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#saint john in the wilderness

psalmlover · 5 months

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beloved, my john

so i’ll carry on

counting my cards down to one

and when i am dead

come visit my bed

my fossil is bright in the sun

so can we contend, peacefully?

before my history ends

jesus, i need you, be near me, come shield me from fossils that fall on my head

there’s only a shadow of me, in a matter of speaking i am dead

#as a person with cptsd i’ve always loved the ‘fossils that fall on my head’ line #song: beloved my john by sufjan stevens #art: saint john the baptist in the wilderness by caravaggio

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sameheart-sameblood · 1 year

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Love in the Time of Cordyceps

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

summary: when the world ends, you promise you'll never love again. joel miller makes that rule hard to stick to

words: 7.1k

warnings: mentions of gore (pretty tame but still), swearing, sickness, angst, fluff, two dummies not realizing they love each other until one of them almost dies 🙄

a/n: this was supposed to be more angsty but then i remembered life is hard enough already. and i just want soft joel soooo here we are. also i meant to write 2k at most but boy do i love to ramble

read on ao3!

After the world goes to hell, you promise yourself you’ll never love again. A person, an animal, a place, nothing. Only a fool would choose to make themselves that vulnerable, needing every fiber of your being one hundred percent devoted to your survival and nothing more.

Was a life without love worth living? Every time that question enters your mind, you swat it aside. It’s like a nagging fly that buzzes around you until your persistence finally drives it away completely. Of course you could live without love. You’d been doing it just fine these past fifteen years.

Living without attachment proves useful in the new world you find yourself in. It makes the countless people you lose along the way easier to move on from. In the early days, your heart still twinges as the people around you drop like flies. Most fall victim to the bites of clickers, some to raiders’ gun, a few by their own hand.

The first group you had travel with is filled with Midwesterners who see the terrors of the new world and still somehow have a smile and a joke for you. Their joviality can’t save them, though. Clickers swarm you one rainy night two years after the fall of civilization. The sight of Gail, a woman who reminds you of your grandmother, having her stomach ripped out by an especially voracious clicker cures you of your need for any connections to the living.

Over the years, you make your way to the East Coast. Smiles, defiant in the face of adversity are replaced by permanent grimaces etched into the faces of everyone you meet. It seems as though every survivor has lost the ability for happiness of any kind. Good, you think, they’re finally learning. You wonder what took them so long.

Tales of peace the Canadian wilderness has to offer reaches your ears. In your heart you know it is most likely a tall tale spread by desperate survivors. But the good thing about a zombie apocalypse is you now have nothing but time on your hands. Working your way north, if all goes well, you’ll reach Saint John by May, continue to Port Elgin and then decide if you’d try for Prince Edward Island or turn east to Nova Scotia.

Plans are made to be broken, though, and yours, along with your ankle, break clean through one day as you make your way through Boston. It would have been over for you if not for the two survivors that find you nursing your injury in a department store that will most likely be swarming with clickers by nightfall.

The woman, after she puts her gun away, introduces herself as Tess. The man doesn’t offer his name, preferring to keep the barrel of his shotgun pointed at you. As they argue quietly over what to do with you, you observe their faces. Both are etched hard with years of loss and worry. Even harder than your joyless face. It’s impressive albeit in a sad kind of way.

Tess had somehow persuades the man to help you back to the Boston QZ. Joel. You hear her call him Joel. “Fine,” he had grumbles as he places your arm over his shoulder for support, “but if she scans red, I will not hesitate to put her down.” Oddly enough his threat somehow makes you almost like him. You sense a kindred spirit. Another follower of the “no love, no attachment” way of life.

You do not, in fact, scan red and are allowed to enter the QZ. An apartment is assigned to you, a crappy little studio with faded lime green paint. The old you would have adored it, called it quirky and planned out how best to decorate it with your meager funds. The new you just appreciates a safe place to sleep.

After your ankle heals, Tess invites you to join her smuggling scheme. Thoughts of Canada flee your mind for the time-being and you gladly welcome something to keep yourself occupied.

“But what about the cowboy?” you ask.

“Joel? What about him?”

Your eyebrows arch, “He threatened to shoot me.”

“Only if you were infected. Just don’t get infected.” She says it like you’re discussing the weather.

Joel allows you into the group begrudgingly, probably because he thinks they can use you as bait or a distraction if needed. Fine. Let them label you bait. You’ve been called worse before.

The first few months working together are tense. Joel reprimands you for the smallest mistakes and warns Tess you’ll get them all killed. At first, you bite your tongue, reminding yourself of the part he had in saving you. But one night after he scolds you for the millionth time about not checking your blind spots for clickers, you snap. “Fuck off, Joel! I survived the clickers for fifteen years. I think I know what I’m fucking doing!.”

He holds up his hands in surrender, wandering off with a hurt pout like he wasn’t the one who was just being the asshole. You wonder why your victory leaves you feeling hollow.

After that, Joel keeps his mouth shut around you. No nagging, no “helpful” tips. Just the bare minimum of whatever he needs to convey. You’ll never admit that it hurts. You don’t have to, though. Tess, at the end of her rope, explodes one night as the three of you eat dinner in awkward silence. “Couple of fuckin’ babies I’m working with,” she seethes. “If you don’t grow up I’m finding a new crew.”

It’s decided that you and Joel will do the next supply run to Bill’s. Alone. No Tess there to act as buffer between you and him. Joel grunts at that but doesn’t argue, always deferring to your leader. The trip to Bill’s goes as well as you can ask. There are no arguments between the two of you at least. You’re sure you even see Joel crack a smile. Of course it’s when you clumsily tripped over a raised tree root…But hey, progress is progress.

With the supplies in tow and Frank’s compound behind you, you actually think this trip might be a success. A gang of raiders lying in wait to sabotage you dashes your hopes of that. They had seen the two of you lugging your supplies and thought it would be an easy win. At first, they are correct. They outnumber you and Joel in size and wickedness. The four of them aren’t content to kill you outright. They tie you up and discuss what to do with you next.

Of course their attention quickly falls on you. The man with an ugly gash across his face leers at you. “Maybe we should keep her around awhile. She looks like fun.” Try as you might to act tough, that sends the blood rushing through your ears.

You almost don’t hear Joel snarl at them. “You lay one finger on her and it’ll be the last thing you ever do.” The venom in his voice snaps you back to reality. While their attention is on him, you discreetly start ripping at your bonds with the little pocket knife you thankfully decided to stow in your back pocket.

They beat Joel senseless by the time you get free. You honestly think you’re too late as you stab the goon nearest to you in the thigh, by some miracle hitting his femoral artery. The others turn to you, blindsided as you go wild at the sight of your bloodied and broken companion. Gash-Face comes roaring at you, all brawn no brains. The look of surprise as you lodge the knife in his neck makes you smile with sickening glee.

The remaining two corner you, murder in their eyes. Your gun is just beyond them, taunting you to come retrieve it. The only “weapon” you have is the belt you’re wearing, it’s clasp heavy and silver. You undo it and swing it at the nearest man. He grabs it, cackling victoriously as he uses it to pull you closer. In their grasp, you become the target of their blows. You curl into the fetal position, angry that after all the near death experiences you’ve had, this will be the way you go out.

