#she's a book worm who writes stories in her free time

[syntheticavenger]

Forever and Ever More - Twenty-Three

Soft Dark! Alpha Ransom Drysdale x Omega Reader

Warnings: 18+ ONLY. Language, Alpha/Omega dynamics, threats, angst, character death, mentions of rut, implied mention of pregnancy, implied mention of forced abortion, violence.

(Here. We. Go!)

Word Count: 3K

moodboard by the talented @titaniumstark​

Previous: One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten, Eleven, Twelve, Thirteen, Fourteen, Fifteen, Sixteen, Seventeen, Eighteen, Nineteen, Twenty, Twenty-One, Twenty-Two

Summary | Ransom Drysdale may be Boston’s most eligible Alpha but he has his eyes set on you. With his inheritance hanging in the balance, he won’t take no for an answer, whether you like him or not.

Children bounce around you as you try to herd them back into the classroom, wanting to tell you every little detail about what they did at recess, right down to little Gracie, who tells you in depth about how she saw a bird pull a worm out of a hole and ate it right in front of her, her eyes wide with disgust.

Most days you are fine to listen to their concerns and revelations, especially when they are deep in conversation with you and can’t even get inside the door without wanting to tell you the ending of their stories but the heat is getting to you, nodding slowly as you answer gently, still trying to get them inside before the last child slips inside before you close the door. Even though you know they are accounted for, you still keep count, watching every single child scurry to their seat. Once you’ve counted three times, you sit, exhaling softly as they pull out their books to read silently to wind down from recess. Full little bellies mean they start to get sleepy, writing carefully on the whiteboard while a few blink a few times to keep their eyes open.

Math isn’t the most thrilling subject for your students but for a few, they are more than happy to shout their answers to your questions, even if you’ve politely asked them to raise their hands. There’s an innocence to them that you appreciate, knowing they are feeling free enough to express themselves, even as they call out the right – and sometimes wrong – answers that makes you smile, the time dwindling down before the bell sounds and they race out the door, yelling out their little goodbyes before silence settles over the classroom.

Your fingers ghost against your mating bite, finishing up a report before your thoughts drift to Kelly and Austin.

It shouldn’t surprise you that Austin had two sides to him. It does surprise you, however, that Kelly fell for such an Alpha, especially after she had been so dead set on making sure Ransom was as far away from you as possible. She had always been the strong one, the one to talk you out of bad decisions and was there still when you made them, ready to support you when you needed a listening ear. You hadn’t counted on Austin ever mating her, especially since she never seemed like the sort who wanted to be bonded.

None of that mattered anymore, Kelly safe inside your house while you finished the last of your document. More importantly, you were worried about Ransom, who was hellbent on making sure that Austin paid for what he had done. That scares you most of all. To know that Ransom can and will go after what he wants and that his determination will always seem to win out. In this case, you know that he’s much more passionate about seeing Austin get his comeuppance than before, especially since it’s so close to home.

-

Harlan spies Ransom deep in thought as he pours through a draft of a book, stopping to write notes on his notepad. It’s a far cry from the Ransom who could barely stand to even do research, let alone take a look at the books to make sure they were researched for continuity and accuracy. Once upon a time, it was a chore to get him to get through at least a chapter. These days, Ransom finishes a few chapters, providing insight to his grandfather within days. 

A far cry from the snobbish Alpha he used to be.

“Everything alright?” Harlan asks, Ransom looking up from his notepad.

Within minutes, Harlan narrows his eyes at the younger Alpha. He knows his grandson well, right down to when he’s bothered about something. He’s bothered now, checking his phone over and over before he finished writing on his notepad, Harlan clearing his throat as Ransom looks up, jaw flexing at the sight of his grandfather.

“Something is bothering you,” Harlan pushes gently, folding his hands on the table. “Is it Austin?”

“No,” Ransom denies quickly with a shake of his head. “Something else.”

“Something else like what?”

Ransom rolls his eyes, Harlan ignoring the fact that Ransom hates it when he pries. At the awkward silence, Ransom gives a dramatic sigh, tossing the notebook on the table.

“Her scent changed,” Ransom mutters.

“How so?”

“Stronger. Sweeter,” he answers Harlan, fidgeting with the pen in his hand. “She doesn’t notice it, I think. But I do.”

Harlan leans forward with interest.

“What do you think it could be? Another Alpha?”

“No,” Ransom growls out, glaring at his grandfather. “I would know. It’s different. She went back to work this morning and I could scent it. I didn’t want her to leave.”

Harlan nods in understanding, a smile spreading across his face as Ransom blows out a breath, running his hand through his hair.

“It’s not heat,” Ransom informs him. “And I like the way she smells. It just made me…”

“Protective?”

Ransom nods.

“Well,” Harlan begins, pushing back his chair as he stands up. “There’s only one reason why you’d feel that way with the change in her scent.”

“Okay?”

“You’re going to be a father.”

-

Austin knows he shouldn’t leave, Neal’s warnings still circulating in his mind, deciding to ignore what the lawyer has told him. Not that the Beta would understand the longing, Austin sneers to himself, grabbing his keys before he heads toward his car. The tracker on his ankle gives a warning beep that he shouldn’t go any further before he slices it off his ankle, the shrill sound making him toss it toward the trees.

Despite the large amount of suppressants he’s ordered to take, he’s off of them for the past three days, enough for him to feel like himself again.

And with it, the anger that simmers under the surface now comes to a boiling point when he dials their numbers, his former Omegas blocking his calls. Not that he didn’t realize that it was going to happen but the very idea of them believing that they could move on, like he didn’t bond them once is absurd, the car door slamming hard as he gets inside, forcing himself to take a breath.

Everything had been fine once upon a time. Going from one nest to another, each one different from the last, their scents varied and nuanced that Austin could swear he could pick out in the dark. There was something about his hold on them that made him feel powerful. Leaning on their Alpha, the calls in the middle of the night when the yearning got to be too much.

And all of it came crashing down because of Ransom Drysdale.

He was supposed to be the cautionary tale. A confident Alpha with a lack of care for Omegas, casting them aside when he was done with them. It was easy for him to discard them, send them on their way as they wiped their tears and moved on. Austin knew the opportunity afforded to Alphas meant that he could have one – or two – for himself, like the days of old.

But never Ransom.

Not one to ever want to be tied down, it was laughable that he’d gone and bonded you. Still, there was that look of longing that Kelly noticed when she would glance at your mating bite, enough for Austin to realize that no matter what, if when she denied her designation’s desire, it still managed to come to the surface.

It had been so easy.

Ransom had taken them all away, systematically to the point where they had been there one day and the next it was like they had disappeared. Frantic searches would show their proud unmarred glands, throwing it silently in his face that a savior had come to free them from what Austin had known was good for them.

Not that it mattered, Austin continuing down the highway, feeling the first strings of aggression trigger as he grips the steering wheel, baring his teeth as he weaves in and out of traffic.

He’ll find you first, make you submit to him.

After all, it’s what Ransom deserves.

What he deserves.

-

Ransom’s hand pulls you against him as you struggle to get up, unsure of why he’s been extra clingy lately, especially when it comes to you getting up and getting ready for work.

“Ransom,” you murmur sleepily, feeling his soft groan of denial.

“Call a substitute,” he says after a minute, his hand ghosting down your belly. “Call out sick.”

“I feel fine,” you counter, Ransom still not letting you go. “Ransom…”

“Do you really want to go in?”

You know the answer to that is no. Outside it’s chilly, the first colors of fall beginning to appear. Inside, it’s nice and warm, Ransom’s scent nice and comforting as well as his body heat, making you drowsy as he nuzzles against your mating bite.

“You smell so sweet,” he purrs against your ear, kissing a line gently from your earlobe to your neck, making you shiver.

“I know, you keep telling me,” you answer him, hearing his sigh of disappointment before you force yourself out of bed. “I’ll be back in the evening and we can continue this.”

“We better.”

You aren’t sure why he’s so hellbent on keeping you home but he won’t tell you why, either. Still, the little nausea that seems to take hold gives you pause, clutching the sink to steady yourself before you look into the mirror.

Realization creeps in, thinking back to your last heat, blinking as you stare back at yourself, swallowing hard at the ‘what if’ before you slip into the shower. Under the hot water, your mind goes a million places at once, piecing it all together as you scrub every inch of your body, pausing at your middle before you finish, rinsing off and hopping out of the shower, brushing your teeth in your towel while Ransom calls out to you from the bedroom.

“Dinner tonight?”

Your reply is garbled before you finish, Ransom’s laugh carrying into the bathroom as you turn the faucet back on.

“So… yes,” he answers you. “I’ll pick you up from work.”

-

Austin waits, the few children who are still waiting look up at you hopefully while you smile at them reassuringly as a car comes up, one of the children running toward the car as their father parks, getting out to pick up their child, waving goodbye to you.

He knows you don’t know his car, leaning back as you walk another child to their parent, passing by as he perks up at your scent. It’s sweet, enough to make his mouth start to water. 

You still don’t notice him, waiting for more parents to come as they call out their gratitude for watching over their children.

One by one until it’s just you, looking at your watch before you start to head inside.

It feels easy enough, following behind you as he keeps his head up, looking like a parent who may be looking for their child. He lets you head inside, the doors closing behind you as he waits for a moment, enough to hear your footsteps fade.

It’s easy for him to pull the door, letting it close quietly while he walks silently through the halls. When he gets to your classroom, you still don’t notice him, the door closing as you turn your head, crouched down to pick up spilled crayons from a cubby.

“What are you doing here?” you ask him, straightening up as Austin gives you a smile.

“I came to see you, of course. We got interrupted last time, didn’t we?”

“Get out,” you order, Austin baring his teeth, revealing his canines at your demand.

“That’s not how it goes, Omega. Your loud mouth of an Alpha took what was mine,” Austin says with slow shake of his head. “Make no mistake. I’m going to make sure the bite I leave is big enough so they all know who you belong to.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” you hiss, backing up as Austin takes a step forward. “You aren’t supposed to be out.”

“Lucky me,” Austin purrs. “We’ll be long gone by the time Neal realizes I’m not cooped up.”

He reaches for your arm, grabbing you as he pulls you against him. He’s stronger than you and he knows it, maneuvering your arm behind your back as you cry out in pain.

“Stop it!” you yell at the top of your lungs. “Don’t!”

“You’re getting rid of it, by the way,” Austin breathes against your neck, his hand gripping your belly. “No bastards allowed.”

His lips trail down your neck, your body freezing as you beg him to stop.

“No, no, stop, Austin, stop, please,” you beg. “Stop!”

He’s pulled back before he can blink, Ransom flinging him against the wall as he stands in front of you.

“Outside,” Ransom commands. “Now.”

You listen, inching past Austin as he rubs the back of his head.

“You know, I thought you were an idiot,” Ransom seethes. “Then you showed me you were much worse. But you put your hands on my mate. She’s not here to tell me not to kill you.”

“You can try, Drysdale but you won’t succeed. You barely just knocked her up as of now. I would have had two had you not interrupted me.”

“They aren’t property,” Ransom shoots back, Austin charging toward him as Ransom steps out of the way, missing Austin’s fist. “And you’re pathetic.”

“Pathetic is you believing you saved them,” Austin warns. “I get a little slap on the wrist and I get back to business. Fly to some random town in the middle of the nowhere and start fresh. I’ll start with your mate first. Gotta make sure we get that little problem out of her as well.”

Ransom sees red, the sound of your voice echoing before it all goes black.

-

“Ransom,” you cry, pulling at his sweater. “Ransom, please.”

Your voice is garbled, like you’re underwater as he stares at Austin’s lifeless body at his feet. His neck is broken at an unholy angle, Ransom shaking himself out of his stupor as his gaze goes to you.

“Oh my god,” you sob, Ransom holding onto you as little pieces of himself come back. His sweater is ripped, nearly to shreds, blood on his hands as you tremble in his arms. 

“Ransom, you…” you hiccup, his hand on your face, forcing you to meet his gaze.

It all comes back, crashing back into him like waves.

“I had to,” Ransom says quietly, your head shaking as you mouth ‘no’, the doors opening as police enter, guns raised.

“Hands up!” they shout, looking down at Austin’s body. “Down on the ground! Now! Keep your hands where we can see them!”

Another officer comes inside, surveying the scene as you tremble, hand over your mouth.

“We need you to come with us.”

“No, I can’t leave him,” you tell them, reaching out for Ransom as he’s handcuffed. “Wait, please.”

“Now,” the officer demands.

-

“Hey.”

The balled up tissue around you does little to paint a picture that you are ready for any sort of company, the room temperature tea in the Styrofoam cup unappealing as Andy Barber sits across from you. He’s not your Alpha but one nonetheless, his scent calming as he’s stoic, watching you carefully.

“Um, I’m sorry,” you reply, wiping away your tears with a fresh tissue, the box balancing on your lap. “Linda said she would call her own lawyer but I…”

“It’s alright,” Andy says quietly, surveying you as he settles into the chair next to you. “They aren’t posting bail tonight.”

Though you understand why, it’s still a devastating blow, the last shred of hope out the door as you nod.

“I promise you that first thing tomorrow, we will get this sorted out,” Andy tells you. “Physically speaking, are you alright?”

You give a slight nod, sniffling as you ball up the tissue and place it with the others.

“Fine,” you reply. “I just don’t know what to do. They’re saying manslaughter. Austin attacked me!”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Andy soothes, up and over at the police as he motions with his head for them to go outside. 

“We were supposed to go to dinner,” you begin, eyes squeezing shut at the remembrance. “And now he’s not coming home.”

“Hey,” Andy counters, taking your hands in his. “Listen to me. He is going to win this, okay?”

“He didn’t mean to,” you whisper, head bowing as Andy grips your hands tighter, nostrils slightly flaring.

“He meant to,” Andy replies back softly, his head nodding in agreement. “I’d have done the same. It’s our right.”

“Not like that,” you deny. “You didn’t see it, Andy, it was -”

“I know,” Andy answers you. “There are strict laws about an Alpha protecting his mate. We will get him out, I promise.”

At your final nod, he lets you go, inhaling for a moment.

“You sure you’re alright? Your scent is pretty high. It’s not bad,” Andy says quickly. “It’s very pleasant. Just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

It hurts to blink, collecting the small mountain of tissues in your hand before Andy helps you up.

“I’m fine,” you answer. “Going home is…”

“How about this? You get in your car, you drive back home and I’ll make sure to follow so you get there safe. Get some rest. Because in the morning, we have to tackle this head on.”

