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gretchensinister · 9 hours
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we should be getting iced coffee and going to creepy and musty antique stores together why must we be separated by our screens…
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gretchensinister · 11 hours
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Daily Fic Highlight: Something Wicked Is Me
Today the kudos email included:
Something Wicked Is Me is the collection of one of the poetry challenges I set myself in October. It's 31 poems, in a wide variety of forms, that are a response to the book Something Wicked This Way Comes. That's why it goes on Ao3.
I did this project because I both love and feel alienated by Something Wicked This Way Comes, particularly as a queer woman.
I couldn't say I really expected any response at all when I put this in the archive, so any kudos I see are very exciting to me.
Sample:
A Thing Unseen The carnival heralds Halloween, Train rushing into a town innocent. I read, I long, and am a thing unseen. It’s easy to tell when something’s unclean, The years when candy only cost five cents. The carnival heralds Halloween. The boys are bold and brave and wild and keen, Pass through the maze, with laughter fall the tents. I read, I long, and am a thing unseen. My carousel rounds have taken off the sheen; Sweet main-street towns cradle their own dire threat. The carnival heralds Halloween. And what might “Autumn people” really mean? When some have assumed me malevolent— I read, I long, and am a thing unseen. So now let’s look! Things pure, obscured, obscene, Who can laugh in Green Town, and who laments. The carnival heralds Halloween. I read, I long, and am a thing unseen.
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gretchensinister · 14 hours
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@purplebloodedmajesty also gave me the word "space" when I asked for words. I ended up going in a different direction than I expected, but space is mentioned!
This piece is a fragment of what I’m casually calling the “Garnetting AU.” I want to save most of the explanation for the longer fic, so the things to know for this one: 1) it’s shortly post-movie, Jen, Kira, Aughra, some podlings, and SkekGra and UrGoh are currently at the Castle of the Crystal trying to Deal With All That, 2) the Great Conjunction granted SkekGra and UrGoh a fusion form who is both them and a new person. The fates of certain other parties aren’t defined in this fic and there’s a lot of stuff that isn’t addressed that obviously would be in a longer work.
~*~
“I always wanted to travel through space. Do I not find that aimless desire granted, now that I am the farthest from my origin that I have ever been?” UrGoh’s voice rose and fell as he spoke, as if he were trying to make what he said into a song.
“I knew about the wandering through the stars part, but what do you mean about the rest? Why do you sound like that? And we’re not exactly far from our origin, now.” SkekGra turned and froze when he saw the books in UrGoh’s hands.
One was triangular and made out of some glossy material that neither they, nor Rhoga, nor even Aughra had recognized, but had reluctantly opened to some combination of Rhoga’s hands and breath and voice. It held arrays of symbols that Rhoga could almost recognize and sort of interpret if they didn’t think about it too much. Rhoga didn’t like doing that, though, despite their curiosity, so what they did was make plenty of notes for SkekGra and UrGoh to use when they examined the book. SkekGra intimately understood why Rhoga was uncomfortable with the project. Rhoga was young, and new, and wonderful, and they weren’t the author of this book. At least they hoped they weren’t, and they worried that spending too much time with this book would change them from Rhoga into someone else. SkekGra and UrGoh, on another hand, had crossed a thousand trine, and if even Rhoga and the light of the Great Conjunction hadn’t made them other than themselves, then it seemed unlikely that any book possibly could. SkekGra was still suspicious of it, though. Mostly for UrGoh’s sake. Which was, of course, partly why Rhoga was suspicious of it for their own sake.
The other book was the blank volume that UrGoh had decided to use for Rhoga’s notes. Or, wait, was it Rhoga who had decided to use that book for notes, it was just that UrGoh’s choice had totally aligned with Rhoga’s? SkekGra still wasn’t used to remembering Rhoga-time, or even conceptualizing it. That was all right, though. It was wonderful, wonderful, wonderful to learn. He loved Rhoga just as much as he loved UrGoh. And he loved being Rhoga as much as he’d loved being a young skeksis—maybe even more, even if he couldn’t remember Rhoga’s experiences the way he remembered his own. He thought he’d leave a note to ask Rhoga to write down how they remembered things that SkekGra and UrGoh experienced. Because he really wanted to know what they thought about this.
