#self indulgent rabbit pile arts

[ottiliere]

i really appreciate you for making niche art for certain experiences, i miss the days of hyperspecific aus that were entirely self indulgent. its also nice to see both age regression and mental health displayed unsanitized, and its also great to see other people find solace in it too. thank you!

another ask to go in my "favorite ask" pile... I have a lot of thoughts about this that I won't go into in GREAT detail but one thing I've noticed is that when artists are put under a spotlight and expected to "perform", their artistic muses tend to sway more towards what they percieve the crowds as wanting...? what's "popular"? or they start overanalyzing their audience's reactions to whatever they make/are making, whether it be unconscious or not, especially if art is their profession. this just leads to a lot of artblock and frustration, I think, in addition to insecurity when one post doesn't perform as well as another, etc...

I did not expect to become a ""popular"" fandom artist in the slightest. I made this blog with the goal in mind to post obscure art in hopes of finding a few friends who are into the same specific thematic content I am (which WORKED btw. I made ALL of my close friends immediately after posting the OG hospital dirk photoset). I had no expectations of lots of notes or whatever, which I hope doesn't sound snooty... like, I LOVE when you guys get excited over the stuff I post and write really long tags about it. I am just very detached from fandom at large and have no interest in making "popular" content. mentally, I guess, it helps that I'm a hobby artist and don't do this for a living, i.e., I don't have to fear losing followers from going down very specific rabbit holes, but I've discovered that... people love this? I get customers asking for the weirdest things and I love to draw all of it (commissions ARE still open btw...wink). it's very fulfilling and extremely fun. there is definitely a demand. I gained followers more rapidly the week after posting hospital dirk than any other period of time in the three months I've had this blog.

I guess what I'm trying to say is that I've NOTICED this trend of homogenized fandom content and... just assumed that people were fine with it? because it kept happening. WHICH I'm realizing isn't true. I haven't been involved in fandom for a very long time but I'm kind of really happy to be here right now because asks like this make my day. LIVE YOUR DREAMS!!!

#ask #best #asks that make me level up

[goldensatellite]

YOUR TAAAAGS OMGOSH this is so so sweet reading them made me smile a lot 😞😞💌💌 H&L ARE GIVING YOU A BIGGG CUDDLEEEE RN (and if there's still space available im joining yall too on the cuddle pile 😌💖) AND IM SOOOO HAPPY U LOVED THE BUNNIES !!! i loved including them and wanted to do it so badly😣 bunnies were a big motif with harry's love on tour this year so ofc i included them but also because 2023 is the year of the rabbit so it was very fitting for both things !!! so bunnies everywhere hehe <3 (also the bunny slippers were soooo self-indulgent bc im absolutely sure harry has a pair of those in the house so i said why not 😭💌)

so so happy you liked the drawing and as always thank you so much for always showing me love and kindness!!!! HAPPYYYY 2023 ILYSM DEAR and i wish you the best year ahead !!! 💌🌟🌟

DEL!!!!! 💌✨ me, you, and hl are the sweet lambs and the puppy is all your adorable art ☺️🌟🫶 and we’re having the coziest cuddle pile 🧸<3

i’ve recently been so obsessed with bunnies and that has a lot to do with h but also they’re just so cute and sweet :’) and I just love how it’s the year of the bunny so it makes it all better ✨🐇🤍 the bunnies were a great addition to your drawings and made it so much cuter and ahhhh it just makes me so happy <3 (h definitely has his own pair of bunny slippers i agree)

thank you for sending me such a sweet and kind message love!!! you continue to bring me so much warmth and happiness 🥰💌🌟 wishing you the happiest new year and a safe and joyful 2023 to you!!!! love you lots del!!! 🐇🌟☺️

#del #need to make you a tag!! #you are too cute for sending me a message 😭 #ask

[badboyburger]

The room stays dark, always. That's one of his rules. During the day, the blinds stay closed. If I behave, I can see the stars at night. Twinkling eyes on black silk, I watch them blink and move across. They watch me just as I watch them. Sometimes I imagine my hands pressed against their surface. I've been told they're warm, too warm, but the nights are cold, and so I don't believe them. He says the stars feel like cold metal.

I believe him.

Today, I am not inside. It's a special occasion. I get to be useful. I get to make him proud.

No one was ever proud of me, before him. I did my best, really. I excelled at my studies, and it didn't matter. I made friends, and they all left too early. Sports or music, art or science, nothing fulfilled, never enough. Desperation drove me further. Do you see the cuts on my skin? Are you proud of me now? If I stop flinching, will you love me then? My arms carried stitches of my own creation. Never inconvenience. Never tell.

He gives me a purpose. He is all that matters.

My hands hold a shovel, and I can smell the stars. My service always smells like stars. I excell at it.

I had no worth, without him. Hours spent on fruitless indulgences. Clouded mind, thoughts held prisoner, itching and yearning to not feel any of it, sinking, sinking. Those days lay far back. He doesn't allow me to go under again. I shall rise, he says. My mind is beautiful, he says.

I didn't believe him, until I did.

I am rising.

There's dirt on my hands. I cannot help but smile. He will be satisfied, and he will praise me. I continue my work. I will earn his praise, will make sure I deserve it.

He was the first to praise me. The first to recognize all my hard work. He saw the cuts, and the bones drawing sharp lines under my skin. What a good job you're doing, he told me. You must have impeccable self control, he told me. I skipped meals for days to impress him. His smile made me want to do it until I died. He forbade me. Gave me different tasks. More fulfilling, more deserving of praise. His approval is the only drug ravaging my body these days.

I wouldn't have it any other way.

It's heavy. Difficult to lift and lay in its' destined spot. I manage it, because he will call me a good boy later if I do. I love it when he does. He usually strokes my hair when he says it. I relish in his touch.

He was the first to touch me. No one else ever wanted to. He combs my hair and strokes my back. His kiss is sweeter than midsummers honey. The happiest place amongst the stars is his lap, his arms around me, holding tight. He says he'll never let me go.

I know it to be true.

The ground is almost flat again, the pile of earth diminished. I am careful to place the pieces back in their positions. He will be very satisfied. He will tell me how thorough I am, how well I've done. He will call me by my name. I love it when he says my name. After all, he was the one who gave it to me.

It is a perfect name.

My old one could never compete.

He will be here soon. My heart swells, and my  grin widens. He is happiness.

Though sometimes, he is unhappy with me. I never know why. It tears me apart, makes me throw myself against the walls and rip at my skin. Sometimes, I miss him for days. No word of praise or pride, no touch. Today, I will be on my best behaviour. Today, he will be proud. Today.

Anticipation makes my body convulse. I force myself to stand upright, feet a shoulders width apart, hands behind my back. I raise my head. I am motionless. He calls me his little soldier when I stand like this. The thought alone makes me melt.

His arrival feels like the heavens opening up before me. I fall into him. He catches me. He is proud of me, today. I am worthy, he says. I did an excellent job, he says. I eat his words up like a starving dog would a rabbit. He leaves, and takes me with him. Today, I am worthy. Today, I behaved.

I am back in my room. The sun will be rising soon, and the blinds will close. I lick my fingers. They taste like the stars.