A shot rings out, then another. Two thuds on the ground next to you make you open your already swollen eyes. As you look up, you realize your savior is Joel. Back from the dead. His face is covered in blood, like some kind of ghoul. But in that moment, you have never seen someone look more like an angel. The two of you limp back to the QZ where Tess nurses you as she simultaneously curses the deceased thugs.

Joel corners you in the bathroom the next day as you study your bruised face. “You could have run,” he hisses at you, making you jump. You don’t know what he wants so you just shrug. He invades your space, making you back against the counter. “Why didn’t you run?” His voice has gone low, anger simmering just beneath the surface.

Faces inches from each other, all you can muster is a weak, “We’re a team. I wasn’t going to leave you.”

Several emotions flicker across his face in quick succession. Anger, fear, worry and something you can’t quite put your finger on. Pride? Maybe that was you projecting but you hope you were right. Joel studies you for a moment longer, then reiterates, “Next time, you run.”

******

After that, things change. Joel is still a man of few words but the ones he does grace you with are softer and more intentional. Instead of berating you for the knowledge and skills you lack, he takes them time to teach you. He shows you how to identify fake ration cards and to spot the kind of guard you can bribe. Nights are spent with you following behind him like a shadow as he shows you all the secret ways in and out of the QZ. When your hands shake during target practice, he places his calloused ones over yours. It steadies your hands but frays your nerves, threatening to awake a feeling long thought dormant.

It goes both ways. Joel lacks attention to detail in certain situations and you show him how to read people and ascertain their flaws that can be exploited. During your runs you point out the flora that can be consumed safely or used as medicine. At Flynn’s, the only bar in the QZ, you teach him how to play pool. An essential to survival? No. But it sure helps you win a huge stash of ration cards from your fellows survivors. It also gives you an excuse to sidle up behind him and mold your body around his, all in the name of helping him get the “proper pool stance.”

Your excuses to fleetingly touch one another became more and more common. They are all perfectly innocent but carry the weight of something elicit, at least to you. Joel is never one to give away his innermost thoughts, happy to wear a permanent poker face. For all you know he couldn’t care less about you. Maybe he just knows keeping you alive is good for business and that’s why he takes a particular interest in making sure you’re safe. Whatever the reason, you hope he never stops.

******

During one supply run, a torrential thunderstorm forces you to spend the night at Bill and Frank’s. You know it makes Joel nervous to be indebted to anyone for such hospitality but you can’t hide your glee. A night there means a cozy bed and a hot shower, something hard to find in your home where the water runs tepid at best.

Afterwards spending way too long in the bathroom, you curl up in your bed, toasty and content, only to find sleep won’t not come. Your hosts are dear to you, even the grumpy Bill, but their snoring through the wall you share makes hopes for a deep sleep impossible.

After an hour of tossing and turning, you decide to go make your bed on the couch. As you tiptoe down the stairs you run into Joel, on his way up . “Going somewhere?” he drawls, exhaustion making his voice deeper than usual. You shrug, “Couldn’t sleep. There are two buzzsaws in the room next door.”

Joel chuckles, “I’ve had that room before. Can’t say it was the best night of sleep I’ve ever had.” You lived for these little snippets into Joel’s life before you came around, always eager to hear more. But the trek to the house through never-ending sleet and over the turbulent river left you more tired than you had felt in years. Right now all you want is to get where you could pass out immediately. “I’m just gonna make camp on the couch,” you say, stifling a yawn.

Joel shakes his head. “You take my room. The couch is good enough for me.” This man. Hadn’t anyone told him chivalry is dead. You sigh tiredly and beckon for him to come back up the stairs with you. “It’s a big bed. We can share.” There is silence behind you where there should have been footsteps. Joel’s smile disappears as his forehead creases in thought. “Please,” you pout, “I can’t sleep in my room and I won’t get any rest knowing you’re crammed on that dainty little loveseat.”

It takes far more coaxing than it should but finally Joel gives you a little nod and follows you into his - your - room. You gesture to the bed, “Care which side you get?” Joel thinks, then shrugs. “Left is good.” You flop onto the right side, eyes immediately drooping shut. Once again, there is no movement from your companion. Without opening your eyes, you chide him, “If you’re gonna be weird and watch me sleep all night then you can go sleep on the couch.” That got him moving again.

The sound of the shower turning on lulls you to a sleep that is disturbed only when you feel the dip of the bed several minutes later. You watch through barely opened eyes as Joel does a strange shimmy under the covers. It’s clear he’s trying his best not to wake you. The sight makes you laugh softly and his head whips to you.

“Thought you were asleep,” he murmurs.

You hum, “I was. You woke me up.”

It’s meant to be a joke but Joel grimaces. “Sorry.”

The sight is sweet and your heart flips, his frown making him look almost boyish. “It’s ok. It’s your bed.”

As you burrow into your cocoon of blankets, Joel props himself up, a pillow behind his back. He looks from you to the bedside lamp and back again. “You mind if I read for a few minutes?”

That surprises you. In all your time together you had rarely seen Joel do something just for the pleasure of it. There was usually no time. But Bill and Frank’s is a sanctuary and even the hyper-vigilant Joel Miller is able to slow down here. You nod enthusiastically, perking up. “What are you reading?”

It’s like you had asked him what his darkest secret was. He reddens, then finally grabs a book from the table. Pride and Prejudice. He stammers, “It’s just…I never had a lot of time for reading before and this was a favorite of…it was a favorite of somebody I knew.”

“You can read out loud to me if you want,” you offer with a grin. Honestly it was half in jest and half a serious hope. It had been decades since anyone had read aloud to you. Joel, always thinking you were making some sort of fun of him, smirks sarcastically. “Not a chance.”

Your glower slowly melts away at the sight of him putting on his reading glasses and settling in. Silently you curse as you feel your hardened heart crack just the tiniest bit. Idiot that you are, you try to talk yourself out of your own feelings. You aren’t attached to Joel. How could you be? He’s just a handsome, rugged man who keeps you safe and reads Jane Austen in his spare time. Maybe some lesser fool would fall for him but not you. No, sir.

The next morning, you find yourself curled into him, chest pressed against his back and arm draped over his side. Like a bomb diffuser, you carefully try to extricate yourself from the position, every movement slow and precise. Joel, still asleep, lazily grabs your hand, keeping your arm around him. He sighs contentedly as you settle back down and you swear under your breath, nestling your head at the crook of his neck. You are so that lesser fool.

******

The thunderstorms of summer give way to the pleasant days of autumn. Those good days don’t seem to last long enough. You should have appreciated them more while they were there but so is the way of being human.

Winter in Boston isn’t fun. Ok that’s an understatement. It makes you long for the soul-sucking, never-ending Midwestern winters you had lived through for most of your life. There is something about being next to the ocean that makes everything feel colder.

The nights are especially hard, the wind seeping through the cracks in the walls of your apartment. No matter how many blankets you tuck around yourself, your body never truly feels warm. Runs to Bill’s or anywhere outside the QZ become less frequent and more difficult. Only those deemed truly necessary are attempted and even then there is always a long discussion beforehand weighing out the pros and cons.

Runs between the months of November and January are too risky and after much debate, it is decided you three would lay low in the relative safety of the QZ. In the meantime, you’d assess your stockpile, make connections over the radio and wait for the spring thaw. With less food smuggled in from the outside, you decide to put your energy into earning ration cards. Even though no one could argue you don’t pull your weight in the group, you often feel like the weak link. Making sure Tess and Joel have a hot meal every night is the least you could do.

