she doesn’t just let anyone use her cane.”

“You used her cane to crack open a coconut,” Beatrice deadpanned but Ava ignored her, “And mother loves me so much that she didn’t—“

“She’s my mother! Not yours!” Lilith shouted as she slammed the doors open which made Ava exclaim, “No she’s mine! Go back to the witch that spawned you!”

[birgittesilverbae]

thinking about babea au and the inevitability of a tiny gangly Bea spending weekends and after school at cat’s cradle.

and all the active sisters are kind but they’re so very often sporting bruises and bloody-noses and bea wants wants wants but she’s also still afraid of hot showers so she skirts away from them and the way they ruffle her hair.

she turns into a wraithlike thing, a shadow tucked into corners and alcoves, watching everything.

so afraid to touch any of it, because what she holds or has inevitably breaks. Shannon with her purple-stained ribs and her lightly wheezing breaths, Mary sometimes with a limp or a wince when she tries to lift something after taking a ricochet-shot to the shoulder; a wound that is shallow to everyone except Beatrice.

but then she sees Suzanne, still getting used to her cane, to being here, again, and not dead. (telling herself that she ought to be dead, that she has nothing good left to give, no purpose in these gunpowder-scented halls)

and then Mary gets hurt, and Bea’s trying to be small and helpful and not any trouble so she decides that she’ll shadow the calm shape of Suzanne around the convent (and the anger under her façade is not invisible to Bea; she knows this slow simmer, this unvoiced scream that has to stay or it will never stop).

and she is just a little shadow, with her knobbly elbows and too-big hoodie (black, to suit her mood). it makes her seem, to Suzanne, like a dark scar against the sun-blasted stone.

at first she just lets Beatrice follow her around as she watches the sisters run through forms or practice hand signs or spar from way up high on the walls. tutting at Beatrice when she tries to sit on the parapet, so she stands on her toes looking over. her small frame masking the intelligence in her eyes as she follows each fight.

the days pass and they slip into an odd, mute choreography. breakfast in the refectory and Bea choosing the same fruit as Suzanne, watching how she slices up a mango and eats it so that her face is stained by the juice, how she sucks the sweetness off her own thumb, after. Bea with her chocolate cereal they keep just for her, stirring it until the milk goes brown, eating plain toast while she waits for Suzanne to finish her coffee.

Suzanne notices that Bea has a tiny plastic thing she holds when she’s nervous, when the hallways are busy after morning prayers. accompanied by a blood-drawing bite of her bottom lip, one fist stuffed in the front pocket of her hoodie and the other turning a little plastic shape over and over in her palm.

and so Suzanne starts diverting, insisting that she needs to climb the belltower to look at the masonry, explaining conservation and how to find flaws in stone to Bea, who turns her little plastic x-wing fighter over in her palms, paying rapt attention.

Bea too overwhelmed by all the people at lunch time so they eat in the kitchen, Suzanne cutting the crusts off Bea’s sandwich out of habit, because she used to do that when she was young, and Bea making her laugh by picking up each stick of cut crust from the side of the plate and eating them one-by-one.

finding out that Bes hates raw carrot but likes grapes. adapting, adapting.

Bea like: “my favorite part of pizza is the crust.” and Suzanne ordering pizza for them when Shannon's out on mission one night, when Mary falls asleep early from the painkillers despite herself. the two of them in the refectory again but in the quiet, Suzanne confused but listening to Beatrice telling her the whole plot of a star wars movie, taking Suzanne’s discarded crusts when she’s finished each slice and munching determinedly while she listens for the sound of the vans returning home.

during the day when Suzanne has to rest (frequently) she smiles as Beatrice shows her how she can do fifty situps or her cartwheels or her handstand, knowing that this is Beatrice's way of not commenting on how tired Suzanne is, for someone so young.

closer, still tentative and full of silences. miniature misunderstandings and moments of genuine grace.

until eventually Mary takes a stroll and finds Bea sitting on the wall, Suzanne with an arm wrapped around her so that Bea’s watching the sparring half-asleep with her head resting against Suzanne’s shoulder, against her muscle-wasted thinness, because the halo has left scars beyond those you can see.

Mary watching them, not sure how to feel except perhaps grateful. a horrible part of her thinking that if anything happens to her and Shannon both, then there will still be someone left in the world for Beatrice.

looking at Suzanne and thinking “you couldn’t carry the halo, but if you can carry her in my absence, i might be able to forgive you for it.”

[sisterdivinium]

At the end of my post about Jillian Salvius' clothing and how it mirrored her inner happenings, I briefly mentioned Mother Superion and her attire, planning to develop a fuller analysis at a later date; this is where I attempt it.

A glance suffices to notice how Mother Superion stands out compared to the other members of the Order of the Cruciform Sword, given how starkly her all-black habit contrasts with the hues of blue that characterise the other nuns.

However, it is not common amongst nuns for such dissimilar, distinctive appearances to exist within a same order. The flashback in episode six of season two, through which we are speedily acquainted with the dress code of Suzanne's own Mother Superion, proves that the striking black silhouette she eventually adopts is exclusive to her, Suzanne, rather than some peculiar tradition within the OCS. The other woman, after all, even despite her hierarchical position, wears blue just the same as all other sisters.

Of course, we know that Suzanne is ultimately responsible for this Mother Superion's death and we could assume that, as a Queen Victoria in mourning until the end of her days, her choice in wardrobe could constitute some sort of morbid tribute to her "victim". It might serve as a reminder of her tragic blunder — in Catholic logic, so steeped in ideas of sin and guilt as it is, it would not be unreasonable for Suzanne to wear her own dark grief on her literal sleeve, adding yet another symbol of her failure to the gallery of signs of mortification that the event had already left on her. A grim cloak of funereal black goes along rather harmoniously with a large facial scar, a limp, a cane, all constant reminders of what her mortal sin of pride had done to someone she loved.