#writing #fiction #does this qualify as horror? #eh maybe #horror fiction #creative writing #mental abuse #would love to know if anyone gets the meaning of the last sentenec #i havent written anything in over a year so im a little rusty #eating disorder mention #self harm mention

[cephalopodish]

in the future when everyone has more friends

#the untamed #lan xichen #wen ning #lxc #wn #self indulgent rabbit pile arts

[losingmymindtonight]

So like, Peter having a Razor scooter and then Tony wanting to be a part of the fun and getting one too.

“Aw.” Tony held up a pair of Iron Man pajamas, grinning as widely as if he’d found a rare treasure. “Cute, kid.”

“Hey.” Peter blushed, snatching them away from his mentor and carefully storing them in the box they’d dedicated for things to keep. “Don’t mock me.”

“Don’t worry, Pete. I’d never mock my biggest fan.”

They were standing in the Parker’s small storage compartment on the outskirts of the city, going through years worth of items that had piled up. Neither May nor Peter had been in it since Ben died, but now the facility was closing, which meant that they had to go through everything.

Which meant that they had to sort through dozens of bins weighed down with memories, marked by pieces of duct tape bearing Ben’s messy scrawl.

Peter had dreaded it, and the fact that he could see May dreading it too made him dread it even more.

A never-ending cycle of dread and repeat.

That was, until Tony broke it by offering to help.

Peter had nearly cried with relief when he’d offered that he and Peter could go through the items together. 

“You’ve got enough to worry about, May.” His mentor had offered with a charming grin. “The kid and I can handle it. It’ll be a fun boy’s activity. You’d like that, right Pete?”

And so far, he had liked it. They’d eaten greasy fast food while leaning against the outside of the storage shed, summer breeze tugging at their clothes. They’d taken a few breaks to play Uno on a stack of rib-height boxes. Tony had even brought a speaker, and they’d played loud 80s music while shifting through piles and piles of anything from school trophies to dishtowels.

Peter had dreaded these excursions at first. Had dreaded the concept of stumbling across thoughts he didn’t want to think. 

Now, though, he loved the trips. Loved the hours of comfortable banter that they threw lazily around the shed. Loved the sunshine, the music, the comfortable silence.

He could face the boxes crammed with ghosts, so long as Tony was standing at his side.

As if sensing the solemn direction of his thoughts, the man he’d just been thinking about poked him in the side with a yardstick. “Why do you have, uh,” he held up three more, a look of indignation on his face, “four yardsticks? Who needs four yardsticks?”

Peter laughed. “I think Ben got them free when an old Home Depot shut down.”

“That still doesn’t excuse it.” His mentor shifted a box, peeing into it. His face instantly lit up into a grin. “Jackpot.”

“What?” Peter’s head snapped up, suddenly on high alert. “What did you find?”

“Nothing.”

“Mister Stark.” He moved to yank the box away, but Tony pulled it back, grin only growing.

“Oh, kiddo. You were so cute with that bowl cut.” He tugged out a photo and held it up. “Ever thought of going back to that style?”

“Oh no. Is that a box of…?”

“Yep. Embarrassing childhood photos.” He shifted through a few more stacks, face softening from mischief to fondness. “You had braces? And glasses? Oh my god, you were adorable.”

“I’m actually begging you to stop.”

Tony continued as if Peter had never spoken. “There are tapes in here, too. This is the best day of my life.” He selected one, and glanced at the label. “Peter B. Parker. End of Year Performance. 2005.”

“I’ll do anything. I’ll wash one of your cars. I’ll play sick and get you out of one of those board meetings you hate. I’ll-”

“Peter B. Parker. First Soccer Tournament. 2006.” Somehow, his mentor’s smile got even bigger. “Peter B. Parker. Halloween: Iron Man. 2007.”

“Mister Staaaark.” He dragged out his mentor’s last name petulantly. “Please.”

Tony relented, setting the box aside. “I’ll spare you for now, kiddo. But don’t think we aren’t watching those later.”

“I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.”

He tossed a stuffed rabbit in his direction. “Yes, I do.”

Tony threw an old, peeling soccer ball back. “No, you don’t.”

“Yes, I-”

He stopped dead when he saw what Tony had just pulled out from where it had been wedged between a stack of bins and an old Science Fair poster board.

His mentor grinned. “A Razor scooter, huh? Wow, Pete. You never told me you were a cool kid.”

“Oh my god!” Peter lunged for the scooter, childlike excitement jumping in his chest. “I wondered where that went! Uncle Ben got it for me at a Police Auction.”

Tony smiled gently, understanding the weight of the reference as he passed the old toy over. “Wanna keep it, then?” He winked. “Maybe Spider-Man can re-brand himself as a scooter riding viglante. Leave the webslinging in the past. Now this is how you get around in style.”

Peter giggled, using the few feet of empty space around his feet to coast for a second. “It is pretty cool. More people should use them.”

“They should.” Tony crossed his arms, expression leaking with a kind of parental indulgence. “Know any tricks?”

His face fell a little as he pondered the question. “No. I-I never really rode it.”

“Why not?”

“Well, the best part was supposed to be scootering around with your friends, y’know?” Peter shrugged, trying to conceal the childish pang of rejection. “I didn’t, well, have friends. Not really.”

Tony frowned, hand clenching like he wanted to reach for Peter but had stopped the motion before it could begin. “What about Ned?”

“I didn’t meet Ned until Middle School, Mister Stark.”

“Well,” Tony said, taking the scooter from his hands and setting it beside the box of photos and tapes, “we’ll have to fix that, won’t we?”

A text popped up on Peter’s lockscreen early the next day.

TS: Meet me in the lab at 3:30. It’s important.

That afternoon, he’d rushed to the Tower in a flurry of excitement, possibilities jumping around in his head like heated popcorn kernels. Was it a mission? A new project with one of the suits?

The first thing he noticed when he ran into the lab was that it was empty.

Like, completely empty.

All the work tables had been taken somewhere. The only evidence of the old layout was the beaten up couch, still pressed in the corner of the room.

And sitting on the couch was Tony Stark himself, a lazy grin on his face as he watched Peter’s bemusement.

“Uh, Mister Stark?”

“Yes, Mister Parker?”

He took a few steps in his mentor’s direction, eyes still sweeping around the barren room. He hadn’t realized how big the space was before, with all the clutter. “What, uh, what did you do to your lab?”

Tony stood, then, and pulled two Razor scooters out from behind the couch. A brand new one, and Peter’s old one. “I made us a makeshift scooter arena.”

He couldn’t help but laugh at the ridiculousness of the situation. Tony Stark, on a Razor scooter? “You can’t be serious.”

“I never learned how to ride one either, Pete.” He shoved the worn handles into Peter’s hands. “So, we’ll learn together.”

“It’s not hard, Mister Stark.” He pushed off, and glided a few feet before stopping. “You just do it.”

Tony followed, purposefully bumping into Peter but snapping a protective arm out to steady him when he wobbled. “Yeah? Wanna race, then?”

I can’t believe that this is my life. 

Despite the thought, his face lit up with a playful grin. “Oh, you’re on.”