Joel had always told you to stay away from sewer work. It paid double what the other jobs did but at a high risk. Besides not being able to wash the stink off for days, the tunnels under the city were treacherous. Many had gone down there only to be blindsided by a stray clicker or jumped by a loner who made their home away from society up above. Some just got lost in the labyrinth, never to be heard from again. Or at least you had been told. You hoped those were just myths.

You and three other desperate souls are sent down to the sewers with the task of clearing the rubble from a recent cave in. A hard day’s work definitely but you were optimistic that you could get it done in a few hours time and be on your way.

The first few hours go well, the biggest pieces of the concrete being cleared easily enough. Your back aches and callouses quickly form on your palms. But still, all of that you can deal with, mollifying yourself with the thought of the stack of ration cards you’ll proudly gift to Joel and Tess.

Maybe if you hadn’t been daydreaming you would have heard the shouts of your fellow volunteers sooner. Finally coming back to reality, you move just in time to avoid another piece of falling rock. You save yourself from being crushed but lose your footing, coming down hard on your shin.

A stream of bright blood instantly trickles from the gash and you swear as you try to keep the tears that spring to your eyes at bay. Wanting to prove yourself, you brush off your group’s insistence that you go get it checked by the doctor. It doesn’t matter if you complete ninety percent of your shift. You still don’t get your payment if you leave early. So you suck it up for another hour, slogging through the muck as you finish the job. It’s fine, you tell yourself, it’s just a scratch. You’ll wash it off when I get home and be good as new.

With the job done and ration cards tucked away in your pocket, you hobble back towards your apartment. The thought of a shower, as lukewarm as it will be, is the only thing keeping you upright. That is until you feel someone putting your arm around their shoulder. Joel helps you the few blocks to your house, his icy silence hurting you more than the cut that now throbs with every jostle.

It’s only after you get inside and are deposited on the couch that Joel speaks. He rolls up the leg of your jeans, cursing as he sees the already festering wound. “I told you to stay out of the sewers.”

You suck in a pained breath as he starts wiping away the dirt. “I’m fine. It’s just a little cut. Besides, it was worth it,” you pull out the stack of ration cards and present them to him proudly. The sight gives him pause. But the look on his face isn’t one of gratitude, it’s worried exasperation. His signature grimace returns, “It’s not worth it if you lose your leg.” And people claim you’re dramatic.

Pushing him away with a shoo, you rise, limping to the bathroom. “I just need a shower. Then I’ll be right as rain.” As you peel off your now ruined clothes, Joel hovers on the other side of the door. “I can hear you pacing,” you call over the sound of the warming shower.

Even through the almost closed door you can hear Joel sigh. “I just think we should take you to the doc. Make sure you’re alright.” The water hitting you makes you audibly moan, the filth on your body washing down the drain and with it, the memory of the hard day. You appreciate the concern but all you want to do know is forget about the day. You call out to a still pacing Joel, “I’m fine. You worry too much!”

******

It turns out Joel worries the right amount. Of course he does. As eager as you are to forget about your day, it’s not long before you can’t ignore your leg. The wound is an angry red and the area around it has swollen, leaving it tender and throbbing. Thankfully you have Joel there to dress it because, honestly, you can’t stomach the sight of it. These past years have been filled with much blood and gore at your own hands. But there’s something different when it’s your own blood.

In any other circumstance you would have reveled in the feeling of Joel holding your leg so tenderly, his fingers brushing against your skin as he wraps the bandage around you. It would have driven you insane seeing him crouched in between your legs as he is now. But at the moment all you can think about is how you much pain you’re in.

You try not to show your discomfort, but your poker face is nonexistent. Joel’s eyes flick up to yours as you slowly exhale, trying to keep calm. Avoidance has always been one of your favorite tactics when dealing with uncomfortable situations so you pipe up, overly perkily, “See? All better. Now about those ration cards, I was thinking for dinner-“

Joel rolls his eyes, standing with a groan, his knees audibly cracking. “The only thing you’re gonna do tonight is rest.”

You slowly turn your body to prop your leg up on a pillow as he watches. Pouting has never worked on Joel but you figure it never hurts to try. “I still have to eat,” you mope.

“You will. I’ll open a can of soup or something.”

The disappointment is real and bubbles to the surface quicker than you realized it would. “I just wanted us all to have a nice dinner. You and Tess do so much and I feel like…” Thinking how you feel is different from saying it out loud and you have to psych yourself up. Joel’s softening gaze helps you continue. “I feel like I’m useless. I just thought this was one thing I could do to really contribute.”

The silence between you feels heavy as you avoid his stare. Finally, he speaks, confusion contorting his features, “Of course you contribute. We wouldn’t have kept you around if you hadn’t.” It’s meant to make you feel better but it doesn’t, especially in your current laid up state.

“So are you going to get rid of me if I’m no longer useful?” you gesture at your leg, feeling your eyes beginning to sting with tears.

Joel sits down next to you. Your fear has made you defiant and you meet his gaze, wanting to fight. But Joel speaks in a soft, level voice, as if teaching a child a lesson. “First of all, you’re going to get better. You just need to be patient. Second, you’re thinking there’s only one kind of way to be useful.”

“I can’t shoot like you two can. I can’t fight. I can’t threaten people into getting what I want. I can go on runs and earn ration cards. That’s it. I’m too soft for anything actually important.”

Joel frowns, “You say that like it’s a bad thing. ‘Being soft’ in a world like this is an act of defiance. It’s brave as hell. What you consider important? I don’t want that for you.”

Warmth spreads through your chest as you observe him. He’s trying so hard to find his next words, to make you believe his truth. “Me and Tess, we let the world harden us more than it needed to. It was easier that way. But having you around reminds us there’s still innocence and good out there.”

The angry tears have turned to ones of gratitude. The sentiment is too much for you, unused to such vulnerability from Joel. You give him a small smile and he returns it, leaning over to wipe a tear off your cheek. “You’re useful just being you.”

While you still wish you matched Joel and Tess’ levels of badassery, the conversation helps ease your mind. You might not think much of your survival skills but you remind yourself that you’ve stayed alive in a world that wants you dead. Fifteen years you’ve been fighting and surviving and that’s nothing to look down on.

“And for what it’s worth, “ he adds, “you scared the hell out of me the first time we met.”

You grin at him, shocked, “Really?”

He nods, smirking cheekily, “Really. Still do sometimes.”

******

Joel heats up a can of tomato soup for you to share. You try not to think of how old it must be as he prepares it. But actually, it’s not bad, the taste reminding you of your childhood.

It also helps that you’re sharing it with someone you care about. A part of you hates that how easily you’ve let him into your heart. The one thing you swore off all those years ago is now all you can think about as you watch him sitting across from you, ladling out the steaming liquid.

He catches you staring and breaks the silence, “Were you even going to tell me you got hurt today if I hadn’t run into you.” The fuzziness of your feelings for him makes your brain a little mushy and instead of having a grownup conversation, you reply with a childish, “No, I thought I’d let it be a soup-rise.”

Joel rolls his eyes in mock annoyance. You chuckle and continue eating your rapidly cooling dinner. You sober up a bit and add, “The extra ration cards will be good, though. Right?”

He nods, “Yeah. I think it’s soup-er.” His eyes flick up to yours as they crinkle, the only sign that he finds himself amusing.