“That’s—”
“The translation,” UrGoh said. He tilted his head. “The work is almost slower than I can stand. There are complexities that Rhoga has sensed but need an analytic point of view that we don’t share...yet.” He smiled softly. “I wish I could work with them face-to-face. We could work with them. Then again...I have a feeling that between you and Rhoga I wouldn’t get anything done.”
“Rhoga does have a silly tendency to miss you even when they’re happy,” SkekGra said. “I can only imagine what they would be like if they could actually hold you.”
“Well...that all applies to you just as much,” UrGoh said. He paused. “You know...I don’t think Rhoga is in danger from this book...at least not any danger of not being Rhoga. Perhaps the danger is...learning about someone else to miss.”
“Or learning about someone we’re glad is gone—even when he’s not really gone—I—look, what I mean is that all of me came from GraGoh. The Conqueror was already in him.”
“Surely you know by now...that only makes me want to know more?” UrGoh met SkekGra’s eyes. “GraGoh can’t make me love you or Rhoga less, no matter what I find.” He glanced at the more ordinary book. “I want to share this with you.”
SkekGra looked at UrGoh for a long moment. “Well,” he said, “I’ve never said no to anything when you’ve put it like that. And—I can’t forget you were inside GraGoh, too.”
UrGoh motioned SkekGra over to a table where they could sit down. “I haven’t yet figured out if GraGoh or any of the urSkeks would have laughed, been affronted, or even understood the double entendre when you speak of us being inside GraGoh, by the way.”
“Do you expect to?”
UrGoh looked at the urSkek journal thoughtfully. “Yes, I think so.”
“I guess considering all the things we wrote down—all right, what’s—what’s there, so far? And explain it without pauses, won’t you?”
UrGoh looked at SkekGra innocently. “It’s a hard...habit to break.”
SkekGra groaned, and UrGoh reached out and covered his hand with one of his own. “I won’t do it on purpose for this. But I really did get used to thinking and speaking that way...our renewal didn’t undo that.”
“Nothing undone,” SkekGra said. “Ah, fuck it. At least I’ll always know it’s you, talking like that. And my thoughts still race around the place where the nail was. Anyway—so—now—how did GraGoh speak?”
“I don’t know if we can ever know that,” UrGoh said. “The distance between speech and writing...at least this journal was only for GraGoh himself, if the way it was sealed means anything.
“So...the translation is possible because of Rhoga’s...memories, if that’s what they are. Puzzle pieces of the mind...finally fitting together. Their memories link symbol, sound, and meaning. It helps also that we taught each other skeksis and mystic, as both of those share a great deal with the...physical aspects of the urSkek language. Knowing spoken and written ‘Gelfling,’ which is really urSkek-arrival-era Vapran merged with auditory urSkek, also helped. The urSkeks...did not want to keep their way of writing a secret, though I can tell they greatly simplified it in ways that...I doubt were truly necessary.
“What also helps...my memories of how UrAc constructed his chronicles. There was a lingering urSkek sensibility, there.”
“Are you showing off?” SkekGra asked playfully.
“I just want my work to be complete,” UrGoh said.
“Well—you’re making me want to find something I can dig into so I can show off.”
“You were just nervous about this whole project.”
“I—”
“Unless you’re flirting to put off getting to the heart of this…”
“I wasn’t trying to do that, it’s just—” He smiled. “I will always be ridiculous about whatever you do, I guess. Including research. Remember all that prep work to make Lore?”
UrGoh chuckled softly. “I remember...I was the one who accidentally broke your reading glasses...after you made a key breakthrough.”
“My fault for keeping them on. Wanting to see you clear up close.”
“I’m still going to tell you about this translation.”
“Right, right,” SkekGra said, leaning forward, putting his fore elbows on the table, and propping his head in his hands—not neglecting to replace the hand that had been under UrGoh’s with one of his hind ones, of course.
“Cute,” UrGoh said, with a small smile. “Where was I...oh, yes...so, there were many ways that urSkek is still embedded in the languages of Thra. It will take a very long time to go away, if it ever does...if Jen and Kira value connecting to the gelfling of the past in their own language...Aughra hasn’t given them any advice on that but I think she’s ranted to Rhoga about it….