Could it be a pesky remnant of that same pride, setting herself visibly apart from her sisters as well as physically? Would penitence not be more properly lived in the humility of looking just like all the others do? Perhaps, but these are conjectures and there is still much more to this our twisted female Oedipus, the unwilling killer of a mother whose place she takes by "marrying" to her same duty. This black outfit Mother Superion dons strangely brings to mind that of an Orthodox priest.

Surely, the reader will recall some defining traits of the Orthodox church, namely its total independence from Rome following the Schism, as well as the autonomy and authority that each of its branches possess; the reader will also kindly remember the definition and etymology of the word "orthodox":

orthodox (ˈɔːθəˌdɒks) adj 1. conforming with established or accepted standards, as in religion, behaviour, or attitudes 2. (Ecclesiastical Terms) conforming to the Christian faith as established by the early Church [C16: via Church Latin from Greek orthodoxos, from orthos correct + doxa belief] (via The Free Dictionary)

Correct belief, as in faithful to its origins, to its heart — to what is understood as and felt to be the truth, uncluttered by scholarship, free from control by a single ruler. Let us keep those words in the back of our mind: correct belief.

For now, we must return to season one, to the inner conflict faced by Mother Superion as she oscillated between choosing to follow Duretti's lead or to stick to what we might tentatively call her own conscience. It is clear that she finds herself at a complicated crossroads.

She does attempt to "conform with established standards", to follow the orders received, to act in accordance with what is expected of her in her position — simply put, to be orthodox in her approach, as much as it seems to disturb her.

I have spoken of verticality before (and, to be honest, so has Sylvia de Fanti herself), so these moments of reasserting her adherence to the rules serve to place Suzanne in that scheme, where she is the superior to the girls but also always the inferior to someone else. They establish how she fits into all of this — and how she must squirm to do so, smothering herself in the process (smothering the same confidence, the same pride which up until then had been a cause only for shame?) so as to serve her purpose within the structure.

The issue of authority and the struggle of accepting or rejecting it are not novelties for Suzanne.

Here is what is most fascinating about our Mother Superion when considering her unusual looks: she is simultaneously orthodox and unorthodox.

Fidelity, methods and intentions mix in her, pulling her in the direction of the church's rigidity or in that of her own individuality, torn between duty (or what is understood as duty) and what we could perhaps call faith... Real faith.

We needn't indicate how unorthodox it is for a nun to defy the orders of a higher-up, most of all when that higher-up is the Pope himself, and yet Suzanne does it; she confronts Duretti both indirectly, while protecting Ava from Crimson (whom he had himself reintroduced in the OCS) and directly, openly questioning him about what at that point was assumed to be Adriel's bones, and, later, even questioning and criticising his way of dealing with the situation involving Adriel.

At the same time, with someone with this image of hers, so reminiscent of the Orthodox, these were the most orthodox actions she could possibly take, distancing herself from Duretti, thinking for herself, splitting from him just as the two churches have done.

Yet there is still more to examine.

It is already quite unorthodox to picture a member of the Catholic church — she being a sister warrior notwithstanding, with all the unconventionality that entails — wanting to acquire a "more modern approach" to something, but it is more so when we consider that this touch of "modernity" in Suzanne arguably comes from the alliance forged with Jillian Salvius and the technology she brings — the very same Jillian who served as antagonist to Duretti and the church, to whom Mother Superion is bound, in season one.

Still, a certain orthodoxy permeates this unorthodox, almost blasphemous choice.

This is because what directs Suzanne, what guides her after she has broken free of her spiritual, intellectual, emotional, symbolic imprisonment is what can only be called her correct belief: her devotion to her girls.

Suzanne's "orthodoxy" has little to do with theology. The issues of transcendence and god are not in question for her, not that we've seen (if Camila mentions a slight concern given the events of season two); the crux of the matter for her is, to again borrow Sylvia's own words, the "root" of religion, etymologically speaking — religion, "religare", the idea of tying together, fastening, binding... This tie which defines her "correct belief", her "religion", is the one with the other members of the OCS.

As much as the trauma of killing a mother might have pushed Suzanne into the stable, predictable place offered by "order", by a severe structure such as that of the church, necessarily stifling that murderous sin of pride lurking within her troubled breast, there is only so much anyone can bear to bury within oneself. The cage of penance is all too likely to end a tomb and one's genuine self must break through eventually so that life isn't brought to an end while the heart yet continues to beat — Mary provided the key for Suzanne to free herself of this fate.

Duretti is not the church, he is not a woman and he is certainly not directed by selflessness, on the contrary, and all of this runs counter to her "correct belief" of, as Mary knows too well, caring too much about the other nuns.

After this truth is expressed and accepted, it is never again a secret and we are witnesses to how profoundly Mother Superion is moved by what affects her sisters, be it in the loss of Mary herself, that of the countless women slaughtered during the global attack on the OCS, or even in quieter moments such as the ones shared with Ava or when learning Camila and Yasmine are still alive after a failed incursion. As much as a certain stoicism remains about her, feelings do find their way outward much more easily.

It is also in the name of those very same sisters that she so vehemently punctuates her participation in Duretti's bloody conclave.