They ended up splayed out on the couch, sweaty and tired but still smiling like little kids. Peter’s hair was curling in a way that would have made him self-conscious just a year ago. Now, however, he just basked in the looks of obvious affection that Tony was shooting his way.

Tony threw a lazy arm over his shoulders. “Have fun, Pete?”

“Yeah.” He rolled his head so that he was looking up at his mentor’s face. “Thank you.”

A pause. Then, a voice filled with something quiet yet genuine. “You’re welcome, kid.”

They sat in a silence for a while, happy to just breathe and exist and be contented by each other’s presence.

“Oh, I almost forgot.” Peter leaned forward and riffled around in his pockets before pulling out a folded piece of paper. “This is for you.”

“Oh?” Tony took it from his hand without a second thought. “You got me a present?”

“I didn’t really get it, exactly.” He shifted awkwardly as the man unfolded the paper. “You can throw it out, if you want.”

He studied the drawing even as Tony did. The childish lines, scrawled out in crayon. Iron Man, flying over a shoddy New York skyline. The message, letters big and blocky in the way only children could accomplish.

My favorite superhero is Iron Man. He is the best and bravest superhero. I love him.

Peter Parker 

His mentor blinked a few times, as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Then, he tugged the teenager back into his side, ruffling his sweat-damp hair in the process.

“Throw it out?” His gaze flickered between the smeared crayon and Peter’s hopeful eyes. “There’s gotta be laws about defacing pieces of classic art, kid. And do I look like I’d survive in jail?”

#irondad fluff fest #losingmymindtonight writes #you guys had so many amazing prompts #that I decided to just work my way through all of them as best as I can #so get ready for WAYYYY too much substance-less fluff #hold onto your hats #this is gonna be a wild ride #irondad #spiderson #tony & peter #tony stark #peter parker #don't tag this as st*rker

[flatsuke]

KBTBB Fantasy AU

lol so here’s another self-indulgent AU to add to the growing pile

@maidofstars @bolt8826 @tsundere-eevee @alolan-lillie @themysticaldaydreamer lolol maybe this is something you guys might be interested in

After being led by a mysterious hatted man down a rabbit hole, MC finds herself in the now-cursed Kingdom of Tres Spades. For years, no one has found a way to break the curse that has plagued its citizens—until now. There is a prophecy that talks of a hero, hailing from another world, coming to rescue the Kingdom in its time of absolute need. Now, MC and her eight newfound companions must find a way to save the kingdom, lest the curse destroy them first.

Eisuke: The king and ruler of the Tres Spades Kingdom. He’s the most powerful person in the land, and his name strikes both awe and respect among the people. He’s actually a fair and just ruler who makes sure everything in the kingdom is in order. However, when the curse befell the land, he was cursed with the inability to love. He started inflicting cruel punishments to anyone who defied him, citizen or not, and all his enemies were never heard or seen from again. Though his kingdom remains the most powerful and prosperous, his citizens despise him, the throne is suffocating him, and he isn’t happy at all. Probably because of the gaping hole the curse left in his heart...

Soryu: The loyal head knight of the castle. He is known all over the kingdom as the most skilled knight in the land. Though he’s an effective leader, and a good person at heart, most people don’t think so. He’s feared because of his cold appearance and reputation as King Eisuke’s right-hand man. This is made even worse when he’s cursed with the ability to turn anything he touches into ice. He’s despised even more because of his uncontrollable powers. Though Soryu acts like the curse doesn’t bother him, even someone like him needs the touch of another human being once in a while.

Baba: An adventurer with a penchant for the thrilling. He was just a traveler who sought escape from boredom in the Kingdom of Tres Spades. Luckily for him, the kingdom was full of interesting characters. He ended up having to do a bit of favors for the king when he found out about Baba’s talent in reconnaissance. In the kingdom, he’s a known womanizer, but because of the curse, the moment any woman looks directly into his eyes, she immediately falls in love with him. At first, he was happy that his flirtations were finally reciprocated, but soon enough he eventually realized that it was all forced. Now, Baba can’t go anywhere without wearing a special set of enchanted goggles.

Ota: The most renowned artist in the kingdom. His works of art are so famous, that even those outside the kingdom would pay a greedy price just to see his art. Rumor has it that his works are so beautiful, that even the gods are jealous of their beauty. Unfortunately, the fame and fortune started taking a toll on him, and inspiration came to him less and less. To make matters worse, the curse inflicted upon him gave him a slowly-growing blindness; he can’t see colors anymore, and soon enough, he’ll be unable to see anything at all. He’s starting to regret taking his sight for granted.

Mamoru: A shepherd that used to serve as a knight in the castle. Mamoru generally tries to keep away from royal affairs after an incident caused his friend to die in a tragic accident. Now, he lives a pleasant, quaint life in the countryside, away from all the problems in the inner circle of the kingdom. However, the curse forced upon him took his peacefulness away; Mamoru can’t sleep without having horrible nightmares from the incident. Every method he’s ever tried won’t take his nightmares away, and he’s always perpetually exhausted. He longs for the day he can sleep in peace again.

Shuichi: The kingdom’s wisest scholar. He gives good insight as to how the kingdom should be run in terms of politics and reforms. Oftentimes, he butts heads with the king when it comes to kingdom affairs, but they both usually come to a general, albeit reluctant, consensus in the end. When the curse happened, Shuichi was afflicted with short-term memory. His memory unfortunately resets every 24 hours, so he has to write every event that has happened to him in a day so he can read them the next day. He still tries his best to help the kingdom, but it’s difficult when he can’t form any new memories.

Luke: The most gifted cleric in the kingdom. Because of his immense talent in the healing arts, everyone in the kingdom seeks him out whenever they get sick or injured. Still, he secretly feels a bit lonely because outside his job as a healer, no one really wants anything to do with him because they all think Luke is bad luck. He feels more comfortable in the palace because he can be himself there. When the curse hit the kingdom, he was burdened with an ironic jinx—every time he’d heal someone, Luke would receive the injury/disease in his patient’s place. As much as Luke wants to help people, the pain he feels makes him question if it’s still worth being a healer.

Hikaru: An ex-mercenary now working as a palace servant. He used to be a formidable mercenary, but after the toll his job took on his sanity and peace of mind, he quit. He’s trying to atone for his past mistakes by living a peaceful life and helping out in the kingdom. He assists Shuichi with his job around the palace, and life slowly seems to be looking up for him. His curse, however, inflicted him with the ability to see the ghosts of all the people he’s killed. They follow him everywhere, and Hikaru always feels the sins of his past crawling on his back. He feels as if the curse is a punishment he deserves.

MC: The heroine of the prophecy. She unwittingly gets led into the Kingdom of Tres Spades, and the heavy duty of saving the land now rests upon her shoulders. Honestly, everyone has their doubts about her ability to save the kingdom, and she, too, doesn’t believe she’s the one meant for the job. Unbeknownst to her, she has also been afflicted by a curse—absolute selflessness. Every time she sees someone in need, she’ll feel compelled to help them, even at the cost of her owns safety. At first, her companions think she’s just a martyr at heart, but they realize towards the end of their journey, that, maybe, something isn’t right. She goes around saving everyone, but who’s there to save her?

