#this was the first indie bookstore i found it on so it's special! :)

[britishchick09]

guess who just bought an updated copy of the rewrite? ;)

[noahhawthorneauthor]

Presenting all the artists I have worked with on my author journey thus far. 🏳️‍🌈📚🎨

Because I'm Team Human, and always will be.

Lianne Peterson, fantasyspritestudio on Instagram, is also a crochet artist, which is how I first met her. Back in the day, I made crochet toys and sculptures, and she still does. One thing led to another, and after she read my first book, we collaborated on the Iverbourne Tarot project, which expanded to include other indie artists.

Then we did the special editions together, which includes the tarot art as full page illustrations, and the scene with Lythienne threatening her boytoy—Panrauth, I mean. Also, that fan art of Novak still makes my heart sing. The plant guy is Lysander from the Levena books, and also fan art that I treasure.

@gagakumadraws has done so much work for me, this isn't even all of it. She is an absolute gem of a person and artist, and I'm so thankful to be able to call her my friend. There are the five Iverbourne cards, The Rebel Foxes cover, and so much Arlo and Thatch, from Phantom and Rook. There's the inside of the bookstore, and side characters like Silas (silver hair boi) and Arche.

Art not pictured are beautiful spice scenes, the outside of the bookstore, and a pirate play scene from Phantom and Rook. Oh, and a certain enby wolf shifter all tied up in knots.

@prince-peachie did some character art for me, depicting Novak as he first meet him and when the demon comes out to play. I first fell in love with Peachie's AFTG fan art, and I love everything he does!

The bottom left is Novak and Alvis on the ship, brought to life by @kislurysuje around the time Prince of Sylvan came out. It was one of my first printed pieces of gay art, and I love it so much.

The Moon is Eros from the Iverbourne series, and her card was created by @sholdthebus who I found on Tiktok. She does some amazing work, and has a Pride Armory! Think pride themed pins, like bisexual battle axes.

And my beloveds, @crossroadart-seabear and @foxglovefaun

I love these covers so dearly. The colors, the emotion and detail. Bear did Phantom and Rook, and Fox did Matsdotter and Adrastus. I love that the colors of the sequel echo the first book, and while each artist has their own style, the books look like they belong together. They are both fantastic people, and beautiful artists.

So yeah, fuck AI, and scream about your favorite artists. 🤘✨

[unholyhelbig]

It is the Christmas season... if you want to gift us with more Kate x Reader?

[A/n: Of course I do! Truthfully, this whole universe was the first thing that I wrote that was Kate x Reader, and holds a special place in my heart. Happy Holidays, there is more to come!]

Title: Just Like the Ones We Used to Know

Summary: It's been three years since your disastrous plot to bring a fake girlfriend to the family Christmas. Not much good came out of the endeavor, but you did manage to get the girl. What happens when your estranged family makes a second appearance, disrupting your life with your found one?

This is a Sequel, Read "I'll Be Home For Christmas" Here

When you first saw Clara, you didn’t recognize her. There was a cold feeling of familiarity that hung in the air before your mind caught up with the shock of the situation. Three years. It had been three years since you watched her fade into a small speck in the snow in the rearview mirror. Your fingers had gone numb, just as they did now.

You stood behind the mahogany counter and squinted over the stacks of books before cracking a random one open down the center and covering the heat in your cheeks with words not registering. Fuck- this city was massive and bustling and of course, your older sister chose to walk into your bookstore.

Thankfully, her husband wasn’t around, or at least not where you could see him. Steven struck you as the type of man to wait outside while the December air chilled him to the bone instead of picking up anything remotely interesting, or at least, following his wife like a dog on a lead.

“How to Raise Children Who Aren’t Assholes? Darling, is there something you’re not telling me?” Kate cocked her head in an odd way to read the title. It was, in fact, upside down, and the least of your concerns.

She had brought in a wintery blast of air with her, cheeks blushed with the elements. Kate held two cups of coffee from the café next door, hers a straight black and yours overloaded with cream and sugar that would end up hurting your stomach later. Kate kissed your cheek as she handed it off, nose frigid.

“Clara is here.”

“What?”

She pulled back and scoured the shelves. You set the book back down on in its rightful place and used your hand to grab her chin and focus her attention back on you. “don’t look.”

“You do realize if she buys something, one of us will have to check her out?”

Curse Kate Bishop and her sound logic. You had sent Cassie home early. It was so close to Christmas and the day had gone by slowly, but steadfastly. You had kept yourself busy with each customer and Kate had let out strings of curses as she struggled to wrap the books purchased. She finally gave up and conceded to a coffee run when disaster struck.

“What are the chances she won’t recognize me?”

“You came from the same womb, so slim.” Kate frowned as Clara scrutinized the cookbooks, hugging her designer bag close. “Me, on the other hand.”

You shook your head, “Uh-uh, babe. Clara is the definition of mean girl. Three years isn’t enough to bury her hatred for the stranger that crashed Christmas.”

Storming out of your Politian parents’ home on the biggest day of the year hadn’t been the best move in hindsight. But the more time that passed, the more comfortable you felt about cutting them out of your life and welcoming Kate into it with such open arms.  

The two of you spent every major holiday with Garrett and Noelle, who were on their way to having a little girl. That would make three, squirming kids that you’d happily cart around and change diapers for. You’d eaten Thanksgiving dinner in their suburban ranch-style home after watching the Macy’s Day Parade with Kate’s adoptive father and his family.

You had found your own way these past three years, though there were some rough patches. Your first novel was a hard sell but was eventually picked up by a small indie publishing company before they were bought out by a bigger one that ordered three more books in the series.

It was Kate’s idea to open up a bookstore, and when this place went up for sale with a full stock of literature, it was hard to refuse the offer. In the mornings you worked on your manuscript and spent your evenings running the shop. Kate would pop in between meetings at Bishop Security, which had fallen into her lap after some distasteful business practices from her mother, who you had met only once.

Clint and Laura were Kate’s salvation, and in some ways, yours too. They showed you how a family was supposed to be, and showed both of you that it was okay to love and trust and make mistakes as long as you figured things out together.

Clara was not in the cards this year. Clara was never in the cards, and it had been so easy to avoid her up until this point. From your vantage point in the parenting section, she looked relatively harmless.

“Maybe she’ll leave without buying anything.” Kate suggested, “We can hide out here until we hear the bell above the door.”

“Right, yeah, okay.” You took in a deep breath and ran your finger over the spine of a home-childbirth book. “This is why you’re the brains of this operation.”

Kate scoffed with a charming smile. A bell rang, and unfortunately, it wasn’t the one that was above the door. There was no chill from the winter air or the scent of day-old scones from the café next door. It was the tiny silver bell that was situated at the front of the store. A little handwritten sign sat next to it: Probably shelving, Please Ring for Assistance!

You and Kate gave each other a wide-eyed look as you soaked in the realization that you would, in fact, have to interact with your sister. You whispered (You go, no, you go) hastily to each other, both shoving forward before you popped out of the aisle of books, looking disheveled. 

Kate straightened first, smoothing down her sweater with a solid smile. You were a little late to recover, pulling awkwardly at the forest-green apron filled with price stickers and decorated with cheesy holiday pins.

Clara lifted a perfectly sculpted eyebrow at you, lilting her head to the side. “Little sister,”

Hearing her voice after all this time sent a chill down to the base of your spine that made you feel woozy. But this was your shop after all, and the cookbook in her grasp was something that she would have to purchase from you. So, you rounded the counter, careful to avoid her searing gaze.

“Would you like to buy that?”

Your voice shook as you swiped the laptop to wake it from its peaceful sleep. Clara gave you a tight smile and put the book down on the counter. She eyed Kate with malice that made you want to kick her out of the store. It would be easier to ring her up and politely get her out. You could always buy another store or give up on the bookshop dream altogether.

“Nice choice,” You noted, keying in the price on the back of the book. Christmas Cooking: How to Satisfy Your Growing Family.

“You’re working here, now?”

 Clara ignored your remark and looked around the meticulous swell of bookshelves. There was a second floor where Kate had decorated a live Christmas tree. It sparkled in brilliant color as a faux fireplace cast an orange glow over everything. There were comfortable places to read and sip coffee, a window seat overlooking the city street as snow began to fall.

“No, I own it.” You dropped her book carefully into a paper bag adorned with small snowflakes and reindeer. “That’ll be $16.50.”

She let out a humph of a noise and swiped her card with discontent. Kate was watching the interaction tersely. She grabbed at the closest book when Clara turned and glowered at her. Gardening suddenly became the most interesting thing in Kate’s peripheral.

“I see you’re still trotting around with your fake fling.” Clara slid the bag towards herself.

“Oh no, Kate and I are very much involved.”

“I don’t see how a relationship can be built on a lie.” She frowned.

“Didn’t Steven tell you he owned the L.A Country Club?”

She snapped her jaw shut and tucked the book under her arm. Clara had the posture of a ruler and maintained it as she let out a huff and stalked past you both. Kate gave a delicate wave but held her tongue as Clara walked from the shop and vanished into the crowds the setting sun in winter could bring.

There was a collective exhale of breath as you slumped over the counter. “Oh, fucking God.”

Kate reshelved the book before wrapping you in her arms, you buried your nose into the crook of her neck, breathing her in. “You did amazing, darling, truly. I would have hopped over that counter and… it’s not important what I would have done.”

“You know what this means, right?”

“That we have to up the security.”

“Well, yes, but she’s going to tell my mother.”

“Not your mother.”

Yes, your mother. Who would undoubtedly show up just as Clara had, but with a purpose. You’d seen her do it with your aunt when you were six years old. They had a similar blow-out that lasted much longer than yours had. Her name was forbidden in the house until that desire to reconnect reared its ugly head and she stuck around for another holiday season before crystal glasses and Christmas bulbs started flying, your aunt a stranger again.

Kate gently grabbed both sides of your face. “We can handle this, okay? You are a best-selling author. You’re dating one of the coolest girls in New York City, not to brag.”

“Very humble, Katie.”

She chuckled and soothed the color in your cheeks with her thumbs. “Fuck your family and whatever they throw at us. We’re unstoppable.”

You kissed her, tasting the caramel coffee against her lips. She hummed into the embrace and pulled you back into a comforting hug. You really hoped she was right, but you had a sneaking suspicion that this Christmas was going to be hell.

[gamergirlboy]

July indie horror impressions

Playing a lot of indie horror lately, if you are looking for something of this genre consider grabbing one of these on steam in the next sale. I'm learning that if you love Silent Hill, there are better games out there for you than what you will probably encounter in the upcoming remake (yes I am a hater).

An English Haunting 

Crow Country

Murder House

An English Haunting (2024)

Another point & click adventure from Postmodern Adventures. I liked it a lot! This is another perfect steam deck game for fans of the genre that enjoy vibing with cozy horror. The vibe is perfect for anyone who has ever gone through an Edgar Allan Poe phase. While I would not rate it higher than Nightmare Frames, I found this game deeply charming. I love the little horror trivia game in the bookstore especially. I don’t think this genre gets enough love or attention in general. 7/10 

Crow Country (2024)

I grabbed this one despite the not so generous sale (it’s a $20 game, I got it a few dollars off) because the survival horror community has been gushing about it since it released, and I’d had my eye on it previously after watching someone play the demo. I thought it was overhyped at first, but it actually owns so much. Despite being a little on the short side, I found everything about the formula to be satisfying and entertaining. The gameplay is very Silent Hill and Resident Evil as many indie survival horror games are, but it manages to embody its own ideas, the end result being a modern ps1 horror game with its own identity. I liked the story, but the sound design blew me away. The puzzles were engaging. The vibe off the charts. 9/10 

Murder House (2020)

Absolutely despised this game when I played the tutorial, but slowly I started to respect what this game does the more I pushed through it. The gameplay is more true to older survival horror games in that the next steps are always not that obvious, and you’re being actively hunted for most of the game, which genuinely terrified me. I hadn’t played a game with tank controls in a while, so trying to remember how to do combat with those controls was hard for me. I found it very fun even though the difficulty was a little frustrating - and I can appreciate the difficulty is part of what makes it special. Even finding a weapon requires you to put some work in, and at certain points I had to look up what the key in my inventory unlocked because running around a dark house knowing I could get grabbed at any moment with only three saves available to me was stressful - but I think that’s part of the charm! I don’t need every new game to totally reject the game philosophies of the 90s, but I know some people hate that formula. The puzzles were fun and the characters were ridiculous. Being terrified in a game with ps1 graphics was refreshing. 7.5/10 

[norirosewrites]

Indie Bookstore Adventures: San Marcos Edition

My partner lives in San Marcos, Texas, which is about an hour drive from where I currently reside in north Austin, and we alternate visits with each other on weekends. While I'm more of the reader between the two of us, we both share a love for all things goth, horror and spooky. So when I discovered that there's a new independent bookshop called Triple Six Social less than a ten minutes drive from his place specializing in All Of The Above...well, you can imagine my reaction. 😂

First of all, Triple Six Social is not just a bookstore: it's also a witch shop, oddities curio, and coffee bar. Because they just recently opened (as of this post), they don't have a huge selection of books just yet, but they had some very interesting titles on the paranormal and spooky history, as well as a good collection of works from well-known horror writers. They also had a really nice selection of children's books as well!

They also carry a variety of goods and witchy supplies from local and regional artists and creators, including some horror-themed soaps and some of the best smelling wax melts we've ever come across in our lives.

(By the way, I know the artist who makes those prints – in fact, I found out about Triple Six Social because they shared it on their Instagram story! You can give them a follow and see more of their beautiful work on IG at @bekkabakerart!)

They also have a small curio room with some cool oddities (including this beautiful taxidermy mountain lion), as well as a small theatre room for horror movie nights, tarot readings, and special events. They even have a small haunted museum at the back of the building! There is a $10 fee for the museum so we decided to skip it for our first visit, but they do offer free museum days once a month so we definitely plan on returning!

Right now, their coffee bar is donation-based. They had some standard espresso options and a few specialty drinks on the menu (my partner got a Victorian London fog and I got some cherry blossom green tea) and told us that they plan to expand the menu soon to include snacks as well as beer and wine.

All in all it was a fabulous first visit. The staff was so friendly and while their stock is small at the moment, I'm really excited to see how this rad little shop grows. I have a feeling it will definitely become one of our go-to spots in SMTX!

(Ain't we cute? 😂)

[laurensbookshelves]

Why I Create Book Content

What is content creation? According to Conductors website content creation is "the process of identifying a new topic you want to write about, deciding which form you want the content to create, formalizing your strategy, then producing it." (Bhutani, 2023). I fall under the category of being a content creator - albeit a very small one. However, that means I make and create videos or posts specifically surrounding books. Now you might be asking - "Lauren, why would you make content around books? Isn't the act of reading dying?" To which I would repsond that reading is one of the things that saved my life and countless others as well. Books allow us to be taken out of the real world and into a new one, where we can let ourselves and our imagination run wild without bearing the consequences of the characters actions. However, if you find a really good book you may get sucked in enough that the characters feelings morph into your own.

Books are one of the things that changed my life which is how I ended up in English Literature at Trent University, although that's a whole other story for another time. As a young teen girl growing up in the 2000s I was exposed to the internet at such a young age and was given such easy access to it by the time I was twelve. That exposure led me to countless Youtube videos of teenage girls who read books and shared their love of reading on the internet. Growing up I'd always imagined myself doing the same, but some complications arose because I was a slow reader, which made me insecure to share my feelings so openly towards others. In 2020 - a time we all remember well, when the pandemic broke out, I found myself scrolling for hours on Tiktok and found myself on Booktok, a very niche side of the internet that shared everyone's love of reading. I was so excited to watch people's videos on the books they'd read that month, or the special editions they had accumulated, and especially the book hauls, and I remember thinking to myself, "maybe now's you're time to give this social media thing a go." A few weeks later I created and made my first video titled "The Books I Read in October and My Ratings", a lengthy title I know... The video was most definitely out of focus in some parts and my camera work was shaky, but it ignited a new passion I didn't think I had in me. I've since then kept posting and have gained over 500 followers on Tiktok and 200 on Instagram. I've had books sent to me, and most recently I became apart of Simon and Schuster's influencer program, meaning they'll send me arcs of books not yet released in exchange for my thoughts and opinions. All of these amazing opportunities have arose because of one common factor - social media and its power.

Booktok has allowed me to connect with people over the books I enjoy, through the content I'm creating. It has permitted me to design my page to however and whatever I desire, while also making it incredibly easy to change if that aesthetic no longer fits me. Booktok in itself has had a massive impact on the sales of books but also in gaining traction to bookstores, both independently and chains. Not only has it boosted the sales, but it's also had an impact on the types of books being produced, cover designs, preferred tropes and so much more. The #Booktok in itself has been used over 183.6 billion times, and that number is going up as you read this! It has formed a community, which in turn has helped millions of authors and publishers because the platforms like Tiktok permit us the accessibility in which we can receive arcs, or form partnerships with authors and publishers. It has also led to aspiring authors or indie authors the possibility to have their work seen amongst a larger audience - all by making a minute long video talking about what your book is about.

We all hear teachers nowadays talk about how advanced technology is, and how easy it is to find resources, but what about how easy it is to create something for the world and have it instantaneously change your life. For many young people like myself social media has made that possible. In an article written by Forbes, titled, "The Power of Social Media to Capture Today's Consumer" Julie Meredith comments, "The fluid nature of social media makes it the perfect launchpad for storytelling, product launches and new initiatives" (Meredith 2022). It's clear that when it comes to businesses or people wanting create a business, social media becomes a critical option to consider because of how easy it is to promote your business or yourself. With the right hashtags and being able to understand your audience, a person can find easy success among these platforms. An added benefit to content creation, or at least it's a benefit in my eyes, is that you can create whatever you want while also providing your audience with their desires, you just need to first find your audience. That's why visuals are so important because Social media has also allowed for us to use visuals in order to draw in an audience or in building a brand which can help to inspire their audience. Because of technology we are also given real time stats on how are videos and posts are doing, and in what regions they are most popular, which helps us to see our targeted audience.

Works Cited

Allie BhutaniAllie leads the Brand team at Conductor managing content. “What Is Content Creation? 3 Steps to Creating Web Content.” Conductor, www.conductor.com/academy/content-creation/. Accessed 5 Oct. 2023.

Meredith, Julie. “Council Post: The Power of Social Media to Capture Today’s Consumer.” Forbes, Forbes Magazine, 12 Oct. 2022, www.forbes.com/sites/forbescommunicationscouncil/2020/06/25/the-power-of-social-media-to-capture-todays-consumer/?sh=6c99ef19789e.

[writing-in-april]

Solaris

Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

This is vaguely inspired by @imagining-in-the-margins part 9 of Here To Misbehave - go check it out it’s amazing!

Warnings- NSFW, public sex, oral sex (male receiving), fingering, swearing

A/N- There are real quotes from the movie in here but may not be in cinematic order, I got them from a quote website. Also the real Solaris movie is not 5 hours and is 166 minutes (it just feels ridiculously long).   

Masterlist

 Italics are Spencer’s translations.                                      

Spencer and I rarely had a chance to have date nights, because of our jobs we usually grabbed every spare little moment. Usually that resulted in spur of the moment 15 minute dates when we finally had some alone time away from the team. Luckily for our stressed out minds Hotch had finally put his foot down on letting the team have some vacation time. I still am not sure how he got Strauss to agree to a two week vacation.

The two of us now had two weeks to do whatever we wanted, so we agreed to a plan, Spencer would plan the first week and I would do the next. He had been tight lipped about all of his plans until we made our way to the car and he finally broke. He confessed that we were going to see an old film he loved- a Russian film to be exact from 1972 called Solaris.