“All this is to say that the structure of urSkek is not nearly as opaque as I first imagined it might be.” He paused. “I imagined the urSkek language littered with inconceivable concepts...relying on shades of meaning too subtle for a mortal mind to distinguish...approaching time in ways I could never comprehend so long as my brain was made of matter. This way of thinking...it helped shield us from GraGoh before the Great Conjunction, and we needed it then. Now, things are different. Even from what little we know...the urSkek are not so incomprehensible. They easily communicated with gelfling. They had opinions on the ways gelfling day-to-day life should be changed and ‘advanced.’ They came from a place with rules, and laws, and customs, and punishments for those who broke them. They have long lives, but each one still has a beginning and an ending...mortals, all. The difficulties in translation instead stem from urSkek senses being very different from ours, and different aesthetics and values. And even so...they were us.”
“So—the way you were almost-singing when you got my attention?”
“My attempt to address what I think are ways of adding emotion and beauty to the text that rely on urSkek senses. Like the figurative and poetic language we use relies on our senses and experiences. I don’t know enough...we, including Rhoga, don’t know enough yet to know the best way to approach that part of the text. So...we may never know if GraGoh was a good writer...but we can know a little about what he thought. About what it was like, for him.”
SkekGra watched UrGoh, who had turned his attention back to the book with the beginning of the translation in it. The urSkek book—GraGoh’s book—rested on the table like any other object. He took a breath, feeling for the hum in his very bones that had steadied him ever since the Great Conjunction, feeling for the shining, pulsing loop of life that was Rhoga in potential, in essence, or both, always present and waiting, just on the other side of a breath, a desire, a choice—especially when he and UrGoh were touching. “I know there’s no reason to be afraid of myself anymore,” he said. “What does GraGoh have to say so far?”
UrGoh smiled, and squeezed the hind hand under his own. Sometimes SkekGra wondered why they hadn’t been fully restored, but when there were moments of such familiarity with UrGoh, he thought he understood. He’d let the light heal him only as much as it could and still leave him UrGoh’s SkekGra.
“‘By the time this record is complete, may it show that my soul is healed and that I may be safely enfolded in the lace of home.’ The word isn’t lace, exactly. I think it’s an idea that I’ll be able to translate better after I see it more. ‘I always wanted to travel through space. Do I not find that aimless desire granted, now that I am the farthest from my origin that I have ever been?’” UrGoh began again. “‘But even traveling into exile felt no different than arriving anywhere else that is connected to our Crystal—like the passing from one room to another, save that we cannot go back. Still—I do feel we are in exile. We lament. I let it flow through me that this seeming-granting of my desire severed me from everything I ever knew.’”
UrGoh paused, and softly hummed an eerie, sad tune for a few seconds. “I don’t know what it should have sounded like,” he said, “but there’s a break in the text that indicates a lament for a still-broken soul. I borrowed the urRu Lament of Repentance. It...helps me understand my translation.
“The text resumes. ‘I do not forget that I am not severed from everything I ever knew. I am with my closest, particular companions. I am still connected with those I held above all else.’ More indications of the lament...I think GraGoh included this when he wrote of something that meant he wasn’t thinking as an urSkek should. ‘This tempers my lament, and makes me feel almost like I have been granted a gift, and not the gift of a duty that will allow all of us, including myself, to correct ourselves. It feels like a gift of honor and joy to be here with my friends. Not everyone felt the way I did, but I had long attempted to imagine what it would be like to leave everything, even the lace, behind. To go beyond our Crystal and discover what existence is like, there.’ I don’t think GraGoh means just the urSkek homeworld crystal, here. There are certain marks that link it to the word I’m translating as ‘lace,’ for now.