#spade writes #voltage inc #kbtbb #kissed by the baddest bidder #headcanon #voltage headcanon #eisuke ichinomiya #soryu oh #mitsunari baba #ota kisaki #mamoru kishi #shuichi hishikura #luke foster #hikaru aihara #this is super cliche but i'm still proud nonetheless lolololol #as you can see i've played some rpg games and read certain manga huehue #ah i've been thinking about this for a while #kbtbb fantasy au

[perkoform]

By Izaak E. Wolfe

PUPILS OF THE ALCHEMIST- Preface Authors Note: “Life is for those of us whom are already dead, and if you comprehend this notion, then you too must be stuck in the ‘ether’. In unison, many of your pseudo-peers may at once begin to nod their heads, attempting to hurry along whatever point it is that you’re trying to make, because using their own thoughts is usually too mentally taxing. Following an obligatory smile with a nod whilst sprouting gleaming pleasantries such as “oh yeah, I know exactly what you mean!” with not a thought in their skull but what they’re having for lunch. Autonomous white Rabbits full of hollow, all essentially doppelgangers: Clones cut from the same cookie-cutter cloth of which Lewis Carroll pulled the wool over Alice's eyes. The very same rodents that are oft caught ‘running late’ wasting precious seconds digging holes until they fall asleep in one, killing time until they drop. You will come to know them well. The kind of under prepared, over opinionated personalities that might read through every book in an entire library just to get to the end of every sentence, staring through ripe meaning and symbolic psychic puzzles, not to ponder, or provoke thought, and certainly not to explore the realms of scribes and oracles in a place that can never be defined: understanding words merely as distractions, the kind of mind that would buy a bar napkin if it were leather-bound just so they could say they've got it on their bookshelf. These are the dreamers. They rarely, if ever, awaken. I for one, have always been of the opinion that when free from the burden of earthly interruptions the human brain starts to unlock dream like visionary experiences, Deja Voo and insights far more significant in nature and depth than what can be found tossing and turning, blurred by the restrictions of ‘sleep’. " Charles Luna Foxx 2016 