Spencer always planned out the quirkiest dates, while most people would be put off by movies that I couldn’t even understand or bookstores that were filled with academic books, it made him even more special in my eyes. During the entire ride to the cinema he gave me various facts about this obnoxiously long movie we were about to see (5 hours to be exact), letting me in on all the knowledge he kept up in his gorgeous brain.

“Did you know that the film was written Andrei Tarkovsky and Fridrikh Gorenshtein to attempt to give sci-fi films more emotional depth? They viewed western works in the genre as shallow due to their focus on technological inventions.”  He rambled out at impressive speed as we pulled up to the small rundown cinema. Spencer often planned out dates here because they willingly showed foreign and obscure indie films, which he found more appealing over mainstream blockbusters. Plus the yellow tinged cinema lights and old time ticket booths gave off a vintage vibe that we both reveled in.

We made our way up to the ticket booth, my heels making Spencer slow his lanky strides significantly. I could tell he really wanted to sprint to get inside as quick as possible, he hadn’t seen this film in forever and it was one of his favorites. We finally reached the gate where a obviously bored teenage worker took our money and seemingly rolled his eyes at the movie we said we were watching. To a teenager what kind of couple would consider an old Russian film as a romantic movie. We grabbed our tickets, egregiously priced soda and a large popcorn that was probably going to be confiscated by Spencer halfway through the movie.

The theatre was completely empty, not surprising considering how obscure the film was. Spencer picked out seats right in the middle which gave us the best view of the large screen. I sat down in the plush red velvet vintage seats plopping down my soda into the cup holder and letting myself get comfortable. Spencer sat to the left of me already claiming the popcorn for himself as we snuggled up to prepare for the 5 hour movie we were about to watch.

The film started right on time, there weren’t any commercials (for once) and Spencer leaned in close to me to begin translating the film once he realized there were no subtitles. He seemed almost giddy to translate every word that I was undoubtedly missing that I was sincerely glad that the theatre hadn’t turned on subtitles. I loved seeing Spencer happy over quirky things. Though instead of being focused on the translations my mind fixated on how seductive the situation was.

I wondered if he knew what he was doing to me, his lips were a ghost around the shell of my ear as he quietly translated the Russian film. He always carted around an innocent persona wherever he went, not letting it get sullied by his work or the countless amounts of books he read.

“You're human. Each in your own way. That's why you argue."

I could feel the wetness steadily pooling in my panties as he continued to speak, being blissfully ignorant of the naughty thoughts running rampant in my head. Only he could make a sci-fi movie from the 70s about fictional planets sound sexy.

“Who was it? She died 10 years ago." 

“What you saw was the materialization of your conception of her.”

“Incidentally, consider yourself lucky. After all she's part of your past. What if it had been something you had never seen before, but something you had thought or imagined."

His endearing innocence was almost painful, I knew he was missing the cues of my flushed cheeks, wriggling thighs, and heavy breathing. It wasn’t like we weren’t intimate as a couple but even when he was dominate I was usually the one to initiate sex. He always told me that even though we had been together for a long time he got caught up in the fact that someone wanted to fuck him. That conversation usually turned into me showing him how much I fucking loved him and how he could be shy just not insecure in our relationship.

I decided that I would have to be the one tonight to coax him into doing something in public. I had confessed before that It was one of my kinks but this would be the first time I would attempt to do it with him.

I grabbed his hand that was situated on my upper thigh and slowly dragged it up the coarse fabric of my jean shorts. Once his nimble fingers caught on the button Spencer’s brain restarted and he pulled away slightly in protest. He was feebly trying to pretend that the idea of fingering his girlfriend in a theatre wasn’t the hottest thing in the world.

“W-we shh-ouldn’t be doing this y/n!!!!” He whisper shouted at me meekly. I gripped his hand harder keeping it in position as my other hand undid the button of my shorts.

“If you’re really uncomfortable I’ll stop, but I just find the idea of doing something so risqué exciting. Don’t you?” I shot right back at him with a coy smile and I knew I had him right where I wanted him. He still looked hesitant but started to move his hand under my shorts on his own. I gasped quietly as his fingers bypassed my shorts and snuck right under my panties. His full attention was on me now totally forgetting his previous job of translating the film for me. He finally breached my folds feeling just how wet he had gotten me just from translating an obscure Russian film.

“See how wet I am Spence? It’s all for you.” I purred, grinding my hips onto his hand to try and gain some delicious friction. He seemed to be in a trance his only goal to please me, his gorgeous fingers started to circle around my entrance teasing me ever so slightly.

“Spencer stop teasing if you aren’t prepared to be punished” My threat got through to him and he slowly entered his middle finger making me quietly moan out. I grabbed the back of his neck and pulled him into a heated kiss to muffle my moans. The kiss was all tongue and teeth as he curled his finger to hit my g-spot which made me gasp into his mouth.

“More Spence-“

He thankfully listened to my plead and added another finger, my walls stretched around them giving me pain added with pleasure. To give me even more stimulation his thumb found my clit running in tight circles. I was approaching my orgasm almost embarrassingly quickly, Spencer knew my body better then I did at this point. Both of my hands pulled at his hair trying to force him as close as possible to my body. I screwed my eyes shut as I was shoved off the proverbial cliff. I could hear the faint sounds of Russian scientists from the film in the background which only added to the high, the idea of getting caught just made it so much better.

Spencer continued to stimulate my clit until I rode out my high, he then turned back to the film. He was trying to hide the fact that he was rock hard from watching me fall apart in a matter of minutes on his fingers. An evil idea snuck inside my brain, he had given me an orgasm but I wasn’t done with him yet. After I had recovered My hand moved over from my lap and gripped his thigh mimicking his earlier position. He hadn’t started translating the film again and was uncharacteristically silent. I waited for a few minutes before I enacted my plan the only thing I was doing was slowly inching my hand up his thigh.

“Start translating the film again pretty boy” I whispered while pawing at the button on his pants, I wanted to repay the favor of a mind blowing orgasm. He looked at me with slight hesitation when I dropped down to the floor but he was to far gone to stop me at this point.

“Y-yoou want to destroy that which we are presently incapable of underssstanding? Forgive me but am not advocate of knowledge at any price."

I smirked to myself as I freed him from the confines of his slacks and boxers, his translations had become a stuttering mess and I hadn’t even touched him yet. He was already painfully hard, the head was an angry red with precum dribbling down. I firmly gripped him relishing in the little gasp that already escaped his mouth.

“Spencer we are in public, your going to have to only translate if you want me to touch you at all” My voice took on a deadly sinister tone reserved for unsubs or Spencer when he was being particularly subby.

He nodded and I fully immersed myself into giving him the best blowjob of his life. I slowly dragged my tongue up his length savoring every time he choked on his words, his thighs were tensing and his hands were white knuckle gripped around the arm rests. My mouth then finally fully enveloped his length finally giving him the relief he was looking for. As I began to take him further into my mouth his quiet whispers jumped an octave, he didn’t let himself moan, he knew what kind of punishment he would get if he dared to break my rules. The head of his member hit the back of my throat and spit started to drool out of my mouth, I looked up at him menacingly, daring him moan out.

“Remember Tol-stoy? His suffffering over the impossibility of loving mankind as a whole? How much time has passed since then? Somehow I ca-nn’t figure it out. Help meeee-Fffuck! Y/N!”

He whimpered out, I smirked around his length in satisfaction- I had broken him. I evilly released his length with a pop, he whined pathetically in protest at the loss of stimulation.

“If you had just followed the rules baby boy maybe I would’ve let you cum” I teased while sliding back into the theatre chair and turned back pretending to enjoy the rest of the movie. He still hadn’t torn his beautiful caramel eyes away from me, it almost looked like he was going to cry.

“Please Y/n I’ve been so good until now! I made you cum earlier, please please!!” He was unashamedly begging now, I quirked my eyebrow in surprise, he usually didn’t beg this fast. I leaned over to whisper in his ear mirroring his position from earlier.

“I’ll let you off easy this time pretty boy- but- when we get home you better put in the work and please me. Understand?” His head bobbed up and down eagerly, he was relieved he would actually be able to cum tonight. I dropped back down to my previous position in front of him and took him back into my mouth, he immediately went back to translating the film not wanting to get edged for the second time that night. One of my hands gripped his hips while the other felt underneath his boxers and caressed his balls, I could tell he was close. He came soon after in hot spurts down my throat, I swallowed every drop while I looked up in awe at him savoring how I made him fall apart. Spencer’s breath was ragged as he came down from his salacious climax, I tucked him back into his slacks and once again sat back into the plush velvet seats.

“Holy fuck” he said uncharacteristically after he snapped out of his reverie.

“Shh, Spence I’m watching the film!” I said cheekily, he glared back at me with a glint in his eye. I could tell even though he initially protested he thoroughly loved our carnal adventure. Spencer resumed his translating and I was surprised that we were only around halfway through the movie.

Once the movie was over we passed through the cinema as quick as possible ready to continue the nights adventures at home as promised. We got into Spencer’s Volvo and he stopped to stare at me for a moment before we left the parking lot. My eyebrows furrowed as i looked at him curiously wondering why he suddenly paused.

“See, I love you. But love is a feeling we can experience but never explain. One can explain the concept. You love that which you can lose: Yourself, a woman, a homeland. Until today, love was simply unattainable to mankind, to the earth. Maybe we are here to experience people as a reason for love." I recognized the quote from the movie we had just seen, and even though we said declarations of love often this one felt a little more special.

“I love you too Spence” I said through my watering eyes. He gave me a loving smile and started the car so we could go home to continue the night.

—————

[gatheringbones]

adam hochschild, bury the chains: prophets and rebels in the fight to free an empire’s slaves, mariner books, 2005:

“Latin and Greek competitions were a centerpiece of British university life. As with the Heisman trophy or a Rhodes scholarship today, to win one was to gain an honor that would be bracketed with your name for a lifetime. Decades later, for example, people still remembered that Lord Mansfield had won a major Latin poetry prize at Oxford, defeating his lifelong rival and a future prime minister, the elder William Pitt, who made a fatal spelling error. 

One entrant in Peckard’s Latin contest was a twenty-five-year-old divinity student, Thomas Clarkson, attending Cambridge on a special scholarship for the sons of deceased clergymen. (...)  In 1784, Thomas Clarkson had won a lower-ranking Latin prize and now, in 1785, he was competing for the big one; no student had ever managed to take them both. He had two months to research and write the essay. With the thoroughness and energy that would characterize his life, Clarkson read all he could find, managed to get access to the papers of a slave merchant who had recently died, and sought out several British officers returned from the American war, where they had seen slavery firsthand. One of these was his younger brother, John, a lieutenant who had served on ships in the West Indies, where many slaves worked as Royal Navy stevedores and dockyard laborers. 

Clarkson had entered the essay competition with only a student’s ambitions. “I had no motive but that which other young men in the University had on such occasions; namely, the wish of . . . obtaining literary honour.” Unexpectedly, as he marshaled his evidence, he found himself overwhelmed with horror. “In the day-time I was uneasy. In the night I had little rest. I sometimes never closed my eye-lids for grief. . . . I always slept with a candle in my room, that I might rise out of bed and put down such thoughts as might occur to me in the night . . . conceiving that no arguments of any moment should be lost in so great a cause.” His essay won first prize. Clarkson read it aloud in Latin to an audience at the university’s majestic Senate House, where such ceremonies are still held today. His studies finished, already a deacon in the Church of England, he mounted the horse he owned to head for London and for what seemed a promising career. (...) 

Riding to the capital in the black garb of a clergyman-to-be, he found himself, to his surprise, thinking neither of his prospects in the church nor of the pleasure of winning the prize. It was slavery itself that “wholly engrossed my thoughts. I became at times very seriously affected while upon the road. I stopped my horse occasionally, and dismounted and walked. I frequently tried to persuade myself in these intervals that the contents of my Essay could not be true. The more however I reflected upon them, or rather upon the authorities on which they were founded, the more I gave them credit.” These feelings grew more intense at the midpoint of his journey, as he was riding down a long hill towards a coach station where the road crossed the River Rib. “Coming in sight of Wades Mill in Hertfordshire, I sat down disconsolate on the turf by the roadside and held my horse. Here a thought came into my mind, that if the contents of the Essay were true, it was time some person should see these calamities to their end.” (...) 

Long months of doubt followed his roadside moment of revelation. Could a lone, inexperienced young man have “that solid judgment . . . to qualify him to undertake a task of such magnitude and importance;—and with whom was I to unite?” But each time he doubted, the result was the same: “I walked frequently into the woods, that I might think on the subject in solitude, and find relief to my mind there. But there the question still recurred, ‘Are these things true?’—Still the answer followed as instantaneously ‘They are.’—Still the result accompanied it, ‘Then surely some person should interfere.’” Only gradually, it seems, did it dawn on him that he was that person. With the help of his brother, he translated his Latin essay into English, expanded it, and decided to publish it. Visiting one well-known London publisher, he was disappointed to find that the man wanted to print the essay only because it had won the prize and would therefore be read by “persons of taste.” Clarkson, however, was already thinking like an activist. “I was not much pleased with his opinion. I wished the Essay to find its way . . . among such as would think and act with me.” Turning down the offer, he left the publisher’s office and was walking to a friend’s house when, in the street outside the Royal Exchange, he ran into a Quaker friend of his family. The man greeted him warmly and said Clarkson was just the person he was looking for. Why hadn’t he published that antislavery essay of his?

Together they walked to the printing shop and bookstore of James Phillips, in George Yard, just a few blocks away in the warren of narrow, curving streets of London’s business district. In those days, publishing, printing, and bookselling often happened under the same roof (with the printer and his family likely to be living upstairs and a cow and a few hens out back), and this was the work that the forty-year-old Phillips did for his fellow Quakers. Clarkson took an immediate liking to him, and on the spot he agreed to let Phillips publish the essay. This was the day that Clarkson discovered he was not alone.”

[softscholasticism]

•delilah, darling•

rami malek x oc | ch. 2

a/n: ahh im so sorry that i made y’all emotional with the first chapter... um this one isnt any better... sorry?? anyway, once again, thank you so much for reading, THANK YOU FOR 500 FOLLOWERS, and if you’d like to be tagged please let me know:) AND THANK YOU FOR BEING SO PATIENT

word count: 6k+

warnings: angst, manipulative boyfriend, and deacy gets super pissed at the end so yeah. ALSO MARY DOESN’T OWN GARDEN LODGE OR EXIST IN THIS UNIVERSE, BC FICTION. also this chapter isn’t that great so i guess that’s another warning.

chapter one

C H A P T E R T W O: you get away with murder

Summer, 2010

The Garden Lodge was quiet this morning. Delilah had received the Lodge from Uncle Fred in his will along with a rather large sum of money. Jim had lived with her for as long as he could until he had passed at the beginning of the year. She lived a quiet life, mourning the loss of so  many people in her life. Even with Freddie’s death being so traumatic for her, she couldn’t be prepared for Jim’s death. She had been with him right until the end just as he had been there for Freddie. She had spent the last 6 months going through the motions of life, using a scheduled life as a distraction from the emptiness of her Godfather and Jim’s passing.

She hadn’t been the same since November 24, 1991 and it showed. She barely talked to her family and only spoke to Phoebe, Roger, Brian and her parents when she put it in her schedule. Of course, her parents understood, John had stepped down from his position in Queen due to Fred’s death becoming too much for him as well as needing to focus on his family and being there for them. The only thing that kept Delilah going was the small, golden locket that hung from her neck. Delilah was a woman now, no longer the little girl that been playful and so loving, she believed she had been a woman since Freddie’s passing. She longed for hope and joy she had once found in her Godfather, she wanted it so desperately but she didn’t know how.

On a day like today, Delilah had planned to go through her typical regiment. She woke up, drank coffee, read a book, gardened, ate lunch, read some more, call one of her uncles and her dad, ate dinner, went to bed but not before curling up with tears shining in her blue eyes.

When Delilah was eight, she remembered Freddie talking about the “in-between moments” where life is just kind of mundane and thoughts aren’t distracted by activities. In her 29 years of age, she now understood what her Uncle was talking about. She shrunk back into her mind, allowing memories of her past to overwhelm her. Delilah pretended that her blanket was a pair of arms, trying to form some kind of comfort  and fill the void that had raged upon her. The void filled her like a wildfire, the flames swallowing every sense of peace she had and left her with ashes of her past. She could try to pretend like everything was okay, but once she wasn’t distracted her thoughts came back to haunt her, breaking her heart all over again.

Something was different about this day however, Delilah was out gardening, the sound of tourists coming to visit the lodge and leaving presents or notes to her Uncle. She didn’t mind however. Delilah understood what is was like to mourn, so it didn’t bother her that people came to leave anecdotes about Freddie, in fact she thought it was lovely. People saw just how special Fred was in the same way that Delilah did, so who was she to deprive people of expressing their feelings when she felt the same way? The brunette enjoyed hearing people singing to the Garden Lodge or just the white noise of people reminiscing about her Godfather while she gardened. So here she was, picking some weeds out from the flower bed, softly smiling at the buzz of Garden Lodge. She worked quietly, her hair pulled back in a braid due to the Deacon gene of fluffy hair, the other workers in the Lodge moved around as well, gardening or cleaning amongst other jobs.

Suddenly, the shrill ring of the telephone roared over the tourists and workers, taking Delilah out of her focus, a worker came and fetched her saying that it was her father. Delilah’s eyebrows furled in confusion, typically she was the one to call him after she had finished her work in the lodge. John knew that she needed to keep her schedule and that she didn’t much like change in order to stay sane, so Delilah figured this was something important. Her stomach dropped at that thought, the last time someone called her it was always brought bad memories. Calls always meant that someone had passed or became sick or would ask her about Freddie. She liked to start the calls because it gave her control over the conversation, distracting her from the in-between moments that she hated.

Solemnly, she nodded her head, taking her gloves off she walked inside to the phone that the worker was carrying. Taking a deep breath, she spoke, “Hi, Dad.” Her heart was beating rather quickly in anxiety, not knowing how to react to this change in her daily regiment.

“Delilah, darling!” Delilah winced at the nickname, not wanting to think of where her family had coined that phrase. “I’m sorry for calling you so early, but I wanted to ask you something.” John was nervous, his niece had voiced her dislike of change but he wanted her to live, not just go through each day doing the same thing over and over again. He didn’t want her to become like him and he was afraid that that had already happened.

“That’s quite alright, Dad, I was just gardening. What’s up?” Her hands were shaking, this was so different, she despised different. John proceeded to explain that he needed a book to read that someone had told him about, of course, John couldn’t go and get it himself because he much preferred to stay home. He mentioned that all of her other siblings were either gone or busy and couldn’t go get it and that she was the only one who could do it. “What about Mum, couldn’t she go get it for you?” Delilah knew how busy her siblings always were, so she understood, but the idea of leaving Garden Lodge was a daunting task.

“No, no your mother has friends over. Please could you do this for me, Delilah?” John felt horrible. In fact, he didn’t need the bloody book at all. He just wanted her to get out of that house and do something. “You could go to that one coffee place you’ve been dying to try because they have special type of milk they use in their drinks. And yes, Bri and Rog did tell me that you talked about wanting to go by it, so I know that you want to go.” And there it was, Delilah knew why he called. He might’ve needed the book but she knew how badly he wanted her to go out and away from the  place that haunted her dreams. A somber feeling washed over her, her father just wanted her to get better, he understood her best and she recognized his desire for her happiness when he probably was feeling the same as she was.

Delilah nodded her head, “Of course, Dad. I’ll go get it for you and the coffee, I’ll grab one for you too if you’d like?” John laughed in victory and did a little happy dance around his telephone, expressing how that bringing him coffee would be lovely. He told her how proud he was of her and to be careful. Delilah shook her head as she giggled at her father’s antics and told him goodbye. She told the worker to fetch her car and soon she was off, the people in front of the lodge recognized her and tried to get close but she was faster. While she did appreciate their love for her uncle, she didn’t want to be hounded by them.