After dinner, Joel excuses himself to go work his overnight shift. When he leaves and you’re left along, the throbbing in your leg returns with a vengeance along with a mild fever. Your usually chilly apartment now feels stuffy and you have to remove all of your layers except your t-shirt to be even somewhat comfortable.

Worry creeps in as you sit there, alone and increasingly unwell. You long for the company of Joel or Tess, anyone to reassure you that you’re fine. But you’re alone and the dark thoughts creep in, whispering in your ear that whatever is brewing is not good. Unsure of what else to do, you slip in to bed, hoping that whatever this is will be better by morning.

******

You don’t wake for two days. Or at least, you have no real memory of the past 48 hours. Later, when the worst is over, Joel will tell you the details of that lapse in your memory. He’ll recount how you faded in and out of consciousness, sometimes submitting to your fever for so long that he wasn’t sure you were coming back. His voice will waver as he remembers how bad it got and how fragile you looked…

But for now, he stays by your side, foregoing his own health to make sure you stay alive. The first thing you remember is waking up to the sounds of Joel and Tess arguing in hushed tones.

“We need to get her to a doctor. Now.” Joel’s voice sounds strained, like he’s trying desperately not to lose it.

Tess still maintains her signature composure. “We can’t, Joel. It’s too late for that.”

Joel must make some kind of face because Tess sighs and re-words. “It’s too late to take her in because if we bring her to the hospital all they’ll focus on is her fever. They’ve put people down for way less. You know that.”

In your addled state, you wonder who they’re talking about. Your throat hurts to much to speak up though and ask.

“The doc will give us the meds. We’ve bribed him before.”

Tess shakes her head, “Antibiotics are on lockdown. Shipments have been delayed because of the weather. No one gets any without FEDRA knowing. Breaking in guarantees we get caught. We’re no good to her dead. ”

Joel scoffs, “So what do you suggest we do?”

“She rides it out.”

“She’s been ‘riding it out’ for two days. Look at her,” Joel’s voice gets closer as he peers down at you, “she’s fighting but she’s losing.”

Oh. Fever may have taken hold of you, making your brain fuzzy and concentration near impossible, but you understand now that you are the subject of their argument. For Joel to sound so forlorn you must look bad.

If you’re dead soon, you want to let them know to leave it and just let you slip away. Your well-being means nothing if it puts them in unnecessary danger. Rule be damned, they’re your family now and you care about them. If you’re being honest, you’ve cared about them since you met them. It breaks your heart thinking you won’t be able to tell them that now. It nearly kills you right then and there to know you won’t get the chance to tell Joel you love him…

Opening your mouth to articulate all of that takes great effort and when you do try and speak, all that comes out is a strangled groan. The two rush over, Tess sitting down beside you. She takes your hand, an uncharacteristic show of tenderness. Yep, you’re dying.

“You’re ok, kid,” she whispers, “you just have to hang in there.” It would be easy to ignore reality and blindly trust her. But you’ve always been stubborn and so you shake your head and continue trying to speak. Again, nothing comes out but garbled nonsense as you writhe around trying to make your limbs do what your brain wants.

You must look a sight because Joel lets his anger overflow. “Maybe you can sit here and watch her die, but I can’t.”Heavy footsteps and Tess yelling are all that you can focus on as you fade back into oblivion.

******

Living is hard and unconsciousness is addicting. Peaceful and cozy are feelings you can scarcely remember having. It would be easy to stay in that enveloping darkness but the feeling of the back of someone’s hand on your clammy forehead pulls you back to the realm of the living. You grumble weakly as you’re made to come to.

Everything is painful. Stabbing jolts of electricity radiate up your leg from the cut. Your chest is tight, making breathing troublesome and your eyes can barely stand the dim, watery sun coming through the shades of the window. Someone places a damp cloth on your forehead to keep the fever at bay. Still out of it, you try and swat it away.

A gentle hand grabs yours, shushing you. “It’s alright. It’s only me.”

Joel. Maybe you have died and this is heaven. The man you love by your side, nursing you so tenderly. It’s more than you could have ever hoped for. This might be the afterlife believers talk about if only you weren’t in so much pain. The neurons in your brain begin firing more rapidly as your fever dies down. They remind you that you and Joel aren’t lovers. Your cowardice, disguised as intelligence, has kept you from telling him how you feel.

“What’s happening?” Your voice comes out croaky and soft but at least it’s intelligible. The bed dips as Joel moves closer to you. As you peer up through barely opened eyelids you can see him leaning over you. His tired eyes look down at you as he caresses your hair.

“You got real sick, honey. That cut you got festered and turned into a fever. We thought we were gonna lose you.” The slight falter in his voice makes your already tight chest contract.

“How long was I out?”

“Three days. We got you some meds, though. You’re gonna be ok.” He says it firmly, which does some good in easing your worry.

Trying to open your eyes a bit more you continue your questioning, “Where did you get the antibiotics from?”

Joel hesitates, “Bill and Frank had some.”

You try and sit up, angry that he made that trip and put himself in danger. Even now, you can see the snow whipping around outside your window. Knowing he made the trek there and back through that storm makes you curse. Joel tuts and puts a gentle hand to your chest, keeping you down and resting.

“It’s done. No use getting angry about it now.”

You glare up at him even though you’re really just upset with yourself. “Why would you do something so stupid?”

His smiles peacefully down at you, exhausted but eyes bright. “We’re a team, remember?”

It’s too much for you to handle. You cover your face just in time to hide the angry, relieved and grateful tears that spring to your eyes. Silent sobs wrack your frame, making you seize with pain.

Joel pulls you into him, shushing you as he resumes stroking your hair. You hide your face in his side, trying to regain your composure. Crying shouldn’t be something you feel the need to earn. But you’re all sorts of broken, so you take this rare opportunity to not judge yourself and weep with abandon. You almost died, for Christ’s sake. Surely that warrants some show of emotion.

After a few minutes, the tears stop and your breathing calms. Peeking up, you see Joel has his eyes closed. His face is the most serene you’ve seen it in ages, most of the worry lines softened. There’s still a few that refuse to relax, though. The crease in between his eyebrows remains stubbornly indented. You gaze up at him as he continues to run soothing patterns along your back.

Feeling the weight of your stare, he opens his eyes. Coward that you are, you glance away. “Thank you,”is all you can mumble out as he gazes at you. After a moment, you add a shy, “I would do the same for you. You know that, right?”

Joel pulls you gently into him, almost to remind himself you’re still here with him and that the danger has passed. He nuzzles into your hair, murmuring an affectionate“I know, honey. I know.”

******

After a few more hours and another dose of antibiotics, you begin to feel more like yourself. Joel still won’t let you get out of bed yet, except for a trip to the bathroom for a quick shower. Even though you’ve been dead to the world for much of your ordeal, you’re quickly getting bored with bed rest. But you’ve learned long ago that resistance is futile with Joel. So you shower like a good patient, scowling as the water hits your scabbing cut.

Once you finish, Joel hops in and washes the grime and worry of the past three days off. As you settle back in bed, you can hear him singing softly to himself. Through the patter of the water you can hear his soft rendition of Fleetwood Mac’s Songbird. It’s one of your favorites, too, and you hum along as you settle back into your pillow.

After a few minutes, sleep still won’t come. You toss and turn as Joel finishes getting ready for bed. He comes in to find you still awake. “I thought I told you to get some sleep.” He says it like a loving mother gently scolding their rebellious child.