“Okay,” you answer softly.

Andy walks with you down the hall, arm around your shoulders to shield you from any questions. It does the trick, no one bothering as you step outside the precinct, away from the throng of reporters who stand by to get a glimpse of you, thanks to the side exit that Andy took you through.

Once you’re back at your car, Andy watches you get inside, trying to keep it together.

“I will unearth everything on Austin Stryker,” he promises you. “Nothing will be off limits when it comes to him. Don’t you worry. I can find any and everything about everyone."

#alpha ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale x you #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale x female reader #ransom drysdale x black female reader #alpha ransom drysdale x female omega reader #a/b/o fic

[silverdragon128]

I’ve decided to make a fic recommendation post, based on the stuff I’ve been reading over the past couple years. Be aware, some of this stuff is DARK. The dove is very much dead, and occasionally so is the violated child’s corpse. Obviously none of the dark shit is condoned, and for me, reading and writing it helps me come to terms with my twisted and fucked up childhood/life (the way Grimm grips to Hornet, and everything about Amy even down to her name are wayyyy too real). TW for rape, child abuse, grooming… read the tags, guys. Please. Not all of these are so fucked up, but enough are that you should be warned.

First up is a series by @doceopercepto & @best0utthere:

In particular

And

READ THE TAGS! The above series heavily focuses on grooming, csa, and other very dark topics. Read at your own risk, every story is an incredible read.

Next up is

Which is also very Dead Dove, be aware that the story entirely focuses on a very fucked up relationship initiated by attempted murder and rape. This one along with the previous series was very important in helping me realize I’d been assaulted as a child. Take that as you will

Up next is probably one of my absolute favorite stories of all time

I had never heard of Worm before reading this, and still haven’t read it. This one dives heavily into rape recovery and how such a betrayal can affect your relationships. Almost a year ago I went through sexual assault committed by someone literally named Amelia (what Amy is short for) who I was so close with we could’ve been siblings, and I was saved from her by someone many would consider a villain (I love you so much). Needless to say, this fic really connected with me

This one

Is the story that got me shipping Enid x Wednesday (I’ll only ever accept Enid domme lol)

By virtue of it being an HP fic I’m worried about recommending it but @thistlecatfics’

Is a phenomenal (yet horribly fucked up) story that I all but consider canon (and consider a massive improvement to the actual books). Mind the tags, this one’s all about grooming. (Based on a quick search their blog the author is supportive of trans people)

Next is a close friend of mine @myqueenmarceline

Whose every work is so good I literally couldn’t pick a singular one to recommend

Finally, we’ve got @inquestorm’s

And

Which not only are phenomenal stories, but also resources I use alongside the games as research for my rewrite. I feel she frequently has a better grasp on the characters than the devs do, so I take her interpretations as canon

Feel free to rb with your own recs/comments on the ones I’ve posted

#hollow knight #arcane #worm web serial #worm parahumans #Wednesday #fanfics #fanfic rec #world of warcraft #sylvaina #wenclair #skitter #glory girl #victoria dallon #taylor hebert #enid sinclair #jinx arcane #caitlyn kiramman #hollow knight hornet #jaina proudmoore #sylvanas windrunner

[jay-avian]

Epilogue Writing Exercise

Prompt: Write an epilogue for another story

I chose Howl's Moving Castle, one of my favorite books by far! I had such a fun time writing this one :)

Note: we had 10 minutes prep and 40 minutes of writing time

Sophie never understood the fuss of a wedding. She supposed something so heartfelt did deserve some special attention. It was a miracle that Howl managed to find love after all. Though she still didn’t feel she deserved something big and grand like Howl was hoping for. He wanted them to wear the finest clothes and be wed in the most extravagant of places. Sophie, however, wanted something closer to her roots. Through some arduous bickering, they eventually agreed upon something quite fitting.

They’d be wed in the flower field among their friends and family. Martha talked with the Cesari to help make them a splendid chocolate cake. Fanny would help sew Sophie’s dress. (Howl insisted that he magic up his own, lest Sophie’s family line was just as bad with fixing clothes as her.) Michael sent invites to everyone they knew, including Howl’s family from Wales. They weren’t too thrilled with the idea of another world, but they were glad that he found someone who could tolerate him.

It was the day before the wedding and the hustle and bustle was upon them all. Decorations to be put up, food to be delivered, a priest to be found. Everyone was running hither and thither to complete the finishing touches. And while the hectic spree was going on outside, Fanny was helping Sophie get ready in the castle bathroom. Sophie sat on a stool in her long, ruffled, white dress staring into the mirror as Fanny brushed and braided her hair. Sophie could hardly believe who she was looking at. Not months before, she would’ve been looking at a misfortune girl, given up on making her own way. Now, she looks at the bold, beautiful young woman before her in reverence.

“Something the matter, dear?” Fanny pauses to ask. “You seem thoughtful.”

“Oh, it’s nothing,” Sophie replied. “Just.. uncertain, that’s all.”

“Oh don’t worry! Those feelings will pass once you see your husband-to-be. In fact, when I was to marry your father, I…” Sophie drowned her speech with her own thoughts of Howl. She still couldn’t quite believe how he had been able to see her for who she was. Especially since she couldn’t even see herself in such a way.

‘My fortune really did turn around,’ she thought to herself.

Much sooner than she thought, it was time for Sophie to walk down the isle. When she opened the door, all eyes were upon her. She was able to catch a glimpse of Howl talking quite proudly with Michael. She thought perhaps he was gloating about how he didn’t feel nervous at all. (What a lie that would’ve been.) But when he turned to look, his expression turned to awe. He stood still, taking in a beauty he had never quite seen before.

Fanny took the honors of walking Sophie down the carpeted path amongst the tulips. When Sophie reached the altar, she was just as captivated by Howl. Trying to hide her nervousness, and ease Howl’s, she decided to banter. “What, no questions about how your outfit looks? Or comments about your hair?”

Howl eases into a smile. “I’m sorry dear, you seemed to have cast some sort of spell to make me speechless.”

Calcifer clears his throat and begins speaking. “Dearest friends, we are gathered here today to witness a miracle. The miracle of love, and how Sophie managed to worm her way into Howl’s heart (quite forcefully, might I add)...”

“Oh, skip to the end, Calcifer,” Howl said, waving him off without so much a glance.

Calcifer sighed. “Do you, Howell Jenkins, accept Sophie to be your lawfully-wedded witch?”

“I do,” Howl sighed with stars in his eyes.

“And do you, Sophie Hatter, accept Howell to be your lawfully-wedded wizard?”

Sophie gazed at Howl. She notices not only the excitement in his eyes, but the soul that was returned to him. She sees the heart she helped to free, the passionate, loyal, and caring heart she learned to love after everything. “...I do.”

“Then, by the power invested in me (by Miss Sophie), I now pronounce you husband and wife! For those averse to intimacy, look away now.” Howl took Sophie in his arms, dipped her down, and kissed her as she held his head in her hands. The crowd cheered for the couple, though they could not hear it. Their attention was drawn to each other yet again, feeling each other’s smiles and hands.

The after party was excellent. Market Chipping was decorated with lights, the streets were filled with music and dancing. The cake turned out a marvel, too! Then the time came for Sophie to toss the bouquet. She sent it flying behind her, and a group of girls scrambled for it. In the end, it was Martha who caught it, who blushed deeply glancing at Michael (who also grew red). The night was filled with joy. Everyone went on their merry ways home, and Sophie and Howl went on back to the castle to live on their happily-ever-after.

#creative writing #little red writing hoods #howls moving castle #diana wynne jones #epilogue #fanfic #wedding scene?? #hopefully i did it justice

[goforth-ladymidnight]

My Thoughts on the Official ACOTAR Coloring Book

The official ACOTAR coloring book was my official introduction the world of ACOTAR back in 2017 (I kept the barcode sticker with the date on it and everything). However, I didn’t officially join the fandom until 2021, around the time ACOSF came out. However however, it wasn’t until recently that I realized that the coloring book was all about Feyre and Rhys. I know it seems obvious, but hear me out.

Book 1 of ACOTAR is, at its core, a retelling of Beauty and the Beast and the Ballad of Tam Lin. It is Feyre and Tamlin’s story, despite what the rest of the series became. However, you wouldn’t know that if you only read the snippets included in the coloring book.

This realization came to me when someone on Reddit requested a spoiler-free color-along guide, complete with chapter numbers. This was so they could read the books, then color along when they came across the matching chapter. Since I was procrastinating had some free time, and I have the trilogy on Kindle (it makes research for fanfiction so much easier), I typed something up for her. But in doing so, I noticed at long last that the ACOTAR portion doesn’t tell Feyre’s and Tamlin’s story.

There is exactly one image that is even romantically coded for Feylin, and it’s this one: (art by Yvonne Gilbert, coloring by me)

It’s a beautiful illustration, but... They’re not even looking at each other.

I’ve never worked as an illustrator (even though I’ve taken my fair share of art classes), but I don’t think it’s a coincidence that the only image where Feyre and Tamlin have eye contact is the scene UTM right before she stabs him.

If SJM had any say in which scenes were included in this book, then that excerpt doesn’t surprise me at all. (You can see some more examples of the included pictures on the wiki page here.)

I looked through my copy of the book, and there are eight images of Feyre and Rhys together. Eight. ACOTAR’s portion ends with Rhys and Feyre talking, instead of Feyre and Tamlin walking off into the sunset, which is how the book actually ends.

At this point, you may be wondering why I’m so passionate about this, so I’ll tell you. Once upon a time, I wanted to be an illustrator. Back in 2017, I was studying real-life examples of coloring books and trying to learn from the experts. I’ve since made art more of a hobby to focus on writing, but the interesting thing about studying art and writing is this: The official coloring book doesn’t tell a comprehensive story.

Book 1 is my favorite book in the series, and I would love to see it get more love as time goes on, instead of being dismissed as a “boring prequel”. It set up what the rest of the series became [insert rant about the tonal shift between books, the discarded sequel that was eventually written into ACOMAF, and my feelings about the portrayal of Tamlin’s character in general].

It is a good book on its own... but I couldn’t tell you that if I had to sum it up from the coloring book excerpts alone. Important characters like Lucien are never given an introduction page, unlike the ACOMAF section, where each member of the Inner Circle was highlighted in addition to getting a group shot. Honestly, I wouldn’t want to take that away from them, since they are important to the series, but I would prefer to give more characters like Lucien or Tarquin a chance to shine instead of adding in a picture of the Attor or the Middengard Worm Wyrm. For those who don’t have the coloring book, if you look through the images on the wiki, yes, pictures of those ugly creatures are really in there. Mmm. Just what you want to color in a romance book about sexy hot faeries.

If I had my way, here are the scenes from ACOTAR that I would choose to tell the story properly. To make it more of a challenge, I kept it to 18 scenes, to match the number of illustrations that were chosen for ACOMAF:

Feyre aims for the deer and sees the wolf [technically it’s already in there, so it can stay, but I would change the excerpt and the illustration. I’m just not crazy about that particular artist’s comic book style here, since it doesn’t suit the fairy tale nature of the book]

Feyre speaks to the mercenary [not only does it highlight a criminally underrepresented badass character, it defines the danger of Prythian, and the overall conflict in the book]

Tamlin’s beast form in the cabin as he bargains with Feyre [which is different from the one where they’re walking away from the cabin; the excerpt that was chosen doesn’t have the same impact, imo]

The Spring Court manor [it’s in there, so it can stay, and besides, John Howe’s work is beautiful]

Tamlin’s High Fae reveal [Yvonne Gilbert’s illustration of Tamlin and Lucien is gorgeous, but it’s a shame that Lucien isn’t mentioned by name in the excerpt] 

Lucien and Feyre on horseback as they discuss the Suriel [as interesting as it was to see the Suriel depicted by itself, we need context to know why it’s there]

The Suriel and its advice to Feyre: “Stay with the High Lord” [*cough cough* it was always about Tamlin *cough cough*]

Tamlin takes Feyre to the glen, as shown above [although this could also be traded out for the art gallery or the willow scene]

Rhysand taunting Tamlin, and Lucien protecting Feyre [this ties in better to the theme of the book, instead of his description on Fire Night as “the most beautiful man” she’d ever seen. Let’s stay on track, people, and keep it to one love interest per book, mm’kay?]

Tamlin sends Feyre home in the carriage [as much as I would love to highlight Solstice, it doesn’t have the same impact on the plot. Besides, I do love Yvonne Gilbert’s illustration of the scene; even if Feyre isn’t looking at Tamlin, it is thematically appropriate]

An illustration of Feyre’s family, not just of Elain gardening [thus showing what Feyre is giving up by choosing to return to Prythian]

Alis takes Feyre to the cave [this illustration is one that piqued my interest when I first flipped through the book, so it stays]

Amarantha’s intro [it’s perfect as-is; gotta love Charlie Bowater’s work, though I would have loved for the image to be bigger]

Feyre runs from the Worm Wyrm [much more interesting instead of just showing it by itself, because pink and brown does not make for a compelling color palette, thank you very much]

The tattoo and the bargain [it can stay, only because it does affect the plot and future books *grumble, grumble*]

Amarantha taunts Feyre about killing Tamlin [the current version was a big spoiler to me when I first saw it, but the scene needs to be included in some form]

Feyre’s transformation to High Fae, perhaps surrounded by a couple of the other High Lords [the current scene with her and Rhys talking about her human heart works, but it’s very Feysand-centric in a book that should be about Feylin. Plus, more character reveals!]

Feyre and Tamlin’s return to the Spring Court as they walk off into the sunset [ft. Tamlin without his mask!!]

Done.

Now, I know this doesn’t cover all of the scenes I would have loved to see illustrated, but it does make up for the severe lack of Feylin compared to all of the Feysand illustrations. If I feel like it later on, I might do the same excerpt review for ACOMAF and ACOWAR, because I had no idea what was happening in those books from the illustrations and excerpts alone. (And I still haven’t read ACOWAR all the way through. Way to hook me on the plot, promotional material.) We don’t even see what the villain in those two books even looks like! That’s a royal shame (pun intended).

If you’ve made it this far, thank you for reading! You don’t have to agree with my takes, but this is something that’s been on my mind for a while now, and with Tamlin Week 2023 coming up, I felt inspired to finally put my thoughts together. Maybe this will also inspire someone to make something for the event? Maybe this is a sign I should pull out my markers and paints more often... Hmm. If nothing else, this was a good exercise. And I don’t want to be the sort of person who criticizes something without offering suggestions for how it could be better.