The ride to the bookstore was calm, on the inside she was freaking out at her schedule change but it felt almost rebellious in a way. Her fingers shook with excitement as she parked, stepping out the air felt lighter. The bookstore was a petite building, the inside was warm. As she walked around looking at the Lodge, Delilah realized that the Lodge had begun to grow cold, yes, she had the workers company along with her two dogs, but it still felt so empty. She knew why it felt empty, but she wanted to hold onto the memories that were held in Garden Lodge so she stayed in it. The small store had bookcases that touched the ceiling and had multiple bean bags or couches so people could sit and read. It brought back a childlike awareness that she barely let herself experience.

After grabbing the book her father needed, she walked around for much longer than she needed to, buying multiple novels in the process so she could have more to read in the Lodge. She had already been through most of the books in the Library that Freddie had turned one of the cat’s rooms into, the ones she hadn’t read were either things she read as a teenager or were silly things like dictionaries or encyclopedias that she had no patience for. Once Delilah had purchased all of the books she acquired, she began her walk to the coffee shop. Luckily it was a block away so she didn’t need to drive over there.

A soft clicking noise sounded from across the street, Delilah didn’t think anything of it though. She walked inside the coffee shop and was immediately hit by the strong smell of espresso, soft indie music playing in the background. Much like the bookstore, this coffee shop was so warm and cozy. There was also an upstairs spot that was considered a study area and had whiteboards and bean bags as well as couches with too many pillows. She had barely been in the building for five minutes and she was in love. Delilah still felt uncomfortable with being out in public but she was comforted by the soft atmosphere.

Making her way to the cashier, she was  met by one of the most beautiful men she’s ever laid eyes upon. He was tall around the same height as Uncle Brian probably. He skin was a deep brown, his eyes the same color, he was muscular too, much to her appreciation. “Excuse me, can I help you?” Delilah blushed and quickly apologized, not realizing that she had been staring for much too long. The man, Charles as his name tag provided, laughed lightly at her demeanor, saying that he didn’t mind. “What would you like?” Charles was intrigued, the woman had looked familiar and it did help that she was quite gorgeous.

Delilah, wanting to escape from her embarrassment, asked for a simple latte, something she was familiar with and comfortable with ordering. She rapidly paid and made her way to one of the small, two person tables, waiting patiently for her drink while wallowing in her distress. Delilah realized she had allowed herself to get stuck in her brain again because suddenly, Charles was sitting in front of her, holding her drink. She jumped practically out of her seat, not at all easing her nerves in front of this gorgeous specimen.

At first glance, Charles thought the woman was unique, she seemed shy and reserved, immediately he wanted to get to know her better. She seemed familiar and he couldn’t understand why. Maybe she had been to one of his gigs with his band or maybe she worked somewhere local, Charles couldn’t place his finger on it. He placed the drink in front of her and asked if they had met before.

“Oh, I don’t think so,” she laughed, hand covering her mouth, “I tend to stay at my home, I’m just running an errand for my father.” Charles nodded, understanding that people could seem familiar but really had never met.

“I see, you don’t explore the town?” The man winked, he had started to get where he wanted to go, the woman was attractive and sweet, he figured a date would be fun. As he waited for a response, Delilah nodded her head, because it was true, she never explored the city, she wanted to but it was too much of a risk for someone to recognize her and too often she saw something that reminded her of Jim and her Godfather, it was too much for her  to handle. Charles however, a man she had just met, who seemed interested in her, was proposing an excuse to leave the Lodge, in a flirty manner at that.

“No, I suppose I don’t, but I would like an excuse to, I perhaps.” Delilah flirted back, her hand sliding towards his own. He noticed what she was doing and knew he was on the right track to what he wanted. Charles stood and grasped her hand, kissing it lightly.

“I’m afraid I have to go back to work, but I’m free on Saturday.” A blush rose to Delilah’s cheeks, she sipped her latte and nodded. She had never been in a relationship before due to her being scared her heart was going to be ripped apart even more than it already had been. But Brian and Rog had been adamant that she needed friends or even a boyfriend, she figured she would make them proud.

Charles knew he had to initiate because this woman was so shy but he didn’t mind. “Let’s say seven o’clock?” He grabbed a napkin and wrote his number on it, handing it to her, enjoying the redness that fluttered and grew deeper than humanly possible. Delilah nodded, grateful that Charles left her to her coffee as she tried to comprehend what had just happened.

The brown-haired girl turned the napkin over, blue ink scribbled across but could clearly read a number and the words “see ya on saturday, love xx”. For the first time, in what seemed like forever, Delilah had plans during the weekend, something she hasn’t allowed herself to have since Fred’s death.

She called Brian and Roger immediately, realizing she had to figure out what one did on a date.

SATURDAY

“Love, you need to hurry up or else you’ll be late.” Roger exclaimed, not helping with Delilah’s stress levels, Brian was currently deciding which shoes his niece should wear. Delilah had settled the plans with Charles over text, they were going to meet at the coffee shop and he would drive them to the restaurant. Delilah suggested somewhere small and local, preferably not busy as well as them meeting up at a neutral site. She didn’t quite trust him yet to expose where she lived. Luckily, he complied and told her not to worry about dressing up either, he was adamant that she was comfortable for their first date.

Brian settled on some white chelsea boots to go with the high waisted Levi’s and coral blouse. He grabbed the shoes and walked over to where the brown haired woman was sitting and handed the shoes to her. Delilah smiled softly, adding the finishing touches to her look before putting the boots on with shaking hands.

Delilah had never allowed herself to get close to anyone besides her immediate family including Brian, Rog, and Phoebe. She had tried to a few times previously but everyone just wanted to meet her dad or ask her uncomfortable, intimate questions about Freddie that she didn’t have the strength to answer. So, she gave up the pleasure of having friends and kept to herself. But now Delilah was nearing thirty, it was time she broke out of her shell and make her life more worthwhile than the same repeated schedule every day.

“Alright, I think I need to get going. Are you guys going to hang out here for a while? You’re more than welcome to stay of course.” Delilah stood, grabbing her keys and purse, wringing her hands in nerves.

“Yeah, love. We’ll stay here just in case you need anything.” Roger wrapped an arm around the woman, kissing her cheek. They were just as nervous as she was, Delilah had been through so much heartbreak in her life and Roger as well as Brian didn’t think she could handle another one.

A huge weight was lifted off of Delilah’s shoulders, she had her uncles to watch over her just in case anything had gone awry and she couldn’t be more grateful for them. With this release of tension, Delilah kissed and hugged both of her uncles and set off, the workers all wishing her good luck as they finished up their duties and head back to their homes.

The drive to the cafe was much easier this time, Delilah knew what she was doing and hadn’t felt this excited about something in, forever it seemed like. As she parked, she saw Charles waiting for her with flowers, her favorite ones too: daisies. Delilah had no clue how he had known that she loved daisies but she didn’t care because here was an extremely attractive man, with flowers for her, about to take her to dinner, what more could she want?

“Hi, love,” Charles voice was even more smooth than it had been when she had first met him. He looked at her up and down as he approached her, “my do you look absolutely ravishing.” He sighed, kissing her cheek before presenting the flowers. Delilah’s blush wrapped around her cheeks to her ears, flattered by the show of affection of an outsider which of course, Charles was very excited to see the rosiness appear.

“We have reservations soon and it’s about a five minute walk, is that alright?” Delilah was still quiet, her nerves trying to dampen but she let out a smile and nodded. He brought his arm out for her to grab and together the two walked to a small restaurant that seemed extremely modern, but not noisy or busy much to Delilah’s appreciation. A waiter brought them to their table, the restaurant had a warm vibe to it as the couple sat down. The tables were a dark wood, one soft light over their heads along with a candle placed on the table. It was everything Delilah would dream of for a first date location-wise. So far, she was quite impressed with Charles decisions.

“Thank you for bringing me here and the flowers.” Delilah spoke softly, placing her hair behind her ear. Charles smiled one of the whitest smiles she had ever seen and put his hand in hers across the table.

“You deserve everything and more.” Delilah could melt into the chair and would be perfectly fine. Together they continued dinner, making conversation. Both were asking questions about each other’s family but Delilah was delighted when she realized that Charles wasn’t prying. That may have been because he didn’t know her past or who she was associated with or that he could tell that family was a tough subject for her. He never ever pushed her and she couldn’t feel more satisfied with this date so far.

His eyes shifted to her locket, he remembered seeing it the first time he had seen her, he figured that she wore it often. “I like your locket, where’s it from?” He saw her hand move towards the locket,  the light glinting off of the golden jewelry. It looked old, worn from use. It took her a while before she spoke, when she looked at him, her eyes were watery and Charles was worried he hit a soft spot.

“I got it from my Uncle when I was 10, he passed away a little after that.” Delilah sniffed and looked back down at the locket, twisting the chain in her long fingers. Charles grasped her chin, he didn’t say anything because he didn’t know what to say. His family was large, he didn’t know what it was like to lose someone so close. So, he figured just being there for her would suffice. Again, he didn’t pry because he felt as though it wasn’t his place.

Delilah was at a loss of words, on one end, her heart was aching at having to think about the loss of Freddie but the  other end was filled with so much joy because Charles didn’t try to make her feel better, he didn’t try to ask what happened or try to make the loss seem less than it was. He just proceeded to care for her and hold her, and for Delilah that was enough.

The date ended with Delilah insisting she paid for dessert. Charles had done so much and treated her with so much care, Delilah couldn’t remember the last time she had this much fun as well as how nice it was to have a companion that was relatively the same age instead of 60 year old rock stars (even though she loved them more than anything). After paying for dessert, Delilah and Charles walked out, not before Charles held the door open and placed a warm hand to her lower back. He further wrapped his arm around her leading her to her car. As the two walked closer to the car, she saw two very familiar faces waiting for her by the car thus causing Delilah’s heart to come to a full stop.

There at the end of her car was Roger and Brian. Roger Taylor, famous drummer of queen and car extraordinaire and Brian May the actual guitar hero, Delilah’s uncles.

“Oh my god.” Delilah quickly turned Charles around to face him away from them. She grabbed her phone out of her pocket and quickly realized that she had never updated Brian and Roger, she had almost 50 texts and at least 20 calls from both. Since Delilah never goes out, they worry about her constantly and like to be updated.

Delilah didn’t want to have to break the news to Charles like this, the date had been everything she wanted and so, so much more. She couldn’t bring herself to be frustrated at Brian or Rog, they were just looking out for her, Delilah’s anxiety however, was becoming a monster because this would make or break the desire of a second date.

Charles eyes drew concerned, Delilah’s whole demeanor changed within an instant. He moved to turn around and see what she was looking at but her grip was surprisingly too strong.

“Charles, I need to tell you something,” Her hands were white with how hard she was gripping him. Charles’ hands moved to her waist in order to ground the anxious woman. “You must understand that I didn’t tell you this because I was worried that you would think differently of me. It’s also not exactly my favorite subject because it brings bad memories that I would rather not think about.” Delilah continued to ramble until Charles placed his hands from her hips to her cheeks.

The woman sighed, Roger and Brian were about to approach when she shook her head, motioning for them to stop. Charles moved to see what was bothering her but again, she held him tightly. With a large inhale, she spoke.

“My family is famous.” That was so not how she had meant to word it but, it was too late. “My dad was a bass player for a band called Queen.” She watched as Charles eyes grew as wide as saucers, he realized why she had seemed so familiar from the first time he had met her. One of his musical idols is John deacon because he inspired Charles to play bass in his band. Charles had countless books and posters about Queen and read so many things on John’s bass playing, he was a very strong Queen fan. He didn’t know how he hadn’t realized it earlier but then again, this was only their second date.

He didn’t continue, not exactly knowing what to say because how does one react to the fact that they’ve got a famous girlfriend or partner. She continued to explain who her dad was and that Brian and Roger were her main source of contact since John preferred to stay quiet, which Charles knew of course from his research.

As she finished, Delilah allowed the man to turn around and come face to face with the people he had been idolizing for his entire life. Somehow during their date, the topic of Charles’ band never came up so she had no idea that he was a) a bass player or b) a huge Queen fan, so the prospect of meeting the two didn’t seem like a big deal, in the grand scheme of things.

This was it, Charles thought, this is how I’m going to be successful.

Fall, 2010

Delilah was backstage at one of Charles’ concerts, thinking about the time when he had broke her the news that he just so happened to play bass in a band and that she knew who her parents were and looked up to John. However, instead of getting the spiel about how he wanted to meet her parents, Charles respected her boundaries and allowed her to make the call for when they should meet.

The club that the gig was in was dark and filled with smoke. The only light source being the lights from the stage that bloomed with color and reflected off of the instruments and faces of the crowd. Delilah had been to many gigs, never fully in the crowd though. It was difficult at first for her boyfriend to get her to come but she came nonetheless. Charles’ concerts were much different than the ones she had been to, the crowd was only of hundreds and not hundred thousands, the band (known as Cash Only) played in very small venues with closed roof which was of course, a stark contrast to the Wembly’s and Budapest’s among other famous Queen venues. In a way, that’s what Delilah loved so much about these concerts, they didn’t allow her to think of her childhood, the just focused on music and the feeling that it brought, not the memories of Freddie’s warm hugs or encouraging words, or the luxurious things that her father and Roger would take them to do. Charles’ concerts allowed Delilah to enjoy music again.

This quickly became Delilah’s new and improved schedule, instead of staying at home all day and doing nothing, she hung out with Charles and went to lunches and fancy dinners. Delilah was content, a word she hadn’t used since in a very long time. She talked to her family more, even her siblings seemed like they wanted to talk to her! The concerts really helped to because while they were a great distraction from her past, they also let the woman pretend that for a second, just a small moment, that Delilah was back in those massive arenas with deafening screams. Delilah could pretend that Jim and Freddie were there and by the time Cash Only set was over, her blue eyes would by red from tears. Charles never questioned it, Delilah had opened up to him about her struggles with Freddie’s death as well as Jim’s. While Charles was a big Queen fan, Delilah noticed, he only ever asked about her father.

This normal schedule of concerts and hanging out would pass on for another month into the anniversary of Freddie’s death. Delilah had already told Charlie that she would prefer to be alone because she would be having her father, Rog and Brian over  the whole day. The four of them would all hang out together just supporting each other. Phoebe would come over later for supper, he much preferred to spend the day alone typically.

The morning of the anniversary rolled around like a thunderous cloud, black and thick with moisture. Delilah’s body felt heavy and her head pounded. The Lodge seemed especially empty on a day like this day. Charles had still never been to the Garden Lodge mainly for safety reasons, so it was still just the workers and Delilah. Delilah had her nails painted red in representation of AIDs awareness, sparkly of course because Freddie was known for his extravagance. The sunlight shone through the window and gleamed off of her bright red nails as she put her locket on, immediately sending her into tears of pure anguish. Her brain was going through the torturous moments of having to relive her last moments with a very sick Fred. As the years passed, missing him would never ever get any easier but this year felt especially gut-wrenching because it also meant the loss of his husband too, Jim.

By the time John had arrived, Roger and Brian were cooking breakfast, Delilah sat on a stool at the table with a large blanket surrounding her. No one spoke. No one needed to. They just needed each other’s presence and comfort to get through.

Throughout the day, the Lodge was quiet, the workers had warned them not to go outside because hundreds of mourners were at the gate of the lodge paying their respects. Delilah’s heart warmed because it didn’t matter that Freddie’s death was almost twenty years previous, he still had such an impact on such a large audience, she could never ever turn the mourners away from the Lodge if it meant that they got to pay their respects.

By the time Phoebe had shown up, the four people were sat on the couch, tears still falling silently. There was nothing to ease the hurt, their friends and family were taken and there was nothing that could bring them back.

The sky grew dark meaning this wretched day was almost over, Charles hadn’t texted Delilah all day thus bringing surprise to Delilah when she had seen that he had texted her. Don’t check the news right now. The text had said, which of course prompted the brunet to check it, she suddenly had thousands of notifications once she opened the app, after finding the culprit of all of this mayhem, a gossip organization was talking about Freddie’s death and had pictures of all of the mourners outside of the lodge when suddenly, a picture of Delilah and Charles popped up on the television.

The reporters spoke about how there were numerous sightings of the “mysterious Deacon” and further questioned where her father would be. Delilah’s heart stopped, for so long she and her father had stayed out of the limelight. Luckily, there were no pictures of her father, just ones from the 90’s. But Delilah knew how the media worked, now that someone knew something about her whereabouts, this would spiral in the frenzy of trying to figure out where not only she went burt where her father went too.

Winter, 2010

The media had stayed relatively calm, Delilah still stuck with her schedule she had created with Charles. Of course, there were still pictures but somehow Charles always ended up standing in front of her and the camera, flashing a darling smile at the paps. It confused Delilah, she didn’t understand why he felt the need to stand between her and them or that he had to give those ridiculous smiles. Delilah just kept pushing through, living life whilst attempting to get over her past.

Christmas time rolled around quicker than Delilah could’ve imagined and the inevitable question came from her boyfriend. “I think I should meet your parents.” He didn’t ask it as a question, he never did, he normally just said it and that was it. Charles’ nature almost seemed non-negotiable, Delilah was starting to feel uneasy about what kind of relationship she was in with this seemingly sweet, rugged man.

Up until Christmas came, Charles wouldn’t stop talking about how excited he was to meet the John Deacon. He no longer would ask questions about Delilah or ask her about her day, all he cared about was Queen and specifically her father’s roll in it. She didn’t really mind at first, understanding what it was like to have someone to look up to. She was so grateful that someone appreciated her father as much as she did and thus she didn’t quite mind answering a question or two about the luxuries of rockstar life.

Her relationship was going on 5 months long, yet it no longer felt like a relationship. It felt like the only person that was contributing was herself and even then it was barely. The separation didn’t help that Charles’ band was growing more popular (thanks to the paparazzi pictures finding out who he is), this made Charles much more focused on music than actually kissing his girlfriend hello. Yet, despite all of this, Delilah was still deeply in love with him, when he would kiss her, fireworks spread throughout her body. She longed for touch she didn’t allow herself to have but with Charles it was so easy to let herself go. So, he stayed.

Christmas was a quiet affair, all of her siblings were present with their S.O.’s, the warmth of the Deacon household was christened with Christmas. Delilah loved Christmas, it was always so warm and fuzzy. It also was the best because her older siblings used to sneak her eggnog that had a kick to it and her siblings actually spoke to her. Charles was a hit, her siblings and mother doting on him and making sure he was well fed.

“He seems nice.” John whispered, standing next to Delilah handing her the alcoholic drink. Delilah nodded, feeling at peace with how well having someone meet her family went. The rest of the holiday continued with presents and even Charles got a bunch of nerdy bass things from John. There was so much laughter, if only it had lasted so much longer.

A couple days later, Charles had completely ghosted Delilah. No texts, no calls, no emails, nothing. She didn’t want to seem clingy by sending him a constant stream of worried messages. Roger and Brian were kept in charge with making sure everything was okay, Deaky’s orders. Anxiety pooled in Delilah’s stomach. This went on for another week, she even went to the coffee shop he worked at only to discover that he no longer worked there. He could be dead, he could be hurt, hospitalized, anything, and Delilah was stuck not knowing what was going on.

On the eighth day of not knowing where her boyfriend was, Delilah received a text. We’re over, been seein one of the band’s fans, hope you don’t mind if i keep the bass stuff. And just like that, another rock bottom had been hit. Delilah read the message over and over again, trying to see if it was real, if it was Charles and trying to understand how everything in her life had changed within the matter of seconds, again.