“‘I feel that instead of drifting, I am free in a way I could never have conceived within the lace. It overwhelms almost all other feeling, and I suppose I must be patient and careful with my thoughts as I wait for the longing for the lace to return to me, as it must, because after all, I am still urSkek. I know what we are here to do, and the doing will set my thoughts right.’ There are some subtle marks here that are hard for me to interpret, but if I had to guess, they would indicate something about GraGoh not agreeing with the idea that the thoughts he is supposed to correct are actually wrong. ‘For now, the pain waits, and my lament is in an almost unrecognizable key. And I am not the only one. When we disperse—when we are away from those who feel our punishment most keenly, like SoSu—I see that MalVa’s colors approach rapture, and mine probably do as well.’ It’s not ‘see,’ or ‘colors,’ what GraGoh describes here is an urSkek sensory experience.” UrGoh paused and took a deep breath. “‘The world of our exile is astonishing. It is completely unlike homeworld in almost every way, and still I find it beautiful. I didn’t know places like this could exist, and feel so harmonious, while still being entirely wild. Surely there can’t be much work ahead of us to tune this place. I am looking forward to finding out for sure. I imagine passing over every atom of this world, and I thrill at the toil it will be. There are no crystal paths, no memories of others to help me understand what I am seeing more quickly. It will not take endless time to explore one planet, I know, but I feel I have been granted a wonder that is as close to endless as one can be.’ That is as far as I have gotten in the translation,” UrGoh said.
SkekGra lowered his fore hands and wrapped them around UrGoh’s. “There's no point in hesitating to say it, is there? GraGoh sounds like—well, I hear a lot of you, in that.”
“And I hear you,” UrGoh said. “Especially when he’s glad to be in exile with the people he loves.”
“Is love the right word, for urSkeks?”
“I think so...I think that was part of the problem.” UrGoh shook his head. “I can’t help but project everything that tangled up us and the rest of the skeksis and mystics back onto the urSkeks.”
“It makes sense to me. They became us.”
“Still...some of GraGoh’s thoughts remain unfamiliar to me.”
“Conqueror thoughts? I thought I heard a few.”
UrGoh shook his head again. “You showed me the Conqueror. I know what he was like and what happened to every bit of him. I mean...ways of seeing Thra that, truly, neither mystics nor skeksis ever had. Then again...there is so much more to translate.” He met SkekGra’s eyes. “I’m not as fearless as I try to seem...about this translation. But now...we need to know GraGoh. I think I can find him…”
“You found me,” SkekGra said. “And you loved me.”
“It could be a terrible thing...to love GraGoh.”
“Surely only half-terrible, at most,” SkekGra said, giving UrGoh a little smile.
UrGoh turned his hands to cup SkekGra’s and gently press them. “I don’t know what the urSkek homeworld is like,” he said, “but if walking over the ground seemed so wonderful and novel to GraGoh, then I’m glad he had the chance. I’m glad...that stayed.”
“Yes,” SkekGra said. “But you don’t have to act like it’s not uncanny—what we were, what feels like what we could have been, another world, another time—I—I think Rhoga needs to think about this translation. I want to think about this as Rhoga—I need to be Rhoga right now.”
“Breathing as them...knowing their joy as the end,” UrGoh murmured. He left the books on the table and began to walk to SkekGra, who ran up to him before he could take more than two steps.
One embrace. One breath. One being.
“You figure out a triad and suddenly there’s a complicated fourth,” Rhoga said to themselves. “Well, we’ve done that before, too.” They smiled. “Glad I’m less worried about where a book could take me, now. It really didn’t suit me.”
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gretchensinister · 18 hours
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gretchensinister · 20 hours
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You have five seconds to grab something you can use as a weapon; what is it, and how well might it actually work as a weapon?
I just tried this myself, because there's a couple different things within arm's reach, and what I ended up grabbing first was a slightly-bent crowbar. (Other options were "a wooden baseball bat" and "the handle of what was presumably an axe, I don't know because it was just the handle when I found it".)
Pros: solid metal; heavy enough to cause serious damage upon impact; easy to get a good grip on it; ends can gouge; can also help open stuck doors or windows. Cons: I have weak noodle arms so I wouldn't be able to get much force behind a blow nor easily carry it for long; crowbars are designed as tools not weapons; the slight bend means it's unbalanced and thus even worse at the purpose than a crowbar that didn't undergo whatever caused it to be bent like this.
But I'm playing on easy mode here, since I'm sitting in my room, and I have a lot of different things within arm's reach because if I find something vaguely interesting then I bring it home with me, and it's my room so I don't have to worry about things like "carrying it around with me" or "being seen in public with it". If you're playing on a harder difficulty, you'd have to get more creative, and I'd love to hear what you have for this.