I am glad that ACOTAR exists, because it has inspired so much creativity in myself and my fellow fanfiction authors and artists. It has also inspired a lot of people to pick up reading again, and if that leads to people reading more and making new stuff, so much the better. :)

#acotar coloring book #acotar critical #sjm critical #acotar is a better standalone novel #tamlin x feyre #feylin #lady midnight makes something #kind of #my coloring #not my art

[grimm-rider]

Entry 26

I have seen a future that was so beautiful, and so very enticing. And completely unobtainable.

I haven’t written in a while. A lot’s happened. I’ve been busy. Helping to run a rebellion, saving people from Crone Queens, and generally weakening Elvanna’s hold on the city doesn’t exactly leave me much time for scribbling in a book. And at this point I’m not even sure if I need this journal anymore. Now that I know why I lost my memories before, I no longer think it’s particularly likely that it is going to happen again.

But…I feel compelled to write today after what I saw. Emotions are a bastard. I wish I could just rip them out. Throw them away. Things were so much easier when I didn’t care about anyone but myself.

The worst part is I know I don’t really mean that. As inconvenient as caring is, I wouldn’t want to lose Greta. Or Aenland, Edeya, Nestian, or Cesseer. But especially Greta.

We killed the prince of the Winter Wolves to get Greta back. A nasty bastard with two heads, who turned into some twisted royal wolf spirit after we killed him the first time and he had to be put down again before he stayed down. Greta inherited some of his power afterwards. And now she’s back with me. I felt whole again when we reunited, after days of fearing that at any moment Elvanna would order the two Crone Queens at the prince’s side to kill her, and that we—I—would be nowhere near to help.

Those were the worst couple of days. I am not afraid of many things. Having that hanging over me…it was awful. It was the worst. I never want to be in that position again.

I know Greta can take care of herself. It’s not like I’m going to become overprotective or anything. Her strength and confidence in using it is one of the things I like about her, I would never try to stand in the way of her and a fight she can survive. But her being there alone in the heart of the viper’s nest with two Crone Queens and dozens of enemy Winter Wolves including their prince…those would not have been good odds for any one of us alone. If Elvanna had said the word, she would have been alone, outnumbered, and in their home turf.

…It’s fine. It didn’t happen. It’s over now. Both the Crone Queens and the wolf prince are dead and Greta is safely with us. Cesseer is safe and back with the resistance as well. She’s even brought along some friends from prison who she’s training in the ways of being a Battleflower.

Cesseer’s jailbreak went exceptionally well, especially considering how stacked the odds were against us. I got us in, disguised as a guard with Greta on my arm as herself. We had Xernabeth fabricate some fake anti-magic wristbands so that everyone else would look like they were subdued in the manner of actual prisoners. Then we went from block to block convincing the inmates to join in on a plan we thought up with Cesseer to start an uprising that night.

We then snuck upstairs using a garbage chute, procured all of our allies’ confiscated equipment, and I got into contact with Cesseer with a plan to start the riot right as we got into position to attack the Crone Queen, so that we could take out her device to flood the entire prison in the split second that she was caught by surprise.

Oh, yeah, the entire prison was located under the lake and the Crone Queen was able to flood the entire place at the press of a button, slaughtering everyone inside if she felt the prison was compromised.

Anyways, long story short Aenland and Nestian smashed the staff with the button, we killed the Crone Queen and her disgusting magic slinging giant worm, and everyone was free to go on their way. Some of the prisoners joined our cause. Cesseer and her Battleflowers, obviously. But also a rather amusing group made up of a frost giant and his six gnome companions.

Oh also before we got into the prison we met a plant man who was one of the people who originally killed Illivor, and he offered to re-kill her to reincarnate her as a human again. She left with him and so for the entire prison escape Edeya’s familiar with a Noisoi psychopomp. I do not feel comfortable with that thing. Servants of Pharasma, messengers of the dead. Not exactly the sort to be in mixed company with a necromancer, generally speaking.

Did I miss anything important? I think after my last entry was the library. Right, the library. I met Keisuke at the library. We had a chat. He told me he had something he wanted to talk to me about and gave me another free pass to come to the Nonagon when I had the time. I did so not long after saving Greta. He also confirmed that he had Nestian’s mother’s Eidolon, although he didn’t know it belonged to someone in Nestian’s family at the time of kidnapping her. He denied doing anything to Nestian’s mother, and he claimed she was in danger but the danger was more of her own making than his fault.

Nothing else important happened at the library. We killed the Crone Queen. Well, really Nestian killed the Crone Queen. The rest of us killed a bunch of banshees, and wraiths, and I made a bunch of fuckers worship me as a god. I also got a book Keisuke needed for something.

Anyways, after I saved Greta I told Nestian I had a plan to try to save his mother’s Eidolon from Keisuke. And I did—with the information I had at the time, which it turns out was woefully inadequate. I think it was a rather good plan for the information I had though. I was going to sneak Roscoe in invisible and have him get the Eidolon out while Greta and I took up Keisuke’s attention. I also made a crawling hand out of Jadrenka’s mother hand (oh we killed her again by the way) to track the Eidolon if I failed to save her and which would have a scroll of plane shift tied to it for the Eidolon to make use of. And if Keisuke caught them I’d just lie, claim some other necromancer must have stolen control of my pet from me and was trying to play us against each other, and that I’d never seen the crawling hand before—after all I don’t make a habit of creating such weak undead. I’d then back up the lie by destroying Roscoe and the hand with a flame strike—that would conveniently just barely miss the Eidolon and hopefully give her enough time to get out.

That is…not what happened. At all. Because the Nonagon that Greta and I arrived to was a very different one than the one I’d shared tea with Keisuke in and seen the recording of my Grimm Rider self in the weeks prior. There was something very wrong with the Nonagon this time. His recorded song played, first normal, then in a disturbing slowed down mockery of Keisuke’s voice. There were nine doors around the room. One in particular seemed to have a violently bright light coming from behind it. Keisuke implied that the Eidolon was behind that door. The light, blocked as it was, was painful to see. Opening the door to save the Eidolon just then would have been a fool’s errand. Doing it stealthily would have been impossible, and the light would very likely have done a great deal of harm. And that’s assuming she could even be removed from behind the door with the Nonagon in this state.

Keisuke told me to ask Nestian to ‘get his mother out of his walls’. Apparently, somehow, Nestian’s mother was causing some of the decay of the Nonagon. Although it was apparently also because Artrosa didn’t have a warden and the Nonagon was set up right on top of the Eon Pit.

Remember how I mentioned above that we killed Jadrenka’s mom and I cut off her hand to make that crawling hand?

Yeah. Oops.

So apparently the Eon Pit being fucked was tearing holes in space-time, which was spitting time dragons into the middle of Whitethrone. So that’s not exactly ideal.

Jadrenka had already made her way to Artrosa to see to things, and there’s a Crone Queen messing with the Eon Pit, so we’re going to have to go there eventually anyways. I’ll just have to see about fixing the Nonagon while I’m there.

Besides that, Keisuke also revealed a bit about what he’s been doing to me. And why he’s been called a thief by a number of people we’ve met. Apparently he’s learned a modified version of the simulacrum spell, which he can use to channel the abilities of other beings. But he can only make this connection with beings he’s done harm to. As we spoke he was working on creating a simulacrum of some fancy elven man whom I saw in a vision of Keisuke’s past after I gave him the book I’d procured from the library. The man was some sort of apprentice or something to the man who wrote the book. Keisuke had broken a glass and cut the man’s hand as he was moving to take his leave, feigning it being an accident. It was calculated. To hurt him.

To make creating this simulacrum possible.

I left Keisuke to his work, and looked around the Nonagon before taking my leave. I was looking for proof of one simulacrum in particular. Each door showed me a sort of vision. The first was some small thin box or device. I’m not really clear on what I was seeing. However what I did recognize is that the object had the number ‘999’ on its side. I don’t know what that means, beyond fitting with Keisuke’s nine motif.

The next number of doors all showed me visions of people who Keisuke killed. A goblin, a human alchemist, a human wizard, and finally what I was looking for. What I knew I would find but was hoping I would not.

A half-orc man, his heart being ripped out. A vision I’d seen previously in the Eon Pit, when I made the pocket watch mine.

Nestian’s father.

If Nestian chooses to fight Keisuke in the end, he will have to fight a shadow of his father as well. And we will have to fight all these fragments of warriors from Keisuke’s universe whose powers he pilfered. It is not an idea I’m keen on. It’s even more reason I’d prefer to keep things amicable between us and Keisuke, although I fear that it won’t turn out that way. Keisuke’s personality simply clashes with the others too severely, even disregarding the fact that he’s personally done things to harm Nestian’s family.

I’ll stand with my friends if it comes to that. I don’t want to fight Keisuke. But I can’t fight the others.

At one time I thought that if it came to a fight between the others and Keisuke, I would stay out of it, refuse to fight either side. Or throw some Oracle’s Vessels on both sides and heal whoever.

I don’t think that anymore. If the others fight Keisuke, I’ll stand with them. I won’t like it. I won’t take any pleasure in killing him. I might not even throw my most brutal spells at him. Better to die by fire or Destruction than having every bone in your body broken. But I will stand with the others if it comes to that. They’re more important to me than…whatever it is I want from Keisuke at this point. I don’t even know. It’s not like I need him to gain mythic power. I have a wish from Baba Yaga all lined up for that. And he’s said it himself that I’m likely more powerful than him at this point. So there’s nothing he can teach me, sans the simulacrum spell, which I have no real interest in pursuing. So what do I want from him? For him to see me rise to greater and greater heights, because he’s the only one who’s seen me at both my most powerless and most powerful? It’s true, there is a certain satisfaction to that. No one from my old life would understand the greatness of the power I wield in the way Keisuke does, and yet he also knew me when he first raised me in that cave, when I was powerless. I don’t remember it, but I know I must not have known how to use my magic back then—I didn’t even know I had latent magical abilities back when I died. The others, they’ve only known me while I’ve been remembering how to wield my power—the Grimm Rider’s power. I’ve had power and mysteries from the moment I met them.

I don’t know. I guess there’s something about someone knowing one of those other versions of myself. Calio Caecos the boy who died in the cave, who was raised to become The Grimm Rider, who died and became Calio Caecos again—but this time touched by power. A man who can bend titans to their knees and warp reality to his will. All of these were me. And yet each was in a way a death and rebirth. Quite literally on the death end of that.

The boy in the cave on his way to Irrisen following a feeling and looking for answers…back then I would have killed one of the others for a taste of power and immortality. Without question, without a second thought. What’s one life compared to all I could do with a hundred lifetimes immortal? What’s one life when it’s in the way of what I desire?

I don’t know what the Grimm Rider would have done. I still don’t remember my time under that title, and I will never get that time back. But given that I had continued relying solely on myself, from the moment I left Keisuke to the moment I orchestrated my own death to avoid a more permanent demise, I suspect my choice would have been much the same. And I’d have had the means to do it in that lifetime, too. Although I did give Cesseer that warning. I didn’t have to do that. I chose to do that, to help her. To give a woman enslaved by a dragon and looking to escape to the stars a chance. So maybe the Grimm Rider had some glimmer, some beginning spark, of what’s grown in me since then.

But I said it back when we saw Baba Yaga’s past. When we learned about her once-friendship with Vigliv, and the way she betrayed the Norn to protect her thread of fate and cement her power and immortality.

I’m not as strong as Baba Yaga. I wouldn’t be able to do that to my closest companions. Not even for immense amounts of power.

I didn’t expect to ever actually be faced with that choice. To actually have it dangled in front of me. It was a theoretical last time I wrote about it.

It isn’t this time.

But I’ll get to that in my next entry. I’m getting tired. Today fucking sucked. I’m rambling, and I think I’ve summarized enough of what we did. I can mention any other important things if they come up. I’m going to plane shift to Abbadon to get my fucking Baykok back (because a daemon plane shifted him there and I only just got the means to get him back. And I fucking hate the piece of shit demilich I took control of to replace him. I also took control of some elephants but those are not practical to take with us so they’re going to guard my demiplane. I have a demiplane now. It’s called Grimm Labyrinthus. I’ll get into it next entry.)

Regardless, good night.

#pathfinder #reign of winter #journal entry

[blobracing]

2) Splinter of the Mind's Eye, by Alan Dean Foster

Featuring classic scifi’s issues with women and racism, “He Would Not Fucking Say That”, and more . . . .

Splinter has lived in infamy with me for a while: I didn’t like it as a kid, when pretty much anything with the Star Wars label would get a mild thumbs-up at worst. The complaints I’ve repeated to myself from that time was that I didn’t like the prose, it felt like something was wrong with the characters, and every chapter– or scene change– would end with a trailing ellipsis. You can set your watch by it. 

I’m not sure it would be worth it to harp on things I dislike about the prose now– even those ellipses strike me as kind of charming, in that they feel left over from conventions about serialized adventures ending in cliffhangers. Like, it’s not to my taste, but who’s it hurting?

In scrolling through the first pages of Goodreads reviews to see if I could snag more succinct blurbs and pawn off some of the work, I noticed that none of the reviewers mention any of the physical violence, condescension, or sexual threats made against Leia. I don’t mean to pearl-clutch, and I’m the last person to worry about or condemn “problematic” writing, but there’s something about the more-explicit-than-casual sexism going unaddressed in a Star Wars novel that feels… weird. There’s an argument to be made that Splinter is essentially a pulpy scifi novel, that the concept of “a Star Wars novel” with all the caveats of adhering to canon (or keeping romance very courtly and mostly chaste) didn’t exist yet. Foster was set the task to write a follow-up for Star Wars following the genre conventions of the time.

Unfortunately, those conventions suck. Leia pendulums between Annoying Princess and Active Obstacle, Luke is full of derring-do, better ideas, and in the last half of the book seems to be getting paid by the word. No aliens have speaking roles, and come in three varieties of Savage– Pathetic, Useful, and Too-Primitive-To-Be-Truly-Noble. Vader is verbose (boo), briefly sexually threatening ( 👀) and ultimately a blathering fool not that far off from the throwaway Imperial commander antagonist that wastes a lot of our time earlier in the novel. 

So, let’s get into it. We’ll do the world’s fastest plot summary, get into why the characterization fails and the silliest examples of it, and maybe I’ll have finally worked this splinter out from under my skin.