Again, Suzanne proves to be both orthodox and unorthodox at once, for it is highly unorthodox for a woman to speak thus (as highlighted by the Archbishop of Canterbury), but it is also the most orthodox course of action for her to take in respecting and honouring her own correct belief — remaining true to her convictions, devoted to her sisters, those who are now around her, not above or below her. This is what I (and, once more, the very actress that breathes life into the character) have elsewhere called a relationship of horizontality.

Curiously enough, at the conclave, Mother Superion is placed right beside the one Orthodox bishop present at the meeting.

The camera avoids showing them side by side, perhaps to equally avoid the recognition of how alike their clothing is, but it is notable that they should be close: here are representatives of autonomous churches, almost solidifying how much Suzanne stands for what is a faith all in itself.

And perhaps it is, in a way. For the proximity in vestment is, let us repeat, due to the similarity to the robes worn not by Orthodox nuns, but by priests — it is the masculine garb that sees itself reflected in her looks, that which is worn by men, that very sex holding real authority in either of the two real churches. A priest, a minister, a shepherd, one invested with the necessary knowledge to perform sacraments in the faith...

Even though her cane is no longer necessary following the miracle performed by Ava, we see Suzanne using it post-resurrection. This opens intriguing paths of inquiry, for, yes, the cane might serve as a signature weapon, effortlessly hidden in plain sight, but it might also hesitatingly draw a connection in light of the priest comparison... Perhaps, symbolically, the cane is as a discreet crosier in the hands of this apostle of "correct belief", now prepared to welcome others into the same family-faith of fellow women...

But this is egregious speculation and possibly tainted by the present author's own wish fulfilment, going well beyond the scope of this text; we must not pursue this line of investigation further, not without the aid of more concrete evidence to ground it.

Be it as it may, it is enough to conclude that Mother Superion presents a rich, delightful paradox in her successive "states" of orthodoxy and unorthodoxy, often at the same time; she who first appeared as a figure illustrative of the strictest order in her stern black might be one of the most subversive characters in a cast already marvellously distinguished by its psychological depth and how full of life it is.

[moonhuit]

something something mother superion in 2x06

there is a specific brainrot that 2x06 of warrior nun has been keeping me in since my eyes have perceived it.

the brainrot is in the form of how that episode starts with a mother superion flashback AND ends with a mother superion moment. it's so rare to have an episode like that framed around one of its supporting characters and like three episodes away from season finale. but it was also vital to showcase the consistency of the sacrifice she makes for these women. to show the backbone of her dialogue towards vincent in season 1, and the words mary said to her then too to get her to wake up from the prison she built out of shame and guilt from a mistake made years ago.

the fact the flashback was brought to us because suzanne chooses to tell it as a cautionary tale for ava. she is learning to unveil herself from the shame and guilt by choosing to tell ava this extremely personal experience. and ava does not take it lightly, the conversation they had since then was her driving force during the pursuit of the mission. mother superion had told her that if she trusted her sisters-- things would go better. suzanne had given her hope to hold onto despite how heartbreaking her tale with the halo was--and ava trusted that.

her wisdom and role as morale support does not end with ava--in fact, she sees the rest of the team off, individually. she approaches camila discreetly in the episode to bid her goodluck--the subordinate she's been in hiding with for the past months. it also becomes a sort of parallel during her scene with shannon in the flashback- particularly in the way she uses intimacy with her motives. she affects towards shannon to be able to get close to her and use the halo to incapacitate her, so she wouldn't be able to go endanger herself in a room full of armed men. and in the case of camila, she uses it once again (possibly not as intently as she did with shannon) to make camila go with the rest of the team and not stay behind with her. i would like to say that it was growth, but really it wasn't, because suzanne is not a woman who apologizes for how she is. she'll never change from always putting her sisters, her girls' safety first before her own well-being. and that's one of the things that stunned me into silence during the episode because as soon as she said those words to camila, i saw the death flag for her already.

(if anyone asked me, i absolutely think suzanne was right for being the only one in that room due to the manifestation of the halo with her. she would've never been in real danger unless the halo started going low battery please charge. )

id love to discuss how camila would've reacted to all that but i'll skip it but not before making a point about her having that exchange only with camila-- i thought it was endearing and endlessly thoughtful of camila to ask her if she was sure that she's the only one staying behind … like mother superion did not just live through a crazed massacre of wraith-possessed room of cardinals and ministers-- a literal few days before.

anyway, going back--we see the martyr archetype once again. now, this wasn't an arrogant and reckless halo-bearer suzanne whose powers manifested in a shield of light, this was cane-bearing and not even in sister warrior gear suzanne. this was another case of possibly 10 hostiles and one suzanne. the flashback established that it is absolutely within the realm of her character's capabilities to take down hostiles with efficiency--now to leave us with no doubt that she does not need the halo to establish her badassery, they give us this incredible sneak attack from the boss bitch herself.

in parallel to the flashback scene, she's the one patiently waiting for them to arrive instead and made efficient choices of how to turn the numbers to her favor. in her defense, she's quite an overachiever in a way she only misses william who takes cover as all his men face the mercy of mother superion. if i timed it right, she got rid of most of them in like a swift 15 seconds. one ammo per fbc grunt, she's so efficient. it was also funny of her to heave a sigh in after having done all that work in that speed. yeah badass you did all that and so much more!

and to tie the neat bow in this present of an episode--it makes a very strong point that whatever bravery and courage (in the form of her arrogance and cockiness, which she could totally back up with her skill set) suzanne had when she bore the halo, it was still very much present, however this time around, she doesn't get to heal. personally, i don't even need to pull teeth with the foreshadowing in this show because you're meant to see it first thing and you're meant to get your heart a little broken when you notice it.