The deep feeling of anguish roared into her chest, the brunet threw her phone across the room, catching the attention of Brian and Roger. This feeling she had wasn’t grief however, it was embarrassment, loneliness, heartbroken. The two men ran to her and grasped her shoulders trying everything to get her breathing to slow. The sobs were harsh, chest wrecking, her sweet, sweet Charles was gone. Someone normal and kind, who cared about her, gone. Delilah couldn’t understand what she did to deserve this life of sadness. The dark cloud that was once black over her head had started to become a lighter grey, but storms come and go, this time it seemed just as strong as the others.

All Delilah wanted was to be normal, to love and be loved. She didn’t ask for her family to be what it was, she didn’t ask for her family to be affected by this wretched disease. No, all Delilah wanted was a sense of normalcy in her shrouded world.

At some point one of the men had gotten up to get Delilah some water, Delilah didn’t know who and she didn’t care. All she could do was focus on the weight of the locket that brought a fraction of comfort. A shrill ringing overtook her ears, someone answering it, again, Delilah had no clue who was talking, her brain just running through the recent events.

The telly in front of her turned on, Roger’s hands shakily holding the remote. Images of her home, not the Lodge but her family home. Images of her dad, mother, and siblings talking and laughing. These would be normal pictures, family pictures that could’ve been kept for a keepsake. But they were in the news, a detail Delilah noticed was that it was Christmas. The only one who could’ve taken these pictures was… him. Her life, her private life not to mention her father’s life was exposed for the world to see. They had took such care of everything, keeping everything quiet and not trying to be bothered and all of that was being blown up right in front of their very own eyes.

This heartbreak was much worse, she knew she let everyone down. The Deacon family was very cautious about bringing outsiders in and Delilah broke the most important rule they had. The Deacon’s wanted a quiet and private life, but Delilah had to go and ruin everything.

Roger and Brian were trying to talk to her but still, her ears didn’t put together the functions needed for her brain to register the words. Nothing made sense, everything was going so well, but Delilah had to get close to someone like she did with Freddie, Jim, her siblings, friends from school, etc, and the end result turned catastrophic.

The tears poured out again, there was no coming back from this. Her life would be absolutely insane for a while now, paps trying to get more of her privacy that she clung to, people trying to learn more about who she was associated with. Brian’s arms held her tightly, whether that was to restrain her from doing something bad or for comfort she didn’t know. Delilah’s brain was going a million miles a second, trying to ground something.

The front door to the Lodge slammed open. “Delilah!” Her father roared, steam-rolling into where she was. The hairs on Delilah’s neck stood, her father knew how to use his words to tear someone apart piece by piece. She had heard plenty of stories and had even witnessed it once herself. Her regularly friendly father was pissed. Her mother was behind John, trying to hold him back, they both had tears streaming down their eyes, disappointment laced within them.

“How could you?” John whispered, he was so frustrated with his daughter that he couldn’t even think to notice how upset she was. “You ruined our privacy, your damn relationship and decisions ruined our lives.” He went on and on for what seemed like hours, using his words to pick apart every insecurity that she had to emphasize just how bad this whole situation was. Brian, Roger, and Delilah’s mother kept trying to get Deaky to stop but he kept going and going. By the end of the monologue, there was nothing left of Delilah’s heart. It was so broken that there were no longer pieces, it was just dust that was carried off into the wind.

For her whole life, Delilah just wanted to please her family, she just wanted to be like her Daddy or Uncle Freddie or her Mummy. Delilah wanted happiness but it seemed she would never happen again for her. There was nothing left for John to feast on it seemed. Everyone stood silently, not knowing what to say, tears were coming down in waterfalls, tears that should’ve been gone but Delilah figured with all of her sadness, they wouldn’t go away.  Roger moved to talk but John had one last thing on his mind, he looked at Delilah right in her blue eyes and spoke, not caring that they shone with tears just like they had when Freddie had died.

“I don’t want to see you anymore,” he whispered, almost too soft for her to hear. Her mom protested, saying that John was not thinking straight. “I don’t want to have any calls from you, texts, books, movies, dinners, lunches you name it, I don’t want it Delilah. You ruined our bloody lives, just like you ruined Fred’s” None of it made sense, nothing made sense. John turned on his heel and walked out, not caring about how the screams of anguish twisted his heart, not listening to Brian and Roger or his wife. He was blinded by madness so harshly that he couldn’t see that he had obliterated any kind of relationship that he had had with Delilah.

As for the brunet, she couldn’t take it anymore, she had to get out of the Lodge, not knowing where, she just knew she didn’t want to ruin anyone else’s lives like she thought she did.

tag you’re it: @ironqueen98 @bellamy1998 @missmercurythekillerqueen @philosophical-dumbass @deacydeacy @wanderlustnightwanderer

[cosmosbv]

Cosmos Market

Hi All

I meant to do this last week, but things came up that had to be dealt with.

Some of you might have noticed that I have set up a new GoFundMe. Rather then wait for things to go wrong again, and keep doing what I am doing, which sometimes works and sometimes doesn’t, I am going to try something new.

I am going to crowdfund to open a small store. It will be a combination of a second hand and indie bookstore, farm market, and artisan crafts store. I already have a few farm market and artisans individuals ready to work out contracts for spacing to sell their wares, a great many boxes of books, and several boxes of crafts.

Why a store?

Back before the car accident I wanted to open a bookstore. Then the accident occurred, and that was not an option any longer because of health problems. I didn’t stop collecting books for that purpose though, with the thought that someday I would get to open that second hand bookstore like I wanted. I literally have more then a thousand books already to go.

Now I write books to publish and thought: wait, what if instead of just a second hand bookstore, I make it an indie bookstore and secondhand store? Perfect idea! I can sell mine, and other indie authors books.

Why a book store and artisan market?

As I was looking around my area, I realized, there really isn’t a lot of place, or any for that matter, besides the farm market, to sell handmade items that are not paintings. At that point I decided to add that to the plan. I would sell books, but I would also sell handmade crafts as well.

So far I have spoken with several different artisan’s and they are more then willing to sell their product through my store. What does that mean I will be selling beyond books so far: candles, melting waxes, sewn and knitted projects, decorative pins, homemade cards, masks, and picture frames.

I will be talking to other artisans as well, to see if they would be interested.

Why both GoFundMe and Kickstarter?

GoFundMe - I am familiar with it, there is no time limit, and goals can be adjusted as needed. Beyond that, the GoFundMe is for individuals who would like to give to the project now, because they don’t know that they will have the money later. All money from it will go towards the goal of opening the store in some form, whether in advertising, product, or bills.

Kickstarter - it is an all or nothing funding. If I hit the goal, I have to open the store. Which if I hit the goal, I will definitely open the store because I will buy my building to do so.

There was some confusion with an individual earlier about how I would give the money back if the store failed. They didn’t seem to comprehend that is not how Kickstarter works. With Kickstarter, if I hit the goal, and I open the store, I have done as promised, no refund needed. If I hit the goal but don’t open the store, that’s when I have to issue a refund.

What if you are unable to get the building in the image?

Valid question, that’s when I move on to plans B or C. In other words, that’s when I buy one of the other buildings I have picked out, those that might not be as great for the goal but would work over all.

What makes building one better then two or three?

Location! It’s in a great spot for my needs.

Size, it is three times bigger then building two and four times bigger then building three.

Apartments in the upstairs. That means I can update them sooner then later with any extra money after stocking the store and rent them out. Renting just one of them out would make the buildings monthly mortgage with the amount of money I have planned to put down, renting out both would also pay the electric, gas, and trash removal. 

Extra rooms beyond the store that can be rented to artisans who might wish to have a new space or bigger space to work in. 

Three and Four are part of Five: renting out the spaces would make it so all the stores profits go into further stock and employees. Insuring that there is plenty to sell and that it continue on.

There might be others but those were the ones I focused on when making my choice. 

Then why have plans B and C if A is so good?

Someone else might buy A. In that case it’s a good idea to have a plan B and C. There aren’t a lot of buildings for sale in the area, and I would rather not rent or lease, as I want control over the building, that only happens if I own it. 

Do you have a business plan?

Yep, though it’s hand written because that’s how I roll. Actually, I have several, because I kept redrafting it as I considered new details and points. It evolved!

Do you have a budget?

Why yes I do! Checked multiple times, to make sure the math isn’t off. It is based on building costs, bills (gas, electric, trash, accounting), employee pay, advertising prices, permits, equipment, and stock. 

A basic form of it can be found at the bottom of my Kickstarter.

You have several disabilities, how are you going to do this?

With help. That’s why there is employee pay as part of the costs. I know I physically can’t do it alone, so I will pay someone to help me. I’ve already spoken to that person, we have an agreement set out and a pay schedule. 

Why should we back you? 

At the end of the day, I can’t tell you what to do, nor would I. What I can tell you is this: 

I managed to get my family from 50k in debt to 10k in debt in 4 years (love the parents, not the best at finances, plus there was that entire stroke that just added to the mess) - so I know how to balance a book and raise money. 

That does not count the times I asked for help for myself, only the family as whole’s situation. After all, hard to balance my own books with no money coming in during those months I did not have any commissions or ghost writing.

I was trained as a store manager

I have a bachelor's degree in business administration

I’m a fast study

If you are an indie author, I’ll sell your books. That means I buy several copies to sell, so you automatically get paid, and then if they do well, I buy more copies to sell. 

You’ll be helping a small business get started

You get a personalized signed copies of my book, yes they are digital copies but I will still be making the signing for each personal, scanning them in, adding them to the file and sending them off. 

You help a disabled writer stop living with the constant worry of how to pay the bills and when will the next need to ask for help happen. Thus I stop needing to ask for donations every time life goes sideways because I barely have enough to live before that happens.

You’ll get updates on the business, what the current specials are, and even coupons for online purchases from time to time. 

For those who do more then the twenty five dollar pledge, they will get signed copies of more then just my first two books. Every five past twenty-five will get one more book, unless told to stop. So If you do fifty dollars, you get the initial two plus five more personalized signature books. 

For those that indulge in the season: it is the season of giving. 

I can’t think of any other reasons at this time. 

Over all, it is simple, either you are able to share the GoFundMe or Kickstarter, willing risk a dollar at minimum to help an disabled indie author break the cycle of needing help a lot, or you are not. Personally I hope you are able and willing, but I can understand if not. 

If anyone would like to discuss becoming a more traditional type of investor, see the About Me & Contact Information Page.

Thank you all for reading this,

Jaimi 

[soda-rebel]

Chase You

Fic gift for @midnightleone ! Enjoy buddy! I recommend Chasing Cars by Snow Patrol as an accompaniment. 

Summary: Alfred can’t wait to take Arthur on a camping trip

Warnings: angst, blood, death

It was Alfred’s idea, really. He had insisted on going on a camping trip because it was something that he had done with his family every year before college. With their engagement being just two weeks ago, Arthur was practically family. Not that he wasn’t before, of course. Just, now more so than ever. Alfred couldn’t wait to share such a special moment with him.

They had spent weeks packing, preparing, and scheduling. Alfred even called up his parents for directions to their old camping grounds. While on the call, Alfred heard his mother mumble something about the road and directions, but she dismissed it when he asked. Her only word of advice was to ‘watch out for other cars’. Alfred laughed and assured her that they’d be fine. Just fine.  

It was a crisp morning that they set out on, lavished in a gentle amount of fog. Just gentle enough to wrap up a body with. With bags and other necessities placed inside, they were ready for the three-hour drive. Arthur insisted that Alfred drove, calling him his “escort to the outdoors”. And he smiled that slightly parted smile. The one that showed a dimple on his right side and a flash of mischief in his eyes. It was really a lovely smile. So Alfred drove.

Arthur was in charge of the music for the first hour, choosing songs that ranged from almost winter-esque Indie to only the best anarchy-inciting punk. They spent the drive pointing out objects in the landscape, like boulders and hills and trees. Arthur always picked the trees. He liked the colors they were regaining after the heavy spring rains. Alfred liked the way the dew sparkled in the muted light. Quite appropriately, a gentle song about fall leaves came on. What he wouldn’t give for a nice hot cocoa right about now! The fog wasn’t helping either, turning into the thickness and consistency of a boiled quilt.  

“Can you imagine?” Arthur asked, more from the dream-like quality of the music than anything else. “We’re getting married.” It almost sounded like a question. Who would have thought Arthur, free-spirited explorer of exotic bookstores and condemner of touchy public love birds, was getting married?

Alfred sighed in content from the thought. They had been dating for what seemed like an eternity, not that Alfred was complaining. He liked turning around to find Arthur beside him in every second of life. He liked the wry smile that Arthur flashed when he said something stupid. Most of all, he liked how no matter how insignificant he regarded himself, Arthur would somehow convince Alfred that he was the greatest thing since air conditioning. And now, they really did have an eternity, a lifetime, to be together. He couldn’t wait.

It had been a pickup truck of some sort. Maybe it was a convertible, though. Alfred wasn’t paying attention. Of course, when a car rushes towards yours during a turn, you don’t think much about what type of car it is. You don’t really pay attention to much of anything. Just glimpses. Like the bright, cheerful, blue that stuck out to him, but only because of how ironic it was. Or maybe it was green? It didn’t matter. Alfred was giving what was left of their five seconds of normality to Arthur, whose head was turned away from the window. His face still had the ghost of a smile. His hair was still gently tousled from the wind, decorated by droplets of rain. Alfred hadn’t enough time to properly put his smile to rest, but his eyes and as a result, tears, caught up sooner than he planned. Something in Arthur’s eyes, perhaps the dullness that they already held, told Alfred that he knew what was going to happen. That he wasn’t afraid. Over the blaring horn, Arthur mouthed something simple, something sweet. Something Alfred didn’t understand. How he wished he did. And then they were hit.

Alfred didn’t see what happened. He was aware the car hadn’t flipped, mainly because he could see it from where he lay. The grass lining the sides of the road was soft, and he was glad for that one small comfort. Judging from the glass that speckled his jacket, he was flung out from the side window. An immense pain in his head and chest pounded away, making him aware of their existence. Everything was covered in a thin tissue of confusion. The trees were too wide, the road was too small, and the car was most definitely too empty. Empty. What was empty? Empty.

Arthur.

Alfred had forgotten Arthur.

Arthur, with his last-second smile. Arthur, with his eyes that sang with life. Arthur, with his face framed perfectly by the light of destruction that was mere seconds away. He needed to find Arthur.

At first, Alfred whispered, his voice shaking just as much as his knees during the first steps of their search. And then he talked, able to walk with the speed of his words. But Arthur didn’t answer him. So he yelled, jogging to keep up with the distance his words flew at. Arthur still didn’t answer him. So Alfred screamed, tearing his muscles and vocal cords to find just a single hair of Arthur. He ran in circles around the car, the frantic truck driver calling the paramedics, the hazed trees, but he couldn’t find Arthur. And then his leg snapped.

With a shout of pain, Alfred fell. Once his head slammed against the grass, Alfred squeezed his eyes tight. A short uproar of a migraine washed over him, accompanied by the twang of agony he felt in his femur. Everything was quivering, the air itself was shaking. Alfred cursed the entire trip for existing, family traditions be damned. And then he heard a cough.

“Arthur?” Alfred asked, eyes trying to focus on his fiance.

Arthur’s face was littered with glass shards. The longest pieces stuck out haphazardly from his cheek, almost like phantasmagorical feathers. He must have hit his head as well, with the usually fair-colored hair quickly turning into rust. Peeking out from the middle of Arthur’s neck was the angry red from where the seatbelt protected but then snapped. And the small cuts! There were just so many lacerations that they almost outnumbered Arthur’s freckles.

“Oh, hello Alfred,” he said, unaware of Alfred’s inspection. Arthur’s eyes were half-lidded and each word caused him to wheeze slightly, but he was awake.

“Darling, honey, you gotta stay awake for me, ok?” Alfred said. “Help is on the way, I just need you to keep those gorgeous eyes open for me, babe.” He felt his panic rise, not sure if he should press down on wounds or leave them be. There was a particularly nasty gash near Arthur’s hip, made evident by the pool of blood that was slowly increasing in size. Alfred hastily gathered fabric from his torn shirt to press into Arthur. Arthur, in return, hissed from the contact. “You’re doing great, Artie,” Alfred said.

Arthur chuckled, making him cough and gasp for air. “Hey, hey do you remember what you first said to me?” he asked in between ghastly heaving sounds.

“Artie, no not right now. We can talk about this in a bit please, just breathe,” Alfred begged. Arthur’s moving was making it worse, blood practically streaming out of him.  

Arthur, of course,  didn’t listen. He continued in his ragged breathing and beamed as if he knew the greatest secret in the world.

“You said, you said I looked--” Arthur forced out another exasperated cough, splattering blood on his artificial frill of glass. Speckles of red dotted his face, with a steady drip of blood falling from his mouth. His eyes were barely visible flickers of green, his lids barely able to open. “You said,” he mumbled. Arthur’s brows furrowed in concentration.  

“That you looked heavenly,” Alfred finished.

Arthur perked up just slightly. “Ah yes, the sweetest thing you could’ve said.”

“You punched me in the face for it,” Alfred smiled, regaining some of his old humor. He couldn’t help it, it was a lovely memory.

“I’ll do it again if you get sappy on me,” Arthur said, eyes closed in reverie. His breaths were ragged and torn like a broken sheet in the wind. And he was so still, so very, very still. Like that, he almost looked…  

“You know,” Alfred said, “I’d take a million punches to the face if it meant this didn’t happen, Artie.” Only now did he realize his glasses were nowhere to be found because his tears swam freely down his face without obstruction.

“I wish could take up that offer, but I’m afraid I can’t move my arms, love,” Arthur whispered. “Or my legs, really. Or anything. I can’t feel anything, Alfred.” Arthur sounded like defeat. He sounded like something far away and blue and iced.

“I’m sure they’ll get here soon, darling,” Alfred said, subconsciously pressing his shirt even harder into Arthur’s hip.

“Alfred, I’m tired,” Arthur whispered. “Can you lie with me? Just a bit, just until the paramedics get here.” He yawned, quite convincingly too. Enough so that Alfred yawned as well.

“I guess...that we can do that. But wake me up if you’re in pain, ok?”

Arthur nodded as he curled up against nothingness. As best he could, Alfred scooted over so he could place Arthur on his good leg. He drifted off to sleep while stroking Arthur’s hair in a pattern all his own.

When Alfred woke, it felt like an hour later and the paramedics still weren’t there. The truck was gone too. They were completely and utterly alone.

From where his hand was placed (on Arthur’s cheek), Alfred could feel the beginnings of a fever settling in. He wanted to curse the world, he wanted to scream how unfair it was, but in a way, it was fitting. There was no one else he’d rather die beside.

“Hey, Artie,” Alfred nudged him awake.

Arthur blinked sleepily for a few seconds, smiling after seeing Alfred’s face. “Good morning, love.”

“Artie, do you wanna know what the best part about sleeping outside is?”

Arthur breathed in lightly, pondering the question. “I don’t know, dearest. Do tell.”

“Getting to watch you show up the sunrise with your beautiful face,” Alfred said.

Arthur giggled softly, unable to control his laughter. “That is the cheesiest, most corny--of all---oh Alfred, I love you.”

“I love you too babe.”

Alfred slid Arthur off of his leg gently and then used his elbows to slide himself down to the grass. He made sure they were an eyelash blink’s away.

“Here’s to an eternity,” Alfred whispered, clutching Arthur’s hand. He gingerly kissed the bloodied knuckles and whispered his love. Arthur smiled and squeezed just a smidge tighter.

When the paramedics arrived, they were wrapped together on the sidelines of the wreckage.

Alfred had woken up in a hospital bed with a start. He hadn’t expected the hospital. He hadn’t even expected to wake up. And Arthur. Where was Arthur?

Oh. According to a nurse, that was what they were here to discuss. Fine, Alfred just wanted to see Arthur.

Oh. He couldn’t see Arthur. Well, could they tell him--?