PLOT SPEEDRUN:

Luke and Leia are on their way to a planet to negotiate its support for the Rebel Alliance. They crashland on a nearby planet, find a secret Imperial mining colony, and are drawn into helping a Mysterious Eccentric Old Woman find a legendary Force-enhancing crystal. They’re briefly captured by the Imperials, break free with the help of two aliens, run from a giant worm and fall into an underground labyrinth of caves that ends in a long-abandoned city. Ritual fight to establish dominance over the “primitive natives,” Vader shows up, there’s a firefight, they find the temple with the crystal, Luke fights a beast, Vader shows up again, final fight, Vader gets dropped down a hole and the crystal revives Luke from death so he can heal Leia, done.  

Wookieepedia has a more in-depth summary if you’d prefer a nittier gritty.

It’s a little meandering, and has the cadence of a couple sessions of D&D where there are only two players and a DM with more setting ideas than story beats. The setting of a boggy planet full of ancient temples waiting to be explored and underground caves full of mysteries and aliens kinda fucks, and it feels like there may be some of Dagobah’s DNA in the descriptions of the swamp filled with alien birdcalls. (The Force-sensitive eccentric “oldster” [one of Al’s favorite words] Halla bears only a passing resemblance to Yoda in that Luke sort of forcibly adopts her as a mentor figure and she loves to lie.) 

OKAY COOL WHATEVER GET TO THE PART WHERE YOU TALK ABOUT LEIA:

As one of three returning “"canon”” characters and one of two main protagonists, Leia gets a lot of airtime and really doesn’t do much in the first half of the book besides scold Luke for acting sensibly but against her sensibilities, worry about the wrong things and get corrected for it, and get slapped either literally or by the narrative. It’s difficult to try and remember that at the time this was written, there wasn’t a large corpus of work that helped flesh out her character and give her agency and respect– but I don’t think that’s really an excuse. In Splinter, she’s frequently shrill and stuffy, infantilized, and in turns both naive but somehow knowing more than Luke– although his instincts usually prove to be right over her experience. 

Goodreads reviewers correctly note that the sexual tension between Luke and Leia is pushed hard and makes the reveal in Empire that they’re siblings… complicated. Luke/Leia has legs as a ship and I’m not about to deny it, but unfortunately the things that would make it interesting or compelling– the separation and then reuniting, both of them giving Han grief, the tension and intimacy granted by their potential bond through the Force– are best left in the hands of fic writers, since obviously it would never be even remotely embraced in canon. Foster’s take on Luke’s attraction to Leia is blithely and standardly horny in a boring way. After a day of trudging through the swamp and Leia harping at him, they huddle together for warmth at a campfire.

“Then he happened to glance down at his companion’s face. It was not the face of a Princess and a Senator or of a leader of the Rebel Alliance, but instead that of a chilled child. Moistly parted in sleep, her lips seemed to beckon to him. He leaned closer, seeking refuge from the damp green and brown of the swamp in that hypnotic redness.

He hesitated, pulled back. [...]

His assignment was to protect her. [...] He would do it out of respect and admiration and possibly out of the most powerful of emotions, unrequited love.

He would even defend her from himself, he determined tiredly. In five minutes he was fast asleep. . . .”

Damn, dude. The hypnotic redness? This part mostly stands out to me as being purple prose and a relic of “ohoho, this was back before we knew they were twins” writing– cherry on top being the idea of her as a “chilled child,” and the weird sort of babydoll innocent-sexy convention that we all know by now. It’s not worth excoriating Foster for this, we all know the real ways that it sucks and the tiredness of it as a fictional trope. It does tie into a lot of her (mis)characterization and irrationality in Splinter. 

Later, the two have snuck into the Imperial mining town after stealing some mining duds to blend in (which Luke steals, because Leia refuses to. Yeah, Leia ‘famously worried about personal property’ Organa.) and are getting something to eat at a tavern. Luke’s made a point to tell Leia to walk differently, to put dirt on her face, to disguise her regal bearing, but attentions from an officer make her anxious.

“They do suspect!” she whispered tightly. She started to stand. “I’ve had enough, Luke. Let’s get out of here.”

“We can’t rush off, especially if we’re being watched,” he countered. “Don’t panic, Princess.”

“I said I’m leaving, Luke.” Nervous, she started to turn and leave.

Without realizing what he was doing, he reached out, slapped her hard across the face, and as heads turned in their direction said loudly, “No favors for you until I’m finished eating!”

One hand went to her burning cheek. Wide-eyed and voiceless, the Princess slowly sat back down. Luke frantically attacked his steak as the uniformed Imperial sauntered over to them, backed by the attendant at a discreet distance.”

Luke spins them a tale of how she’s a servant he bought and is still breaking in, and they buy it and congratulate him on his taste.

“It was the first logical thing I could think of,” he insisted. “Besides, it explains you as well as anything could.” He sounded pleased. “No one will question you once the word gets around.”

Like, what happened to protecting her hypnotic redness? What makes this even more dumb and insidious bad is that occasionally, the story will cue us that Luke is being prompted by the Force to do things, even his hunches are usually correct, and none of his plans completely fail. The servant story is bought until they’re brought before the Imperial boss of the place, who proceeds to beat Leia until Luke spins him another story that’s miraculously believed. 

Beyond the shittiness of Wormie Skywalker, who has now been portrayed by doe-eyed cat-cuddler Mark Hamill, slapping Leia and then propping it up with a cover story, it’s the fact that he never faces any prompting from the narrative that this was, perhaps, shitty! 

When they’re outside, Leia kicks his shins to get back at him and he then instigates a mud-throwing fight– yeah– that evolves into wrestling in the mud– yeah, no, yeah– that gets to the point where local roughnecks show up to join in and try to get in on assaulting Leia once they see that she’s Beautiful Woman. That leads to their Imperial capture and drags the plot along by the barest of sinews. 

Blah blah, Leia is ogled and beat by the bog-standard Imperial Badguy officer, yadda yadda, thrown in a prison cell, Luke befriends the Yuzzems while Leia does nothing. Officer Badguy returns briefly to inform them that he’s called his bosses and an Imperial Governor will be by soon– which, interestingly but unsurprisingly, sends Leia into a panic attack.

“Imperial governors don’t take an interest in common thieves, Luke,” she whispered tightly. Something was clutching at her throat. “I’ll be interrogated again… like that time… that time.” She broke away, threw herself up against the back wall of the cell.

That time back on the Death Star. Small black worms crawled through her head. [...] The remorseless black machine, illegal, concocted by twisted Imperial scientists in defiance of every code, legal and moral. 

[...] Screaming, screaming, screaming never to stop she was…

Something hit her hard. She blinked, burned to see Luke looking at her, worried. She slid down to sit up against the wall.”

Nothing in the text contradicts the implication that Luke slaps her out of her panic attack. 

Later, she has some kind of screaming fit in the underground caverns and berates herself for missing a shot against Darth Vader in the middle of a fight. I could keep transcribing passages but like, I’m hoping you get the idea. 

Her one moment of sort-of triumph is when she takes up Luke’s lightsaber to duel Darth Vader– Luke has his leg trapped under a rock like on the cover and is momentarily out of commission. She surprises him at first but then spends the rest of the fight being wounded and toyed with until Luke is ready to get tagged back in. She dies? Or something maybe? And then gets healed– no scars, thank god, can you imagine if she wasn’t fuckable– wakes up, and has no speaking lines after wondering what happens to Threepio and Artoo. The old woman with a heart of gold gets cajoled into the Rebellion by Luke and everyone laughs.  

It sucks. It sucks! It’s so clearly just Default Woman Character and not informed by Carrie Fisher’s performance or anything other than the laxest tropes in adventure novel writing. And it’s not just her. This is nowhere more evident than the fact that Leia is characterized as not knowing how to swim– but Luke does.

OH SHIT, WHAT ABOUT LUKE?

Luke who? Luke Skywalker doesn’t exist here in any recognizable form. This is distilled perfectly in the last fourth of the book after he’s won his duel against a “primitive alien warrior.” Imagine this falling out of his cute little twink mouth:

“Don’t you understand?” [Leia] asked brightly. “You won. We can all go free now. That is,” she continued in a more subdued voice, staring around at the silent crowd and trying not to show any fear, “we can if these creatures have any sense of honor.”

“I wouldn’t worry too much about that, Leia,” he advised her, wiping water from his face. “Canu has judged, remember? Besides, it takes many thousands of years of advanced technological development for a society to reduce honor to an abstract moral truism devoid of real meaning.”

AND… THE RACISM?

Right, whoops. Let’s see– our three kinds of indians– I mean, uh, natives– I mean, native aliens! I meant aliens. The three kinds: pathetic, useful, and too-primitive-to-be-truly-noble. 

Pathetic: Local humanoid-but-furry aliens are seen speaking in broken English and begging Imperials for liquor. See: the firewater myth and stereotype of the Drunken Indian.   

Useful: Luke and Leia meet two almost-humanoid-and-furry, ultra-strong Yuzzems, Hin and Kee, who were also imprisoned by the Imperials for accidentally signing themselves in slavery and then getting drunk and trying to wreck the mine. They don’t have any speaking lines, and are only able to communicate through Luke. They function as a kind of “shit, we need the characters to get this resources” tool and nothing is ever learned about their personal lives or personalities beyond their ability to tear Imperials limb from limb. One of them gets gonked offscreen by Vader and the other one lives long enough to die helping Luke in the final fight. No time is spent mourning them.

Too Primitive To Be Truly Noble: In the underground city, Luke and Leia meet a settlement of humanoid-but-furry aliens called the Coway, who appear to be living in the remains of a more ‘advanced’ civilization. They challenge Luke to a ritual duel to determine if he and his captured friends should be set free, which Luke wins through an instinctive use of the Force. The Coways they kill before this point aren’t mourned by their people, and for winning the fight they throw Luke and Luke’s Friends a party. The settlement is attacked soon after by Imperials, but thanks to Luke and Luke’s Friends marshalling them, they defeat the stormtroopers. After the battle is done, the Coways kill any injured Imperials, which Leia condones and Luke finds morally repugnant.

I don’t super want to quote any of the passages illustrating how the narrative feels about these characters. It shouldn’t be shocking: old scifi is frequently as racist as it is misogynist. New scifi is frequently as racist as it is misogynist. (Shoutout to Rebel Moon, woo! Time I’ll never get back!) Part of Star Wars' genetic material is that of westerns, for good and ill.

DO WE HAVE TIME FOR HORNY DARTH VADER? WOULD THAT LIGHTEN THE MOOD? :( 

“Do you remember that day back on the station,” Vader mused, with deliberate patience, “when the late Governor Tarkin and I interviewed you?” He placed a peculiar stress on the word “interviewed.”

Leia had both hands on opposite shoulders and was shivering as if from intense cold.

“Yes,” Vader observed, perverse amusement in his voice, “I can see that you do. I am truly sorry I have nothing as elaborate to treat you to at this time. However,” he added, swinging his weapon lightly, “one can do some interesting things with a saber, you know. I’ll do my best to show you all of them if you’ll cooperate by not passing out.” 

Incredible prediction of itsorlo’s steez.  

FINAL THOUGHTS

My allotted “Um, Actually” for this post is pointing out that Luka and Leia navigate an underground lake by using rods of selenite as paddles on a giant lily pad– selenite is water-soluble. 

The first use of “stang” as a curse word shows up– “What the Stang!” Probably my preferred Star Wars expletive, considering how goofy they get. 

Oh– Leia does say “Well, darn” after missing Vader with a rifle shot. 

Do I recommend it? It's an unimpressed and dispassionate no from me, bud. The things that made Foster’s work charming in the ANH novelization are fewer and farther between, and additionally now that we know who Luke and Leia are, their mischaracterization means the only thing left of interest is the worldbuilding. Even that’s shallow at best, and not remotely worth the weird racist mouthfeels and seeing Leia get shit on. There are better adventure novels, there are better scifi novels, and there are better Star Wars novels. 

NEXT TIME:

Han Solo at Star's End, by Brian Daley.

#star wars #sweu read #star wars expanded universe #alan dean foster #splinter of the mind's eye #book post

[haysprite]

i know Susie has a school id where it says the year 1993 - 1994 therefor she would be a senior in 1996 but I do not care. Susie is still a 16 year old and a sophomore in my eyes. I don't know how but to me it's not fun where they are all the same age and besides most people who Susie is 18 are kind of creepy.

I love spending a whole 25 minutes of my morning writing a response, and then having it completely delete itself before I could hit post !!! It's so much fun !!! I totally don't wanna cry or anything !!! Lol anyway-

God yeah, I honestly just completely disregarded that part of the ID :o) Like her last name and natural hair color? Cool ! But the dates,,, Nahhh I don't think so! Like, I get *why* BHVR had to age her up (I believe they had to do it with the canonical 17 year old fellas from Licensed shit as well), but eughgjdlkfs it's still annoying as hell. I just wanna know why video games have different... Standards (?) compared to books and movies, if that makes sense? Especially considering that she's a *Killer* (so no violence is done to her), and not a Survivor enduring the shitty events of the Trials. I dunno, it just feels dumb to me.

There's just something about the idea of this diverse friend group of teens (age, background, etc) that's just really intriguing to me? Like imagining how they all interacted Pre-Fog (both in and out of school) as well as how participating in the Trials effects each of them/their motives for actively following the Entity's orders. I dunno, I feel like if they were all the same age (still all younger than Frank considering that he was the oldest at Julie's party), it just wouldn't be as interesting to me. You can just mess around with the dynamics a lot more, and also it just makes a lot more sense for her to be younger than the other three story wise, or at least in the way I write her ig.

You can bounce around this idea by saying that Frank was 19 when he actually arrived to Ormond or when he met the rest of the Legion, and not when he got taken into The Fog, meaning that he'd be roughly 21-22 in the end instead, but ehhhdlfksj idk ? It kinda takes the fun out of the whole concept of this rebellious group of teens who drank and smoked n all that stuff (I'd like to mention that Alberta's drinking age is 18 when bringing point this up). Also I feel like it just opens a whole 'nother can of inconsistency worms unless you played around with their Lore a LOT. Like obviously you can work with their Lore however you please, I'm not gonna stop ya considering how much I've personally rewritten n' whatnot (mainly for consistency, but still)! It's just personally not for me, but you do you, boo 😘

And oh yeah, agreed, I find that a lot people use the "But she's 18!!!" to their advantage... Like,,, Fine, sure, whatever, but it still rubs me the wrong way seeing gross shit of her considering the fact that she was most likely originally a sophomore (aka roughly 16). Like again, BHVR backpedaled like they usually do and changed some lore yet again, so technically these people off the hook (ha), but I still get bad vibes from it. There's SOOOOOO many other characters, both Survivors and Killers, that you're free to do whatever your little heart desires with. But Susie? Please just leave her be :( I personally get uncomfy with that stuff with all of them tbh, especially since they're still high school students (Frank and Julie I'm more lenient with since they're my age), but that's just me ig. If Daddy BHVR says they're legal, then I guess people can just do whatever.