 Chapter One

 “The Heart that told no tales..” My smirk falls flat to molten hell. Disturbed by signs of life, I gasped to earth. “Ughh…” The phone was ringing. You can bet I was ignoring it. My breath smelt like I had spent Valentine’s Day French kissing an ashtray. Finding my own feet stumbling like a rigid rag-doll off my favorite chair; a heavy head was snatched from swollen hands. Temples pounding, Teeth grinding: Last night is stuck on that damned black-box flight recorder… Here, renegade neuro-terrorist’s commit espionage against their own life source. Receptor sites planning to pull the plug on grey matter that is the only thing integrating them with awareness. They will stop at nothing to destroy any and all traces of the last 24 hours. Direct orders from suits in the cerebral cortex were to “swipe magnets on the audio tapes”. Perhaps in the grip of some advanced interrogation, these sadistic rhetorical sabotage methods employed by our hideous obligatory enemies are indeed working, using some of the most effective tools of self-destruction that our hedonistic Universe has to offer, such as Amphetamines and Tennessee Whisky. Memory pulls a blank, and a glance around the study leads me to a solitary conclusion; this hangover is only just beginning to show its putrid mug shot. The stiff neck and near total absence of writing on the pile of pages beneath my jaw seems to indicate that I passed out colder than a corpse in the Arctic. It would not take the likes of “Sherlock Holmes” to conclude that I was neck deep in the narcissistic floodwaters of Moonshine misery, with not a bridge left to burn in my hearts splintered drought. After countless hours awake at the writing desk, with a brain so sore and sorry it all but caved in to intoxicant fueled hibernation: The empty bottle of Jack adjacent to my puddle of drool confirming this hypothesis. I greet today with a smile. A smile so big and fake that hopefully it conceals my gnawing sense of spite for all existence, or at least my dental plan. When I see the light it never hesitates to scorch my prying eyes, so I still wonder why people stare at shiny things like headlights to a frozen deer. Head spinning. Reeking of liquor, don’t know up from left on a compass, so bed ways is right ways right now. In a sloth like manner, I half tiptoe as if my own shadows footsteps were going to stamp out any hope that may be hiding, still virgin to the stench of bitter fate, in the far off shadows of a distant peaceful galaxy. So I tear the blinds shut, eat some sleeping pills, and before I could even say “fuck off world." BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP Slamming my fist against the ‘snooze’ button, I hissed as if there was someone listening: “..YOU KNOW I AM AWAKE YOU SADISTIC TIME KEEPING BEATBOX! Ughh!!”. With my face buried into my pillow, I try and think of one reason why I should get back out of bed. Whiskey is certainly not one of them. If I didn’t have college, I swear to GOD I would have thrown that fucking alarm clock out the window. I must admit, I became extremely depressed and aimless after the death of my father, and even though it was up to me to become the life blood of the family butcher shop (pun intended), I decided to shut the place down. I can barely get to sleep at night, especially not to wake up at 4 30 every morning to chop up bits of flesh and bone, elbow deep in entrails before midday. I couldn’t do it, and after the Dean tuned from a clockwork intellectual to madder than a fuckin’ hatter overnight... I’ve only been attending classes where the new girl sits opposite me. The rest of my lectures I frequently skip to “study” in the dark corners of the universities extensively cluttered library. It is more than coincidence that I have taken up a few of the classes that this enigmatic temptress frequents. From day one, it was apparent that she has an obsessive thirst to master any and all of the subjects she chose, with the outcome or topic seemingly being of a lesser importance to her than that of the process itself. So it was Anatomy, Biology, Chemistry, Taxidermy, Psychology, Latin, Surrealist Art, even the optional extracurricular sessions such as Cryptography and Journalism, 5 days a week. I don’t know why I didn’t drop out and get a job in the town Abattoir, the pay is good, and I don’t have a weak stomach. But I’m glad that I don’t live in that meat hook reality. Not wanting to miss a second of her company, even though we were strangers, I had a cold shower, got dressed, and hurried to the University, with a terrible headache, but the promise of a new day was not yet lost. I was haphazardly piecing together a port-folio, and I look up and our eyes met, and quickly flicked back to our “work”. There it came, and oh my, this was the first time I had heard her voice, and at once I was drowning in Ambrosia honey from the swarming beehive of my mind. “Hello” The beautiful stranger was smiling at me. “Have you seen the golden scarab??” she inquired under her breath, looking almost as if she had asked me the time… “..Oh I.. I.. Uh…I beg your Pardon?” She repeated once more, barely above a whisper. “Have you seen the Golden Scarab?” her eyes locked firmly onto mine. Unsure what she was referring to, shaking my head, “Sorry.” She blurted “Oh never mind. I was making an in joke, ha, I thought you reminded me of someone.. I’m mistaken.. How terribly rude.. It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Veruka.” “Miss Veruka Luxx, I can assure you, it’s a pleasure to be met. I’m Arthur Lilly.” I replied, but she was already lost in her workbook, writing fiercely. I could read paragraphs from the corner of my eye, from where I was sitting. The paragraphs were describing in full an artistic process, subconscious snapshots, perhaps an indulgent outburst praising the randomness embraced by the paper game, “consequences”. The “Exquisite Corpse” method was used by William Burroughs and many before him. I overheard her mumbling, something about synchronicity, and something in a language I failed to recognize, whilst preparing a short film required for an assessment. My contribution was just footage of life-prisoners from Alcatraz, back before the rock was broken and became yet another unkempt piece of tourist crap floating in the San Francisco Harbor, I thought it was intriguing, In between 1943 and 1945 surgeons experimented on the murderers of murderers, the rapists of rapists, Lobotomizing the prisoners and then put half of the test subjects in isolation with food and water and half in a cell with a wilting rose in a vase and no drinking water. The lobotomized inmates with food and water refused to eat or drink or sleep until they died, using all conscious energy to claw at the walls.…The other half, refused to watch the rose die, every time the thorns were bare and the petals fell, wilted, the inmates burst into a fit of grief, crying their eyes out until their tears found the cuttings…. and the rose returned to vibrant health, bringing a smile to their face, and that, right there, soppy bullshit aside, the prisoners with roses managed to see the flower through its cycle, like clockwork, when those petals returned, those inmates were found dead with a smile on their face. I liked the contrast, but spliced the footage poorly and overdubbed readings from the novel “The Diving Bell and The Butterfly.” Everyone in class was looking through the projection screen behind me with a thousand yard stare, and “Thank you Mr. Lilly. Now Mr. West, Your presentation is up next.” Mr. Peaslee boomed from his desk as I returned to my seat. My eyes were back on the strange Veruka as my new accomplice lent forwards and said softly, “Alcatraz Island has some incredible wildlife, but that rose is one of the rarest in the world….. One of.” I nodded, “There are some divine books on all kinds of sacred ornamental plants in the Vulshwaltz wildlife section, I have to return some after class and choose my reading for the week. Perhaps you would like to join?” I said, as charmingly as possible. She looked me right in the eye “Really?!” she said with a wicked grin. “I’ve not been too welcomed by the other students… I’ve been so lost while trying to get to know the Campus that the Library has thus far been untraceable! I need a new friend who can show me around actually..” Veruka laughed, I was transfixed by lust and just as I opened my mouth to speak, but before I could stumble over even one syllable, the bell rang out and class had been dismissed. “Oh, what!? You haven’t seen the Vulshwaltz Library at all yet!?” “No! I hear it’s like a literary maze though. I’d be delighted to get lost in the ‘History’ section with you anytime you like! If you’ve got no plans for lunch, you could even take me there right now, Mr. Arthur.” Her smile was intoxicating. I grabbed my school satchel, and we walked towards the door. “Well Miss. Luxx, only a fool could refuse such an honest request! Right this way my friend.” And with that, we walked down the corridor. Her pupils were gleaming behind her glasses, but for a second as they caught the light, In my mind, a golden scarabs reflection, scurried away. We stood still for a second as we exited the halls and I took great delight in Veruka’s excitement as it was her first time in this room, seeing hundreds and thousands of books, billions of pieces of peculiar information bursting at the seams. Dusty, leather-bound manuscripts, with instructions to decipher every language and symbol that is of use to mankind and even a few hundred pages of thus far indecipherable ancient tongues or perhaps the quotes of modern day secret societies, encrypted in plain sight. There are countless impressive Libraries in the World, But there’s only one of the “Vulshwaltz Vaults”. The lights hang down from the ceiling in glass flowers, downward like Belladonna Atropa flowers. I’m not sure if the “Deadly Lampshades” are there because of the irony, that old saying that everyone who works in a Library goes “mad as a Hatter”, or simply because the architects of our massive University had some, dare I say, questionable influences? “oh my goodness! Those Nightshade light fixtures are something out of Bella Lugosi’s wet dreams! Ahah!” Miss Luxx grinned in astonishment. “One almost wishes they were real, except for the fact that we would all be dead!” A cold, stern voice hissed back “They ARE real” the voice continued “and you ARE dead precious.” Of course, I knew this voice to be our very own, very proud, and equally VERY strange Librarian, Mrs. Nancy N. Escher LaTrisk. “I’m sorry?” Veruka said slowly. “The Flowers are real. They’re as real as any other lampshades, don’t you know?” Explained Mrs. LaTrisk, taking a sip of her tea “and you must be dead my dear! The last of Mr. Peaslees’s students never got to see graduation because they were all bored to death!” she said, turning the hourglass on the desk in front of her upside-down. “Mr. Arthur Lilly! I was under the impression your mother taught you manners!” Mrs LaTrisk was smiling at me. “OH! Of course! This is my new classmate and I’d have to say I’d take her as a friend over most of the chaps, Miss Veruka Luxx! I see you’ve spotted our humble Librarian, Mrs. LaTrisk!-“ “My name is Nancy Neri Escher LaTrisk, The boys call me Mrs. LaTrisk, But you can call me Nancy darlin’, Seeing as I’ll be calling you by your first” There was an awkward silence, at which point Mrs. LaTrisk drank some tea and exclaimed “anyway, Busy busy, always work to be done..” and she turned her attention to a copy of ‘Hidden Faces’. “oh yes, Mr. Lilly, your order arrived yesterday. It’s on my desk next to the typewriter” A brown paper satchel contained my new copy of ‘The Strange case of Dr. Jeckll and Mr. Hyde’. “Magnificent! Gracious Mrs. LaTrisk” “Righto, Well.. my oh my.. strange woman. Arthur, Is there anywhere we could sit and talk in private?” Miss Luxx blinked rapidly as a cool breeze swept through the room. As we walked deeper and deeper into the cacophonous life sized maze that Mrs. LaTrisk refers to as the “Bermuda of Books”, we found ourselves indeed lost in the history section. Veruka was pointing out a small window in the wall; she reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out a small gold telescope, and beckoned me to have a look, directing my gaze to a plume of smoke funnelling out of a chimney in the most beautiful house on mount Titan. “Exquisite telescope Miss. Luxx, Where did you get it?” I said, intrigued. “Oh this is one of the smaller ones; I have a collection of telescopes in my study.” She looked through the eyepiece “I like to keep the fireplace on while I’m at Vulshwaltz so when I get back all tired it feels like home.” “That’s where you live?” my jaw dropped. “You live in a mansion?” “My grandfather’s in hospital so I’m taking care of the property. You should come and have a few drinks with me tonight. Otherwise it’s just me, the animals, and a big empty house...”