You flail as you try and get comfortable. You shoot back a moody, “But I’m just not tired.” Joel chuckles as he sits down into the arm chair next to your bed. He smooths back his wet hair and gives you a faux stern look. “Your body’s been through a lot. You need rest.”

“What are you doing?” you ask.

Joel looks confused, wondering what he did wrong. “Sorry I just thought I’d sleep here tonight in case you need anything. I can leave, though.”

“No!” you yell out, completely abandoning any hope of looking cool. You give him an apologetic smile, “I want you to stay but you’re not sleeping in that chair one more night.”

Joel glances to the spot on the bed beside you, then looks to you for confirmation. He sighs, a smile playing at his lips. “If I stay will you promise to go to sleep?”

You nod very seriously. “Of course.”

Joel grins, knowing you too well to believe you. “Liar,” he chuckles but still gets up and makes his way to the other side of the bed. You pull back the blankets so can get in, then cover him up. Settling on your side, you watch as he suddenly looks lost, unsure of what to do now. It’s cute, this powerful man rendered helpless by something as innocuous as sharing a bed.

You can’t help but laugh at him and he looks down at you, eyes wide. Taking pity on him, you make a suggestion. “If you’re not tired you could read to me.” Joel opens his mouth to refuse but you blurt out a quick, “I did almost die, you know.” He glares at you but his lip quirks up. He grabs the book from the other room then flops back down in bed, opening to a spot in the middle.

Frowning, you reach out to touch Joel’s arm. “Do you mind starting from the beginning?” He rolls his eyes but flips back to the first page. You grin triumphantly as you settle into his side. Joel places his arm around your shoulder as he begins to read. “It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife…”

His southern drawl mixed with the Romantic Era style of writing makes for an amusing but pleasant combination. After a few chapters, your eyes get heavy and Joel feels you nodding off against him. Jane has just been invited to Netherfield Park but even that can’t keep you awake. Joel puts the bookmark in to save your spot and places the novel on your bedside table.

You grumble in weak protest as he tucks you in and turns off the light. “We can keep reading tomorrow. But right now you’re going to sleep.” Joel lies down beside you and with the pale light of the moon through your curtains you can see him studying you. He caresses your face and you close your eyes, delighting in the sensation.

“Don’t ever scare me like that again,” he whispers.

You force your eyes open, needing him to see the truth of it when you pledge a soft,“I won’t. I mean it.”

Joel nods gratefully and you reach out for him. He slides into your arms and you rest your chin on the top of his head. He’s watched over you for long enough. It’s your turn to take care of him and reassure him that, in this moment, you both are safe.

For most, an outright admission of affection is needed to understand how you feel about the other person. But you and Joel are cut from the same cloth, stubborn and slow to reveal your feelings. In this world, for people like you, ’I love yous’ are rare and replaced with actions and deeds.

You realize that even though you've never told Joel that you love him, you’ve shown it. Joel has been showing you all this time too and you were just too dull to realize it. While you know you’ll long to say the words to him soon, for now it’s enough to have him in your arms.

Joel’s breathing deepens and you feel him completely give himself over to sleep. Looking at his face bathed in the moonlight he looks like a new man. His edges soften and his vulnerability brims to the surface. It tugs at your heart and you understand how rare of a sight this is for Joel to allow anyone to see.

Smiling sleepily, you close your eyes and nestle into him. This feeling coursing through you is something foreign but familiar, an old friend you thought you had said your final goodbye to long ago. The love you have for Joel will leave you vulnerable. But it’s a price you’re willing to pay a thousand times over.

******

#im on a mission to make joel as soft as possible lol #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #tlou #tlou hbo #pedro pascal #allie writes

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llovelymoonn · 7 months

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favourite poems of september

robin blaser the holy forest: collected poems of robin blaser: "[dear dusty moth]"

robin ekiss the mansion of happiness: "the bones of august"

e.e. cummings complete poems 1904-1962: "[anyone lived in a pretty how town]"

daisy fried econo motel, ocean city

david campos guilt shower and bad catholic

deborah a. miranda the zen of la llorona: "advice from la llorona"

v. penelope pelizzon blood memory

aimee nezhukumatathil invitation

jeffrey jullich portrait of colon dash paranthesis: "some materials may be inappropriate for children"

karina borowicz september tomatoes

patricia kirkpatrick survivor's guilt

kamau brathwaite born to slow horses: "i was wash-way in blood"

leslie adrienne miller the resurrection trade: "weaning"

allen edwin butt if briefly

gerrit lansing a february sheaf: selected writings, verse and prose: "how we sizzled in the pasture"

jayne cortez on the imperial highway: "in the morning"

stephen yenser preserves

ethan gilsdorf the imprint of september second

kathryn maris abc

paul zarzyski the antler tree

judith goldman vocoder: "rotten oasis"

tato laviera benedición: the complete poetry of tato laviera: "latero story"

tim seibles mosaic

ethan gilsdorf the imprint of september second

lucy wainger jiro dreams of sushi

robert duncan ground work: before the war: "a little language"

r.s. thomas the poems of r.s. thomas: "forest dwellers"

anthony wrynn saint john in the wilderness

reginald gibbons bear

walt whitman "are you the new person drawn toward me?"

kofi

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baroque-art-history · 6 months

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Saint John the Baptist in the Wilderness painted by Anthony van Dyck (1599 - 1641)

#art #art history #artwork #baroque #culture #history #museums #painting #vintage #curators #anthony van dyck

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laclefdescoeurs · 5 months

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Saint John the Baptist in the wilderness, Giovanni Lanfranco

#Giovanni Lanfranco

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tepkunset · 1 year

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A little bit of history of the Mi’kmaq in Newfoundland

My name is Lydia-Isaac. I was born in Ktaqmkuk, but have spent most of my life in Sipekne'katik and Kespukwitk. As far as most people are concerned, that means I’m a Newfie raised Nova Scotian, but Newfoundland and Nova Scotia are simply built on top of the same territory known as Mi’kma’ki. As far as I’m concerned, despite moving around a lot growing up, I can at least say I’ve never had to leave my people’s homeland.

Pre-Colonization Travel

Evidence says that the Mi’kmaq of Unama’ki (Cape Breton) travelled across the Gulf of Saint Lawrence to Ktaqmkuk (Newfoundland) for seasonal hunting and fishing at least as early as the 16th century. Oral history says this goes back even further.

Relationship with the Beothuk

There are mixed historical analyses on what the relationship between the Beothuk and the Mi’kmaq was like. There is a common myth among settlers that the Mi’kmaq are responsible for the Beothuk genocide, pushing in on their territory and killing them on behalf of French settlers, whom the Mi’kmaq were allied to. This should be highly scrutinized and criticized for what it truly is: Displacement of blame onto another Indigenous Nation as a scapegoat. Most tales of hostilities between the Mi’kmaq and Beothuk come from English accounts. The one explanation we have from a Beothuk source, the captured woman known as Shanawdithit, said to one Bishop Inglis: “Originally they [the Beothuk] had intercourse with the Mi'kmaq and they could partially understand each other, and that the Mi'kmaq who have been visitors here for centuries were formerly on friendly terms but their enmity has been implacable and of the deadliest character for about 150 years.” According to this, hostilities only began after outside colonial pressures were in place. Make no mistake that those responsible for the Beothuk genocide are the settlers who hunted them and their resources, and spread deadly diseases.