I will also take this time to say that I don't personally enjoy violence against minors (whether they're super young or on the verge of adulthood)! I find it interesting to see what drives these characters to do what they do, but I don't like seeing them in any gross situations, including extreme violence/gorey shit (like on the Final Destination end of the scale, if that makes sense). I'll never include any shit like that in my personal work, including both art and writing (my art is a lot more lighthearted, but my writing, although generally SFW, does sometimes include gore n shit). Just thought I'd throw this out there!

ALSO I'D LIKE TO ADD SOMETHING THAT DRIVES ME NUTS AS WELL !!! Julie, yeah? Her first cosmetic, Suspended, is quite literally under the Collection Name "Fairview Senior", along with Frank's (I still personally believe them to be a grade apart, but I thought I'd add that as well). But then,,, Saturday Slasher (aka the Bush Party recolor) is,,, Under "Sophomore Jitters" ????? What ????????????? Why ??? For what reason ??? Like they were literally released 4 years apart, just make a new collection or add it to a different one that MAKES SENSE ??? Whatever ig, I don't come to DBD for consistent Lore anymore (or anything consistent, considering how much they've fucked up with Julie and Susie's models lmfao, that's a whole other rant for another day), but it still drives me nuts :o)

Again, I'd like to clarify that a lot of my personal views on this subject are very related to how I, Miss Cherry Haysprite, your local Frank/Julie enthusiast, personally interpret the lore! Their lore is so damn inconsistent that at this point I've just given up trying to figure out what's actually canon or not (maybe the comic will fix some of this, but honestly I feel like it might make things more messy), so I just go along with whatever I think fits and respect everyone else's interpretation! Honestly, one of my favorite parts about Fanon Legion are the different interpretations and how people enjoy writing them, whether or not I actually like said interpretations or not! They're just a fun group of characters to work with and I love seeing how people prefer writing them, especially compared to my own thoughts and ideas! I'm just one person with her own lil spin on things :3c I just personally wish there was more consistency and less backpedaling in the Canon that we do have :( But again, what can ya do lmfao

#christ i didnt mean to get so ranty #this is just something thats bugged me for a while #like when i first saw the id i was v excited #cause yay #susie :D #we finally got her last name #and even her natural hair color #but ljkfdsjlkfds oh boy #it just reminds me how much bhvr has changed #like i totally get needing to change shit for legal reasons #as well as wanting to change parts of your story later on #im somethin of a writer myself #i get it #but jesus christ i just wish things were more consistent #especially considering that a lot of julies tome felt like it just #hurt some parts more than expanding upon em #i will not forgive them for forgetting about jeff painting the mural #even her tome video drives me absolutely fucking bonkers #but ive just come up with my own theories instead #that i honestly really like and am planning on adding to my stories #since it can help me expand upon julie some more #yippee ! julie ! <3 #anywho i gotta stfu and go take a final now #have fun reading whatever the fuck this rant became ha

[night-market-if]

THOUGHTS AND RAMBLING:

Hazle's sweetness ugh! what a good egg we don't deserve her! I hope if possible in the future books we can help her more often around the shop, or have free time within the story to explore or hangout with a ro or friend. Because having to pick between the two is difficult everyone is great!

What's Milo up too... kinda sus.

B needs to be told it's okay from now 🥺

The banter of insults between kavatti and B LOL could listen for days very funny! Must have been fun to write.

Bella's name. I remember when I first read it and I thought how dangerous, and now knowing the reason behind it how fitting!

I did not enjoy seeing B like that it felt so wrong... her submitting to kavatti like that.

LOL was not expecting that at the end of the meeting

👁👄👁 It was deserved!

When mc passed out I couldn't help but laugh it was kinda funny 🤭

I almost regret asking about G's and B's past shouldn't have opened that can of worms! All that bickering. Maybe it was necessary they were so dammed up a release was needed. I'm curious in how their future interactions will go.

Bells is a real cute nickname.

The Albright reunion... I wasn't expecting it happening so soon! but nice nevertheless. Sweet hazel needed this. On another note I really cant wait to see what happens next!!But I can't help but think there is a connection between Mal and mc 👀 I have some theories!

FAVORITE LINES:

"wearing a dress of shadow. It shifted with each fluid movement of her body. Her lips were stained crimson and her hair was a bright shock down her back."

- ☝️☝️THIS JUST STUNNING I really loved how you described her 👏

"Turns out Kavatti is just as dumb as she always was, distracted by the simplest of baubles."

- HA! I cackled at this lol just HILLARIOUS.

"Agreed. Nicole , you need to rest, sweetling."

- *Swoons hard core*

QUESTION:

Now that B has the baron power will B being a baron be beneficial to the night market?

As always thanks for sharing your story it's a real gem!! I truly do love reading your work.

Oh I love all of this! I adore when you guys send me in your chapter observations. They make me downright giddy.

As for Bella's position being beneficial to the Night Market... it remains to be seen. Now, this could change, but I think if you are in a romance with her, then you kind of are able to help her in the next book and guide what kind of Baron she could potentially be. That is the plan that I have for now, however. We'll see if when I start writing book 2 if it pans out that way but I think it would be a lot of fun to be able to kind of tip the Bella in one direction or the other. Granted, given who she is, she's going to do whatever you are suggesting in a much different way, but the thought is still there.

🪷✨🪷✨ If you want to support me 🪷 ✨🪷✨

        Demo 🌿 Patreon 🌿 Ko-fi 🌿Discord

#the night market #belladonna malady #chapter ten

[romanoffsbish]

Hello :) this should keep you busy:

1, 11, 21, 31, 41, 51, 61, 71, 81, 91!

All the ones! <3

sorry not sorry

Much appreciated darling, 🥹🥰

——

1. Do you know how you want the story to end when you start, or are you just stumbling through the figurative wilderness hoping to find a road?

Funny enough, I actually find myself writing the ending before I write the middle a lot of the time because it narrows the story down for me.

11. what’s something neat you’ve learned while doing research for something you were writing? also, how much do you worry about doing research in general?

I recently wrote a Kate fic where I learned the word “worm” had a techy definition lol. I care so much about doing research it’s exhausting lolol… I will even leave footnotes with comments about stuff to ensure nothing gets lost in translation.

21. pick a writer to co-write a book with and tell us what you’d write about.

@mostlymarvelsstuff — My Tumblr bestie, we have a couple ideas going, but for a book it’d probably be the WandaNat College/Stoner AU with an innocent R.

31. tell us about one of your characters who’s an absolute joy to write

Yelena! I just find her the most easy to relate to, and I enjoy writing for her lol.

41. what is the weirdest story idea you’ve ever had.

Uh… I was both publicly shamed and encouraged. (Ogre!Natasha x Princess!R)

51. share the synopsis of a story you work on that you haven’t published yet

Well, I gave up on this one, but I had a Sugar Baby! Natasha x Stark!R, that would eventually be WandaNat (as Nat and Wanda were a couple—R & Wanda knew of one another and even had a few encounters 😉) It was going to be all about Nat being in love with the R too, but the R was oblivious and set her “free” instead. Then the R has a crisis of being older and still unwed, so she starts dating and Nat’s like 🤬😭, and W’s like “Baby… Maybe we should explore the possibility of your feelings for Y/N…” and in a originally 8 part story they would’ve found their way to one another.

61. what was the first commercial property (book/movie/tv show/etc) that you realized was actually professional fanfiction?

Um, I actually don’t even know one lolol. Is Twilight one?

71. how do you balance writing and life? do you ever feel overwhelmed by the amount of writing you have to do?

Writing = Life… Lol, tbh I have a lot of free time at work so I end up writing there, and when I have nothing to do during free time I’ll cycle between fics and Tiktok. I no longer let myself stress though, because it’s free labor, and meant to make me happy.

81. if you could go back in time and give your younger self a piece of writing advice specific to you, what would it be?

Stop being a people pleaser, and make sure you tell people no when you don’t want to write their requests. (Still learning 🤭)

91. how has your writing style changed over the years?

October 2021-Now; Well, I stopped writing 1st POV (character swaps), and stylistically I am just always changing things up lol.

#asks ❤️ #scarletwitchofthewilds 🥰

[whileiamdying]

The Untouchable Tina Turner

Some people perform music; some people become music.

By Amanda Petrusich May 25, 2023

On Wednesday, one of the great American voices—gritty, vehement, tender, and red-hot, containing, somehow, both the entire history and future of rock and roll—went silent. Tina Turner, who was born Anna Mae Bullock, in 1939, in Brownsville, Tennessee, died at her home in Switzerland, at age eighty-three. She was known for her superhuman resilience, and, in a way, I came to believe that she was actually invincible. In 1988, when she was forty-eight years old, she performed to some hundred and eighty thousand fans in Rio de Janeiro, ousting Frank Sinatra from the record books by drawing what was, at that point, the largest-ever ticketed crowd for a solo performer. The show was filmed, thank heavens. The energy is uncanny. Bionic. It’s like watching an Olympic final in Being Badass. Early in the set, wearing a fringed minidress, heeled ankle boots, and a pearl necklace, Turner performs “Better Be Good to Me,” a single from 1984. It’s a song about being in love with someone you don’t entirely trust. “Should I be fractured by your lack of devotion?” she wonders in the first verse. The next bit contains all of her magic. She’s asking a question, but her tone isn’t earnest, it’s incredulous. How dare this person expect her to compromise? “Should I? Should I?” she roars. You will want to holler “NO!” at your screen—but, of course, the question was always rhetorical.

Turner was brought up on a cotton farm and educated in a segregated, one-room schoolhouse. She grew up singing in the choir of the Spring Hill Baptist Church in Nutbush, about sixty miles northeast of Memphis. Her great-great-grandfather, Logan Currie, Sr., had been enslaved in the same region. “I hated the cotton field,” she told Henry Louis Gates, Jr., in a 2007 interview for PBS. “There were those hairy worms crawling, the spiders.” Turner later moved to St. Louis, where she met Ike Turner at the Manhattan Club, a Black bar and venue. She eventually persuaded Ike to let her sing with his band, the Kings of Rhythm. They became romantically involved, and, in 1960, formed the Ike & Tina Turner Revue, becoming hugely popular on the Chitlin’ Circuit, a series of Black-owned night clubs throughout the southeast. In 1971, they had a crossover hit with their cover of Creedence Clearwater Revival’s “Proud Mary,” and performed the song on “The Ed Sullivan Show.” For the broadcast, Turner wears a gold flapper dress. She bounces around the stage vigorously, so gleeful and open and strong that it feels as though, surely, she must have an extra set of lungs stashed somewhere. There’s a looseness to her performance that’s far funkier and more human than the hyper-choreographed, steel-eyed stylings of her modern counterparts. I don’t know how to describe it. She is simply very, very alive.

It’s still hard to write about the sixteen years she spent in that abusive, ugly relationship with Ike. She escaped the marriage in 1976. She was thirty-seven years old, and in possession of just thirty-six cents and a Mobil gasoline card. “I didn’t fear him killing me when I left, because I was already dead,” she told People, in 1981. It was the first time that she had spoken publicly about the abuse, and she described it as “torture.” Besides the usual subjugations (beating and berating her), Ike had changed her name and assumed control of her career and finances. It’s easy to think of this experience as the defining trauma of Turner’s life and art—to presume that it shaped and informed her music in a deep and irrefutable way—but it feels stupid, even unfair, to give Ike, who died of a cocaine overdose in 2007, any more air in her story. There have been two memoirs, a Broadway musical, a feature film, interviews. Turner was asked to confront and remember her abuse for decades after it ended. It feels proper to free her of it now. “I don’t like to pull out old clothes,” Turner said in “Tina,” an HBO documentary from 2021. “It’s like old memories, you just want to leave that in the past.”

Let us look, then, to the nineteen-eighties, a decade in which Turner, liberated from her marriage, dominated the charts and the national imagination: the voice, the power, the presence, the legs, the wardrobe, the hair. My God, the dancing! How free does a person have to be to move that way? Freer than I have ever felt or been, certainly. Some people perform music; some people become music. If you’re having a miserable day, one foolproof cure is typing “Tina Turner live 1985” into the YouTube search bar, and bearing witness to something virtuosic, if not divinely ordained. At the time, Turner was on tour in support of the multiplatinum “Private Dancer,” her fifth full-length album, and the record that resuscitated and then ignited her solo career. There’s some extraordinary footage of David Bowie joining her onstage at a show in Birmingham, England, for a duet of “Tonight,” a song first released on Iggy Pop’s “Lust for Life,” in 1977. Bowie, who co-wrote the track—it features a repeating Aretha Franklin sample—appears on the original; he went on to record it for an album of his own, in 1984. Turner guested on Bowie’s version (they skipped Pop’s spoken-word intro, which describes a heroin overdose). Watching them do it live is electrifying. Bowie is grinning so much and so wildly that I wonder how he even manages to keep on singing. They slow dance for a bit in the middle, while Tim Cappello plays a shirtless saxophone solo. I would call this section “steamy,” but it feels like too chaste of a word. “This is a privilege,” Bowie says, when it’s all over. Boy, does he mean it.

Turner’s later years were appropriately lavish. After she retired, she lived in Küsnacht, Switzerland, in an estate known as the Château Algonquin, with clear views of Lake Zurich, and, according to a 2019 profile in the Times, “a life-size two-legged horse sculpture suspended from a domed ceiling, a framed rendering of Turner as an Egyptian queen, a room stuffed with gilded Louis XIV style sofas.” A plaque on the gate announces that, of course, no deliveries should be attempted before noon. Who would dare? Turner stopped performing in 2009, freeing herself of a substantial burden: “I was just tired of singing and making everybody happy,” she said. “That’s all I’d ever done in my life.” How glorious that must have felt—having only to worry about her own joy.