Oh. Arthur couldn’t hear. That’s fine, he would write a note, and deliver it---

Oh. Arthur couldn’t get letters.

Oh. Arthur was gone. Would he be coming back?

Oh. Arthur...was dead.

Alfred felt his joy drain away until he was filled with nothing. Arthur wasn’t there anymore. Lovely, wonderful, Arthur, who he had promised eternity to, was gone. He was enraged, of course. Afterall, he was the one driving during the accident. And now he was here alone, forever. Or a lifetime. But a lifetime felt like forever.

He supposed he could wait. Afterall, what was a lifetime to an eternity?

[travelonlinetipsofficial]

30 indie bookstores in the U.S. that you'll want to check out

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30 indie bookstores in the U.S. that you'll want to check out

Photo courtesy of Albertine

Connecting authors with audiences and helping readers discover new books, independent bookstores contribute greatly to the literacy and culture of the United States. From improving literacy or helping get books to children in need, many of these shops are cultural hubs of their communities. The value of indie bookshops cannot be duplicated online, although many of them wisely started offering online events and book deliveries during the pandemic.

Here are 30 especially cool indie bookstores across the United States that may inspire readers to take some literary road trips in the near future.

Photo courtesy of The Haunted Book Shop

The Haunted Book Shop – Mobile, Alabama

Located in the charming downtown area of Mobile, Alabama, The Haunted Book Shop is an indie bookstore with lots of character. It focuses on genre fiction and books on writing, but the shop is a haven for writers in another way as well. It has a Writer’s Room where local authors can schedule time to write in a cool environment with easy access to reference books. 

The Haunted Book Shop hyper-categorizes its fiction so that it’s easy to find exactly what you’re looking for. Beyond books, new and regular customers delight in Mr. Bingley, the friendly resident cat who usually greets customers at the door. Don’t go looking for spooky ghosts here, though; its name comes from “The Haunted Book Shop” by Christopher Morley, which was the original owner’s favorite novel.

Photo courtesy of People Get Ready

People Get Ready – New Haven, Connecticut

People Get Ready calls itself a bookspace because it’s both an independent bookstore and a community reading room. It welcomes everyone in the community even if they aren’t able to buy any books. They also work with teachers and schools to support the diversification of classroom libraries, critical curriculum development and more.

Situated in New Haven, Connecticut, the bookstore prioritizes books that reflect the local community and features authors from groups that have been historically underrepresented in book publishing. You can find wonderful books from BIPOC authors, LGBTQIA authors, bilingual authors and poets. People Get Ready wants its neighbors to walk in and see themselves reflected in the books and stories they’ll find there.

Photo courtesy of Bart’s Books

Bart’s Books – Ojai, California

Bart’s Books is like no other bookshop in the United States. It occupies a picturesque 1930’s cottage in Ojai, California, and its bookshelves expand onto the grounds surrounding the shop. The outdoor shelves were designed to resemble Parisian booksellers along the Seine.  The books outside are shelved under shaded stalls, so it’s pleasant to browse their selection in most any weather. 

The naturalistic setting embodies the love of nature that draws many people to the Ojai Valley, and Bart’s Books is proud of being the world’s biggest outdoor bookstore. It has a wide variety of books in its collection of over 130,000 new and used books, including rare, out-of-print volumes as well as popular paperback novels.

Photo courtesy of Women & Children First

Women & Children First – Chicago, Illinois

Founded in 1979, Women & Children First was among the first feminist bookstores. This Chicago institution regularly hosts events with authors, showcasing over the years such luminaries as Maya Angelou, Gloria Steinem, Margaret Atwood and Hillary Clinton.

As its name suggests, Women & Children First has a social justice mission, and they take great care in centering underrepresented voices, including feminist, queer, trans and BIPOC authors. Throughout the store, you can explore categories that you may not see in other bookshops, such as “Young Adult Queer.”

Photo courtesy of BookWoman

BookWoman – Austin, Texas

Located in Austin, Texas on Tonkawa, Comanche and Apache land, BookWoman was founded 45 years ago and is still going strong. In addition to a wide variety of feminist books, the shop sells shirts and jewelry.

Photo courtesy of Little Shop of Stories

Little Shop of Stories – Decatur, Georgia

Little Shop of Stories is a beloved indie bookstore in historic Decatur Square in Decatur, Georgia. Specializing in finding the perfect books for children, they want every young reader who walks into the shop to see themselves reflected in the books on the shelves. Kids have even more opportunities to have fun, thanks to book-themed summer camps, a summer reading program and a book-of-the-month club. 

The store hosts many events with children’s authors and illustrators, which have been virtual throughout the pandemic. Although Little Shop of Stories does specialize in books for children and teenagers, they also have a carefully curated selection of adult fiction and nonfiction.

Photo courtesy of Laura Steffan

Faulkner House Books – New Orleans, Louisiana

Located between Preservation Hall and Jackson Square in the vibrant French Quarter of New Orleans, Louisiana, Faulkner House Books rightly refers to itself as a sanctuary for fine literature. The shop is located in the former home of William Faulkner, which is, of course, where it gets its name. Faulkner lived and wrote the first of his novels in this 1837 townhouse. 

Founded in 1988, Faulkner House Books focuses on new and rare Southern literature, as well as classics. It also offers customized book subscriptions. Joanne, who is considered the shop’s book whisperer, will build a dossier of your interests after asking some initial questions. Every month afterwards, Joanne chooses three to five books for each subscriber.

Photo courtesy of RJ Julia Independent Booksellers

RJ Julia Independent Booksellers – Madison, Connecticut

Located in the shoreline town of Madison, Connecticut, RJ Julia Independent Booksellers is known for its fantastic selection of books. It’s also notable for hosting incredible book launches and celebrity signings, and the shop lines its walls with photos of visiting authors and their autographs.

“Opening a bookstore is fueled by a sense of hope – hope of putting the right book in the right hand, hope that the community would consider our space a place of discovery, of renewal, of excitement. RJ Julia Booksellers, in its over 30 years of serving our community, has had that hope realized,” the bookstore’s founder and podcast host Roxanne Coady told us.

With a second floor dedicated entirely to children’s books, this inviting bookstore is a great place for families. Soon to be featured in Netflix’s upcoming adaptation of “The Noel Diary,” there never seems to be a dull moment at this indie bookshop.

Photo courtesy of The Mysterious Bookshop

The Mysterious Bookshop – New York City, New York

Located on Warren Street in Tribeca, The Mysterious Bookshop is renowned as the world’s oldest mystery fiction specialty store and has been offering mysteries to New Yorkers and visitors since 1979.

The shop boasts an expansive collection of signed first editions of new releases in mystery, crime and suspense fiction.  Book collectors can also find rare and collectible mysteries here, including first editions from Sue Grafton and Arthur Conan Doyle. 

Also look out for the “Bibliomystery” series of mystery novellas that were commissioned by the store. They feature mysteries set in the world of books, and the paperbacks and limited edition hardcovers are only available at the Mysterious Bookshop. 

Photo courtesy of Albertine

Albertine – New York City, New York

Reflecting the French government’s mission to further the intellectual exchange between France and America, Albertine is the only bookshop in New York City oriented entirely around books in French and English. Albertine features more than 14,000 contemporary and classic books from dozens of French-speaking countries. 

The shop, located in the Payne Whitney mansion in Manhattan, is full of special touches.  These include a sculpture of Cupid – a replica of the original by Michelangelo – at the center of its marble rotunda entrance. The original “Young Archer” statue used to be on display in the mansion’s lobby before it was discovered to be the work of the legendary Italian sculptor.

While shopping, be sure to look up! The hand-painted mural of constellations, stars and the Zodiac on the ceiling of the second floor is mesmerizing.  Also, look for busts of well-known figures from French and French-American culture such as Voltaire, Benjamin Franklin and Descartes.

Photo courtesy of City Lights

City Lights – San Francisco, California

As a vital part of the literary history of San Francisco, City Lights is a bookstore and historic landmark that has Legacy Business status. Travelers often come to the bookstore because of its place in literary history and the counterculture. It was founded by poet Lawrence Ferlinghetti and Peter D. Martin in 1953 and shortly thereafter began serving as a small publisher as well. 

City Lights was once notable as the first all-paperback bookstore in the United States, but it now offers both hardcovers and paperbacks. You’ll find a wide variety of books on its shelves from both large publishers and small presses. It’s housed in a charming building that’s over 100 years old, with plenty of nooks and crannies that are just right for exploring and reading. City Lights encourages visitors to stay as long as they like and enjoy their books.

Photo courtesy of The King’s English Bookshop

The King’s English Bookshop – Salt Lake City, Utah

Located in the 15th & 15th neighborhood of Salt Lake City, Utah, The King’s English Bookshop prides itself in matching books to readers. Spanning eight rooms in an old house, this bookstore has a large children’s room, and throughout the pandemic, they’ve hosted a virtual storytime nearly every day. 

Photo courtesy of Malaprop’s Bookstore/Cafe

Malaprop’s Bookstore/Cafe – Asheville, North Carolina

Situated in downtown Asheville, Malaprop’s Bookstore/Cafe has served the community since 1982. Emoke B’Racz, its founder, moved to the United States as a teenager from Soviet Hungary. It was important to B’Racz that this bookstore be “a place where poetry mattered and where a woman’s words were as important as a man’s.”

You’ll find a lot of focus on local and regional authors here, and you’re likely to find some unknown gems mixed in as you search for bestsellers. 

Photo courtesy of Laguna Beach Books

Laguna Beach Books – Laguna Beach, California

Located in the Old Pottery Place in Laguna Beach, California, the aptly named Laguna Beach Books has been serving locals and visitors to the area since 2006. It’s a general-interest bookshop with a stellar collection of fiction, nonfiction, science, self-help, the arts and cooking. They also have a diverse selection of children’s books. 

Laguna Beach Books is known for its knowledgeable staff members who are enthusiastic about conversing with customers about books. They’re also avid supporters of book clubs, whether you’re looking to start your own or want personalized recommendations for your club’s next reads.  

Photo courtesy of Greedy Reads

Greedy Reads – Baltimore, Maryland

Greedy Reads is an independent bookstore with two locations in Baltimore, Maryland: one at 320 West 29th Street in Remington and another at 1744 Aliceanna Street in Fells Point. Both locations have sidewalk sales every weekend.

Founded by Julia Fleischaker after nearly 20 years in the publishing industry, Greedy Reads features a wide variety of books that are carefully curated. Along with games and puzzles, both stores also offer select merchandise like tote bags and clever shirts that empower readers to show pride in their local bookstore.

Photo courtesy of Argosy Book Store

Argosy Book Store – New York City, New York

Founded in 1925, Argosy Book Store is an antiquarian bookshop in New York City that is now in its third generation of family ownership. All six floors are filled with old, rare and out-of-print books. Collectors can also find books that are autographed by a wide variety of famous figures. 

Argosy Book Store specializes in first editions, art history, American history and the history of medicine and science. Customers enjoy the experience of walking off the bustling East 59th Street in midtown Manhattan and into the enchanting bookshop, feeling as if they’ve walked back in time.

Photo courtesy of Tom Lowenburg

Octavia Books – New Orleans, Louisiana

Tom Lowenburg and Judith Lafitte founded Octavia Books more than 20 years ago. It has a warm, welcoming environment, and customers are encouraged to take their time browsing the shelves. This thriving bookshop in uptown New Orleans has a lot of local, loyal customers, and it’s a favorite with tourists as well. Octavia Books often hosts author events and launches in the shop. 

The vast selection of books at Octavia Books is hand-picked and wide-ranging, including large local-interest sections. Staff members are well-informed book enthusiasts who are happy to help customers with personalized recommendations if they want them. You’ll also find gifts like locally printed greeting cards and jigsaw puzzles in the bookstore.

Photo courtesy of Russell Gearhart

Vroman’s Bookstore – Pasadena, California

Vroman’s Bookstore has been a vital part of the Pasadena community for over a hundred years. Founded in 1894, Vroman’s is a gathering place as well as a bookshop, and it’s known for its top-notch selection of books and gifts. The community-minded store has partnered with the community to donate well over $700,000 to local organizations through the Vroman’s Gives Back program.

As the oldest and biggest independent bookshop in Southern California, Vroman’s Bookstore has a rich history and a legacy of service. For example, Vroman’s donated and delivered books to Japanese-Americans who were interned in Southern California Camps during World War II. Nowadays, Vroman’s has an eye-catching Walk of Fame that features handprints of local and beloved authors such as Lisa See, Walter Mosley and Naomi Hirahara.

Photo courtesy of Blue Willow Bookshop

Blue Willow Bookshop – Houston, Texas

Situated in West Houston, the Blue Willow Bookshop is a charming indie bookstore with a lovely storefront. It was named after the china pattern to conjure up memories of gathering around for family dinners served on these dishes.

Half of the Blue Willow Bookshop is for children, while the other half of the store is for adults. They have a curated, diverse and interesting selection of books for babies, toddlers, children and teens. They also stock books for many local book clubs, and there’s a well-shopped book club table where you can peruse those popular volumes, too.

The knowledgeable owners and staff are also happy to offer suggestions and opinions to shoppers who want recommendations.

Photo courtesy of Mystery To Me

Mystery to Me – Madison, Wisconsin

Madison, Wisconsin’s Mystery to Me was founded after owner Joanne Berg purchased the inventory of a mystery-focused bookshop that was going out of business. Over the years, it has expanded into a general bookstore, but the shop’s carefully curated selection of mystery books is still one of the first places many visitors browse. 

The community-focused store brings people together around their shared love of books. They also host a variety of author events to bring customers the opportunity to connect with their favorite writers.

Photo courtesy of Fact & Fiction

Fact & Fiction – Missoula, Montana

Located in downtown Missoula, Montana, Fact & Fiction has specialized in the best stories that the world has to offer since 1986. Although it does offer a big selection of mainstream new releases and bestsellers from around the country and beyond, Fact & Fiction focuses on Montana authors and their stories, and it’s proud of its well-curated selection of books by Indigenous writers. 

This bookstore is also committed to featuring books from independent and small presses from all around the world. For this reason, many customers find books they’d never heard about when they visit Fact & Fiction, and the friendly, well-informed staff are happy to offer recommendations.

Photo courtesy of Anatasia Pottinger

Skylark Bookshop – Columbia, Missouri

Accomplished novelist Alex George founded Skylark Bookshop in 2018 with business partner and store manager Carrie Koepke. Because Columbia, Missouri embraced the Unbound Book Festival – which George founded and runs – in such a wholehearted way, he realized that the bookshop would be well-received too. 

Customers love the one-on-one experience of the Skylark Reading Spa. Simply answer questions about reading habits and preferences, and a knowledgeable team member will carefully choose a selection of books based on those likes and dislikes. 

Photo courtesy of Nicole Yasinsky

Novel – Memphis, Tennessee

After a beloved, long-time local bookstore shut its doors in 2017, Memphians rallied, resulting in the launch of Novel.  This community-focused bookstore is locally owned and operated, and they are very engaged and involved with Memphis residents and visitors. 

Novel has a wide variety of books for all ages, and a restaurant within the bookshop serves literary-themed cocktails. Novel also hosts author events and storytimes for children. In addition to its many books, the shop sells specially chosen games, toys and other gifts.

Photo courtesy of Bookworks – Albuquerque

Bookworks – Albuquerque, New Mexico

Situated in Albuquerque’s North Valley, Bookworks is a locally owned, independent bookstore. They are very supportive of the community and strongly committed to bringing books and readers together in an enjoyable way. Bookworks hosts over 400 author events each year, and they showcase both nationally known authors and independently published local writers.

As a literary meeting place since it first opened its doors in 1984, Bookworks carries a wide range of fiction and non-fiction books. The children’s book section is large and full of a great mix of new and classic volumes for kids of all ages. They also have a section for local authors, as well as carrying books on New Mexico and Southwest travel. Photography, art books and young adults books also line the shelves. The bookstore additionally offers magazines, newspapers and gifts. 

Photo courtesy of Tina Gohr

Novel Bay Booksellers – Sturgeon Bay, Wisconsin

Located in downtown Sturgeon Bay in picturesque Door County, Wisconsin, Novel Bay Booksellers is a vibrant bookshop that’s an integral part of the community. Founded by John Maggitti and Liz Welter in 2018, Novel Bay welcomes visitors and locals alike to come to the shop, sit down and read a great book. Families often come and sit down on the couch in the children’s section for an in-store storytime experience. 

With an eclectic mix of books, the owners and staff are happy to help readers find a new author or even an unfamiliar genre that they may enjoy. They handpick nearly all the books that are carried in the shop. Along with such impressively well-stocked sections as science, history, politics, suspense, thrillers, cooking and travel, they also carry an extensive selection of Door County authors, as well as books written about the region, culture and history.

Photo courtesy of Mark Tiedermann / Left Bank Books

Left Bank Books – St. Louis, Missouri

Left Bank Books is the largest and oldest independently-owned bookshop in St. Louis.  Located in the city’s historic Central West End neighborhood, they serve the community and prioritize being a safe, welcoming space for all residents and visitors, especially people of color, LGBTQIA+ and other marginalized groups.

This bookshop carries a large selection of new and used books, and they also sell magazines, gifts, toys and games. They also operate the River City Readers program, which gives high-quality, diverse books to school children in St. Louis public schools, encouraging a love of reading and increasing literacy. The program arranges author visits with schools as well. 

Photo courtesy of A Novel Idea Bookstore

A Novel Idea Bookstore – Lincoln, Nebraska

A Novel Idea Bookstore started in 1991 as a passion project of college students Cinnamon Dokken and Bryan Peterson, who opened the bookshop with a stock of only 2,000 books in the unheated basement of a warehouse. It’s grown quite a lot since then, and today it is a thriving, two-story bookstore in downtown Lincoln, Nebraska. 

Some of the store’s tall bookshelves have tops that are carved to resemble leaves, giving the shop the feel of an enchanted forest of books. Resident shop cats Eddy and Charlie are the most popular staffers, and they often warmly greet visitors. Charlie even had his own small book that was sold to benefit the local Head Start Early Education Program.

Photo courtesy of Parnassus

Parnassus Books – Nashville, Tennessee

Situated in the heart of Nashville, Tennessee, Parnassus Books was founded in 2011 by renowned author Ann Patchett and her business partner Karen Hayes. Mount Parnassus was a haven for learning, music and literature in Greek mythology, so it’s fitting that Parnassus Books shares this legendary name. It strives to serve those who love the written word, and Nashville’s nickname is the “Athens of the South,” after all.

Describing itself as “an independent bookstore for independent people,” Parnassus Books complements and contributes to the special cultural fabric of the city. A general bookstore with a large selection of literary fiction, they stock many different subjects and genres, including history, cookbooks, non-fiction, science fiction, romance and mystery.  Parnassus Books also has a terrific children’s section.

Photo courtesy of Prairie Lights

Prairie Lights – Iowa City, Iowa

Founded in May 1978 by Jim Harris, Prairie Lights is a large, welcoming independent bookstore that’s now considered an Iowa City landmark. Although it started out in a small space, it now spans three and a half floors. Its thriving, beloved children’s section welcomes families who often explore and read together there. Family-friendly events and readings are often held at the shop as well.

Among the illustrious authors who have participated in events at Prairie Lights are Annie Proulx and Gloria Steinem. President Obama also made headlines when he visited the bookstore and bought some children’s books.

Photo courtesy of Page & Palette

Page & Palette – Fairhope, Alabama

Page & Palette is a striking, memorable bookshop in Fairhope, an idyllic community on the eastern shoreline of Mobile Bay in Alabama. It has been an independent, family-owned bookshop for three generations and has been considered a local landmark for decades. The Book Cellar – an event venue and bar with a literary twist – is located within the bookstore. They host events for both nationally known authors and local up-and-comers. 