Colonial Changes

The relationship between the Mi’kmaq and the land/its other living beings is not just one of harvesting resources, but a spiritual connection and responsibility. The principles of this relationship is known as Netukulimk, which guides the Mi’kmaw way of life. One of the core understandings of Netukulimk is the concept of Msit No’kmaq; the understanding that all spirits are related. (It is also worth mentioning that everything that casts a shadow has a spirit.) Therefore, a person is responsible to respect the life around them—that of the land, of the flora, of the fauna—just as you would respect another family member. When you harvest, you only harvest what you need. When you hunt/fish, you only hunt/fish what you need. And you offer thanks to that which you have taken from, every time. This way of life is one of sustainability!

Unfortunately, that sustainability was catastrophically interrupted by colonizers when Newfoundland came under British control. The caribou herds for example, which were a staple reliance for the Mi’kmaq and originally numbered up to 300,000, went near extinct. With this, so too came the astronomical death of the Mi’kmaq. John G. Millais wrote of Steve Bernard, a Mi’kmaw hunter and wilderness guide: “Steve is the sole survivor of eleven children born to old Joe Bernard, late chief of the Newfoundland Micmacs, all of whom have died from the bottle, consumption, or strains, the three principal causes which decimate the red men.” One survivor in a family of eleven children.

Those that survived this period of death were forced to largely assimilate into the settler’s society, but this too the settlers made a challenge. Getting a job as a Native person was near impossible, save for ill-paid work on the docks and boats. This is where the Newfinese slur jackatar/jack-o-tar comes from, the insinuation being that you are a poor grunt worker because of your race. (Employers denying work to Natives is still a problem today by the way, and the very reason that my family moved to NS.) It was not uncommon for communities of congregated Mi’kmaq to be forcefully relocated and then destroyed, such as Crow Gulch. In the 1870’s, Newfoundland established five reserves to try and control congregation: Conne River, Codroy Valley (Grand River), Halls Bay, St. George’s, and Gambo. But the only one still considered reserve land today is Conne River (Samiajij Miawpukek).

Joseph Fucking Smallwood

In 1949, Newfoundland joined Canada. When asked about the island’s Native population, Premier Joseph Smallwood falsely claimed there were no Indians in Newfoundland. This meant that the Mi’kmaq living on the island were not registered under the Indian Act, enabling the new province to ignore the People’s existence and rights. It also meant settlers were taught in schools the myth that all Indigenous peoples of Newfoundland were killed off, for a very long time.

Miawpukek First Nation

It wasn’t until 1987 that Miawpukek First Nation (Conne River) was federally recognized, after a long-time campaign from Indigenous activists on the island insisting they were not, in fact, ghosts.

But Samiajij Miawpukek is just one of many traditional Mi’kmaw communities, and that’s not even counting those living in urban areas. What about them?

Qalipu First Nation

Qalipu First Nation was established in 2011 by the federal government as an “easy” solution to catch all the rest of the Mi’kmaq in Newfoundland. The problem is, they were not expecting very many applicants—because of that old Joseph Smallwood-sourced myth—so they decided that the checks for applying for Status and membership were not required. This was a huge mistake, as it opened up doors for over 100,000 people to apply. Naturally, the Mi’kmaq of other provinces were rightfully cross with the government for this, and questioned the legitimacy of the Band.

It took nearly a decade for Qalipu leadership to sort out membership, limiting the number of members down to those actually involved with the Band, and making cultural participation a requirement. In 2019, the First Nation was recognized by the Mi’kmaw Santé Mawio’mi (Grand Council).

Today

Thanks to revitalization efforts, the Mi’kmaw language is making a come-back on the island after many decades of near extinction. With this comes the revival of practicing traditional songs, dances, artwork, and other expressions of cultural identity. To paraphrase from my uncle: it’s about relearning what was taken from us for so long.

What should come next, in my opinion, is the restoration of Netukulimk on a large scale. There are many who agree and are working on just that, so we’ll see what comes in the future of the island.

#indigenous #mi'kmaq #history #newfoundland #canada

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sumire-no-nikki · 4 months

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24 Books for 2024

Thought I would shop my shelves and make a "must read" book list for the coming year. My actual annual reading goal is 52 books so only planning for 24 leaves plenty of room for more spontaneous picks later on. (Also, 24 for 2024 just sounds fun and neat lol)

Nobody, Somebody, Anybody by Kelly McClorey

The Dutch House by Ann Patchett

The Mercies by Kiran Millwood Hargrave

Girl, Woman, Other by Bernardine Evaristo

Detransition, Baby by Torrey Peters

The Bone Witch by Rin Chupeco

Water by John Boyne ✅

Ariadne by Jennifer Saint

Divine Rivals by Rebecca Ross ✅

The Paper Palace by Miranda Cowley Heller

The Luminaries by Eleanor Catton

A Wilderness of Stars by Shea Ernshaw

The Colour of Storm by Damien Dibben

What You Are Looking For Is in the Library by Michiko Aoyama

The Vaster Wilds by Lauren Groff

The Silent Patient by Alex Michaelides

The Fraud by Zadie Smith

Sweet Bean Paste by Durian Sukegawa

The Night Circus by Erin Morgenstern

The Song of Achilles by Madeline Miller ✅

The Marriage Portrait by Maggie O’Farrell

Killing Commendatore by Haruki Murakami

Lapvona by Ottessa Moshfegh

Breast and Eggs by Mieko Kawakami

#bookblr #sumire-no-nikki

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whatsyourcolor · 10 months

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Psycho-Pass Providence - My thoughts

Hello everyone, yesterday @jediofbooksandsnacks and I went to watch Psycho-Pass Providence. We went to watch the dubbed version which got cancelled, so we ended up watching the subbed version.

Here are my thoughts about the movie:

(SPOILERS)

The Plot I had already watched the movie in Japan without understanding a lick of dialogue. Some things were inferred from what was happening, but dear lord, with an anime like Psycho-Pass, you really need subtitles if you want to understand what's happening.

There's a lot of plot, but below is the basic gist. In fact, there are things I still don't understand. I may have to rewatch it to fully grasp some things. Basic plot is the MOFA was fucking around abroad and they found out. It's this ministry that created the Peacebreakers who got out of control and turned against the ministry and against Japan. One of these guys has a device called a "Divider" which when implanted in someone's brain causes them to be possessed and easily manipulated. It's called a divider because it splits the animalistic from the rational in the human mind. The villain (Tomami, I think was his name?) utilizes religious frenzy (lots of interesting quotations from the Bible) and the divider to control other peacebreakers. His aim is to declare his own rudimentary Sibyl system in the Kuril Islands at the North of Japan. To fully succeed, he needs the Stroyanka papers, which --from what I understood-- outlines the weaknesses of the Sibyl system and apparently can end wars or make them worse. I guess they are some type of predictive device, like a war AI that can analyze circumstances and tell you what to do in order to win or destroy an enemy.

The Stroyanka papers are somewhere in Dejima, which is where they hold all refugees who have not passed an immigration exam. This is where Maiko and Kei live in Providence. The only person who can open them, supposedly, is Saiga Joji. So off go the SAD and parts of Division 1 (Akane, Gino and Sugo) with Saiga to retrieve the papers.

The Call I really loved the dialogue between Kogami and Saiga when they're alone and begin talking about the case and quoting the Bible. Religion and Gods seem to be the theme of Providence, which is apt, since Providence is such a biblical word.