I was having lunch in Chinatown with friends when the news was announced. I had ordered a glass of white wine—indulgent for a weekday afternoon, I suppose, but I was feeling a little indulgent. I experienced a quick pang in my gut when one of my companions announced that Turner had died—the sharp, needling ache that comes when someone who you didn’t know personally, but who you understood to have contributed, in a profound and robust way, to the general goodness of the world, had left it. I swallowed the last of my drink. It felt right to be a little unsteady in that moment. “Tina would have had the wine,” the group chat later confirmed. Did Turner even drink? Who cares? The point was that she found a way to tap into some deep wellspring of ease and abandon and self-love, and drew from it when she needed to. And now she has left that for us, in her music, in her voice, in the singular way she occupied a stage. In this sense, she is untouchable, forever. ♦

#Tina Turner #The New Yorker #Nutbush #Brownsville #Tennessee #Küsnacht #Switzerland #Château Algonquin #Amanda Petrusich

[zealoussy]

OLIVIA - DOROTHY STRACHEY REVIEW

General Book Information

Title : Olivia

Author : Dorothy Strachey

Genre : Classics, Queer Lit, Fiction

Released : 1949

Book Summary

Olivia may seem like any other teenage girl from middle class in London, but her upbringing is not so common. Having been raised by agnostic parents, Olivia finally finds relief when her parents decide to take her abroad. Thus freeing her from the suffocating conformity in her previous religiously-oriented school. In her new school, not only does she have to adapt to the beauty of France, she also has to adapt to her newfound discovery about herself.

Likes/Dislikes

What I like the most while reading this book is the beautiful writing style. It’s lyrical, it’s majestic. it knows the depth of a woman’s heart.

“But there was no need of wine to intoxicate me. Everything in her proximity was intoxicating.”

At first I found it a little bit difficult to grasp her writing style, but it gets you used to it very quickly. Even hooked on it. For a character like Olivia, who still has her naivety on her sleeve, that kind of monologue is very fitting. The character of Olivia is not a complicated one, but because it’s not, it’s harder to make the reader's attention on her- yet Olivia managed.

She’s young and madly in love. In a place where her target desire is near, she loves with every inch of her being. She's courageous, maybe because she's naive like that. Even then, in her world where human desire is only allowed if it's legalized, she's struggling with the inability to express her affection openly. Well, that struggle being an age-gap amongst many others… It's not hard to imagine that Olivia doesn't get it easy. I get that the center of the story is Olivia’s experience with same-sex love towards her headmistress, but it is unclear what the actual conflict the love interest has. I only noted that there are hints of the love interest’s past, but it never actually gets revealed. Although mentioning this and that without actually diving deep into the love interest’s backstory made her a mysterious person, it threw me off of the pace. It feels incomplete. I need to know the motif behind the headmistress’s pull-push attitude to Olivia. But alas, the story ended too quickly before I had discovered the explanation. Don’t get me wrong, attempts were made. But just that they’re not good enough for me. Maybe I expected big since I got attached to the lyrical writing style, still, it sort of fell short in my experience.

Would you recommend this book?

Honestly? No. But if you want some quotable words to read, feel free to do so. I’m finicky when it comes to rating, and I think you’ll find yourself enjoying a better fleshed out queer classic story than this.

Favorite Quotes

“I understand at last. Life, life, life, this is life, full of overflowing with every ecstasy and every agony. It is mine, mine to hug, to exhaust, to drain.”

“If it depended on altering the feelings in my heart, I was no more capable of doing that than of plucking the heart out of my breast-and I didn't want to.”

“How hard it is to kill hope! Time after time, one thinks one has trodden it down, stamped it to death. Time after time, like a noxious insect, it begins to stir again, it shivers back again into a faint tremulous life. Once more it worms its way into one's heart, to instill its poison, to gnaw away the solid hard foundations of life and leave in their place the hollow phantom of illusion.”

“‘It has been a struggle all my life—but I have always been victorious-I was proud of my victory.’ And then her voice changed, broke, deepened, softened, became a murmur: ‘I wonder now whether defeat wouldn't have been better for us all-as well as sweeter.’"

#adablabbooks #book review #classic lit #queer lit #olivia dorothy strachey #sapphic books #bookblr

[inspirenationshow]

How to Attract Abundance, Happiness and Thank & Grow Rich! Pam Grout

If you’ve ever wanted more abundance, love, and happiness in your life, then do we have the Thank & Grow Rich Show for You!

  Today I’ll be talking with Pam Grout, repeat guest, zombie movie extra, writer extraordinaire, and author of my favorite book I’m placing by my bed, Thank & Grow Rich: A 30-Day Experiment in Shameless Gratitude and Unabashed Joy.

  We'll talk all about finding shameless gratitude, and unabashed joy!

  Thank and Grow Rich Self-Improvement and Self-Help Topics Include:

What happened with Buddy Biancalana

What happened with E-squared and how did her 16th book take off.

How she got a NY Times #1 best-seller

What do you tell people who want to eat worms

What God didn’t have bad hair days has to do with anything

What is ferocious gratitude?

How did she crank up the energy after a book flopped?

Why the possibilities possee is so important

What’s the most dangerous 4 letter word in the English language?

What’s AA 2.0 - the 30 day experiment she recommends everyone does?

Why something amazingly awesome is going to happen to you today.

Why you see more stuff when you’re happy

What is sloppy judgment?

What can we learn from Mrs. Trunchbull?

How do we move past the mad and angry inner critic?

How meditation can help with the inner critic

Why it’s so important to choose the thought that’s gonna make you happy

What is FP

What are different kinds of capital and which are most important?

What are some of the cultural paradigms that are hard to see – and so important to notice

What is Santa Con?

What is creative capital?

Why it’s so important to follow your dreams and do what you love to do

Why our thoughts are our prayers

How does gratitude and prayer work together?

Why we’re all manifestors

What we can learn from Amy Cuddy and Wonder Woman poses (and grinning like a lunatic)

What we can learn from Marie Kondo (the life-changing magic of tidying up) and why we should thank our possessions

What’s the Jimmy Fallon game?

What’s a gratitude jar?

What does it mean to spread contagious laughter? (Norman Cousins)

Parenting tips and lessons of gratitude for our kids

  Visit: https://pamgrout.com/ 

  To find out more visit:

https://amzn.to/3qULECz - Order Michael Sandler's book, "AWE, the Automatic Writing Experience"

www.automaticwriting.com  - Automatic Writing Experience Course

www.inspirenationuniversity.com - Michael Sandler's School of Mystics

https://inspirenationshow.com/

…….

Follow Michael and Jessica’s exciting journey and get even more great tools, tips, and behind-the-scenes access. Go to https://www.patreon.com/inspirenation  

For free meditations, weekly tips, stories, and similar shows visit: https://inspirenationshow.com/  

We’ve got NEW Merch! - https://teespring.com/stores/inspire-nation-store  

Follow Inspire Nation, and the lives of Michael and Jessica, on Instagram - https://www.instagram.com/InspireNationLive/  

Find us on TikTok - https://www.tiktok.com/@inspirenationshow 

Roo Roo The Guru on TikTok - https://www.tiktok.com/@roorootheguru 

Check out this episode!

[simgerale]

everybody meet jayne air

#ts4 #idk how to tag things anymore um #my sims #jayne air #sims edit #that'll do lol #i don't have a lot of time on my hands... like i did this half asleep after watching the new batman movie #i just wanted to make a sim! and i didn't really do anything #she was a cute premade that i tweaked #and yes i did her name like that on purpose #she's a book worm who writes stories in her free time #when she's not studying at her university library #i think she studies a language. i'm thinking french and a little greek on the side #she's just a random oc i guess #but i want to make small edits (but not really #like i'd just stage areas and do reshade lol) #of her activities #okay i'm going to bed now #you guys will see this in the morning i think #so have a good day :*****

[biggest-stupidhead]

Hi! I love your Levi imagines, and I saw that your requests were open, so here goes: Can you write a Levi x female!reader story where his s/o is pregnant and goes into labor when Hange is off on a research expedition, so Levi has to deliver the baby with only his squad for assistance? Bonus points if someone on Levi Squad faints in the process!

Heyyyy anon, this idea is so precious and I will definitely do a lil imagine for this scenario! <3

Summary: You go into labor without your designated delivery nurse. 

Word Count: 1.9K

Warnings: childbirth, nothing too graphic. 

__

In the early months of your pregnancy, you and Levi had both been ecstatic. But once the last two or so months had creeped up on you, the two of you began to get anxious. Hange had originally agreed to deliver the baby, seeing that she was the only person that Levi trusted to go near you besides himself. You felt ready to pop as you sat out in the courtyard with Mikasa, she was watching you like a hawk, grey eyes alert and tracking every muscle twitch. It had been strange, as soon as you began to suspect that you were pregnant, Mikasa had began clinging to you. It was as if she sensed the change, eventually you gave up on trying to figure out how she had known, and chalked it up to her Ackerman DNA. 

Eren and Jean were running around, Connie desperately trying to keep up with them as they passed a deflated ball back and forth, obviously keeping it out of Connie’s grasp. You smiled fondly as Sasha leapt into the air and snatched the ancient ball from them, passing it to Connie, who ran in the opposite direction. Armin and Annie were laying on a blanket looking up at the sky, Annie’s hand was pointing at a cloud, you could see her lips moving, followed by Armin’s soft laugh. 

You hadn’t wanted kids. Not really, that hole had been filled by these fools, but once you all had overcome the issues in Marley, those feelings began to ebb away. Especially once you and Levi began seeing each other. He had been reluctant, but Hange had stayed consistent in pushing him to pursue you. Low and behold two years later, you were married with a bundle of joy on the way. You had felt nauseous all morning, crampy, and sore in your lower abdomen. It wasn’t until the afternoon, about two hours prior that you had felt the first contraction. They were closer now and you weren’t really able to hide them anymore. So Mikasa noticed when you flinched for the second time in twenty minutes. She turned and placed a firm hand to your shoulder. 

“What’s wrong? Where does it hurt?” She asked, those coal grey eyes scanning your face for an answer. 

“I...have been having contractions.” You admitted guiltily as you rubbed your swollen stomach to ease yourself. 

“Uh oh...” Mikasa’s expression dropped, skin paling as the realization struck her. Hange had left only days prior, for an important meeting alongside Erwin and the other high up military personnel. 

“It’s fine, I’m fine. It isn’t quite time yet, just maybe help me get back inside?” You were beginning to sweat as the contractions began to become more intense. She nodded and helped you to your feet, the others all noticed the movement and followed like little ducks. You only managed to stumble into the parlor and fall onto one of the sofas there, the teens all towering over you. 

“What do you need?” Annie was standing at your side, the back of her hand pressed to your forehead. 

“I’ll go get Levi!” Jean offered before taking off and up the stairs, sprinting up them two at a time. 

“I’ll go get snacks!” Sasha sprinted towards the kitchen, Connie chasing after her. Armin was standing frozen as he watched Mikasa and Annie both take your hands. Eren was just as bad as Armin, those jade green eyes wide and focused on the space between your legs. 

“Uhhhh (Y/n)....I think that-” Eren’s face was beet red as he stumbled over his words. 

“Your water broke!” Armin informed you as you tried to meet their eyes over your stomach. 

“No, I could have sworn that my contractions were-” 

“What in god’s name is-” Levi froze, Jean panting alongside him as they all stared at the fluid dripping down your legs, soiling the couch and your cotton dress. 

“(Y/n)...” Levi’s face was pale and his eyes were wide as he rushed to close the space between you. You eagerly gripped his hand as another contraction he let out a shaky breath along with you as the contraction ended. 

“What are we supposed to do?” Eren said numbly as he stared at Mikasa who was propping your up. 

“We...need to get her a better bed or, something.” Mikasa spoke slowly, Annie nodded in agreement, her icy eyes scanning the room. 

“Move those chairs, then go get a mattress from one of the rooms down the hall.” Annie ordered, Eren and Armin darted off to complete the mattress task, while Jean began shoving the chairs out of the way. Connie and Sasha returned, with rags and towels along with an apple shoved in Sasha’s mouth. In mere minutes the room had been transformed into a makeshift delivery room, basins of clean water and mountains of towels. Mikasa and Levi helped you down onto the stripped mattress, Mikasa settled behind you, allowing you to recline back into her. You were shocked by how calming it was to just feel her heartbeat. Levi started by your side, his hand gripping yours. That was until Annie cleared her throat and looked down at your knees. 

“Someone...needs to check...” Annie trailed off as everyone shared uneasy glances. Connie shook his head violently, Jean looked green along the gills, Sasha crunched on the apple. Armin swallowed loudly. 

“I can...coach someone but I don’t think that I’m comfortable actually...” He flushed as he spoke and you let out a low groan. 

“Look I don’t give a shit who does it, but someone needs to see how dilated I am.” Your breathing was deep and somewhat controlled as the room once more fell silent. 

“I’ll do it.” Levi said finally as he placed a kiss to your knuckles before shuffling to the end of the mattress. Armin joined Levi, but his eyes were glued to the ceiling. 

“O-Okay you need to take your fingers and line them up at the erm...you know.” Armin’s cheeks were so red. Annie huffed, unamused as she joined them at the foot of the mattress. 

“Sit down, you’re making me nervous.” You said breathily to Jean, Eren, and Connie who all quickly came to rest on the floor near your head. You grimaced at the feeling of Levi’s fingers against you. 

“Uh...what am I looking for?” Levi’s voice was unusually high as he clutched your calf nervously. 

“Four fingers!” You groaned, leaning back into Mikasa as you felt yet another contraction. 

“That’s two in five minutes, it’s nearly time.” Armin informed, eyes still on the stone ceiling. 

“Four? Then...it is time.” Levi said breathlessly as he lifted his head to meet your eyes. 

“Great okay, start your breathing like Hange taught you (Y/n).” Mikasa spoke surprisingly calmly as she rubbed your shoulders. You began to pant, shutting your eyes tightly as the lower half of your body felt like it was being torn in two. You let out another moan, you vaguely noticed that Connie and Sasha had both gotten up and were rummaging through the bookshelf. 

“-It says in this book that...the baby’s tail should fall off in no more than three days?” 

“Are baby’s born with tails?”

“No...at least my siblings weren’t..” 

You let out a bark of laughter at the pair as they debated the contents of the book. 

“Shut the fuck up you two and get those towels ready.” Eren ordered, his face pale and voice high with panic. 

“Yeah what he said.” Jean agreed, his hand covering his eyes as he held your free hand tightly. 

“Okay but this book says-” 

“For the love of god just-” Eren made it half way through his sentence before you let out a low groan as you pushed for the first time. Armin nodded in approval, Annie as holding your dress up as Levi narrowed his eyes in concentration. 