In addition to a vast variety of excellent new and used books, Page & Palette has other fun merchandise throughout the store. Kids will delight in stuffed animals and toys in addition to stellar children’s books. They also sell greeting cards, journals and other gifts.

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[laikagohome]

Introduction: This is an interview with the manga author Yoshida Takashi. The original article is here: http://mangaonweb.com/news/2018/01/27/448. There are some interesting opinions in it, so I decided to translate it.

If you asked which ebook people are talking about the most right now, there would probably be many people who would mention the name “Yaretakamo Iinkai.” It’s always up there on the sales rankings of each of the digital bookstores, its live drama adaptation begins on January 27th on Abema TV, people are always talking about it on the net whenever there’s a new chapter, and its paper publication is slated for a second printing -- just to name a few things it’s got going for it. It really is a major-level grand slam.

The reason for its success is, of course, how interesting it is. But that’s not all, there’s another unexpected hidden aspect to this work that deserves some attention. The creator of this work, Yoshida Takashi-san, actually manages the copyright of this work on his own and takes care of everything from the writing to the sales. The publication of “Yaretakamo Iinkai” isn’t exclusive to any magazine put out by a publisher. The creator publishes his works on each web platform independently and makes a living using the royalties he earns from them as a source of income. The only contract he’s signed with a publisher is for the paper edition of the work to distribute it to bookstores, but he manages the digital version, drama adaptation, and such all himself. He doesn’t have to deal with any restrictions and can create his works freely. In other words, the work is one that is produced in an almost completely indie style.

It’s quite rare for a creator to be able to make this a reality. If you consider all the ins and outs of the publicity and distribution for a work, the contract negotiations, production costs, etc., taking care of it all on your own would require an extraordinary amount of labor. A single creator standing against the world without that ever-critical factor -- the backing of a major company -- would face extreme difficulties.

Why did Yoshida-san choose a path filled with such hardships? What’s really going on behind the scenes? How was he able to parlay that into the success that he has now? Let’s hear what the man himself has to say.

“Yaretakamo Iinkai” Yoshida Takashi Special Interview

The Royalties from Digital Publications Exceeded 1 Million Yen per Month

The drama adaptation has begun airing, and now people are talking about “Yaretakamo Iinkai” even more, but it’s not being serialized in any particular magazine. It’s a comic that gets tweeted about pretty regularly, but there are also probably a lot of people who are wondering how the creator makes money. Could you tell us a bit about what’s actually going on and how that works?

Yoshida Takashi:

To begin with, there are four platforms that my work is published on. “cakes,” “note,” “PixivFANBOX,” and “Manga on Web.” The way things are structured on “cakes,” “note,” and “PixivFANBOX” is that you only get the royalties for your works that people buy on each of the sites. From those three sites combined, I make around 100,000 to 110,000 yen a month. “Manga on Web” is an online magazine. You can buy it in all of the domestic digital bookstores. The agreement there is that I make a fixed amount of money from it, the minimum publication fee, as well as royalties that correspond to the amount of sales that the magazine makes. If anything could be called a "manuscript fee," then that would probably be it.

And then there’s income that I make from the royalties on the paper tankoubon as well as the digital versions. The other day, I got the royalties from the digital books for the first time. It was over 1 million yen for a single month. I’m a bit anxious about what will happen to the taxes I’ll have to pay for next year, but it’d be great if it kept selling at this pace.

Making over 1 million yen in a month on one book is pretty amazing. If you were talking about royalties from a paper publication, that would be about the amount you’d make if you sold 15,000 copies. It’d be a dream to get that much every month. Why did you decide to make your money writing in this way anyway? Please tell us a bit about the circumstances of how you came to draw “Yareta Iinkai.”

Yoshida:

Well, it’s not like I intended to do things the way I’m doing them now from the very beginning. At the start, I was just going to try to do things like any regular mangaka. I did the normal assistant thing, sent in an entry for a newcomer’s award that a publisher was running, and my gag manga “Finland Saga (Sei)” got serialized in Morning Two, but that ended in 2011. The tankoubon didn’t seem to sell very well. After the series ended, I brought in the name for my next work to the Morning editorial department, but I couldn’t get it past them at all. Like, really… it was almost like they had tacitly decided they weren’t going to allow me to have another series (laugh.)

I had no other choice, so I took the rejected names and turned them into manuscripts and sent them all over the place for newcomer awards at other publishers and magazines. One of the shorts I included in those was “Yaretakamo Iinkai.” It got noticed in the newcomer's award for Shougakukan's Superior magazine, and received an honorable mention. That was in 2013, but I had actually written “Yaretakamo Iinkai” a long time ago before that. I was assigned an editor, and I wanted to write the second chapter of it, but the editor said that the material was only good for a oneshot and wouldn’t let me draw a follow-up. I drew another name on some other subject and brought it in, but that didn’t get greenlit either.

While I was doing all of that, another 2 years passed, and in the meantime, I continued to send out my manuscripts to other editorial departments and win awards for them. It was like I somehow ended up with an editor in each of the editorial departments. I started thinking, “I really can’t let this go on,” and that’s when I came up with the idea for my work named “Share Body.” I felt like I was onto something that was sort of new, so I drew three chapters worth of names and sent them around to all the editors that I’d met so far. That ended up catching the eyes of the editor at Spirits.

I Still Haven’t Read the Last Volume of “Share Body”

You didn’t get to writing “Yaretakamo Iinkai” right away, did you?

Yoshida:

That’s right. At the time, I still wanted to have a series in a commercial magazine. But that ended the worst way possible and was quite traumatic for me… The editor in charge of me at Spirits who read the name for “Share Body” said it was interesting and wanted to make it a series. I should’ve been happy about that, right? But they wanted to use it as the original story and have another mangaka draw it. Of course I wanted to draw it, since it was my own work, but none of the names I had drawn were going anywhere, and I really wanted to do a series. So, after agonizing over it, I ended up accepting that condition. Someone else did the art, the series began in September of 2015, the first tankoubon came out in January of 2016, and 5 days after it went on sale, they told us to end it. So I was out of a job by spring. My dream was over in an instant.

So after bringing in all those works to be evaluated all those times, you didn't even get to draw the series that you finally got. And it even got cancelled too. I can see how that might be traumatic.

Yoshida:

Around the time the 6th chapter got printed, the editor in charge said “It’s not doing well in the surveys, so redraw the name.” I’m the type of person who can’t draw when they’re pressured, so before the series started, I had drawn about 30 chapters worth of names ahead of time. Of course, I showed all of those to the editor, and they said it was good back then. Fixing the names was really difficult. For example, if I revised the 7th chapter, then I’d have to adjust the 23rd chapter as well, otherwise it’d be inconsistent. There were important scenes, and that’s why I’d drawn them, but when I explained that things wouldn’t make sense later if I changed them, the editor wouldn’t budge and kept going on about how the survey results were poor. Even when I brought up the fact that they’d said it was good before, they just said, “Well, it’s not.” You’d hope that if an editor said something was good, then they’d stick by it till the end.

Anyway, I couldn’t change something that I thought was already interesting into something that I found boring, so the editor and the artist came together and changed the story. The artist probably didn’t want to do something like that either -- and I don’t really want to badmouth anyone -- but I felt like if I were drawing the pictures myself in a situation with a deadline, then I could’ve at least forced my way and drawn what I’d wanted. The survey results just kept getting worse, and the series got cancelled.

In the later half of things, it was being produced in this inexplicable way where I was drawing the names for the original work, and the artist and editor would base things on that, change it, and draw the manga. Now that I think back on it, it’s a complete mockery of how to go about producing anything. We were making fools of the readers. After the name were getting changed, I couldn’t read the magazine it was being published anymore. I kept having nightmares about running people over in a car with a broken steering wheel.

From the second half of the second volume onward, it pretty much wasn’t based on what I wrote. I told them myself, “The 3rd volume isn’t really based on what I wrote, so please downgrade what I’m being credited for.” I thought that might convey to them how I felt about having the original work changed, but they replied, “Then it’s okay if we lower your percentage of the royalties, right?” So I got in a fight with them, saying, “That’s not what’s in the contract!” It was a total quagmire. In the end, I still haven’t read the last volume of “Share Body.”

I couldn’t forgive myself for releasing something that didn’t live up to my original intentions into the world, and more than anything, I had done something inexcusable to the readers. The experience was traumatic for me, and I decided not to trust the judgement of others.

I Decided on Four Things that I Would Not Give Up

You were now pretty far off from the “regular mangaka” that most people would imagine. So is that when you started to draw “Yaretakamo Iinkai” for real?

Yoshida:

No, I had already tried bringing everything I thought up, and my series failed, so there was no way left for me to do things. I started uploading my manga onto twitter. I’d upload a 20-page manga that got rejected at Morning, 1 or 2-page manga, 4-panel comics, and I had a tons of rejected names. At the time, I was doing this livestream once a month on Nico. I’d announce that I was going to go viral on the program and keep uploading my manga. Deep down, I did wonder if there was any point to it, but there wasn’t anything else I could do.

And then, around a half year later, because I was uploading stuff every day, eventually there were some things that’d get retweeted 5,000 or 10,000 times. People began taking a look at my older works from that, and it caught the attention of sites like Omokoro and net celebs like Yoppii-san. In September of 2016, “Yaretakamo Iinkai” saw the light of day.

Oh, finally! It’s easy enough to say, “I’m going to go viral in half a year,” but it’s another thing to be able to accomplish that when you have nothing to guarantee it. That’s amazing.

Yoshida:

It’s going to sound like I’m tooting my own horn a bit, but back then I really felt like I was working hard (laugh.) The first chapter hit around 200,000 views at the time. I got a flood of requests to turn it into a book right away. I think it was about 4 or 5 publishers that asked to publish it, but because “Share Body” was such a big failure, I decided to be quite careful with everything, right down to dealing with the editors. That’s when I decided there were four things that I would not give up. They were basically, “I would decide the title myself,” “I wouldn’t have any meetings about it,” “I would do the art myself,” and “I would manage the digital publication myself.” The first one may sound quite obvious, but when you get a publisher involved, the title reflects on their brand, so they make you change it often times. (Though I was able to decide the title for “Share Body.”)

The second item had to do with the same thing. There are a lot of editors that will meddle with the work, and there are a lot more people than you think who will be very heavy-handed when dealing with you because they feel like they’re the ones paying you. When I would go to meet them after they invited me to turn it into a book, they’d say, “Let’s have some meetings about this and make it together.” I turned them all down. They’d say things like, “I can come up with all sorts of ideas that could fit the story,” and go on about all these different plans they’d have, and I’d just listen to what they had to say with a smile, and then leave. I was asked if it was possible to participate in the selection process for the different episodes, but I even said no to that. It was pretty brazen of me, but my stance was, “You’re the ones that said you wanted to turn it into a book, so please just do that.”

I also wanted them to accept that I was going to do the art as something that was a given. The publisher was coming on board after the planning, so handing over the digital rights would be strange too.

That all makes sense, but it must’ve been a perilous path. I can’t imagine talks proceeded all that smoothly once you made your stance clear to the publishing companies. They probably felt like they were setting the stage to make the chances of profitability higher, and you were refusing to go along with it. Did they feel a bit like, “Why is this guy even meeting with us then?”

Yoshida:

I did get told with a sigh that they didn’t want to talk to me anymore about that sort (negotiations about the rights) of stuff (laugh.) They’d laugh and ask me, “What happened to you to make you feel this way?” “Yaretakamo Iinkai” was the first piece of work out of all the manga that I had drawn that I actually felt like was going well, so I didn’t want to change the system that I was using to produce it until it was over. The things I was asking for came from a place more of fear rather than desires. I didn’t want to have the work get messed up anymore.

You felt like you were cornered. Thinking about it normally, a company offering to publish your work would have you take down the stuff you had put up publicly on “note,” serialize it exclusively on their own media platforms or magazines, and want to sell tankoubon. Did the conversations ever turn into something like that? That’s usually the pattern of what happened to other manga that got popular on the net at least, which is why I think it’s truly impressive that you were able to present a different method of success.

Yoshida:

Naturally, I insisted on not taking down anything on the sites that I had already put up. I had all these people on the net reading my work, so what would be the point of taking it down? Even if you go viral, what you really need to value the most aren’t the publishers that will give you work but your readers.

When I see people tweeting, “My series is starting,” or, “My book is coming out,” and fans respond, “Congratulations,” I end up thinking, “It’s not worth getting that happy about,” because I got cancelled after a half a year. Delivering your work to the reader is the goal, and having a series or putting a book out is just one way to do that. I know I’m being mean about it, but it’s almost like people just want to do a series so they can tweet about how it’s about to start. Having the publisher validate you and starting your series… it feels real nice for a moment, but then they suddenly stop tweeting for a month, and you see they’re getting cancelled. The story ends in the middle of things, and they end up letting down all the readers they worked so hard to build up.

After that, the mangaka that had their series cancelled are regarded differently. They won’t let you do things by yourself next time. They’ll have you adapt someone else’s original work or pair you up with a different person to do the art. The mangaka could just part ways with the publisher at that point, but they think to themselves, “If I just listen to what I’m told, something good might happen,” so they follow the rules that get set for them. Whenever I see someone talented just doing whatever they’re told by the publisher and the original work they’re adapting is no good, I wonder why they’re doing that. Like, “They’re so talented, and it’s such a waste!”

Starting your series or putting out a book, it’s not really something to celebrate. You may not be able to see it with your eyes, but delivering a work to the readers is what you should be most happy about. Having a series or putting out a book isn’t even a completely effective way to deliver something to the readers nowadays.

Tweets Are like Dust or Pollen

If delivering something to the reader were established as the goal of the process, then the landscape of this scene should look different. It’s certainly true that just drawing whatever the publisher tells you to do won’t always lead to good results. Did you have some plan you’d concocted to succeed without joining up with a publisher though?

Yoshida:

Not at all (laugh.) It feels like it just ended up this way because I decided what I didn’t want to do, like it was a process of elimination. I went viral once, so I thought if I just quietly drew a volume's worth of material and sold a digital version, I’d probably make some money. Even if I didn’t make that much money, as long as it was enough for me to draw my next piece, that would be enough.

A big reason why other mangaka-san get fixated on the idea of a series probably has to do with getting paid a manuscript fee. I understand where they’re coming from too, but if I were aiming to become a mangaka with everything I know now, I’d draw the manga that I want in the way that I want while working a part-time job or something, and put out an ebook once a year. I probably wouldn’t sell anything at first, but I’d polish my skills while seeing what works through trial and error, and then when someone comes across my work and it goes viral, I’d sign a contract that would be advantageous for me with the publisher. That’s the method I might choose to pursue. You can still dream like that.

Futabasha, the publisher that put out the tankoubon, didn’t pay a manuscript fee, but they were okay with me keeping the works I had up on “note,” “cakes,” and “Manga on Web,” gave me the freedom to put out a digital edition, and allowed me to have creator control over any application of it for derivative works, such as movie adaptations and the like. If I had made it my goal to put out a paper book, I don’t think it would’ve turned out this way.

After hearing everything that you’ve said, I can see that you have a deeply rooted distrust of the publishing companies at your core. But at the same time, although you make use of the internet and social networks in a very proactive way, there’s also this sort of vibe that you don’t believe they’re completely awesome either. It feels like the existence of the net was indispensable for the success of the work. You could even say that the success of “Yaretakamo Iinkai” was only possible because someone famous on the net picked up on it. How do you feel about that?

Yoshida:

I was honestly thankful that they were spreading it around the net. But it didn’t really change anything about my fundamental distrust in others. I might need some counseling or something (laugh.) It’s obvious, but it’s not like I think that everyone at the publishing companies are evil and everyone on the net is good. People who work in marketing or other internet-related fields are always looking for the next big thing that people will be talking about, and are incredibly fickle, so I’m trying to remember to not get consumed by that.

Also, people in IT can create places and spaces for manga (manga sites and applications,) but they can’t actually create the content itself. They can only make the restaurants and plates; they aren’t cooks. There are tons of sites out there with someone famous supervising but no views or ones with views but no monetization system in place. There are more apps and sites now, and the places you can draw manga have exploded in number, but the creator has to be careful and needs the power to carefully examine the place where they’re going to serialize their work.

If all you do is believe in the word “serialization,” you’re going to get turned into a dancing bear to attract attention. And you might even be made to do your jig in front of an empty audience. You want to at least have an audience if you’re going to be a dancing bear.

It’s true that there’s this idea of people who work in internet-related fields swarming around something in a flash, eating all they can, and then leaving. It’s common for new services to pop up one after another, and then disappear. They all seem very transitory.

Yoshida:

I was contacted by someone working for a certain application, asking me if I wanted to put my work on it. When I went to meet that person, they kept on saying things like, “You should do it now,” “It’s now or never,” “If you do it now, it’ll definitely do well.” They just kept saying the word “now” over and over. I said to them, “It’s true that “Yaretakamo Iinkai” might just be a flash in the pan, but you don’t really have to be so blunt about it, do you?” They responded, “Sorry, that’s not what I was trying to say. Please consider putting it on our service…” The conversation didn’t go anywhere. They were trying to make things go viral in the now, and I was wanted to continue drawing manga for the long haul. It got me feeling like our sensibilities were pretty different.

Recently, I’ve gotten quite skeptical of people who approach others just because they get a lot of retweets or have a lot of followers and ask them if they want to put out a book. Numbers make things easy to distinguish, so people tend to see retweet counts and follower numbers as having some value, but is it really okay for professional editors to be trusting them?

Are you talking about how editors are starting to resemble people who work in internet-related fields?

Yoshida:

They have, haven’t they. An editor I met the other day said to me, “I found this promising creator recently with around 6,000 followers. It’s my job to turn that number into 30,000,” and I was like, “Seriously?” Apparently there’s some data that came out that said if you have 30,000 followers, 1 in 10 or 1 in 20 will buy the book. I don’t think you can really believe in any of that, but they were telling me all this sort of proudly, so I started thinking, “What’s with this guy? I really shouldn’t trust him! I can’t trust him!!” (laugh.) I think everyone’s reacting too much to numbers. I mean, we’re not dogs here.

It would be simple if all you were trying to do was get people to clap their hands together and tell you it’s good, but you need some sort of action to get people to open up their wallets and give you their money. I think the act of pushing a “like” button is about as minor as patting the head of a Jizou statue. No matter how much something gets posted on the web, when it comes to which ebooks are selling, it’s always “One Piece” or “Shingeki no Kyojin” or “Dungeon Meshi.” Twitter has nothing to do with it. I think tweets are like dust or pollen. The lighter the dust is, the further it can fly, but nobody is going to remember what was flitting around last year.

I think that something a person will pay for might need to have a certain kind of weight to it. I believe that it’s not about likes or retweets, but rather that it’s important the person who put down the money for it feels like they bought something worthwhile and will want to buy it again.

The reason why books aren’t selling has nothing to do with people reading less manga, pirate manga sites, the internet, the end of paper publishers, or ebooks.

The people who determine that lightness or weight are supposed to be the professional editors, but are you saying that’s not really the case anymore?

Yoshida:

I think so. There’s this negative current of completely trusting in fabricated numbers the worse that books sell. There’s been some recent news about how “comico” has been driving down the price they’re paying for manuscripts (though “comico” denies that to be true) and that manga tankoubon sales are half of what they used to be in the heyday of manga.  

I think the two are connected. Around 2013, IT enterprises like “comico,” “LINE manga,” “GAMMA,” “Mangabox,” etc., came into the manga marketplace with ample amounts of funding. But fast forward 4 years, and I don’t think they’ve made much money. As for why, it’s because they’re using a business model where they depend on selling paper tankoubon to make money. If they could come up with a single “Shingeki no Kyojin,” then they could make it all back, but it’s not going well. Why isn’t it going well? Because tankoubon aren’t selling. And why is that? I think it’s because the number of publications have increased too much.