Kogami tells Saiga that him being a hermit reminds him of St. John and then reproaches him a little about working with the MWPSB. I love that Saiga tells him he is working with Tsunemori Akane. I simply adore how much Saiga dotes on Akane and how much she's definitely his favorite from all his students (take that, Kogami and Frederica).

Saiga warns Kogami about being nothing more than a killing machine. He tells him that it's up to him to be more than that and tells him that Akane is not a saint or a buddha and that he should apologize while he got the chance.

So Kogami makes the call and is unable to apologize. The next day Saiga takes a quick look at Akane and tells Kogami something along the lines of: "So you couldn't do it, huh?" to which Kogami replies "I don't know what you mean." Kogami comes off not only as a coward but as a stubborn mule who pretends not to know what Saiga is referring to. Maybe he doesn't like Saiga prying in their relationship. But I do think Saiga knows (I mean, he's Saiga) that their bond is important to the two of them.

Here's the vid of the call:

youtube

Kogami: "I've killed hundreds of men, walked seven countries by foot, raised a little girl for a month, starved in the wilderness, survived millions of explosions, but somehow telling this cute woman to forgive me for all the shit I have caused is the most difficult thing I have had to do."

The SAD Sucks The minister of foreign affairs and Frederica know that the papers are not in Dejima, but they go on this mission to use Saiga as bait to bring out all the Peacebreakers. Once they are there and Saiga opens the box only to find a cracked mirror, Frederica lets them know the truth and promises to protect Saiga's life. I love Kogami telling her: "So you would lie to the professor?" Frederica makes a face of contrition like "I'm soooorry guysss." But I like that Kogami calls her out. It makes me think their relationship is closer than that of boss and rabid killing dog.

Well, that doesn't go as planned. Apparently, the strategy of MOFA and Arata Shindo is to leak intelligence to follow the steps of the Peacebreakers and I guess predict their next move? Either way, it was a messy mission that ends up with Saiga dying, Akane broken down, and a lot of dead SAD men. Akane complains to Frederica and Kogami says that blaming Frederica won't fix anything (like man, let my girl rant because your team lied to her and got her father figure killed).

There's a scene with Kogami and Akane in an elevator where she's crying and angry. She blames herself for bringing Saiga out there to die. Kogami tells her that anger is fine, but that now is not the moment. That they need to complete the mission and then she can cry. She agrees, wipes her tears and follows him.

Akane's First Date This is a little bit of a joke, but Arata Shindo tells Akane to come with him to Kei and Maiko's wedding. I swear to god this is probably the closest thing Akane has had to a date. So yeah, Akane's first date is with Arata's dad and he ends up killing himself after giving a speech, so I guess... horrible first date? Lol.

On a serious note, he probably invites her because he knows he's going to kill himself. Chief Kasei gave him a gun, thanked him for his service, told him to put two and two together while waggling her eyebrows implying "time to take yourself out."

Kogami and Akane's Boring "Platonic" Relationship Many things happen, but at the end Akane gets shot twice by Tomami, then they end up debating why the law is important. On the crucial moment when he's about to kill her, Kogami shoots him down and says that he agrees with the dude he just killed. The law is not necessary and that basically, humans suck and are horrible. He tells her: "But I believe in you, who's trying to do the right thing."

So Akane recovers and Kogami goes to jail. She tells the Sibyl system that she'll take Arata Shindo's place as a politician and in her exit ceremony shoots Chief Kasei in front of everyone. She's sent to jail and Kogami comes out. Then, finally, once she's done what she had to do, Akane can fully cry.

I was telling Jedi that it bothers me how emotionless Kogami is throughout this whole thing. In the PP Movie their encounter was so intense, from them fighting, to not being able to sleep because there were too many questions, too many things to be said. Akane had grown and learned from him. He observes her, he's curious about her, he wonders what she thinks about him. It bothers him that she compares him to Makishima and is about to open up when she tells him that he would never try to control anyone's heart. If you are expecting frank moments like that in Providence, you won't get them. But for some reason, when you have dreamed so much of these two together, finally seeing them in the same place is exciting and I can't deny I left the theater a little high on shinkane. Kogami looks absolutely hot and Akane looks beautiful in many scenes.

Gino is Hot This one is obvious, but it needs to be said: Gino is hot. Passionate, sensitive, loyal team player. He saves Sugo, he saves Frederica, he consoles Akane, he thanks Mika when she gives him an obscene dominator. He yells at Kogami. He forgives Kogami. He wants to see Kogami regret what he did like Akane does. He gets a little bit further than Akane in that aspect.

I think at some point they try to play off Kogami and Frederica, and Ginoza and Frederica. Maybe they're showing that they would both work well with her. In our perverted fandom's mind I'm sure we're all thinking these professional agents would probably sleep with each other no feelings involved.

Frederica Has the Hots for Her Boss This is my own view, but the few times Frederica shows emotion is when it comes to the Minister of Foreign Affairs. She really appreciates him. At some point he's kidnapped and tortured by Tomami. When they rescue him (or rather, when Akira brings him to them), she's more concerned with his health than with Akira's statement which she assigns to Kogami. When the minister gets "possessed" and breaks down, she's locked in an elevator or a room, banging her fists against the door helplessly. I can't recall if she cries. But she wasn't crying when Saiga died, lol.

Final Verdict I think Psycho-Pass Providence was a good movie. Definitely better than Season 3 and First Inspector. This is a piece of media that I can respect. It's not great, it's not fantastic. It's more of the same in many aspects, it doesn't advance some things, but at least it doesn't feel cartoonish and stupid at points. Seems like the writers are definitely sticking to their strategy of showing explosions, fights and larger and less practical guns instead of writing an emotional buildup to the dramatic beats. The dominator has always been cool. They overdo these new dominators, making them look ridiculous and impractical.

However, Akane shooting Chief Kasei to get back at the system, exposing the contradictions of Sybil and forcing the public to wonder why her hue is clear when she shot someone in front of everyone, is pretty badass. She's willing to pay the price for what she did and goes to jail. Kogami promises that he'll do anything he can to get her out of there. Mister, where was all this resolve when you had the time and space to talk to her? He just doesn't learn. Ugh.

Either way, we know why Akane did what she did, but the interesting thing is that in the world of Season 3 nothing much has changed. Did Akane go to jail for three years for nothing? If there's a new season, I hope that she has at least inspired other people to question the system. Who knows. The writers seem stuck on their ambiguity in regards to everything.