“That’s it, take your time.” Annie encouraged as she reached into her boot for her dagger. You felt your baby slide down, and into the birth canal. 

“I...can see the head!” Levi announced as he held his hands out for the baby as you prepared for another good push. 

“Good, only a few more (Y/n)!” Armin assured you as he blindly reached out and braced himself on Levi’s shoulder. You moaned, throwing your head back into Mikasa’s shoulder as Eren dabbed your neck with a damp towel. 

“So close, you can do it.” Mikasa encouraged as you let out a choked sob, your pelvis felt as if it was about to rip in half as you felt the head crowning. 

“Okay Levi, you need to guide the head out, twist so that the shoulders can come out.” Annie informed calmly as she watched Levi gently rotate the baby’s head, allowing the baby to slip free. He let out a shaky gasp as he held the newborn in his hands while Annie sliced the umbilical cord. Armin finally looked as Connie wrapped the baby in a fresh towel. 

“I’ll clean-” He pushed the towel aside and beamed at you and Levi. 

“-her. I’ll clean her up.” He said as he and Sasha rushed to the nearest basin to wash the baby. Mikasa rubbed your arms as Armin began guiding Levi on the steps to delivering the placenta. 

No more than five minutes later, you had your baby girl against your chest. Her head was amazingly full of black silky hair. Her eyes were shut, but you had a feeling that when they opened that they would be a charcoal grey. Levi shuffled up next to you, pressing a kiss you your temple, his lip trembling as he looked down at your daughter. 

“You did it.” You said breathlessly as you smiled up at Levi. 

“No...you did it.” He said as he gently placed his hand over your daughter’s back, which was rising and falling steadily. Mikasa shifted as she tried to worm away from you, Levi gladly taking her place. 

“What will you call her?” Eren asked as he wrapped an arm over Mikasa’s shoulders. You swallowed thickly and looked back up at Levi who was still busy staring at your baby. 

“Kuchel.” You said without hesitation, Levi seemed startled when he heard the name, and then his eyebrows furrowed as he fought to keep his face free of emotion. 

“Yeah, that’s-” His voice cracked and he buried his face in the crook of your neck. 

“-that’s perfect.” he finished his sentence and the kids all mumbled their agreements as they watched you push your dress aside to feed your baby, who was cooing and gripping at the seams of your dress. 

“Kuchel.” You hummed as Levi stroked her back, her eyes cracked open for the first time, and you choked back a sob at the sight. 

Her eyes were not grey, but a familiar (e/c), she had your eyes. 

“Oh-” Jean choked back his own sob, biting his knuckles as he turned on his heel and buried his own face in Sasha’s shoulder as he cried. 

“Jeanboy” Connie said teasingly, despite the thick emotion in his own voice. 

“Let’s get out of here everybody.” Annie advised as she watched Levi thread his finger through his daughter’s as she began to suckle on your breast. 

“Congratulations.” they all murmured as they took their leave. You relaxed back into Levi, finally able to be alone for the first time with your little family. 

__

Lol I loved this, I used to want to be a labor and delivery nurse. But that was before I realized that Chem is NOT my friend. Anyway, sorry I couldn’t squeeze in someone fainting, but if you care I think that Jean would be most likely to. Only because he’s an only child and doesn’t know what child birth is like. 

But seeing as how much they have been through in the canon universe I doubt that childbirth would be the most disturbing sight lol. Hope that you enjoy this! Requests are still open so send me stuff :) 

#snk levi #levi x reader #levi aot #levi x y/n #levi x you #levi x pregnant reader #levi ackerman fanfiction #levi ackerman #captain levi #hange zoe #eren mikasa armin #eren jeager #mikasa ackerman #eremika #armin arlert #jean kirstein #connie springer #sasha braus #reader insert #snk x reader #levi/reader #aot fandom #aot fanfiction #levi ackerman x you #levi ackerman x reader #pregnancy #childbirth

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Timshel, reposted

So a while back...God, nearly 10 years ago now, I published a queer YA fantasy book called Timshel through Etopia Press. I don’t know what’s happened to Etopia since then, but my book has been taken down from anywhere legitimate where it might be sold, and instead when you search for it now, there’s only a bunch of weird cryptocurrency-related sites. I have no idea what happened there and no one from Etopia has responded to my queries.

I checked my contract and their right to publish has expired, so I’m putting the book up for free, chapter by chapter, here on Tumblr. They also never sent me an author’s copy, lol, so I am having to copy and paste the chapters from the Kindle version that my wife bought. I might try to self-publish through Lulu Press or submit it somewhere else, but for now I mostly wanted to reclaim the story from whatever weird internet rabbit-hole it’s fallen down.

Here is Chapter One.

Once upon a time there was a boy who lived in a village East of the mountains and North of the sea. The village was called Summerton and the boy’s name was Eiland…

Eiland had lived in Summerton all his life. His father was a healer, and his mother had borne five children. They were well respected in the village, if not wealthy, and though their bellies did not hang over their belts, they never went empty either.

Being the youngest of three brothers, Eiland was not his father’s successor; Granpapa had always said Eiland possessed a rare gift for healing, but tradition bestowed the family trade on Marcus, his oldest brother, and Eiland had yet to find anything else that interested him. Neither was he a particularly eligible match for any of the young women of the village. He was handsome enough, with a small but wiry frame and a shock of black hair, yet the dowries of his two older sisters had sapped the family’s wealth enough that the mothers of the village politely looked elsewhere to send their own daughters.

Thus he had reached the age of ten-and-seven summers without taking up either a trade or a wife. It was the cause of some embarrassment in his parents’ minds. Two years ago Eiland’s father had even tried to send him to the village temple, but the priests had sent him back with the complaint that neither his feet nor his mouth would stay still long enough to learn the Writings.

His mother had been happy to have him returned. Of all her children Eiland had shown the most skill at gathering herbs, roots, and flowers in the woods that surrounded Summerton. It had never been entirely appropriate for a woman, even a healer’s wife, to assist in her husband’s work, and she was only too happy to pass on the task to Eiland.

For Eiland, that simply meant more time spent in the woods, wandering its paths with a stick swinging back and forth in his hands. Eiland loved the woods, had always delighted in following animal trails and making a few of his own. He spoke the tongues of every bird and knew the branches of every tree. Such adventuring made him an oddity in Summerton, whose residents shunned the woods and clung to the light of the temple fires. Yet his family’s reputation and his own open smile made him a harmless oddity, and despite his advancing age he was still the baby of his siblings. So his parents indulged his wild, trampling ways and did not press him too hard about finding a proper trade.

Afterward, the priests would say that was his downfall.

One day, in the green, princely days of summer, Eiland was cutting through the apple orchard on his way home when movement caught his eye. Two rows over, the top branches of a small tree shook violently back and forth, yet Eiland felt no breeze. Walking in that direction, he ducked around one of the burn piles that peppered the orchard to find a strange boy who he did not know. The boy gripped the lowest boughs of the tree, shaking them hard. Apples, mostly the half-withered, worm-riddled survivors of the harvest, rained down around him. A small pile already sat beside a battered travel pack on the ground.

“Hello,” Eiland said.

The boy let go of the branches and whirled around. He was younger than Eiland, with a lean face and longer-than-fashionable brown hair. His skin looked surprisingly dark, darker even than Eiland’s shoulders at the end of summertime.

“Are you stealing apples?” Eiland asked.

The boy scowled. “No. So what if I am?”

Eiland considered it then shrugged. “We’ve already picked most of the harvest. You’re welcome to anything that’s left, I suppose; it’s all just worm food anyway. Yuck.”

He made a face and kicked one of the fallen apples, sending it rolling into the tall grass. The boy still looked suspicious, which piqued Eiland’s curiosity. Everyone in Summerton liked him—well, anyone who wasn’t trying to teach him holy verses—and he was accustomed to being met with smiles, not nervous fidgeting and glares.

He sat in the grass and took out the small meal his mother had given him this morning. The boy eyed him suspiciously at first but he did eventually accept some of Eiland’s bread and peaches and milk, and sat nearby listening to Eiland prattle about the many crops and orchards around Summerton. There was a great deal to tell. Something always needed to be gathered up and sold in town or put in carts to be exchanged for goods at one of the king’s trading posts. As the youngest son of a healer Eiland had been exempt from much of the harvesting duties, for which he felt thankful. He found such work deadly dull. Which could really be said about the rest of Summerton as well.

“Then why don’t you leave?” the boy interrupted to ask.

“Oh, don’t be silly. Where would I go?”

The boy only shrugged and took another bite of bread. His fingers were deft and strong, if rather dirty, and he tore off bits of food like a squirrel rather than shoving it all in his mouth at once.

When he bit into the peach he gave a surprised groan of pleasure, his eyes closing. “Do they not have peaches where you come from?” Eiland asked, though he couldn’t imagine such a thing.

The boy’s eyes snapped back open. “I’m not from anywhere.”

A beggar boy, then. He did look underfed and for all his fastidiousness, he finished his portion of the food in record time. Eiland felt a pang of sympathy; Papa always said that his heart was too soft. Too often his meals found their way into the bellies of the village’s stray dogs.

“Want my bread?” he offered, waggling the remains of his bread crust in the air.

“No.” The boy looked away, his mouth pressed in a line.

“Oh well, I’ll just throw it away, then.”

“What? Don’t do that!”

“But I’m so full,” Eiland said, letting the bit of bread dangle from his fingertips. “And it’ll just go stale and moldy if I save it for later. Better let the birds have it.”

The boy narrowed his eyes at Eiland. “You’re just trying to get me to take it.”

“Well, yes.” Eiland cocked his head to one side and offered up his best smile, the one that Mama said could charm an egg out from under a hawk. “Is it working?”

The boy eyed him for another moment before extending his hand. Eiland tossed the crust to him and watched one corner of the boy’s mouth tick up into the tiniest smile.

“It’s good bread,” the beggar boy said softly after taking a bite. “Thank you.”

“We’ve all the best food,” Eiland responded around a mouthful of peach. “The best bread, the best peaches…and there’ll be strawberries in springtime. That’s why I can’t leave, you see. I’d hate to not be here for the strawberries.”

“So long as you don’t have to pick them,” the boy amended in an undertone. He shot Eiland a sidelong look.

Eiland pretended to be affronted. “I do my part! I fetch Mama everything she needs to make the draughts and salves for Papa. He’s the town healer, but Mama makes a lot of his medicines, even if she doesn’t like me to say so. Mama says that I’ve a keener eye for roots than anyone she’s ever met.”

The boy appeared unimpressed. “Are there many healing roots in an apple orchard?”

Eiland stuck his tongue out. “I’m taking a rest.”

“Because looking for roots is such hard work?” the boy shot back.

“It’s skilled work,” Eiland insisted, and the boy rolled his eyes. “And you shouldn’t poke fun, you were in the orchard stealing apples.”

The beggar boy’s little smile dropped away. He rocked forward as if about to climb to his feet, like a wild animal ready to bolt. Perhaps Eiland really had spent too much time in the woods, because he immediately wanted to make him stay.

“Have you hurt yourself?” he asked quickly, pointing to the boy’s hands. His knuckles were wrapped in thin, dirty bandages.

The beggar boy froze in place, halfway onto his knees. “No.”

“Yes, you have. I have something that can help with that.” Eiland slung his herb bag around into his lap and dug through it, coming up with a handful of numeria stems. “Here it is! Now come on, give me your hands.”

The boy didn’t move, so Eiland got up on his own knees and shuffled closer. Reaching out, he took the boy by the wrist, clucking his tongue at the grubby bandages. “See, now, it’s a good thing I’m here. You’re just bound to get the pus if you don’t change these.”

“What’s the pus?”

“I’m not really sure. But whatever it is, it smells terrible. Here now, hold still.”

Unwrapping the bandages, Eiland went still. Underneath, the boy’s knuckles had gaping splits, just like the ones the farmers got in wintertime…and the ends of the last two fingers on his left hand were missing. The skin at the tips of the shortened fingers was smooth and pink with healed scars.

The boy crouched on his tense legs, ready to spring away at one wrong word. So Eiland bit his lip and said nothing. Squeezing the numeria stems, Eiland let a few drops of their juice drip into the cuts. He expected the boy to hiss and pull away, but he stayed completely still.

“If you come to my father’s house tonight, he’ll re-bandage that for you,” Eiland said. “He’s the best healer in the world.”

“In the whole world?” the boy asked softly. When Eiland looked up their eyes, and the expression in them only heightened Eiland’s impression of a creature peering out of the brush, anxious and ready to bolt, yet filled with longing. His eyes were bright green, brighter than a newborn’s. Eiland didn’t think he’d ever seen eyes so green.

“Well,” Eiland amended just as quietly. “The best one in this part of the world.” He smiled again.

The boy pressed his lips together but relaxed slightly, watching as Eiland tended to his cuts. Over their heads, the leaves of the apple tree fluttered in an actual breeze.

Finishing, Eiland cast aside the crumpled numeria and climbed to his feet, dusting off his backside.

The boy stood too and blurted out, “You won’t tell anyone I was out here?”

Eiland hadn’t planned to, but he was the youngest of five children; he never passed up an opportunity to tease. “What will you give me if I don’t?”

The boy’s cheeks flushed hot. “I haven’t got anything.”

“Oh, that’s all right. Do you see that apple?” Eiland pointed to one above their heads that looked perfectly round and red and not at all like the worm-picked, overripe ones that had fallen off the tree. “If you climb up and get me that apple, I’ll promise not to tell anyone,” he said then hesitated before impulsively adding, “and I’ll give you a kiss.”

The boy looked at him sharply. Eiland didn’t know how to decipher his expression. It didn’t have the suspicion that signaled Eiland to quickly turn the whole thing into a joke, nor the nervous excitement that would hang heavy between them until it drew them together like rocks sinking into a pond. Eiland knew that some boys would let him lead them behind the mill, or would lead him instead. Both were lovely and strange and strictly forbidden by the names of every god—but they didn’t lie down with one another, they only ever kissed. In the autumn or maybe the winter of this year, Eiland would finally be matched with a wife just like all the others boys in town, so he didn’t really see the harm in a little kissing.

This boy didn’t act like the others, though, no suspicious frowns or shy smiles. He just stared at Eiland. “Would—would you really?” he stammered. “You’d kiss me?”