IT companies enter the market, comics increase, as if in opposition to this, the publishing companies make their own manga sites and applications and create even more content, they cut down on the page count to increase the numbers of volumes, and the result of that now is that the comic corner at bookstores are in complete disorder. I think it’s too much of a pain for readers to choose, so they just don’t buy manga anymore.

It’s like when a non-native creature is introduced to a pond and it ruins the ecosystem. The water gets muddy and people don’t want to approach it. They don’t know what’s interesting anymore. There are even too many books that recommend manga like “Kono Manga ga Sugoi,” “Manga Taishou,” or “Kono Manga wo Yome.”

In my opinion, the reason why books aren’t selling has nothing to do with people reading less manga, pirate manga sites, the internet, the end of paper publishers, or ebooks.

Mangaka are drawing manga that suit their editors, editors are trying to proceed with projects that suit the editor-in-chief, and IT companies are trying to hit it big on a single jackpot manga. This is the natural result of nobody paying attention to the reader.

If the market goes back to being healthy, I think that manga will start to sell again. It’s not like you can drain all the water out of the pond though, so it’s pretty tough. I don’t think you can expect much from paper tankoubon until the water is clean again. The ones that have it the worse here are the people running the bookstores. But I believe that the ones that do a good job of selecting what they carry will be able to survive.

Right now, I have the good luck of being able to just focus on the reader and draw my manga. There’s no greater joy than that.

(My Own) Commentary:

At https://note.mu/shuho_sato/n/n657d9e19f18f, there are some additional notes on this article written in a blog post by Shuuhou Satou. If you’re familiar with some of the details of Shuuhou Satou and Yoshida Takashi, then the interview would’ve come off as maybe slightly disingenuous. The mangaka that Yoshida Takashi was an assistant to was Shuuhou Satou, and Shuuhou Satou runs “Manga on Web.” Shuuhou Satou is a very vocal person about these issues (publisher vs creator rights, digital publications, etc.) and even manages a consulting service for mangaka contracts as well as a ebook distribution consulting service (Densho Bato.) In the blog post Shuuhou Satou confirms that the interview was meant to help a bit with the sales promotion and that Yoshida Takashi did go through his service with his ebook. He talks a bit about the perceived success of the article in boosting its position on Kindle’s comic ranking, but there are some more interesting points that he makes. One of them is that he made sure to not include his own name in the interview (though he was the one who authored and conducted it.) For anyone not familiar with the history, it probably doesn’t make a difference, but if you do know who he is, then it comes off as a bit underhanded. I think a lot of the things Shuuhou says are interesting, even if I don’t particularly think his comics are. Not putting that out there upfront for the reader when the interview is going to touch on the issues he’s known for getting into just makes Yoshida seem more like a parrot than his own person. It should be noted that Shuuhou and the people that he represents are really among the most successful in terms of making money off digital distribution, but Shuuhou is also pouring tons of money back into marketing and promotion.

Also, some of the numbers that they mention people talking about always strike me as a little humorous. At the moment I’m writing this, Yoshida has about 7,000 followers on twitter, and Shuuhou has about 10,000. Most of the retweets for the interview come from someone else’s account. Many of the authors that I enjoy reading and follow have lower numbers or no twitter account at all. That makes the editor’s comment about getting an author’s follower count to 30,000 pretty funny. In context, with the “data” that was getting mentioned, you’d move 3,000 units at best, which is close to the minimum of what you’d want to make profitability feasible on a tank’s print run.

Regarding the comments Yoshida makes about the marketplace currently, I do think there’s a lot of shit in the water, but I also think it’s worth mentioning that this shakeup also allowed for the existence and development of manga sites like Torch (Leed) and Mavo. I never would’ve expected the publisher that puts out Comic Ran, a magazine that is basically all samurai comics, to be behind something as forward-thinking as Torch. Shuuhou’s own Manga on Web is also one that was built in the muddied environment, though Manga on Web has been running in the red just like all of those other IT based sites. It’s not as though editors at paper publishers were making amazing decisions all the time prior to this marketplace flooding either. They may not have been looking at follower counts, but they definitely were stressing sales numbers, and a lot of them went with veterans that drew crap that sold rather than developing and fostering younger authors. At least in this environment, younger authors have some places online to put work up when niche magazines are getting shuttered, even if they’re all working side jobs at the same time. For the general consumer, it may be too confusing to choose, but for someone who will invest their time into finding works they want to read themselves, it’s not the chaotic environment he makes it out to be.

As for “Yaretakamo Iinkai,” you can actually read some of it in English “officially” on pixiv at https://www.pixiv.net/user/3130738/series/22797. My personal opinion of it is that… I’d rather read this than Shuuhou’s comics :T

[opheliakeeauthor]

Blurbs or Covers?

It's a serious question, isn't it? I mean the cover is the first impression a book makes on the reader. Authors tend to spend a good chunk of change on cover design. It should be reflective of the both the story contained within the pages and the genre it's supposed to belong to, right? Maybe. I've read a lot of fantastic hardbound books from libraries whose covers were very plain. It was the book description that lured me in far faster than the cover. So I ask, is the cover more important than the blurb? As a self-published author who is pure indie, I say no way. Not a chance. (I write, publish, and market my books. I don't outsource very much of anything. If someone else is promoting my stuff, you can bet I wrote the ad.) I have explained my particular style of branding in a previous blog I wrote about the parts of a book (e-book and paperback). If you have questions ask, and I will be more than happy to explain my book covers. I never thought that they were more important than the book blurb though, and the reason why is both important to the reader and to me as the publisher and marketer of the book. Simply put, the book description or blurb is the true selling point of a book. I don't know anyone who buys anything just based on the packaging. It's the contents we're most concerned with. (With groceries: Where was it grown, caught, raised, how was it treated, free range, wild, whole grain, organic, nothing added/taken away etc...). For example, the dented cans at the grocery store don't sell unless they're discounted heavily. It's not that we care that the can was dented, rather it's that we worry that the dent has somehow caused the contents inside to be damaged. Sure the labeling needs to be consistent so that customers can easily identify their favorite products. This is why major brands rarely attempt to reinvent their old familiar logos. Even at a reduced rate, we'll still pay more for an out of date brand name or a used version than we'll pay for a brand new top of the line generic version. Marshall's and Ross Dress for Less are well aware of this fact and sell last years Nike and Calvin Kline at a reduced rate, but it still costs more than going to Rainbows and buying their store brand t-shirt. In the world of literature, e-books don't get dented. The only way you get a discount with them is if the author or publisher runs a sale or the author feels that the market is oversaturated and reduced prices will mean more opportunities. A damaged cover at the bookstore on a paperback will get you the manager special, but you won't buy the book if it didn't already appeal to you. You won't buy Nike looking for a ballgown. That means that the contents must be something you feel you want.  

Example Blurb

"Lazlo Greyson, a millionaire CEO and descendent from a line of kings, is lonely. He's finished with gold digging socialites and seedy one-night stands. He needs something a bit more permanent. Peter Elliot might just be able to help him find what he needs, but the man is bad news and Lazlo knows it. When Elliot introduces him to Soraya Heffernon, a beautiful, trained orphan girl, Lazlo is sold. As Lazlo feared, Elliot had a hidden agenda. The woman he fell in love with isn’t what he thought she was. Things take a serious turn for the worse and his whole life is turned upside down when he lands at Draoithe in need of help from the tiger queen to save his life. Meet the Ghost King of Lyons Gate, a newly crafted outpost kingdom in this spinoff story from the Draoithe saga."

The Reader's Perspective

The blurb can't just hang out by itself. It comes with the packaging. The book jacket is like a candy wrapper. The cover is the image on the front, the brand and item logo. The Book description is like the information on the back of the candy wrapper and what is found on the back cover or inside the flaps. Just like the candy wrapper has a list of ingredients with some ingredients always listed vaguely as spices, a book description always hints at the story without giving away the ending. Just like the wrapper has the nutrition label on it, the Book description includes information about the author, the genre, and the story that is background information helping the reader decide on a good fit for their mood. (Chocolate versus peanut butter versus cinnamon versus caramel, etc... or Sci-fi versus fantasy versus romance versus mystery, etc...) ​Book descriptions are better than candy wrappers though because they get to add details that might matter to the reader that they might otherwise miss, like the idea that there are other books by the author (series numbers or noting that the book is part of a saga). Extra information about the magic, tech or world building that might be just what the reader was looking for or so intriguing that they now simply must know more about whatever might be in the pages of the book.

The Marketing Perspective

This is the reason why the blurb is still more important than the cover from the self-published author perspective. A well-developed book description aids search engine optimization. If the book is published on KDP, Kindle tells the author that the keywords he/she chooses should be words not already included in the title or obvious to the category (genre). If your book is entitled Bear Mate and is published as a Paranormal Romance, then you should not need to use those four words in your key words list. "Search keywords help readers find your book when they browse the Amazon site. You can enter keywords or short phrases that describe your book and are relevant to its content. The best keywords are those that do not repeat words in the title, category, or description, as these are already used to help readers find your book. Some types of keywords are prohibited and may result in content being removed from sale."

The book description blank on Amazon is 4,000 characters. So my blurb gets added with other things my reader might need to help them choose my book (the nutrition facts and ingredients list). This way I offer as much opportunity as I can to increase organic traffic for not just one of my books but all of my books if a reader pauses to browse even one. So this is an example of what gets put in my book description space:

Lazlo Greyson, a millionaire CEO and descendent from a line of kings, is lonely. He's finished with gold-digging socialites and seedy one-night stands. He needs something a bit more permanent. Peter Elliot might just be able to help him find what he needs, but the man is bad news and Lazlo knows it. When Elliot introduces him to Soraya Heffernon, a beautiful, trained orphan girl, Lazlo is sold. As Lazlo feared, Elliot had a hidden agenda. The woman he fell in love with isn’t what he thought she was. Things take a serious turn for the worse and his whole life is turned upside down when he lands at Draoithe in need of help from the tiger queen to save his life. Meet the Ghost King of Lyons Gate, a newly crafted outpost kingdom in this spinoff story from the Draoithe saga. !HEA! NC! PNR Adult Content Ghostly Kingdom is a spinoff miniseries of short reads set in Lyons Gate in the Draoithe Saga by the Adult Fantasy and Paranormal Romance Author Ophelia Kee. Fantasy world-building on a grand scale woven together with multifaceted magical characters to create a tapestry of thrilling stories all interconnected in the Draoithe Saga. Steamy hot, wickedly delicious paranormal romance and adult fantasy stories set in a dream to live for. It became a retreat and a sanctuary for immortals and gifted humans as Luke and Eli discovered love, magic, and danger. They find friends helping dragons, shifters, vampires, wizards, and stranger beings from the nine realms of the dream overcome their problems in exchange for different magic and skills to aid in protecting the sanctuary that is Draoithe. Those who come to Draoithe add to the balance and aid in the fight to restore that balance to the dream. Grab a good drink, curl up in a good seat, choose a book from the Saga, and escape into the dream while you meet the men and women who call it home. A place where myths, legends, and fairytales walk unmolested among the strange and wonderful, where the balance is often found in a lifemate, where the magic from the past lives again! Welcome to the dream... Titles by Ophelia Kee Complete Volume Miniseries Draoithe: Tantalu *Prequel Draoithe: A Pack Forms Volume 1 Draoithe: The Council Volume 2 Draoithe: Magic Calls to Magic Volume 3 Draoithe: Dragons Come Volume 4 Draoithe:The Ruiri Complete Volume 5 Draoithe: Light and Dark Magic Volume 6 Draoithe: The Dark Gift Volume 7 Draoithe: Elementals Volume 8 Draoithe: Fire and a Gryphon Volume 9 Draoithe: Synner And Sainte *Forbye Draoithe: Dream Therapy Volume 10 Draoithe: Filth and Death Volume 11 Dread Allies: Shadow King Miniseries *Spinoff Eyrie Iolair: Prodigal Sons Miniseries *Spinoff Eyrie Iolair: Sky Dreams Miniseries *Spinoff Draoithe: Dragon Masters Volume 12 Draoithe: Precious Treasures Volume 13 Draoithe: War Dogs Volume 14 Draoithe: Past in the Present Volume 15 Draoithe: The Library Volume 16 Draoithe: Midnight Magic Volume 17 Draoithe: No Negotiations Volume 18 Draoithe: Shadow Master Volume 19 Short Reads Set in the dream Draoithe: The Thread *Prologue Volume 1 Draoithe: Arctic Fox *Prologue Volume 2 Draoithe: Drake and Lorelai *Excerpt Volume 17 Eyrie Iolair: Dragonesque *Sky Dreams Tangent Draoithe: Weaver’s Tale Miniseries *Novela Draoithe: Smoke of the Fire  *Short Read Trilogy Eyrie Iolair: Risky Rewards *Short Read Trilogy Draoithe: Still Waters *Short Read Duet Draoithe: Wizards and Grotesques *Short Read Duet Draoithe: Fairytale Shadows *Short Read Duet

Notice the breaks allow the reader to read the book blurb then see information about the writing style, related other materials, etc... All the words in this one book description helps increase the chances that any of my books get seen beyond the scope of any keywords I might add. This allows me to use different keywords like shifter, vampire, alpha male, bad boy etc.. without repeating book description terms so that I am optimizing the search engine on Amazon as much as possible not just for one of my books but all of my books.

Shameless Self Promotion

Lyons Gate: Ghostly Kingdom Part 4  is releasing this weekend! It's coming to a reading nook near you! Lazlo get's sucker punched, but he really should have seen it coming. If you haven't started reading this miniseries yet, what are you waiting for? Each part FREE with Kindle Unlimited! Or only $.99 each to buy as ebooks. Y'all know I'm crazy and could get tired of publishing it in parts. Spring break is coming up. I might get time to sneak in an extra part or two.

I hope I didn't bore my readers with the technical jargon. If you stuck it out this long, the rumor is that I have begun work on a new series. I will validate the truth of the rumor. Sorry no details yet. Draoithe will wrap up production by the end of 2022. No time like the present to get a head start on what's coming next. And yeah, I know. I'm gonna finish writing those last three books in the Draoithe Saga. Unless God calls me home, I'm finishing this crazy dream. The slow move to Word Press has begun. Cross your fingers. I made a video book rough draft, but it was trash. I am getting better though. It's going to be super cool when I finally get it good. When you read, please remember to be kind and leave your review. It will make an author's day if you do. I gotta run. Lot's to do and never enough time to do it all. Be Careful! Happy Reading, ​Ophelia Kee

[thenatureofpages]

Top Bookstores in the USA On My Bucket List

I love traveling – I’ve often done so with my parents on holidays and breaks. While there are neat attractions at every place, the spots I’m always drawn to are the bookstores! There are truly some unique and fun bookstores to be found if you’re looking, which is why I’ve made a bucket list of bookstores I want to visit once covid (hopefully soon) is under control.

Parnassus Books in Nashville, TN

Photo from Nashville Scene

Parnassus Books is named after Mount Parnassus in Greek mythology, the home of literature and music. This bookstore also has a canine bookseller who hangs around the shop – adorably cute.

Bright Side Bookshop in Flagstaff, AZ

Photo from Bright Side Bookshop

Bright Side Bookshop is a colorful dive into the heart of it’s mountain city in Arizona and considers itself to be a community hub! The fun bookstore looks like a book nerd haven.

Bart’s Books in Ojai, CA

Photo from @BartsBooksOjai

Look, I’m a nature person at heart (to all those laughing: yes, my high school English teacher may have described me as an “indoor cat” which is one hundred percent true, but I’m a sucker for a good sunshiny day), so when I saw Bart’s Books I was HERE for it. This is the world’s largest outdoor bookstore!

Powell’s City of Books in Portland, OR

Photo from Willamette Week

Its the largest indie bookstore in the world! With nine color-coded rooms and over 68,000 feet of books, I would happily get lost inside the store. They also have an Espresso Print Machine, meaning writers can take their novels in on a USB and design a cover, format, and print their own books!

The Last Bookstore in Los Angeles, CA

Photo from Must Do Travels

Starting out in 2005 under the belief that bookstores were quickly dying out, The Last Bookstore has grown to one of largest indie bookstores in the world! They collaborate with local artists and create fun book set-ups for shoppers to photograph with.

Books Are Magic in Brooklyn, NY

Photo from Books Are Magic

What an aesthetic bookstore! Books Are Magic is quoted for wanting to be “the friendliest bookstore in Brooklyn,” and from the pictures they sure look like they measure up! The owner is an author herself, and they hold events for writers and the community (right now held virtually).

Boulder Bookstore in Boulder, CO

Photo from Boulder Bookstore

Nestled in Boulder, this bookstore looks amazing to take pictures in. Look at the bookstagram opportunities! This looks simply amazing, their website shows a vast amount of titles, and they encourage everyone to shop indie!

Elliot Bay Book Company in Seattle, WA

Photo from Elliot Bay Book Company

During non-covid times, Elliot Bay Book Company hosts over 500 author signings every year! It is home to over 150,000 book titles – and looks super cute while doing so.

City Lights in San Francisco, CA

Photo from American Booksellers Assoc.

City Lights is a famous bookstore, known for their own publishing company within the store! It specializes in world literature and arts.

Changing Hands Bookstore in Phoenix, AZ

Photo from Changing Hands Bookstore

Changing Hands Bookstore has a cozy atmosphere, even only from the photos. Just looking at them makes me want to curl up with a book! One of their locations even has a First Draft Bar (lol) that has snacks and beverages for readers.

The Strand in New York City, NY

Photo from Wikipedia

Now, if you’ve been following me on my The Nature of Pages bookstagram, you might actually know that I managed to visit The Strand after BookCon 2019! It was absolutely amazing – books for ages – and yet, I couldn’t just leave it off this list! There are 18 miles of books in this bookstore, and multiple floors!

The Henry Miller Memorial Library in Big Sur, CA

Photo from Henry Miller Memorial Library Facebook

Honestly, this bookstore/library looks way more like a sleep-away camp cabin than a bookstore, and I’m totally here for it. They are more well-known for their events, but seriously. Adorable.

The Montague Bookmill in Montague, MA

Photo from TripAdvisor

This store’s slogan is “Books you don’t need in a place you can’t find,” and if that isn’t enough to make me want to come on a wild adventure, I don’t know what would. They also have a cafe and sell vinyls in this old stone mill turned into a bookstore.

Square Books in Oxford, MS

Photo from Tracey Jackson

Square Books is a two-story bookstore with a cafe and a balcony for readers to peruse. There are three buildings full of books in historic, old buildings turned into these bookstores! They’ve had writers-in-residence in their past.

The Book Cellar in Chicago, IL

Photo from TripAdvisor

This cute half-eatery, half-bookstore has hosted many authors signings and community events, north of Chicago and near the coast. They also have poetry nights for locals!

McNally Jackson Books in New York City, NY

Photo from McNally Jackson

LOOK AT HOW MANY BOOKS ARE ON THE CEILING! Honestly, that’s the book nerd goal right there. They’re currently hosting virtual author events and questions, and recently posted a picture of people playing in the snow right outside their shop. Totally goals.

Brattle Book Shop in Boston, MA

Photo from Atlas Obscura

Last, but certainly not least, is Brattle Book Shop! I’ve been to Boston and now I’m kicking myself for not managing to get here! It’s one of America’s oldest bookstores, started in 1825. They’re known for having rare 1st editions of books.

Phew! There’s so many cool bookstores to visit. Have you visited any of them? Let me know in the comments if you have or if I’ve missed any epic bookstores!

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[because-its-important]

2017: a year of courage 🦄

If 2016 was a year of opening doors, 2017 was a year of walking through them. This year demanded a lot of courage.

First, the fun things!

Programming.

