Twilight Meta Review—Preface to Chapter 2

With the colder weather returning, it’s time for my Twilight reread, plus meta! So about three things I’m absolutely positive. First, the hate against Twilight was no doubt due more to its fangirl fanbase and its truly incompetent film adaptation than to its supposed demerits. This is still the best YA romance series I’ve read by a long shot—unfortunately, that is still not saying much. Secondly, Twilight stands out because at its core, it’s not even YA. It’s a (subverted) Gothic romance set in a high school. You could read this along with Rebecca and Jane Eyre and it would probably not be a total tonal shift. And thirdly, Edward is still unconditionally and irrevocably a cuttease. Stupid, sexy Volvo owner.

But! Lest you think my nostalgia goggles are firmly on. While most of it has stood up well, especially compared to the horrible writing of today’s YA, Twilight has its thematic and execution hiccups. Overall, it’s hampered by the fact that it’s effectively two classic love stories in one (with some Austen social comedy peeking in for some hi-and-bye). Overall they work well in tandem, informing each other in interesting ways, but occasionally they clash. Meyer definitely wanted to have both her cakes with this one. Interestingly enough, though, that’s what makes it so original. This was, in the end, a very fascinating fluke. All right, let’s go.

Preface: One Pair of Star-Crossed Lovers Sacrifice Their Life

I’d never given much thought to how I would die—though I’d had reason enough in the last few months—but even if I had, I would not have imagined it like this.

I stared without breathing across the long room, into the dark eyes of a hunter, and he looked pleasantly back at me.

So begins this book with a truly eye-catching fake-out—of course, with the spoiler of Edward being a vampire on the back cover (the most effective marketing decision ever and I stand by that), the reader is immediately lead to the conclusion that the hunter might be Edward himself. And thus the book begins with sudden, immediate stakes.

This and the back cover spoiler effectively function like the R&J Prologue—at once giving away the whole plot while revealing none of the story. Meyer knows her classics—or at least her editors do.

1. First Sight: Cinderbella & Female Heroine Cred

My mother looks like me, except with short hair and laugh lines. I felt a spasm of panic as I stared at her wide, childlike eyes. How could I leave my loving, erratic, harebrained mother to fed for herself? Of course she had Phil now, so the bills would probably get paid…(p. 4)

Here we have the first reversal—Bella has actually taken up the role of the mother to her own neglectful parent, establishing Bella’s (forced) maturity and independent character. She is distant and self-aware about her father as well, calling him Charlie. A Cinderella situation, then, though with no evil stepmother.

It was to Forks that I now exiled myself—an action that I took with great horror. I detested Forks.

Bella is moving from her happy, sunny life in Phoenix to rain-drenched and very cold Forks and describes the move as “self-imposed exile.” Is it me or am I getting some Hades-Persephone vibes here? Even her closeness with her sunny mother is very telling…

“I want to go,” I lied. I’d always been a bad liar, but I’d been saying this lie so frequently lately that I sounded almost convincing now.

This is proven somewhat untrue by the narrative since Bella is able to deceive others, at least temporarily. Of course, it’s always mitigated by the fact that she turns her “open book” face away and other factors. Still, Bella is established not to have the clearest picture of herself and her abilities, like most girls. This is part of her arc—she definitely gains more confidence as the series goes on.

That would explain why I didn’t remember him. I do a good job of blocking painful, unnecessary things from my memory. […]

The thing, I thought to myself…it had possibilities—as a nickname, at the very least. (p. 7-8)

And thus begins Snarky!Bella’s running commentary. I hated how they effectively removed that in the film adaptation. Stewart would have done her throwing-shade humor perfectly.

But of course, it does reveal Bella’s unhappiness about Forks, her loneliness. Again, that Persephone parallel. Hell, in some versions Persephone deliberately went to Hades on her lonesome, even for the exact same reasons. And of course at the climax Bella would be determined to sacrifice her life for her mother.

To my intense surprise, I loved [the truck]. I didn’t know if it would run, but I could see myself on it. Plus, it was one of those solid iron affairs that never gets damaged—the kind you see at the scene of an accident, paint unscratched, surrounded by the pieces of the foreign car it had destroyed. (p. 8)

Though Bella can be low-key snobbish—there is that persistent negative contrasting of small-town Forks in favor of cosmopolitan Phoenix—her tastes are paradoxically quite humble and modest. It makes for an interesting contrast with the urbane Edward and largely informs her fascination with him. Opposites attract and they inform a key part of Bedward’s dynamic.

I didn’t relate well to people my age. Maybe the truth was that I didn’t relate well to people, period. Even my mother, who I was closer to than anyone else on the planet, was never in harmony, never on exactly the same page. Sometimes I wondered if I was seeing the same things through my eyes that the rest of the world was seeing through theirs. Maybe there was a glitch in my brain. (p. 11)

Bella is a most peculiar mademoiselle. She’s a beauty and a sin, she doesn’t quite fit in. She feels there must be more than this provincial life—Okay, I’ll stop now.

I kept my face pulled back into my hood as I walked to the sidewalk, crowded with teenagers. My plain black jacket didn’t stand out, I noticed with relief. (p. 15)

Bella has a consistent horror of standing out. Actually relatable, ha. Understandable for her age and introverted personality.