flashback suzanne being picked up by shannon who is concerned she's hurt, and she says she'll heal. well this time around, she can't do that--she fails in her mission to be the one to detonate the arc because by some twisted reason, this man whose whole eyesocket she shot, is still alive and does her in. not only she doesn't get to heal, and she's alone on that other side--unlike when her mother superion had went. and it saddens me to say that she probably thought she'd deserved it. (which is weewoo 207 opening im glad jillian found a way to get back the power and help ease her pain with whatever she could do!! and that she wasnt entirely alone!!!!!! )

this is a woman who knows her capabilities enough she's the one to stay back--in learning to trust her girls--she still finds herself making the same choices of putting herself in danger's way. only the nature of her intent changes--and its bittersweet to see it all transpire. from the way she starts opening herself up and trusting them, only to be the one to end up LOST to them. which is another fun call back that in the duration of her being mother superion, she is actually one of those we know that have lost the halo--and the current halo-bearer of her time, who was also kind of her number 1 when it had been hers. it's very wibbly wobbly timey wimey to me but if there is anyone who will understand the gravitas of the choices ava was going to make, it was suzanne who would understand fully-- and ive never been more happier they kept her around for that because the loss of her would have seated heavily in the atmosphere, we might have ended up with a different ending altogether.

the point of this babbling is that mother superion does care too much for her girls, her sisters. and there is no doubt she'll make the same choices if necessary. and i love, love, this ode of an episode for her character, only because i know in the next episode they bring her back. like--that's what only comforts me. if i'd written this NOT knowing if she would live, this would have a different tone.

[blackbird-brewster]

Getting to Know Me(me)

Found my original in my archives and thought it'd be fun to update this one! Original answers from 2015 >> New answers in 2023

Name: Kit  Age: 26 35 Persuasion: Homoromantic demisexual Queer Location: USA Aotearoa 10 Facts: 1. I have 25 35+ tattoos 2. I'm a full-time writer 3. I am on Tumblr more than I should be (still true) 4. I can get through the entirety of 'Fifty Nifty United States' in one breath 5. I have multiple mobility aids and they all have names. Cane: Elvira, Walker: Christopher Walkin', Wheelchair: Wheelie Boy 6. My partner (Doom Them) and I are the penultimate example of queer domestic bliss 7. I met some of my best friends through Tumblr! 8. I can solve a Rubik’s Cube in under 3 minutes (still true) 9. I used to be a professional actress (Still true) 10. I have travelled to 17 20 countries

9 Fandoms:

1. Criminal Minds 2. Doctor Who 3. X-Files 4. Bones Critical Role 5. Fringe 6. Community Dimension 20 7. the L word Warehouse 13 8. Legend of the Seeker 9. SVU Xena

8 OTPS:

1. OTP: Blackbird (JJ x Emily - Criminal Minds) 2. OTP: Burning Up a Sun (Ten x Rose - Doctor Who) 3. OTP: How Long? (Olivia x Alex - SVU) OTP: I Thought We'd Get Lucky (Tara x Emily - Criminal Minds) 4. OTP: I want to Believe (Mulder x Scully - X-Files) 5: OTP: Fringe With Benefits (Peter x Olivia - Fringe) OTP: It'd Be With You (Thirteen x Yasmin - Doctor Who) 6. OTP: I think you’ll know (Callie x Arizona - Grey’s Anatomy) OTP: Science Wives (Sam x Janet - Stargate SG1) 7. OTP: Blood and Battle (Lagertha x Ragnar - Vikings) Let's Go Steal an OT3 (Parker x Eliot x Hardison - Leverage) 8. OTP: Oatmeal (Holt x Kevin - B99) OT3: Je T'Emily (JJ x Emily x Tara - Criminal Minds)

7 Books:

1. Harry Potter Series by JK Rowling Heartstopper by Alice Oseman 2. Hunger Games Series by Suzanne Collins Wonder Woman Graphic Novels (Greg Rucka, Gail Simone) 3. Anita Blake Series by Laurel K Hamilton Nevermoor Series by Jessica Townsend 4. The Missing Piece by Shel Silverstein 5. The Witches by Roald Dahl Tiny Beautiful Things by Sheryl Strayed 6. Trainspotting by Irvine Welsh Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy by Douglas Adams 7. Bones Series by Kathy Reichs Gender Failure by Ivan E. Coyote & Rae Spoon

6 Foods:

1. Pizza 2. Protein Shakes Mac and cheese (Kraft blue box) 3. Hummus Strawberry Poptarts 4. Peanut butter and Jelly sandwiches 5. Cookies and Cream ice cream 6. Tacos

5 Things You Can’t Live Without:

1. Coffee 2. Netflix 3. My Phone 4. Music 5. Fanfiction * No changes from 2015 to 2023

4 Life Goals:

1. Finish school for Forensic Anthropology Find joy and contentment in all I do 2. Study abroad Fly my friends to Aotearoa for a visit 3. Visit every continent 4. Publish a novel (<<did it!) Live authentically, without regret

3 Characters You Relate To:

1. Temperance Brennan Thirteenth Doctor 2. Emily Prentiss 3. Jean Grey / Phoenix  Fox Mulder 2 Quotes:

1. Why waste your life being normal? 2. The entire poem of Invictus Be gay, do crime 1 Selfie (If you want):

2015 vs 2023

 Not tagging anyone, this one was completely self-indulgent so I could have the update in my archive <3

[orbleglorb]

Hello! Emoji fic ask please! 💖🧠🤩(these two together! for general blaseball! tell me about your blaseball blorbo and your hc for them!)✨ Please and thank you!

hello!!