I’ve been talking about this quite a bit already, so I don’t want to linger too much. This was my first year working as a programmer (heyo) and I learned a whole lot very, very quickly. Building a data-heavy webapp for bar associations and their member lawyers from scratch is no joke! I’m also real proud to be capping the year off in the midst of a batch at Recurse Center. About a year ago I kept thinking about how good it would feel to be “ready” for something like RC, and it does, it feels good.

“what are u doing rn?” selfie circa mid May.

Zines and indie book sellers.

I encountered a lot of zines this year, exponentially more than all the years of my life prior. I went to a zine reading, multiple zine fairs (including one I volunteered at), I assembled a zine at the Bushwick Print Lab, I brought friends to Quimby’s. And, ofc, I bought a bunch too.

I purchased all the zines above at Pete’s Mini Zine Fest.  From top left to bottom right, they include: a parody science zine about “fracking”; a zine about a woman’s experiences riding the subway when she was pregnant; a zine about the history of animals that have been sent to space; a holographic bookmark that isn’t a zine but reminded me of a femme version of the robot in FLCL; a zine someone made about remembering her recently deceased father and how they’d go mushroom hunting; an art zine full of sketches of demons. I also asked every artist to sign the copy I bought, because I am a huge dork. 🤓

A beautiful zine I found in the library at the Recurse Center. Zines are everywhere! Keep an eye out. 👀

I also spent a lot of time browsing and buying books (often used, sometimes not) from independent bookstores and sellers. I picked up books from BookPeople in Austin, from the Oakland Book Festival, from a library sale in Syracuse, from Unnameable Books in Prospect Heights 1, from Autumn Leaves in Ithaca, from the Verso loft in DUMBO, from Borderlands in the Mission, from Powell’s in Portland. I even scored Invisible Cities and Frankenstein from a stack left outside my neighborhood coffee shop.

These were all purchased for like $3 from a library sale held in the garage of a old fire station in Syracuse, NY. Includes: a book about stream of consciousness novels; a book about how to make poisons written by this dude; a book of poetry about the devil. Must’ve been a real moody day.

Interference Archive and Church Night.

I visited a lot of new places in 2017, so I wanna talk about two places that I found myself coming back to again and again.

I first visited Interference Archive or went to events where they tabled roughly a dozen or so times this year. I remember spending snowy days in winter doing a bit of cataloging for a big archive they’d received of counter culture newspapers from the 70s. I participated in two reading groups hosted by IA, one on different social movements from the 60s to today and another on race and mass incarceration following The New Jim Crow2. Interference Archives annual block party was also killer, with free screen printing, radical button-making, a used book sale 😏, free tamales served out of a trash bag (they were so good!!), and a live Yiddish queer punk band.

I blew up and tied these balloons for IA’s block party all by myself! Very important work! 

One of the issues of The Berkeley Barb that I cataloged. I also cataloged about half of The Black Panther newspapers in their collection. You can check out Interference Archive’s catalog here.

I also went to church service four times! 😋 Church Night is a comedy show that features three standup sets, a burlesque show, and a 90s rock sing-a-long, all rolled up into a evangelical sketch. Each service is also topped off by a real-ass sermon, with positive messages that have made me cry multiple times. It is a really perverse good time and the folks who run it are extremely friendly and hardworking. They travel to Brooklyn every couple months or so and are based in Washington DC, so if you near live in either of those areas, I fucken implore you to check them out.

Another great service at Church Night!

Puppet shows and films.

I attended two puppet shows this year, which is two more than any year in adult memory and certainly two more than I could have expected! The first puppet show played after a few live bands on a rooftop in Bushwick on a hot summer night - I drank cold canned beer and graciously accepted when some generous stranger passed around a bowl.

The second puppet show was a performance at a banging housewarming party in a living room in Bed Stuy, and a friend was one of the central performers. At one point during the show an iMac in the living room fell four feet to the hardwood floor below and the audience - a room full of friends and friendly faces - gasped. THE SPECTRE OF FAILURE!3 I thought very loudly in my head while my face contorted into rapt, waiting concern. Of course the show Went On, the moment of danger transformed, transcended. Holy shit! This is real! This is real life! I thought over a swelling-swooning heart, and it set the tone for the best night of my year.

I managed to catch a bunch of rad shorts including the IFC’s showing of Academy Award-nominated animated shorts, Rooftop Films’ non-animated “uncanny” shorts as well as their animation block party, and a round of alternative horror shorts presented by the Bushwick Film Festival. Respectively, my favorite shorts from each of these collections were: Blind Vaysha, about a girl with an eye that sees the past and an eye that sees the future4, See A Dog, Hear A Dog which explores how we train non-humans (particularly 🐶 and 🤖) to respond to us as if they understand us, My Man (octopus) about the stickiness of a toxic relationship (or, from the same night, Pittari, about a v cute demon), and GREAT CHOICE, which is a hilarious horror short about being stuck in an infinitely looping Olive Garden commercial from the 90s.

If you enjoy films and live experiences generally, I can’t recommend Rooftop Films enough. They’re a long-running NYC nonprofit that supports diverse, independent filmmaking and their summer series is truly unique and wonderful; each screening is hosted in a dope outdoor location in NYC and is preceded by a musical act fit to the theme of the film. I saw films on the roof of the Old American Can Factory and backlit by the eponymous sunset of Sunset Park. The ticket-price also includes an open bar after each screening, and you can chat with the folks who worked on the films. These are the kind of events that make living in a city so special, so take a friend, take two, and go!

It was a chilly the night at the Old American Can Factory where we saw Rat Film, a documentary about Baltimore told through the measures taken to control the rat population. Eugene (left) is wearing a towel I bought in LA. Bailey (right) is wearing a NASA sweatshirt.

Big music, living room music, radio music, discos Good and Bad.

Unlike last year, I didn’t go to any music festivals, but I did hit up a couple biggish shows. I saw Chastity Belt at Williamsburg Hall of Music (what a great venue 💚) and Yaeji at Elsewhere.

In a surprise display of social aptitude and luck, I managed to pull together folks from no less than four disparate friend groups to go see Chastity Belt with me in June.

I’ve been getting good at identifying proper communal experiences and boy, AcouticQ really hits the nail on the head. It’s such a friendly, intimate setting that you can’t help but wonder, is this not the perfect what to share tunes about heartache and triumph? If that compelling to you and you’re a good person who enjoys folky music and supporting queer artists, starting following AcoustiQ and hit up one of their events! Bring snacks, bring booze, bring a cash donation. 💵

I saw Julia Weldon first at AcoustiQ in September…

…and then again in November at PIANOS. 😊🎸

I started listened to radio programs - I think perhaps when looking for tunes for my daily bike commute? Anyway, I found myself tuning in pretty regularly to Radio Free Brooklyn. Bushwick Garage is probably my most listened to station, and I haven’t really tried any of the more talk show stuff. I suspect there’s something for everyone, especially if you live in NYC. You can check out their schedule here, though I’ve been relying on their Mixcloud channel for the most part.

Continued to do a fair bit of dancing in 2017 and saw a few new-to-me venues. I’ve decided that I really hate most any dance club on a Friday or Saturday past midnight; the situation nearly always devolves into Basic Dance Beat while straights get sloppy all over the place. There is nothing more distracting and vibe-killing than pretending not to notice some baseball cap bro who keeps desperately dancing at you in a crowded space, especially when you know he’s “working up the courage” to say something that will inevitably be heinously stupid. Like, I did not come here to build empathy for mediocre dudes hoping to ~get lucky~ at the club, I came here to dance myself clean!!! 😤

So when I tell you that I’ve had nothing but positive, glowing experiences the last two times I’ve been to weekend events at Magick City, let me tell you, this is high praise! What a great DIY music venue. The first event I went to there was a record listening party, where a roomful of people laid on blanket on the floor and quietly listened to an album - had a break to talk about it, pee, get another beer - and then listened to another. The second event was a set by these folks in a thick fog with a great light show and yet room to dance and breathe! The drinks were cheap and there was a whole table of delicious free snacks that had been prepared onsite.

Look at this rad setup by Drippy Eye Projections!

A communal fifth of whiskey left in the bathroom at Magick City. Just in case you needed a lil, y’know? What a phenomenal discotheque!🕺✨

Biking.

Through 2017, biking has been my main form of commuting. I spent winter and spring using Citibike5 until finally buying my own in early June. Deciding to own a bike for the first time in the city, let alone picking what to buy, was a pretty challenging experience. I went with a lightweight matte-black hybrid with an internal hub for its 3 gears. 

My bb is decked out with cleated neon-chartreuse pedals, green and yellow spoke beads (not pictured), and a purple-teal bluetooth speaker. 💜💚

And a word, if we might, about my speaker: this speaker is tough as shit! I’ve dropped it off my bike multiple times, and once I looked back only to watch it get run over by a car, twice. It’s also survived rain, sailing, and being dumped roughly into airport bins.6

I have plenty more to say about biking, but to cut to the chase: biking is clearly a superior mode of urban transit if you are able-bodied, have the nerves to deal with cars, and don’t mind arriving at your destination kinda gross. In the last 18 months or so I’ve gone from someone who Never Goes Out to someone who Goes Out More Than Your Average Bear and I’m prepared to credit biking as a major enabler. If you want to learn more about your city, see your friends more often, and make new ones - start biking!

This is a video I shot while riding my bike home from a 4th of July party. I nearly got nailed with a Roman Candle, lol.

Traveling.

I also did a greater-than-expected bit of traveling again this year, again all within the United States. I went to Austin in April, visited Oakland and Berkeley for the first time in May, visited both Ithaca and Vermont for the first times in July, drove to Kentucky to see the TOTAL SOLAR ECLIPSE with my cousin in August, drove from San Francisco to Los Angeles for Indiecade in October, and capped off with a half-work half-play visit to Portland, OR in November. I suspect this isn’t a sustainable amount of traveling, but it’s incredibly hard to regret - especially when it allows you to see friends who live far away or experience unique bonding moments with friends who live nearby - so who knows what next year will look like.

One of the most special places I’ve been this year was Lothlorien, a student coop at Berkeley where a friend lived in undergrad. It was an inspiring intentional community - so much art on the walls, a tree house with a perfect view of the sunset, a dream library. So magical! 💖

The cabin trip in Vermont was also really special. We did so many appropriate summer camp activities, like sailing, tubing, visiting cows, taking walks under a sky full of stars, building a blanket fort, putting together puzzles, and playing with fire.

We made this at the beginning of the day and boy oh boy did it come in handy for organizing ourselves! And gee, look at how well hydrated we were. 💦🌈💦

Now, the less easy stuff.

Sex.

One of my goals this year was to “learn more about sex.”

me: when you said we were going to be learning about sex, i didn’t realize there’d be so much reading involved, i thought it might be less of a mental and more of a physical edu- also me: lol don’t front

When I first cracked open Bataille’s Erotism: Death and Sensuality, I remember being absolutely floored by how much it was not whatever I had expected it to be - and that that was a helpful starting place. Erotism is an examination of the function of taboos and their sites of transgression, how the act of transgressing is subject to its own social rules and tends to be ritualized7, and how as conscious mortal beings we’re compelled towards moments of transgression because they seem to imitate what we imagine the great continuity of death feels like without having to, y’know, die. I liked his analysis of de Sade’s writing and the irony of sadism - that the promise of transgression is greater self-awareness, but the violence it requires necessarily also erodes that same awareness. I both appreciate and am wary of how aggressively Bataille dislocates sex from a bodily endeavor to a psychological compulsion. He had also some real undercooked shit say about women and was clearly terrified of sex, so I’m kinda disinclined to treat his opinions as functionally valuable to lived experience.

The Persistent Desire, on the other hand, was easily the most personally important book I read this year. It’s an anthology of generations of lesbian femme-butch relationships, told through stories from women’s lives, interviews with queer scholars, and some extremely hot sex poems. My primary inner-dialogue with gender has been “ugh” and “this shit again” and “if I pitch my voice and play Nice Girl this unbearable interaction will be over faster.” I had never spent so much concentrated time thinking about the performance of gendered sexuality in queer relationships, and wow, I have been missing out on some much better thoughts!

Like, Q: Does gender performance ever feel sexy to me, not just hostile? Under what circumstances? A: Yes, but generally only so long as a) the performance is fluid, eg. you’re the boy, I’m the girl, now you’re the girl, now we’re both boys, and b) power, however gendered, doesn’t rest in one place for too long. Gender is fun to play with as long as it feels like playing, where the heteronormative script is really only referenced insofar as it’s being subverted, shredded up by contact with a reality that unequivocally de-legitimizes it.

Like, Q: how much better would my life be if I approached sexual relationships from a place of radical honesty and expected the same from my partners? A: PROBABLY A LOT.

Like, Q: how do I make space in my life to form romantic-sexual relationships with people who aren’t cishet dudes? A: idk bitch, but you’re apparently a pro at lifestyle changes! Keep going to queer events, keep reading, keep processing. I believe in you.

This is a cute fire safety map at the Lesbian Herstory Archives, which I visited for the first time on a very wet snowy day in November. The archives had been mentioned frequently in The Persistent Desire and I was so excited to find that they were still around (44 years!), located in Brooklyn, and having an annual book sale.

Depression, denial, and death.

At one point this year I remember having an entirely normal hang out with my sister and partner in our Bed-Stuy apartment. I turned to the both of them and said, “You know, I think I might be real sad. I think I might depressed.” I wasn’t worried when I said it, though I do remember the words feeling strange. My sister and my partner of 7 years looked at each other, something like ‘Uh, do you want to take this one?’ or ‘Does she really not know?’ and eventually someone said, “Yeah, Nicole, that sounds right.”

If you had told me last year that I’d be spending so much time with Freud and Camus I would have rolled my eyes very, very exaggeratedly.

The most frightening thing about mental unwellness, imo, is that a good personal quality which is otherwise healthy and worth cherishing can become catastrophically distorted. So, say, an extremely deep capacity for enduring pain and discomfort, especially in service of others, becomes proving your worth by how much you’re willing to suffer, how much energy you’re willing to give away without expecting reciprocation. Worse still, let’s say, is being trapped in a cycle of denial about your own nature.

Denial takes lazy, irrational, harmful patterns of thought and elevates them to Gospel. You can’t be a generous and giving person because you can so clearly recall all the moments when you could have given more. You can’t be getting taken advantage of because you obviously would not abide exploitation in your presence. A friend wouldn’t repeatedly use you, to your loss and their gain, so that’s impossible by definition. If what you’re doing was really that painful and exhausting, you would have stopped already. _If you were depressed, you’d know it._8

I took this photo in Austin on a night when I was feeling decidedly not good at all. In fact, I was feeling so not good and so ashamed of not feeling good that I went out and bought The Myth of Sisyphus.

Last month the opiate epidemic rose up and swallowed my estranged uncle. Though we weren’t personally close, I’d spent my childhood within a ten minute walk from his house and had lots of memories of him. Death leaves a vacuum, always. It’s also an effective invitation to re-examine your life and the people in it. My uncle was provided with endless love and support from his family - and yet. Self-delusion sure is captivating.9

This was a year where I decided that I valued truth over self-delusion, and more importantly, a year where I affirmed that decision with concerted effort. It is extraordinarily challenging to reckon with the blind-spots in your perception of reality, especially whenever those blind-spots were constructed By You to cope with past pain and avoid it again in the future. Maybe everyone doesn’t need to do this? Maybe most people live comfortably with the given state of their ego? But internal delusions are a barrier to conscious clarity, and to the extent that living consciously feels the most like Actually Living and not Waiting To Die, I am determined to clean that shit up.

Lessons, imperatives!

So it’s late afternoon on Dec 31st and if this is going to be a 2017 recap, I’m really coming down to the wire. Here are the most important lessons I learned this year.

I luv this demon, because they sure got the right idea. ❤️🖤 

AESTHETICS MATTER.

I’ve often caught myself feeling bad for identifying with a community or culture that I didn’t feel like I’d “earned” my place at yet. This happened with biking, it happened with programming, it happened in queer spaces. imo, the best way to handle impostor syndrome is to kill it where it sleeps. I sure am! I am a devious impostor! Let’s see how far I can get before someone reveals me, exiles me! Turns out you can get all the way to Being The Thing, especially if your intentions are true. Your attraction to the thing is the first signal of your belonging, so get busy belonging!

LOVE THYSELF, AND GET GOOD AT IT.

Most of the psychological friction I’ve come up against in my search for The Truth Please has been caused by a very stubborn refusal to see and accurately assess my own self-worth. Very classic, very boring. I have only just begun to internalize what it might mean to love myself, to care for myself with even a little of the generosity and kindness and specificity that I happily devote to other people. The psychic backbending I’ve had to do to accomplish this goes something like, what if we loved ourselves the way we wished someone else would, like, idk, as a joke or something? Wouldn’t that be funny, at least? 🙃

That worked pretty well, but when it didn’t, I used brute willpower: hating yourself is a coward’s game, and whatever I may be able to lie to myself about, I will not pretend that I’m a coward.

Ultimately, though, the best way to learn how to love yourself is to watch how your friends do it and to actively resist the urge to interrupt them.

SPEAK, BITCH 🗯

Earlier this year I was walking with a friend, and I was very ashamed of myself when I told her I was thinking about writing something. I immediately walked it back, waffled, recoiled from myself. She was bewildered. “You should! I feel like you have things to say!” My reaction to this was sharp, panicked fear.

Because she was right. Because self-articulation and knowledge-sharing are fundamental human endeavors and if I think I’m somehow exempt from that, that I somehow uniquely Haven’t Got Anything Worth Saying, then that is delusion. Because if the real thing holding me back is a fear that my skill won’t measure up to the things I want to express, then the brave and honest thing to do is to try anyway.

So when I went to Recurse Center, I started this blog. I named it Because Its Important just so that every time I started doubting myself and asking “Why oh why am I doing this?” I would have the answer right there. 🐙

👋 Thank you for reading! Here is a silly-glasses bathroom selfie.

I read Donna Haraway’s CYBORG MANIFESTO for an outdoor discussion group at Unnameable books this summer. It is so amazing. I could only barely keep pace with it and I can’t wait to read it again after some time. ↩︎

I consistently arrived late, but bearing coffee by way of apology. ☕️🙏 ↩︎

I read Theatre of the Unimpressed, a book recommended to me by a friend after we saw an indie play earlier this year. The book talks a lot about what makes theater captivating, about the necessity of the possibility of failure, about the tendency for people to see see one boring-ass play and decide that they Just Aren’t Into Theater. The play we saw together wasn’t memorable, save for the fact that it was performed in a loft that hosts semi-regular makeout parties, which I’ve attended on half a dozen occasions. They are largely terrible. ↩︎

In one of the scenes Vaysha is courted by suitors, but they appear as child in one eye and an old man in the other. Fucking chilling. ↩︎

I remember a conversation earlier this year where a guy said that he “couldn’t imagine what it takes” to ride a heavy Citibike over a bridge in NYC. “Willpower, mostly” I replied. He ignored me, repeated himself: “Gee, but I just don’t get it!” If someone doesn’t want to understand, they don’t want to understand. ↩︎

You can buy one here. ↩︎

In fact, a taboo ain’t even a taboo if it can’t be transgressed! ↩︎

A possibly less upsetting example of a denial! In September I was walking to brunch with my sister and her boyfriend the morning after a party at my bff's apartment. "Nicole, you really brought the party!" He said to me. My immediate emotional response was anger at how 100% wrong he was. The night before I had brought glowsticks, mini shark toys, and a Gingerhead House kit to the party. I was going to a party that night for which I'd purchased a tank of helium and large tropical balloons. But my desire to argue, my certainty that He Had Erred was complete. I've very rarely experienced moments where my subjective experience is so strongly misaligned with objective reality, but now that I'm in the business of noticing this crap, it happens pretty regularly whenever anyone says anything nice about me, to me. ↩︎

Drugs, too. ↩︎