Chapter two 

-Perpetual Vermin in the Illusion of Time and Space- “Le cadavre exquis boira le vin nouveau.“ I fumbled for notepad, attempting to look as if I were paying attention. The lecture was nearly over, and the bell would allow our dismissal from class no doubt very soon. I sat watching the clock hands go sloooowwwwllllyyy around from the corner of my vision, scribbling on my page a crescent moon, and the more I scribbled, it seemed the lecture were as if I was listening to it from a great distance. The blood drained out of my head, the ceiling pushed towards the sky, along with a room full my peers rendered brain-dead while the tables where they sat began to stretch and contort like a perpetually elongating hallway. A half a minute could last two million years.. Perish the thought. Sometimes I wonder just what exactly Salvador Dali mind had the persistence to remember behind his wild eyes as they observed a slice of camembert cheese melting in the sun. I glance quizzically at the empty chair to my right, “where in the hell is she?” I wondered. Her absence made me oddly uncomfortable. The divine and peculiar Veruka Luxx been my best friend for more than year now, but she remains as much of an enigma as when I first came to know her. Veruka and I, one could rightfully assume, shared a peculiar fascination in what would be most certainly considered taboo by the majority of our society. Veruka has a profound affection for Taxidermy, stuffed and preserved animal corpses, not to mention her absurd obsession for the languages and customs of ancient and lost civilisations. Our interest in all living creatures was naturally mirrored by our fascination for the “process of death”, the afterlife, the before life, and the possibility to reanimate the corpses of the deceased shortly after dying, using a customised injectable solution. We had killed, maimed and also reanimated the bodies of several rabbits, stray cats, rats, and guinea pigs, some even with promising results if the subjects managed to survive the process of animation for more than a few minutes. We have been a tad over absorbed in our little projects recently, and the nature of these experiments warranted my cause for concern. Luxx and I spent nearly all of our spare time engaged in “Staring at the bottom of the fountain of youth”… Yes, I suppose that’s one way to phrase it. Among other things her devotion to the subject of reanimating a multitude of deceased creatures knew no bounds, which fuelled my fascination and desires to assist her secret studies and to cover our trails all the more, from anyone whom might happen to have otherwise stumbled across our secret laboratory. Both Veruka and I were honorary students at the Vulshwaltz University in the town of Atlas, a rather expensive college, with infinite halls, chandeliers, libraries, top of the line science equipment (which we had slowly constructed our laboratory from, one beaker at a time, considering we were so trusted by Dean Allen Halsley himself, that he authorized us to stay behind to clean, autoclave and pack away every single piece of glassware unattended after classes, and the school had so many resources they didn’t appear to even ponder all the bits and pieces of “written off” laboratory hardware that the faculties staff would immediately replace.) Between the windowpanes were the endless paintings spaced perfectly evenly across the tall walls of the corridors, depicting everything from the Salem witch trials, The sun god Ra making his rounds in the minds of Egyptian painters and sculptors, and more typical of a white collar institution, images of decadent Kings and Queens from centuries otherwise mostly forgotten (all of them remarkably pale or blood red in the face, It often bemuses Luxx and myself to liken King Henry VIII’s face to that of a plump tomato ripe to burst. God awful inbred monarchy.) I look up from my scribbling, and she’s standing right next to me snickering at my absent mindedness, I wonder how long she had been standing there? The classroom is completely empty, and the clock tells me that the bell rang out about 15 minutes ago.. “Ground Control to Major Tom!?” She said with a smirk. “It’s time to go” “Where on earth have you been!” I croaked, flustered. “You scared the shit out of me, I thought something must’ve gone wrong” “Well” Luxx rolled her eyes, for a moment I could see my pupils reflecting back at me in hers, and a shiver went up my spine. “I’ve finally tracked down a recently deceased Human subject on which we can test my new formula.. Grab your things.” Her smile was both unsettling and comforting. We cleaned the science room, we cleaned the condenser, separatory funnels, catalyst reaction vessels, test tubes and various beakers, and using the key that the Dean entrusted us with, we opened the Haz-Chem safe, removed a couple of necessary precursors and once the classroom was packed up and tidy, Miss Luxx steered my attention to her unusually playful state of mind. We soaked in the evening as we began heading home bound, the place I had come to know as home, our humble abode, a sprawling property which Luxx was taking care of for her grandfather while he was in hospital. From the dust to the trees which touched the clouds, to the house that we had been using to conceal our gruesome experiments on deceased creatures which we would catch and put to death before attempted reanimation of their cadavers, sometimes yielding no result, sometimes a few unnatural flinches and as with most of our more “fortunate” incidents the creatures would turn rabid and rip their own bodies to pieces, after attacking anything in sight… But we pushed on, Luxx insisted that it was a simple matter of getting the right blend of synthetic compounds into the next formula, and something told me she was right. We left Vulshwaltz by foot, and with every step, the sun would sink deeper into the horizon, until at last we scaled the base of the mountain. It wasn’t long at all before I could see 54 rue du Chateau. The finest piece of architectural indulgence on the whole of the mountain, I bet her grandfather must’ve been proud, having built it by hand, brick by brick, brushstroke by brushstroke. Obviously, it was both mine and Veruka’s favorite place in all of Atlas, except for the Cemetery and the Library at Vulshwaltz. Overcome by dizziness, I was quick to catch my breath but for a peculiar moment, I almost thought these feelings of Deja Voo were rising to my attention as a hint that maybe this, right now, could all be just a dream. Then I remembered that even nightmares are more inviting than what lays in wait. As Miss Luxx explained what would be our plans for the evening, I unpacked our bags and polished a new glass beaker I had stolen for the lab. We headed upstairs for the attic, and my dear friend grabbed a spoon from the kitchen. Like ruby wine in flickers of the moonlight, I watched her lips tremble as she spoke. She weighed out precisely a quarter gram (250 milligrams to be exact) of our new silky powder and mixed it up. Luxx jabbed the needle in my arm and pulled back red, as I volunteered to Ginny pig our new batch of Amphetamine Salts. Suddenly I could feel a lightning storm pounding through my temples, as all of the blood rushed to my head, Luxx gave me a sickly smile, there was no denying we were both high as all fuck and I could not follow most of what she was saying because she was talking so fast and her eyes were utterly intoxicating. She stopped speaking mid-sentence, seemingly out of nowhere grabbing me by the neck and before I could blink she had pushed me up into the corner of the Attic, and with an incredible lust, our lips locked, and tongues entwined. My heart must have skipped a seismic thud, for this is the first time we stepped beyond the boundary of friends, and essentially the first time I had seen Luxx’s passion flare up for anything that still had a heartbeat. “Well, that certainly got your attention. Hah!” She smiled. I was breathless. “Work first, fun later, Hmm?” She looked me up and down. With that, she turned on her heels and took me to the false wall we had fitted in-between the cluttered, dusty Attic, and the hidden door to our surgical laboratory. She opened it and flicked the lights, revealing a lifeless figure stretched out on a long white table. Luxx, I could tell, was getting terribly nervous about something. The recently deceased human subject that Veruka had acquired was a frail old woman, whose face was extremely pale and the shade of blue that her lips had turned indicated that she had been dead since at least this morning. “Well well well! This is charming Luxx! Just fucking charming!” I mocked. The smell of necrotizing flesh was already near unbearable. “And what the fuck happened to her I wonder??” Luxx cleared her throat, “Well, hmm. It has been a long day indeed. Her family live not a great distance from here, I’ve known her son Edward for many years. As I was picking through my books before our late afternoon science class, studying the lineage of Queen Nefertiti when all of a sudden there were tremors on my doorstep accompanied by the deranged