💖: what made you start writing?

flashback to my middle school years: even though i had read fanfiction lightly, it wasn't until i got into creepypasta that i started actually considering writing something. and that was because i was pissed at how the characters were being characterized. like jeff being yandere or whatever. i wasn't really into any creepypasta characters romantically but i still found the fanfics fun to read. i did start one that shall never see the light of day, but it made me realize that i REALLY like writing about blorbos. so yeah i guess you could say spite.

🤩 & 🧠: fav character to write & headcanon for them

god i LOVE writing mike townsend. i haven't written anything about him in a while but he's still one of my favorites to rotate in my head. writing him feels really natural for me because i too am a fucking loser with anxiety. i headcanon mike townsend as deaf, personally.

i also like writing declan suzanne! declan is another one that feels cathartic to write. mike & declan (and tillman ig, but less so) were important to me when i was going thru a rough point in my life. they both had character themes i could relate to: being shunned and being ignored/abandoned. two of my headcanons for declan are that they use any pronouns & she's transfem, and she used to be a professional juggler.

as of late, i've been writing parker macmillan a lot! rotating him in my head. top headcanons are: has a bad knee & has to use a cane and/or brace sometimes, really good baker, kind of has a bad temper & after losing the firewalker mod he wears full winter gear all the time because he hasn't experienced temperatures lower than 1000° F for over 50 years and is not coping well.

✨️: give you and your writing a compliment

i'm rlly creative!! even if i don't share the ideas i have often i typically have somewhat unique characters and ideas. also i feel like i have good delivery when writing. like jokes & such. and also im good at writing dialog :]

thank you!!

[thatsonemorbidcorvid]

“His day jobs included taxi-driving, managing a betting shop and running a guesthouse with his wife. He also embarked on the perilous task of infiltrating a European network of neo-Nazis and fascists that had been responsible for a wave of bombings in Bologna, Paris and Munich in 1981. In that role he helped to thwart a bomb attack on the Notting Hill Carnival in London and to expose a network of British safe houses used by Italian terrorists.”

You NEED to read this obituary. Rest in Peace Ray Hill.

It began in 1980 with anonymous calls to the anti-fascist magazine Searchlight. The mystery caller would offer juicy information about the activities of the far right in Leicester. On one occasion he provided the complete membership of the British Democratic Party, an offshoot of the National Front.

His name was Ray Hill and he was a leading light in several racist and neo-Nazi organisations. Except that he had now recanted and was eager to atone for his hateful past.

For the next four years Hill worked as a mole, helping to destroy the very organisations that he had founded or helped to build. He then came clean in a Channel 4 documentary that left his former far-right colleagues stunned and furious.

Hill received death threats and survived actual attempts on his life. Undaunted, he spent the rest of his life campaigning against racism and right-wing extremism. Searchlight wrote of him: “No one (or at least no one that can yet be spoken of) has inflicted such damage on the extreme-right movement, nor provided such an inspiration to subsequent generations of anti-fascists.”

Raymond Hill was born into a working-class family in Mossley, now part of Greater Manchester, shortly after the start of the Second World War in 1939. His father, Frank, worked in a woollen mill. His mother was Marion (née Clarke). At Stamford secondary school in Ashton-under-Lyne he was a rebel and habitual brawler who was often caned. “Punch-ups in the playground were a daily way of life,” he said.

He left without any qualifications and did three years National Service in the army, where he learnt to box. In 1965 he moved to Leicester where he met and married Glennis Shapcott, a waitress. Their first child, Suzanne, was born in 1967, and the couple later had two sons, William and Charles. All survive him.

Hill struggled to provide for his family, doing various menial jobs and earning a few extra pounds in fairground boxing booths. “As a breadwinner I was inadequate,” he said. Leicester was at that time absorbing a substantial number of Asian immigrants, and he soon discovered that “that feeling of shame evaporates quickly if you can identify someone else who is to blame for your misfortunes”.

He joined first the Anti-Immigration Society, then the more hardline Racial Preservation Society. “In my own mind, racial prejudice restored my standing as head of my family,” he said. “The difficulties we had no longer reflected badly upon me as a provider. The blame lay with the immigrants, and it followed that to fight immigration was to fight for my family.”

In 1968 he joined the neo-Nazi British Movement whose leader, Colin Jordan, became his mentor. Hill was an able organiser and powerful speaker. He rose fast. He became Jordan’s bodyguard, then served as his agent in the 1969 Birmingham Ladywood by-election where Jordan came fourth with 3 per cent of the vote.

By the end of that Hill had been arrested for causing actual bodily harm after a fracas with some left-wing students, so he fled with his family to apartheid-era South Africa. There he worked in the goldmines and as an insurance salesman. He also joined the South African National Front (SANF), rising to become its chairman before undergoing his dramatic conversion in 1979. It began with the kindness shown to him by members of Johannesburg’s Jewish community when he was struggling financially. It was sealed when he saw a destitute Indian family being evicted from their home in the poor, racially mixed Hillbrow area of that city.

The eviction was the direct result of a SANF campaign for tougher enforcement of apartheid rules. Consumed with shame, he went home and spent a sleepless night agonising. That night he decided: “It’s over”, wrote Andrew Bell, co-author of Hill’s memoir, The Other Face of Terror.

Hill returned to Leicester in 1980 where he was welcomed by his former neo-Nazi colleagues. He rejoined the British Movement (BM) and the fledgling British Democratic Party (BDP), only now he was working as a Searchlight mole bent on destroying them. He largely succeeded.