4/5

#psycho-pass #akane tsunemori #kogami shinya #psycho pass #sinners of the system #shinkane #psycho-pass 3 #tsunemori akane #first inspector #psycho pass providence #virtue and vice #shinya kougami #ginoza nobuchika #Youtube

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filmnoirsbian · 1 year

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Hi !! I was wondering if you had any book recs/favorite books? Things that you think of as inspiration or just plain like? Genuinely curious. <3 im in love with your work btw i spent the other day binging your patreon

Some favorites that deeply impacted me from a young age up into teenagedom: the Animorphs series by K. A. Applegate, Where the Sidewalk Ends by Shel Silverstein, Oddly Enough by Bruce Coville, The Little Prince by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, Little Sister by Kara Dalkey, The Enchanted Forest Chronicles by Patricia C. Wrede, The Tale of Desperaux by Kate DiCamillo, A Series of Unfortunate Events by Lemony Snicket, The Chronicles of Prydain by Lloyd Alexander, Something Wicked This Way Comes by Ray Bradbury, the Septimus Heap series by Angie Sage, Piratica by Tanith Lee, the Inkheart series by Cornelia Funke, His Dark Materials by Philip Pullman, Holes by Louis Sachar, The View from Saturday by E. L. Konigsburg, Shizuko's Daughter by Kyoko Mori, The Sea-Wolf by Jack London, Walk Two Moons by Sharon Creech, Criss Cross by Lynne Rae Perkins, Everything on a Waffle by Polly Horvath, Surviving the Applewhites by Stephanie S. Tolan, The Last Book in the Universe by Rodman Philbrick, The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes by Arthur Conan Doyle, Fried Green Tomatoes at the Whistle Stop Cafe by Fannie Flagg, The Iliad and Odyssey (allegedly) by Homer, The Táin by many people, Harlem by Walter Dean Myers, Esperanza Rising by Pam Muñoz Ryan, The Wall and the Wing by Laura Ruby, The Lord of the Rings by J. R. R. Tolkein, The Hainish Cycle by Ursula K. Le Guin, Till We Have Faces by C. S. Lewis, The Ethical Vampire series by Susan Hubbard, The Howl Series by Diana Wynne Jones, the Curseworkers series by Holly Black, The Turn of the Screw by Henry James, Lolita by Vladimir Nabokov, The Raven Cycle by Maggie Stiefvater, Frankenstein by Mary Shelley, The Haunting of Hill House by Shirley Jackson, Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep by Philip K. Dick, Android Karenina by Ben H. Winters, An Autobiography of Red by Anne Carson, Beloved by Toni Morrison, A Stir of Bones by Nina Kiriki Hoffman, the Mistborn series by Brandon Sanderson, Deathless by Catherynne M. Valente, World War Z by Max Brooks, This is Not A Drill by K. A. Holt, Fade to Blue by Sean Beaudoin, Carmilla by Sheridan Le Fanu, The Moth Diaries by Rachel Klein, Leaves of Grass by Walt Whitman, Crush by Richard Siken, Hopscotch by Julio Cortázar, The Hunchback of Notre-Dame by Victor Hugo, Devotions by Mary Oliver, The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde

Some favorites read more recently: The Expanse series by James S. A. Corey, Engine Summer by John Crowley, Lovecraft Country by Matt Ruff, The Princess Bride by William Goldman, Heart Berries by Terese Marie Mailhot, My Best Friend's Exorcism by Grady Hendrix, Reprieve by James Han Mattson, House of Leaves by Mark Z. Danielewski, Sharp Objects by Gillian Flynn, Kindred by Octavia Butler, Reading Lolita in Tehran by Azar Nafisi, Station Eleven by Emily St. John-Mandel, The Crown Ain't Worth Much by Hanif Abdurraqib, The Refrigerator Monologues by Catherynne M. Valente, Convenience Store Woman by Sayaka Murata, Tender is the Flesh by Augustina Bazterrica, The Girl with All the Gifts by Mike Carey, The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo by Stieg Larsson, The Bluest Eye by Toni Morrison, She had some horses by Joy Harjo, Bright Dead Things by Ada Limón, The King Must Die by Mary Renault, Books of Blood by Clive Barker, Rosemary's Baby by Ira Levin, Cassandra by Christa Wolfe

Plays: The Oresteia by Aeschylus, Electra by Sophocles, Los Reyes by Julio Cortázar, Angels in America by Tony Kushner, August: Osage County by Tracy Letts, The Bald Soprano by Eugène Ionesco, The Trojan Women by Euripides, Salome by Oscar Wilde, Girl on an Altar by Marina Carr, Fences by August Wilson, The Glass Menagerie by Tennessee Williams, M. Butterfly by David Henry Hwang, Our Town by Thornton Wilder, Sweeney Todd by Christopher Bond

Graphic novels: The Crow by James O'Barr, DMZ by Brian Wood and Riccardo Burchielli, Eternals (2021) by Kieron Gillen and Esad Ribić, Watchmen by Alan Moore and Dave Gibbons and John Higgins, My Favorite Thing is Monsters by Emil Ferris, Maus by Art Spiegelman, Tank Girl by Alan Martin and Jamie Hewlett, Persepolis by Marjane Satrapi, Through the Woods by Emily Carroll, Anya's Ghost by Vera Brosgol

#watchmen is difficult to recommend on account of the misogyny but beyond that it really did change my life lol #asks #an open window #book recs #also i know technically eternals isn't a graphic novel it's a comic run directly related to the avengers and such at large BUT #it is sooo so good and u don't really have to know much abt what the avengers losers are up to in order to understand it #i didn't include any other favorite comic runs bc they require other things to be read for context. ur welcome.

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ragewrites · 5 months

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transcript under cut:

[DAUGHTER] Leah Saint-John

[and God said]

DAUGHTER, WHY DO YOU WEEP? HAVE I NOT GIVEN YOU THE GREEN OF THE SKIES, GREEN NIGHTS BLURRING INTO SUMMER VERDURE?

[and God said]

HAVE I NOT MADE THE WATERS SWEET, FILLED THE LAND WITH SWEET WHITE FLOWERS, WITH THEIR UNPERISHING PERFUME?

[and God said]

HAVE I NOT MADE THE GRAPES SUIT YOUR MOUTH, THE GREEN FLESH HEAVY AS FRANKINCENSE, AS COSTLY MYYRH?

[and God said]

HAVE I NOT LEFT MY BLACKBIRDS ABOUT YOU?

[and God said]

DAUGHTER, WHEN YOU WEEP I WEEP WITH YOU: WHEN YOU HURT MY ANGELS KEEN A HIGH HELPLESS SOUND, LIKE FINE THIN CRYSTAL SET RINGING. THEY COVER THEIR FACES IN ANGUISH; THEIR HANDS AND THEIR WINGS SHAPE FERN FRONDS, HOPING TO CHEER YOU.

[and God said]

DAUGHTER. YOU CANNOT CHOOSE MY LOVE: MY LOVE HAS CHOSEN YOU.

[and God said]

AGAIN AND AGAIN ALL MY LOVE HAS CHOSEN YOU.

[and God said]

AS YOU GRIEVE AND YOU SHAKE AND YOU LOATHE ME, AS YOU DESPAIR, AS YOU LOVE YOURS AND HELPLESS AGAINST YOURSELF LOVE ME, AS YOU BEG, AS YOU BY TURNS DETEST AND CHERISH YOUR NATURE, THE ANNALS OF AZRAEL SCRATCH AND SCRATCH, RECORDING A LONG, UNINTERRUPTED PRAYER.

[and God said]

DAUGHTER. WHEN YOUR HEART BEATS YOUR BLOOD RIPPLES ALSO WITHIN ME.

[and God said]

SUNS SET AND RISE: RISE AND SET: SET AND RISE. THERE IS NO WILDERNESS, NOT TRULY. YOU ARE NOT LOST, BECAUSE YOU CAN NEVER BE GONE FROM ME.

[and God said]

DAUGHTER. LIVE LONG AND FIND JOY. WHERE JOY CANNOT BE FOUND, KNEAD IT, OR REMEMBER.

[and God said]

REMEMBER.

#spilled ink #inkstain #poetry #poem #poets on tumblr #2023 #companion piece / follow-up to such is my desire

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surrealistaa · 1 month

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