howling of what I presumed to be a badly injured German Shepherd. I rushed outside to find the howling was coming from an old woman writhing gruesomely in the mud on my driveway.” Shaking her head, Miss Luxx beckoned for one of my cigarettes. “I recognized the unfortunate Witch as Edwards mother, phoned his uncle immediately to alert him of the situation and ask if I could be of any medical help, as she was by now curled up twitching on my porch, grasping for dear life. He told me that she has been slowly going mad for years and by his voice… Well I could tell it had been driving him to drink, because he was slurring his concerns and at the same time attempting to hit on me. So as the family could not contact a competent doctor because of the particularly fatal strain of Flu that’s becoming somewhat of an epidemic in town recently, and screaming and delusional as she was when she arrived, the old woman appeared to assume an almost catatonic state of consciousness all in a matter of minutes, at the same time I could hear snoring on the other end of the receiver so I furiously hung up and carried her inside to my guest room, soon she was fast asleep after seemingly having made a miraculous recovery from her primitive psychotic episode.” With the upbeat melancholic chirp of a pessimist, I butted in “….And then?????” with an eyebrow raised above a bloodthirsty smirk, almost puzzled by my own sincerest solemn sarcasms, Luxx sighed “Her son Edward was suddenly knocking at the window, he said nothing except that he would stay by her side no matter what… Knowing I could trust Edward not to snoop around the house, I was beginning to ready myself for the back to Vulshwaltz, because I just needed your comforting presence after the intensely unexpected chain of events, by now I knew I was too late for class, but that was the lowest of my priorities. The incident seemed to reach an almost level of calm, but at that exact moment, the phone rang just as I was leaving home…. all I could hear was static noise and maniacal laughing in the earpiece….. Shrugging it off, I hung up just as Edward eerily called to me from the guest room. He emerged looking as though he had already long since mourned for his dear mother’s sanity, almost with a sigh of relief he said softly that she had just then passed in her sleep. I hid my smile behind gritted teeth… Mentioning that his uncle has already drunk away his inheritance, Edward also happened to mention, to my utter delight, that her final will declared that after death, her corpse was to be donated for the purposes of science, and because Edward has been a close neighbor for years, it goes without saying that he had already become well aware of my overachieving at University, The backlog of Anatomical Knowledge that propelled my status from a nerdy exchange student to an ‘Honorary’ Teachers Pet, not even mentioning the Deans trust in my ‘responsibilities’, …anyway, you can guess that it wasn’t very long at all before I had convinced Edward to go home to try and get some rest. He said his farewells under the impression that I had already arranged a hearse to Vulshwaltz’s medical research facility…. But after he left, I just hauled the lifeless bitch upstairs and rushed into town to find you so that we may finally take our experiments to the next frontier of reanimation…. To bring about the strange state of existence known as “Life” back to a completely rigid, non-responsive, breathless human cadaver…… “ The lovely Veruka Luxx burst out into hysterical laughter, unable to wipe the smirk off her divine face. Slightly disturbed, and still unable to stop thinking about Luxx’s soft and tender lips, all the while trying desperately to ignore the smell of the dead woman whom we were about to attempt to bring back from the spirit realm, to once again, in some post-mortal fashion, walk among the Taxpaying, Booze-Addled piles of flesh and bone, most commonly recognized as the “Living”. Apart from not being much good for conversation, the main difference between that of the “deceased persons” and of their more animated, opinionated, compulsively breeding counterparts, the “Living persons”, is simple. One has completed their cycle and has joined the “Land of the Dead” for the rest of eternity, while the other is still absorbed in the comparatively temporary distractions of day to day humdrum human emotions; From Serenity to Fear, From Kinship to Solitude. How fucking poetic. I’m to sober for this. Too much is never enough… My thoughts were racing. The air seemed to be getting thicker… “Hmm… The body’s whereabouts shouldn’t arouse any suspicion as long as no-one else in Atlas knows about her death, and provided her family doesn’t speak to anyone regarding her disposal requests” I said hastily “which I imagine they would not have any need to mention as a casual conversation topic to anyone of importance…. then we’re in the clear… Quick thinking by the way, my darling.. Any fresher and you could skin the fat off her and sell it down the butchers as offal.” I scoffed. Smiling dryly in acknowledgement, her eyes met mine and then looked quickly down at the tip of a .3 ml syringe that she had filled to the brim with a concentrated solution of her new “embalming concentrate” as we had deemed them), and I began preparing a large vein on the side of the woman’s neck for injection, as the solution had to enter the blood stream as CLOSE to the brain as possible. Luxx impatiently yet precisely performed the injection while I checked the cadaver for any vital signs of life. We waited for an hour, and Luxx mixed and injected more solutions into the subjects’ neck relentlessly. Just as we were preparing to admit failure, call it a night, and throw her corpse into the incinerator, without a seconds notice the old woman’s eyes darted open WIDE, and she let out the most ear-drum piercing blood curdling screams, wailing and screeching imaginable, far too unearthly for any human to possibly conjure the sound in their most depraved nightmares, let alone the breathless lungs of the dearly departed. Suddenly the undead subject stood up, froze stiff again, and fell on the floor with several liters of blood rapidly gushing out of her eyes, nose, mouth and ears. I gasped, unable to muster a word, and was frozen with fear. Luxx just shook her head, rolled her eyes and groaned with failure, she snapped. “Fuck.. Fuck.. Fuck… I think perhaps next time we should wait, at least another hour, before re administering the formula. I’ll put the incinerator on so we can dispose of her remains quickly.” Luxx leaned toward me and kissed me on the cheek. I stood, bewildered, horrified, and shivering. “Oh.. What a waste” I blurted, Naturally questioning my beautiful associates mental stability, but as my faith in her was still unshaken by the gruesome occurrence, I began to question my own sanity… As Veruka turned up the furnace to its highest setting, near 2000 degrees Fahrenheit, she hummed along to an unknown yet strangely familiar tune, and the impromptu cremation of our elderly lab-rat was complete…… not much is left of that wrecked atrocity save a red hot pile of ashes. Attempting to appear un-phased by the evening’s festivities, I mopped up ankle deep pools of fresh human blood from our laboratory floor, as thoughts of what consequences lay in wait for us if we were ever to be caught grew steadily more grim and unavoidable, all the while, Luxx’s near total and complete disregard for such consequences proceeded to add entire Galaxies of increasing volatility to the already crumbled fault-lines of rationality and common sense… I was trapped aboard a sinking ship of her obsessions, pulling me into an Ocean of demise that was overflowing with my own poisoned curiosity’s, and it would be Veruka herself, who unwittingly sealed my fate with a kiss…. Run, Rabbit, Run… Because when you’re walking such a very fine tightrope of morality, whilst attempting to survive on a steady diet of endless hedonism, there is simply no time to slow down.. On that note, Veruka and I sat by the fireplace, drinking tea into the morning. Something I can’t shake about the look in the old bats eyes, embedded into my memory, will forever gnaw at me. I’ve seen that soul sucking glare before. For a second I was lost in the void of her pupils, the cry of the storm, and as I looked out from the old woman’s vacant stare, I actually was looking up at myself the moment blood poured from her every orifice. I was shocked, trembling, sweating, and whiter than a sheet. Looked as if I’d seen a ghost, a fucking Kodak moment... With every second, it seemed further in the past, until all I saw was my drug-devouring Morticia Addams, My Venomous Vixen…. Veruka was snuggling up next to me on the rug in front of her fireplace, and I feel her jab another shot of speed into my arm…. No warning…!?!??!!!!!! ….my vision trembles wildly…. Before I could even think, she is laughing and taking off her dress. Always an ice-cold intellectual machine; a vixen, brunette, green eyes and spectacles…. Even with a frozen heart like hers, I’d still be willing to bet my life that she could keep me warm in Hell…..