In 1981 he worked with the ITV World in Action programme to expose gun-running by members of the BDP, and the organisation imploded. The following year he challenged Michael McLaughlin for the leadership of the BM, and was expelled for his temerity. He sued, draining the BM of its resources and forcing McLaughlin to shut it down. That same year Hill joined the new British National Party (BNP), where he maintained his subterfuge by hijacking an episode of BBC Radio Four’s Any Questions and standing as the BNP’s candidate in Leicester West at the 1983 general election. He received 469 votes, or 1 per cent of the total.

His day jobs included taxi-driving, managing a betting shop and running a guesthouse with his wife. He also embarked on the perilous task of infiltrating a European network of neo-Nazis and fascists that had been responsible for a wave of bombings in Bologna, Paris and Munich in 1981. In that role he helped to thwart a bomb attack on the Notting Hill Carnival in London and to expose a network of British safe houses used by Italian terrorists.

Hill finally admitted he was a mole in the 1984 Channel 4 documentary, also entitled The Other Face of Terror, which dealt another severe blow to Britain’s far right by exposing its links to international terrorism.

Thereafter his house was firebombed and he had to live in hiding for a time. He wrote columns for Searchlight, spoke at schools and universities across the country to warn of the appeal of political extremism for the underprivileged, and called attention to the rise of Islamist antisemitism.

The reformed fascist also earned a degree in history from Lancaster University, and became the first non-Jewish honorary life member of the Union of Jewish Students.

Raymond Hill, anti-fascist campaigner, was born on December 2, 1939. He died on May 14, 2022, aged 82

[finishinglinepress]

NEW FROM FINISHING LINE PRESS: The Lord Balfour Hotel by Suzanne Jones Weisberg

On SALE now: https://www.finishinglinepress.com/product/the-lord-balfour-hotel-by-suzanne-jones-weisberg/

Suzanne Jones Weisberg grew up on the southern tip of #Miami Beach, #Florida in the 1940’s and 50’s. Her family had business interests in the #Caribbean and as a child she spent time in Nassau, Jamaica, Haiti , Mexico, Panama, and Cuba. She has been variously, an attorney, a painter, and a poet. The Lord Balfour Hotel is her first collection of #poems. #chapbook

PRAISE FOR The Lord Balfour Hotel by NEW FROM FINISHING LINE PRESS: The Lord Balfour Hotel by Suzanne Jones Weisberg

Suzanne Jones Weisberg takes us on a grand journey of lost innocence and reclaimed glamour with The Lord Balfour Hotel. Cuban beauties, bullfighters, gamblers and gangsters, Latin music and sugar cane slices all dazzle in the balmy shtetl that was the Miami Beach of an earlier era. Along the way we learn how handsome men are like cakes and the shape of her chocolate truffle dreams. While bringing vivid life to every line, Weisberg captures the longing and wonder of her well-spent youth, with poems to be both celebrated and savored.

–Nancy Spiller, author of the novel Entertaining Disasters and memoir Compromise Cake: Lessons Learned from My Mother’s Recipe Box.

There’s more, much more, than mahjong tables and stuffed marlins and zoot suits in this nostalgic collection. Crime bosses and bullfighters and philosophers and neurotic relatives parade through these pages, and we end up on the shores of the Pacific enjoying the pleasures of ice cream and a modicum of contentment, but always hearing the powerful echoes of jazz and flamenco and artists’ young chatter in rooms that burned down long ago.

–Alex M. Frankel, author of So Many Mouths at the End of All Beauty.

There is something elegant and wise about a premier collection of poems composed late in life. In language well-seasoned, a reader finds a peppering of weariness, a salting of irony, some nuttiness and bitter humor, all ingredients in aging’s recipe. The narrator in Suzanne Jones Weisberg‘s debut chapbook, “The Lord Balfour Hotel,” is a kind of “wise guy” little girl who, like Eloise in The Plaza, grows up living in a hotel. Not just any hotel, but a “good fella” world in Miami Beach, where mobsters and Cuban dictators and their sultry mistresses check in and out. In Jones Weisberg’s capable hands, her poems soar in mystery, sorrow and loss that accompany long memory. The strange atonal cry of a pelican haunts her, leaving a sound in her mind like “a clanging of the suitcase room, where vipers go to expire.” Jones Weisberg’s language surprises. Her images are original and playful: “Cherries on top red as a diaper rash” … “the stuffed marlin pinned above the front desk smiles at me, as always.” Her writing is confident and taut. Her subjects range wide from the dark, possibly fatal allure of chocolate, to a dragon mother to lost love, bizarre hotel guests and the terror of a hurricane. In one poem she evokes Havana in the early 1950s — a lone cornet in the night, sugary humidity, other little girls peeking out of “sordid … curtains.” A love lyric resonates with the fact of death. “All we love means nothing without you laughing at the moon beside me,” she writes. She is so good at titles that the table of contents reads like a poem. The Lord Balfour Hotel is a wonderful debut, a truffle both sweet and dark, a bright moon over Miami.

–Georgia Jones-Davis, author of Blue Poodle and Night School.

Please share/repost #flpauthor #preorder #AwesomeCoverArt #read #poems #literature #poetry

[crazyblondelife]

Texas Trash Pie - A Southern Favorite

I’m calling this recipe for Texas Trash Pie a “Southern Favorite” but this is the first time I’ve ever made it! It’s similar in flavor (and ingredients) to a recipe my mom used to make called Seven Layer Bars. I remember loving the salty sweet flavor of Seven Layer Bars and that’s exactly what I love about Texas Trash Pie. Really, the only difference is the crust which makes it so much easier to make and to eat! The exact recipe is below, but as per usual, I tweaked mine a bit so keep scrolling to find out what I added!