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gretchensinister · 22 hours
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Mary Jane Newill, Bedcover, ca. 1908, linen embroidered with colored wools
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gretchensinister · 24 hours
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gretchensinister · 1 day
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Galaxy painting now part of the Wanderlust Playing Cards & Oracle Deck! Launching April 2nd at Noon on KS! https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/corinneroberts/wanderlust-playing-cards-and-oracle-deck
All 54 illustrations for this deck were created in watercolor and pen!
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gretchensinister · 2 days
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Daily Fic Highlight: The Daffodil's Ghost
Today the kudos email included:
"The Daffodil's Ghost" is a Jack/Bunny ficlet which plays on their roles as spirits of winter and spring. They both long for each other, but neither of them knows it yet. 591 words, G, M/M.
More hits than words again, though that was easier this time.
I distinctly remember trying hard to finish this before meeting someone to see The Great Gatsby in theaters. I was late.
Sample:
Maybe winter just gives gifts that aren’t easy to see as gifts.
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gretchensinister · 2 days
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My Labyrinth piece for @hmosexymanzine !
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gretchensinister · 2 days
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over the garden wall spoiler yip yoop
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hypnotising you to not remember who i am and instantly unfollow me ooOOOooOoOooo (THOSE WHO KNOW ME dONT RAT ME OUT BRO
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gretchensinister · 2 days
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gretchensinister · 3 days
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Daily Fic Highlight: The Dark Watcher
Oh, this is so exciting! Today the kudos email winner is:
"The Dark Watcher" is a Pitch/Sandy fic that is one of an extensive number of blacksand AUs. In this one, Sandy is a young man who is being sacrificed to the local monster to ensure winter will end and spring will begin. Pitch is that local monster, not really human-shaped at all, but in possession of many, many tentacles. Pitch doesn't really know what to do with a sacrifice that isn't afraid of him. But Sandy has an idea. 6815 words, E, M/M.
I had better not be coy at all, these days. The purpose of this story's existence and the majority of its wordcount is enthusiastic tentacle sex.
Fun fact: I once asked people to anonymously tell me if they'd ever used any of my stories to get off, and I got two different anons telling me yes, this one.
Sample (from the beginning, for courtesy's sake):
The Watcher arrives silently. Sandy becomes aware of it as a black void in the sky above him. The narrow shape stands impossibly tall, its edges rippling with slow movement. A dozen bright, shining eyes look down at him from the heights of its form. Sandy shivers as it moves ever closer, blotting out more and more of the sky as it approaches. He can’t tell where it touches the earth, and its utter silence prevents him from guessing how close it already is. As it nears, Sandy’s thoughts race, skidding and sliding on dreamwine in his mind. He thinks that the Watcher looks almost like a man in a cloak, save that the cloak is—what? Wings? Other, stranger limbs? He can’t see a face, other than the starry eyes. Where is its mouth? There doesn’t seem to be any texture to the thing, as if it’s nothing but a shadow. And yet—and yet! Faced with this creature, he is not afraid! He is a good sacrifice, he has no regrets; a proud pleased smile spreads over his face as the Watcher folds itself in half, bending its face towards Sandy’s, making a cage of boneless but powerful arms around the altar. With the eyes only a foot or two away from him now, Sandy notices first that they don’t all blink in unison, and, second, that they seem somewhat confused.
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gretchensinister · 3 days
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Sunset - Wanderlust Playing Cards & Oracle Deck. A fav watercolor and pen painting that is now part of this deck and going live on Kickstarter, April 2nd at NOON. A several year long project creating 54 illustrations for the deck and hopefully....I get to make it a reality! https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/corinneroberts/wanderlust-playing-cards-and-oracle-deck
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gretchensinister · 3 days
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OK TUMBLR LET'S SETTLE THIS
NO SEE RESULTS OPTIONS, COWARDS! PICK ONE!
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gretchensinister · 3 days
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this tweet understands me
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gretchensinister · 4 days
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ECLIPSE CELEBRATION
Digital Illustration by Christina Bencina
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