[howellrichard]

10 Summer Reads to Boost Your Happiness

Hiya Gorgeous,

The sun is shining and summer is finally upon us. It’s one of my happiest times of the year because I get to soak up two of my favorite things: reading and vitamin D! I love being able to catch up on all the delicious must read books that have been piling up on my nightstand. There’s nothing better than curling up in a fabulous spot with an exciting new page-turner.

Throughout my wellness journey, books have been my faithful compass, guiding me along the way. They’re my teachers when I feel stuck, lost or in need of fresh inspiration. And they provide a cozy classroom to wrap my mind around health pickles when I’m getting my footing or feeling overwhelmed.

Lately, I’ve been looking to the bookshelf to stoke my spiritual fire and creative passion. Which brings me to my summer reading list. Whether you’re on the beach, by the pool, or chillin’ at the park, bring one of these gems with you (and don’t forget your sunscreen!).

These books will leave you feeling totally inspired and recharged. And here’s another bonus: reading is connected to your wellness because it helps to reduce stress. (study) So take the time to indulge—it’s good for ya, honey!

Lookin’ for something to read? Here’s the top 10 #books on my #summer reading list. Enjoy! @Kris_Carr

Here’s to the sweet days of drinking in a little down time. Sit back, relax, and enjoy one (or all) of these transformational beauties…

My summer reading list

Hourglass: Time, Memory, Marriage by Dani Shapiro

Dani Shapiro is quite possibly my favorite writer. Her latest book is an intimate journey into her 18 year partnership with her husband. To me, it’s a spiritual inquiry about the fragility and strength that develops over the course of many years together. Brian and I recently shared our 10 year anniversary together and there were so many moments I could relate to in her book. And after reading it, I feel more committed to my life with my amazing man who I know and don’t know at the same time, who I love and disappoint, champion and annoy. This book helped me remember that relationships are beautiful, messy, complicated, and deeply spiritual if we’re open to it.

The One Life We’re Given by Mark Nepo

There’s a beautiful dance between trying and letting go, giving your all and surrendering to receive. Mark’s book came into my life at the perfect time as I’ve been navigating some challenges with a loved one. It’s the gentle reminder of how precious life is and how we have to stay open to whatever life puts before us (even when it’s not so pretty). The heart carves a path for our deep work leading us to our true purpose. This one is a total game-changer!

Wake Up to the Joy of You by Agapi Stassinopoulos

Agapi is one of my dear friends and when she told me about her new book, I knew I was going to fall in love. She’s an inspirational force who has channeled her wisdom into this beautiful collection of motivation. I love how she lays out an easy-to-follow process for building the foundations of self-care —amen sister! There’s 52 weeks of activities for letting go of what doesn’t work for you and finding what does. It’s all about learning to trust in your own creativity, keeping your heart open, and connecting to that something bigger that lives inside you.

Hallelujah Anyway by Anne Lamott

How I love the wisdom of Anne Lamott! Her latest book is a collection of essays on faith—what it really means to believe in yourself and the world around you. She delves head first into the upside of discovering and extending mercy to yourself and others. My favorite line: “Kindness towards others, beginning with myself, buys us a shot at a warm and generous heart, the greatest prize of all.” Just let that beautiful sentence soak in. This book is as honest as it is humorous, and it will leave you with a clearer vision of what it means to lead each day with a merciful heart.

Material Girl, Mystical World: The Now Age Guide to a High Vibe Life by Ruby Warrington

Ruby Warrington is your girl if you’re looking for a modern-day guide to spirituality. As the founder of the popular website The Numinous, she’s created a lovely manual for understanding your mystical side and the tools that can help along your spiritual journey. From astrology to meditation, Ruby connects the New Age to what she’s dubbed “the Now Age”—helping us to understand and apply modern-day spirituality to everyday life. She breaks everything down into easy to digest chapters and shares fun, anecdotal bits from her own hilarious experiences. A super fun read, especially for younger readers.

The Subtle Art of Not Giving a F*ck: A Counterintuitive Approach to Living a Good Life by Mark Manson

When I first read Mark’s essay, I thought YES, this guy gets it! The truth is, we all give way too many fucks when we don’t need to. And when we give a fuck that we probably shouldn’t have, we’re often cutting ourselves short on the things we should be focusing on. It’s really all about learning when and where to give your energy without apologies or shoulds. He’ll help you decipher between your musts and the things you don’t need to think twice about—ultimately knowing what’s right for you and what’s not-so-much. Fuck yeah!

Option B: Facing Adversity, Building Resilience, and Finding Joy by Sheryl Sandberg

It’s possible for each of us to face life’s roadblocks with joy and love. Sheryl is the COO of Facebook who lost her husband Dave. She wrote this incredible Facebook post 30 days after her husband suddenly passed away, and it’s evolved into her new brilliant book. Dave had said to her: “Option A is not available. So let’s just kick the shit out of Option B.” Sheryl bravely and gracefully demonstrates to us how to face grief head on. It’s all about how we can reroute our plans and still find peace and happiness.

Seat of the Soul by Gary Zukav

This is a classic, go-to book packed with big wisdom. I re-read this every year and it always leaves me with so many things to think about. If you’re ready for some deep, soul-level intelligence, then this is the perfect place to start. Gary is one of the most brilliant spiritual teachers of our time. He explains how we’re evolving into a species that craves authentic power (over that surface-level, external stuff). When we infuse our daily routines with reverence, compassion, and trust, our days come alive with meaning and purpose.

White Hot Truth by Danielle LaPorte

Sometimes when we make the choice to work on our self, we can fall down the rabbit hole of constantly needing to improve and be better. There’s a thin line between self-improvement and obsession, and Danielle serves up a dose of white hot truth to help us explore the conflict between aspiring to be spiritual and the compulsion to constantly improve (and be perfect). She takes a confusing topic and makes it clear and easy to digest. Thank you Danielle for this beautiful book filled with insightful goodness!

Born a Crime by Trevor Noah

What I love about this book is Trevor’s adoration for his mama. He’s a comedian, but his book is anything but jokes. He documents his experience growing up as a mixed race child during apartheid in South Africa with raw integrity and humor. He’ll make you belly laugh and then be moved to tears. Trevor speaks his truth and unveils his deep, undying love for his mother who survived a near fatal gun wound. It’s all about following dreams and rising above the obstacles life throws your way—with grace, a little naughtiness, and a wicked sense of humor!

Get my Self-Care planner so you can pencil in some relaxing reading time!

Your turn: What’re you reading this summer? Tell me about the pile on your nightstand. Share in the comments below—I’m always looking for suggestions!

Peace and happy reading,

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