The original recipe calls for caramel bits (still not sure what that is), so when I was looking around on the baking isle, I saw salted caramel chips and got a bag of those as well as a bag of Heath Bar Crunchies! I used the same proportions of chips, but blended in about half and half of the salted salted caramel chips and Heath Bar crunchies and the flavor was amazing. I added some crushed candy cane after the pies had cooled to make them festive. These pies freeze beautifully and the recipe is easily doubled so I would recommend making two and freezing one! I have mine in the freezer ready to pull out for Christmas Eve! My grandsons are going to absolutely love this!

{"image":"https://i.imgur.com/cAjnBne.png","name":"Texas Trash Pie","description":"This delicious pie is creamy and delicious, salty and sweet and it's so easy to make!","yield":"6 - 8","author":{"@type":"Person","name":"Suzanne Smith"},"recipeIngredient":["1 - 10 inch frozen deep dish pie crust","1 cup chocolate chips","1 cup crushed pretzels","1 cup crushed graham crackers","1 cup shredded coconut","1 cup pecan pieces","1 stick unsalted butter, melted","1 - 14 ounce can sweetened condensed milk"],"recipeInstructions":["Preheat the oven to 350 degrees. Combine all the filling ingredients in a large bowl and mix until well blended. Pour the entire filling into a frozen piecrust. Bake for 35 minutes or until the pie is set and the top is golden brown. Let the pie cool for 30 minutes before cutting and serving. Makes one pie."],"@context":"http://schema.org","@type":"Recipe"}

I hope you’ve enjoyed this post…it’s a short one, but “tis the season”! I’m off to the grocery store, hoping to beat the crowd today! Christmas really snuck up on me this year! Happy Weekend…I’ll be back one more time before Christmas!

[strugglinguist]

I’m home! Got in last night. I’m still rather dead on my feet, but I figured it’s time to officially say hi! It’s been about a year off tumblr, and it’s been a big huge not-all-that-great year. 😅 Here are the highlights both good and bad:

Z and I are still going strong! We’ve been together 4.5 years now. Still poly, though it was just us most of the year ☺️

Big a heartbreak in January when my girlfriend of 6 months abruptly ended things and never spoke to me again. Took so long to get over, but I made it!

hEDS/hypermobility and the corresponding chronic pain has me using a cane full time now. Her name is Suzanne, and she’s decked out in sheer purple and blue ribbon ☺️ I’ll be back in PT very soon!

I had a big health scare in January where I almost passed out while teaching at the board. My heart rate shot up to 170 and I broke out in a sweat and got tunnel vision. Six months, many tests, and an ambulance trip in there in the middle, I was diagnosed with Inappropriate Sinus Tachycardia (IST). Basically my heart is very healthy and regular, but it likes to race at random. I say it gives me a medical license to be inappropriate 😂 With beta blockers, it’s under control, and I’m doing well.

In the middle of all that heart stuff, I was also diagnosed with Hashimoto’s Disease. So now I have thyroid meds, and it’s under control, too! Basically we fixed everything all at once, I finally can function well. The first half of the year was ROUGH, dude.

Had a stereotypically bad experience trying to get my Autism diagnosis. The person said since I can make eye contact and can teach, I can’t possibly be Autistic. I’m just “quirky.” Which like… wow. Found out I have to wait two years to try a second opinion, and I’m just living in that self diagnosis land 🤷‍♀️

Z went back to school and is finishing up his BFA next semester. It’s been quite the adventure, but he’s been kicking all the butts and even swung a 4.0 this past semester. 😃

I have a new girlfriend! She and I started dating in October, and she’s pretty great. ❤️ She’s a total boss and is changing the world. I’m pretty lucky I’m included in her world now ☺️☺️☺️

Oh! And the kittens are now full on cats who make my life hilarious and unpredictable in the best way. But they’ll always be “the babies.”

I think that’s the big stuff! I don’t intend this blog to be a fitblr blog. I’m a disabled person learning to live with mobility issues and hoping to be as healthy as possible. And I’m working on being more body neutral, rather than pursuing weight loss or breaking records. My weight is what it is and will change as it wishes with life changes!

[dykeboi]

Suzanne Valadon, André Utter et ses chiens, 1932, Huile sur toile, Villefranche-sur-Saône, Musée municipal Paul-Dini

Suzanne Valadon représente son second mari, André Utter, l'air pensif, assis sous un marronnier. Vêtu de blanc, la canne à la main, ses chiens allongés à ses pieds, il est dépeint dans un moment de repos. Le paysage, traité par des touches abstraites, est celui du bois de Saint-Bernard, dans l'Ain, où Valadon et lui ont acquis une maison en 1923. Dans cette toile imposante, Valadon représente son compagnon comme un gentleman à la campagne. Quand Valadon rencontre Utter en 1909, elle est l'épouse de Paul Mousis. Lui est un jeune électricien de 23 ans, ami de son fils, modèle d'artiste et peintre à ses heures perdues. Le double portrait Été ou Adam et Eve peint cette année-là par Valadon scelle leur relation amoureuse. Elle divorce de son premier mari et s'installe avec lui et son fils rue Cortot, à Montmartre. C'est à leurs côtés qu'Utter devient peintre à son tour. Les amants se marient juste avant la guerre.