Eiland considered it. The boy’s hair needed washing and so did his clothes, but his eyes were really quite green and his face, if sun-brown and thin, had a strange handsomeness to it. And besides, he was a beggar boy. Who would he tell? “Yes. I’ll kiss you if you fetch me that apple.”

The boy stared at him for another moment then transferred his gaze to the apple. It wasn’t that high in the tree, yet the boy looked as though it sat at the top of a mountain. When he finally grasped the lower limbs of the tree and hauled himself upward, Eiland was disappointed to see him moving clumsily, his limbs stiff. He clambered up the tree and back down with all the grace of an old man. Eiland thought it a rather poor performance.

Still, a promise was a promise and the boy presented the apple to him with an expression of such nervous hope that Eiland let his satchel fall to the ground, took the fruit, and dropped it on top.

The boy watched with wide eyes as Eiland stepped forward, smiling coyly through his eyelashes before tipping his head back—and oh, that was a lovely feeling. Eiland wanted for size but he was still taller than most of the girls in town, and it had always given him a strange thrill to lift his chin, arch his neck, and stretch his shoulders upward for a kiss.

At first it was just a dry brush of skin, almost invisible in the darkness underneath the apple tree, surrounded by the drone of insects. Such a small thing, just their lips pressed together dry and close-mouthed, yet the boy held as still as if he’d just seen a bear. Then Eiland started to move away and the boy’s hands shot out, stuttered, and tentatively settled on Eiland’s shoulders.

“Is that it?” he asked plaintively, his eyes fluttering open, and Eiland laughed, surprised and happy, before stepping back in and catching the boy’s face between his hands.

“Well, if you insist,” he whispered. The boy caught his breath and held it. Eiland drew out the moment of contact, leaning in slowly, slowly, so slowly that it was almost a shock when their lips touched again.

The beggar boy did not kiss very well. He pressed too hard at first, he didn’t tilt his head quite right, and he didn’t open his mouth until long after Eiland had. Normally this would have been an additional disappointment, but somehow Eiland could tell this was his first kiss and thus felt inclined to be generous. He put his hand over the boy’s jaw and guided him until their mouths met at a better angle.

After that the beggar boy seemed to pick up quicker, letting his lips part and even scraping his teeth over Eiland’s chin in a way that made Eiland’s scalp shiver. The boy ran his hands over Eiland’s shoulders as they kissed, rising to touch the back of his neck then running down his spine. Eiland shuddered like a cat shaking off the dew. The fabric of the boy’s threadbare shirt caught on the calluses of Eiland’s fingertips. He could feel how the skin underneath was a little damp with sweat. Eiland cupped the sharp jut of the boy’s shoulder blades and vaguely wondered, as their mouths turned and met again and again, what it would be like if he were not wearing a shirt. He’d never done that before, never dared, but something about how the beggar boy pressed against him told Eiland that he wouldn’t say no if Eiland asked.

For the first time ever, this didn’t feel like just a little kissing.

Eiland tucked in closer, greedy for contact. The boy was only a little taller than him but his arms reached all the way around Eiland, enfolding him completely. Eiland had missed being touched. Ever since his sister Imra had left for her betrothal he’d had to survive on his mother’s too-brief hugs and his father’s distance.

Now, pressed together from shoulders to knees, he felt drunk with physical contact and still he wanted more. He pushed up onto his tiptoes, not knowing what he meant to do except that he needed to get closer. Their bodies rocked together. The boy tore his lips away and gasped. They stood with their arms locked around each other, breathing into each other’s mouths.

From the other side of the orchard, Eiland’s mother called his name.

It felt as though someone had thrown a bucket of cold water against Eiland’s back. He blinked and stepped away, struggling out of the muzzy-headed haze that he’d sunk into.

“Crickets,” he gasped, scooping up his herb satchel and the apple. “I have to go.”

“Wait.” The boy grabbed Eiland’s sleeve. “Wait, please—what’s your name?”

Eiland hesitated, a trifle alarmed at the gleam in the boy’s eye, but then his mother called again, “Eiland!” and he could only roll his eyes and shrug awkwardly.

“I’m Charon,” the boy said.

“Eiiilaaand,” his mother called from much closer this time. Eiland rocked up onto his tiptoes again to press a quick kiss against Charon’s mouth before twisting away and hurrying out into the bright sun. His mouth felt heavy, obvious, and he took a large bite of the apple to hide how his lips were slick and swollen.

His mother stood where the paths of the orchard forked. When she saw him hurrying towards her she put her hands on her hips. “There you are. I’ve been waiting for that gyman root, young man.”

“I’ve got it here, Mama.” Eiland pulled a long, gnarled brown root out of his satchel.

Her frown remained in place. “I know you can’t have spent half the day looking. You’ve a sharper eye than that.”

Eiland pressed his lips together. He’d always been a bad liar. “I wanted an apple,” he said finally, holding up the fruit in his hand.

“Eiland, the miller’s son has been ill for two days! They came to your father for help, it is unkind of you to keep them waiting while you go climbing about—oh, good day, I did not see—”

She broke off, staring past Eiland with wide eyes. Turning, he winced when he saw that Charon had followed him out of the apple grove and stood in the middle of the trail. He didn’t look at Eiland, though. His gaze was fixed on Eiland’s mother.

Fingers closed tight around Eiland’s upper arm, and his mother jerked him away so sharply that he stumbled. The apple slipped from his hand.

“Mama,” Eiland protested, struggling to keep his feet as she pulled him down the path toward the village.

“Hush,” she said without turning. Her face looked deathly pale.

When they reached the fence between the orchard and the wheat fields, she darted a quick glance back over her shoulder. “Every name of the gods. Did he try to talk to you?”

“What—he just—asked me my name.”

“You didn’t tell him. Eiland!”

“He heard you calling me!”

They drew up short and she grasped his shoulders with both hands, her expression wild. “Did he touch you? Did he hurt you? All the gods, did he Curse you?”

All the blood in Eiland’s body went still at once. The Cursed ones. He’d heard about them all his life. Every child had heard the story of the first sons and how the elder had killed the younger for jealousy. As punishment the gods had laid a mark upon his brow.

A mark that became the Curse, the great sickness that had darkened the land since the beginning of time itself. Yet unlike any of the illnesses his father treated in the village, this Curse did not pass by touch or chill or poison. It was given. The Cursed ones had the power to wish their misery upon others.

All it took was three words: I Curse you.

Eiland had never met a Cursed one before. They were wanderers, traveling the land, stealing what they could and threatening for what they could not. It had been years since one had come to Summerton, though the children kept the memory alive in their own games, pointing fingers at one another and shouting, “I Curse you!” then falling to the ground, their legs kicking in imitation of the terrible Agonies.

It had never occurred to Eiland that a Cursed one could be young, or handsome. In his mind they were always old crones, twisted with age and disease, glaring out at the world with hateful eyes. There had been nothing hateful or cruel about Charon—yet suddenly Eiland remembered the bits of cloth wrapped around his fingers and how slowly he had clambered up the tree, as if his clothes hid some terrible wound.

A wound that maybe Eiland had pressed against. Crickets, he’d kissed a Cursed one! He felt sick.

“No,” he said finally. “He didn’t Curse me.”

Relieved, his mother put a firm arm around his shoulder and rushed homeward, chiding him all the while. Eiland listened with vague ears as he looked back over his shoulder, back through the low boughs stripped of fruit. If Charon was still watching them from among the apple trees, Eiland could not see him anymore.

#timshel #my writing

[elonaackerman]

In a few hour's the spoiler leaks are going to be released for the final chapter of Attack on titan manga and the official translation on April 9th so before all that happens what are you're thoughts and predictions between the character's and the end of the storyline?

https://ww7.readsnk.com/chapter/shingeki-no-kyojin-spoilers-raw-chapter-139/.

Hello Kian ! I see several of your questions about the ending and I must say I was lost myself with everything happening. However, I think I elaborated a good theory now !

Theory number 1: Eren is alive

This is the theory I acknowledge the most. Many people say that Eren not dying would be too strange after he already survived so much times to his expected deaths, but I don’t think so. Isayama loves to take some clichés and to twist them:

Here is a brief list:

- The MC not dying in the first episodes

- The power of will and friendship (which is shown to be useless in the Trost arc)

- The guy protecting the girl (Mikasa is Eren’s bodyguard, not the contrary)

- The main trio sticking together until the end

- The MC being « special »/being the « chosen one » (Eren is an usurpator)

Something very used in films/books is to use the absence of body as a way to cancel the absolute truth of a death. By showing us a body, Isayama can fool us by transgressing this common rule of « body=dead ».

Also Eren’s death in chapter 138 was just serving Mikasa’s development arc climax. It didn’t solve any matter of their world.

You know I feel like Eren was very relaxed when he saw Mikasa approaching to kill him. He probably already knew what she was going to do and even closed his eyes when she did it (you can see it since on the last panel, Eren has his eyes closed). I feel like if Eren acted this way, it’s because he transferred his consciousness to his body (all this time his head was controlling the titan so he may have regenerated a head on his body). It would explain why this concept was introduced to us with Reiner in season 3 and then never used again.

Plus, Grisha said everything would go along to Eren’s plan, but if Eren didn’t succeed, the Rumbling is stopped and hell awaits eldians: they will be killed after what happened, considered too dangerous, more than they already were. And even if the titan power is removed, there will still be a large part of hate and of revenge in the Rumbling survivors’ hearts. I don’t believe the « Code Geass theory » which says that Eren did the rumbling so the world could see Eldians defending it, and stand united with Mahrs against him (in the role of the bad guy), especially since some Eldians sided with Eren and that he exposed them in Revelio or even in Paradise with his devoted Yeagerists. It’s not realistic at all and it doesn’t fit nor Eren’s character, nor SNK spirit.

Eren had defined goals: « exterminate them all », and that’s what he did, he doesn’t seem to want to stop the rumbling on this panel:

Isayama said he didn’t like characters who weren’t true to their goals, that let the story change their plans and motivations too easily. He wouldn’t give to his MC the traits of a writing he despise.

Another reason why I believe the guy is alive is because his POV was hidden all this time. What’s the point of not giving to us Eren’s perspective while his final battle, when it would have been more powerful, if you did not have a big secret/plot twist generator to hide ? I think Eren and Ymir, who smiles like a creep in 138, manipulated everyone: the way Armin came with all the titan shifters in 137 with the help of Ymir was already really suspicious. Kruger, for example, had no reason to stand against Eren.

Chapter 137 was Armin, 138 was Mikasa so we will surely get Eren perspective for 139. And it will be weird if we have it while the guy is dead. Of course we’ll see what happened in chapter 130 between Eren and Historia (I can’t wait for their POVs) and Historia’s baby. The final panel makes me even more sure that Eren is still alive otherwise who on earth would say « You are free » to a new born child ? Eren x Freedom is canon.

• The Attack Titan

We know the path is a place out of time. It’s in this place that titans are sculpted by Ymir, and that’s why I think it makes sense for Eren to be the first owner of that titan: the attack titan is the only one who ascends in the past instead of descending in the future. If physically it seems to be passed down following the classical timeline, all of it is actually playing in the paths. The Attack Titan was only possessed by rebels, directly influenced by Eren’s mindset. It disappeared at a time, and it was also a part of Ymir’s titan: it’s her rebellious part designed to « attack » the world 2000 years later. I think Isayama might add depth again to the title of the story in 139.

• Major deaths

I can’t help but think: why did Eren let Mikasa cut his head and even indicated his location with titan marks ? I think that it’s possible he wants his last friends to fly away from the battle, thinking they have won when they didn’t, so that he can restart the Rumbling without killing them. The survivors would be Levi, Mikasa, Armin and probably Annie. I think Reiner will die to let Gaby eat him, so that Falco and Gaby, representing the future, can be saved.

It makes sense for Reiner to sacrifice himself for his little cousin: he lived for the ones he loved even if he didn’t wish to live himself, and since Gaby represents the new generation, hope, and that she was the potential inheritor of the Armored Titan, I am convinced she is the one who will eat him.

After that the most probable thing is that Levi and Mikasa, who grew incredibly closer, will live together, same for Annie and Armin. Eren will achieve the Rumbling then go back to Historia and we will have that Akatsuki no Requiem ending.

However, a darker possibility is that everyone except Falco and Gaby might die. I am in denial 😄✌🏻

But, I ask myself how Eren will make titans disappear. I think he might have plotted something with Ymir, after all isn’t she free from King Fritz now ? Or maybe Falco will eradicate the worm (bird vs worm is kinda obvious). However I do not think the people transformed into titans will turn back to normal, it’s not Isayama’s style to « bring back » dead characters, it would make Jean’s and Connie’s deaths less tragic. I think that only shifters will loose their ability and the 13 years thing.

Theory 2: if Eren is dead

• Ymir’s manipulation

I don’t wanna believe it but what if all of this was Ymir’s plan ? If he IS dead, it’s Ymir who is the mastermind and manipulated him so that the parasite would die and that she could get out off the paths. « I took the world’s freedom to gain mine » what if it’s YMIR TALKING in 133 ? She could even had sent the dream to Mikasa in 138 so that she would know WHERE Eren was and kill him, all of this after Ymir took revenge on the world. Remember, the titan who protected Zeke came from earth, and Ymir entered in contact with « the source of all organic life », which means she could be the one behind the birds we keep seeing, including the one on Mikasa dream. She could be smiling because her plan WORKED.

Also remember in the paths where Eren was talking to the Alliance ? He was in his kid Eren form, like Ymir, we didn’t see his eyes, showing his slavery and a strange alike-look. Ymir was standing right next to him, in the exact same position, mirroring him as if he was a sort of reflection/puppet of hers. Everybody thought the contrary until now, that Ymir followed Eren. While she was here, Eren was saying that the only way to end all of this was to take his life: what if Ymir made him say that ?

It makes even more sense when Ymir helped Armin with summoning shifters and that they also had their mouths don’t moving.

• Eldian Society ?

The only way to resolve  everything if Eren is dead is to create an Eldian empire domination with the rest of the world being weak and wiped out. Everybody would live on Paradise and would be teached about the cycle of hate and the heroes who stopped the Rumbling as new Helos, giving us an explanation of that picture in the opening (it could also be Eren’s society as well meant to not repeat the same mistakes as well)

I hope you liked it ! Let’s not suffer too much during the waiting and organize cottagecore RM and EH weddings with the beach Aruannie one instead of crying 💁🏻‍♀️

#rivamika #snk #aot #ackerman clan #erehisu #levi #levi ackerman #ackerman #mikasa #eren #snk 139