Suzanne Valadon represents her second husband, André Utter, seated under a chestnut tree. Dressed in white, cane in hand, his dogs lying at his feet, he is depicted in a moment of repose. The landscape, treated with abstract touches, is that of the woods of Saint-Bernard, in Ain, where Valadon and he acquired a house in 1923. In this imposing canvas, Valadon represents her companion as a country gentleman. When Valadon met Utter in 1909, she was married to Paul Mousis. He was a young electrician of 23, friend of her son, artist's model and painter in his spare time. The double portrait "Summer" or "Adam and Eve" painted that year by Valadon sealed their amorous relationship. She divorced her first husband and moved in with him and her son on Rue Cortot, in Montmartre. Besides them, Utter became a painter of his own. The lovers married just before the war. (Photos and English translation my own)

[captaindanvers89]

Alternate take on Prompt 5:

@lucy-westenra-apologist we all know Camila is the fav child

“She’s my mother not yours!” Ava shoved Lilith back which had the half demon screaming, “I was adopted first!”

“Do you really want them?” Beatrice asked Suzanne who was watching them, a faint smile on her face, “You have to admit it’s rather entertaining.”

“Mother look!” Camila rushed into the room with her upgraded crossbow Yasmine hot on her heels, “I tried to stop her from pestering the Pope and raiding his armory.”

“Did you at least get me a new sword for my cane,” Suzanne asked and Camila nodded eagerly. This made Beatrice quirk an eyebrow at her, “So when I raid his armory or bother his swiss guard for a new bo staff, it’s no Beatrice, it’s against decorum but when Camila does it, it’s fine?”

“Guess you know who her favorite is,” Yasmine chuckled just as Lilith extended her wings, grabbed Ava and flew them into the air

[birgittesilverbae]

oooooh episodic monster of the week spinoff *grabby hands*

yes, please

Mary's first days with the Order

pre-halo Shannon gets wraith-possessed and there's the typical evil-monologuing that cuts deeply and fractures relationships if it's not dealt with promptly in the aftermath

bottle episode on a stakeout

the convent gets chickenpox

wraith-fighting roadtrip with car talk confessions about backstory etc

training montage upon training montage upon training montage upon Mary getting her shit kicked in in fifty million different ways

wildly-different-narratives episode where Suzanne tries to figure out who beheaded a training dummy only for the end reveal to be that she'd done it with her sword cane but wanted to see if she could make someone crack for the bit

Shannon Makes A Move

the events surrounding Shannon getting the halo because I'll always be on my bullshit about there being another bearer between her and Suzanne

Shannon's Halo power reveal

Lilith beating the shit out of Crimson (payback's a bitch)

What Actually Happened At Ronda

[educated-dumbass]

Physical Disability/ Chronic Illness Book Masterlist

Quick Key:

🌻= found on Readanybook for free

🍄= I’ve read and recommend

🥀= on my tbr list

🌈= Send me an ask or direct message with this emoji and the book you want and I can likely find it in digital format for free. Be aware it is less secure than the Readanybook site. Please clarify if you’re using a phone or a laptop/computer. (Not including graphic novels)

Fantasy:

Kafka on the Shore by Haruki Murakami (Hemophilia) (Loss of certain mental faculties due to injury) 🌻

One for All by Lillie Lainoff (POTS) 🍄

Six of Crows by Leigh Bardugo (Reading disability) (Character that uses a cane) 🍄🌻

Crooked Kingdom by Leigh Bardugo (Reading disability) (Character that uses a cane) 🍄🌻

The Moth Girl by Heather Kamins (Fantasy chronic illness) 🥀

A Curse So Dark and Lonely by Brigid Kemmerer (Cerebral Palsy)

Graphic Novels:

Mooncakes by Suzanne Walker (hard of hearing mc) 🥀

The Degenerates by J. Albert Mann (Clubfoot)(Down Syndrome) 🥀

Mis(h)adra by Iasmin Omar Ata (Epilepsy) 🥀

Historical Fiction:

The War That Saved My Life by Kimberly Brubaker Bradley (Clubfoot) 🌻🥀

The Reckless Kind by Carly Heath (deafness)

Literary Fiction:

Unbroken: 13 stories starring disabled teens written by an assortment of disabled creators edited by Marieke Nijkamp (Wheelchair User)(Unspecified Mental Illness) (Blind MC) (Anxiety) (Chronic Pain) (Schizophrenia) (MC with a Cane) (Bipolar II) (IBS) (Cerebral Palsy) (Autistic MC) 🍄

Turning by Joy L. Smith (Wheel Chair user) (Spinal injury) (Stutter) (Brain Injury) 🥀

Electricity by Ray Robinson (Epilepsy)

Horror:

The Call by Peadar O'guilin (disability as a result of complications from having polio as a child) 🥀

Mystery:

Silent Fear by Lance Morcan (Deaf MC’s) 🥀

Russian Dolls by Cristelle Comby (Blind MC)

The Sacred Lies of Minnow Bly (amputee)🌻🥀

Poetry:

A Time to Dance by Padma Venkatraman (below the knee amputation as a result of a car accident) 🍄🌻

Red, White, and Whole by Rajani LaRocca (Mother with Leukemia)

Romance:

The War Within (character in wheelchair) 🍄🌻

Wild and Crooked by Leah Thomas (cerebral palsy)

Long Macchiatos and Monsters by Alison Evans (MC with prosthetic limb)

Get a Life, Chloe Brown by Talia Hibbert (Chronic Pain)

Science Fiction:

Ascension by Jacqueline Koyanagi (character with chronic immune deficiency) (character with prosthetics)

Iron Widow by Xiran Jay Zhao (uses a cane and a wheelchair due to foot binding) 🍄

Otherbound by Corinne Duyvis (epilepsy? Kinda) (Amputee MC) 🌻🥀