“That’s really kind of nice—for them to take care of all those kids like that, when they’re so young and everything.”

“I guess so,” Jessica admitted reluctantly, and I got the impression that she didn’t like the doctor and his wife for some reason. With the glances she was throwing at their adopted children, I would presume the reason was jealousy. “I think that Mrs. Cullen can’t have any kids, though,” she added, as if that lessened their kindness.

Aaaaaand Bella is justified in her throwing shade at Forks. -.- Yeah, these kids are not the sharpest tools in the shed. But they’re not gross caricatures of high schoolers—they feel very natural in their characterization. The film adaptation tried to play up their immaturity and vapidity, especially on the boys’ part, which wasn’t an inherently bad idea—it’s a quick and easy contrast with Edward and his family. But Book Edward is so obviously leagues above them all in maturity that Meyer doesn’t need to go all social comedy shenanigans with the rest of the characters. Movie Edward, though, is barely a convincing vampire himself.

As I walked down the aisle to introduce myself to the teacher and get my slip signed, I was watching him surreptitiously. Just as I passed, he suddenly went rigid in his seat. He stared at me again, meeting my eyes with the strangest expression on his face—it was hostile, furious. […]

I didn’t look up as I set my book on the table and took my seat, but I saw his posture change from the corner of my eye. He was leaning away from me, sitting on the extreme edge of his chair and averting his face like he smelled something bad. Inconspicuously, I sniffed my hair. It smelled like strawberries, the scent of my favorite shampoo. (p. 23)

Notice how even when Bella tries to avoid seeing him, she is still very much aware of him and everything he does. This is something that comes up over and over again throughout the book.

(But oh, the film adaptation really turned this scene into an utter farce, didn’t it? With the whole fan thing and nose-clutching and everything. Pattinson really dngaf here and/or got horrendous direction.)

I could see his hand on his left leg was clenched into a fist, tendons standing out under his pale skin. This, too, he never relaxed. He had the long sleeves of his white shirt pushed up to his elbows, and his forearm was surprisingly hard and muscular beneath his light skin. (p. 24)

Bella checking him out as early as page 24. Homegirl already has it bad. But again, it shows Bella’s sharp observational skills, turned up to a 1000 when it comes to Edward. There is clearly the Romeo in her.

The door opened again, and the cold wind suddenly gusted through the room, rustling the papers on the desk, swirling my hair around my face. The girl who came in merely stepped to the desk, placed a note in the wire basket, and walked out again. But Edward Cullen’s back stiffened, and he turned slowly to glare at me—his face was absurdly handsome—with piercing, hate-filled eyes. For an instant, I felt a thrill of genuine fear, raising the hair on my arms. The look only lasted a second, but it chilled me more than the freezing wind. (p. 27)

Even in the midst of the raging beast, Bella notes Edward’s beauty. Oh, honey. You are doomed. (That said, I get it. It’s all about the *snapping fingers meme* contrast).

But this scene is so cinematic, much better than the poor shadow of the film adaptation. The gust of wind, Edward stiffening and dramatically turning to glare at her, full predator mode, and Bella frozen like prey in fear and awe. And then Edward sweeping out the room and the oblivious maternal receptionist asking Bella how her day went. And Bella is Just Fine(tm).

Chapter 2: Trying Not To Look Unsuccessfully

Last night I’d discovered that Charlie couldn’t cook much besides fried eggs and bacon. So I requested that I be assigned kitchen detail for the duration of my stay. He was willing enough to hand over the keys to the banquet hall. I also found out that he had no food in the house. (p. 31)

And so begins Bella taking over the household duties for her father, just as she did with her mother. Cinderbella(tm) strikes again. No wonder she has trouble making friends her own age and relates better to decades-old vampires (!!). Bella’s character really is perfect for this type of story.

In Gym, the kids on my team learned not to pass me the ball and to step quickly in front of me of the other team tried to take advantage of my weakness. I happily stayed out of their way. (p. 37).

I like how Bella’s clumsiness is an actual character trait that doesn’t disappear when it’s convenient to the narrative. Hell, you have her falling on her way over to the ballet studio at the climax. That’s what I call consistency.

My chin raised a fraction. “No, she did not sent me here. I sent myself.”

His eyebrows knit together. “I don’t understand,” he admitted, and he seemed unnecessarily frustrated by that fact.

Most all the antis complain about how there is nothing about Bella that would attract Edward (as if attraction is ever logical). But this small moment very pointedly develops the rationale: Bella is as much a mystery to Edward as he is to her. Not only that, but she challenges his preconceptions and assumptions. And of course his attraction grows the more he gets to know her, as they are essentially birds of a feather.

Edward Cullen was leaning against the front door of the Volvo, three cars down from me, and staring intently in my direction. I swiftly looked away and threw the truck into reverse, almost hitting a rusty Toyota Corolla in my haste. Lucky for the Toyota, I stomped on the brake in time…I took a deep breath, still looking out the other side of my car, and cautiously pulled out again, with greater success. I stared straight ahead as I passed the Volvo, but from a peripheral peek, I would swear I saw him laughing. (p. 52)

Would have been a great (actual) humorous moment for the movie had it decided to include it. A lot of the book is tense, hothouse suspenseful romance, but there is some light and humor too.

Can I have Legolas and Will Turner separately kissing the reader's scars after seeing them (From battle,abuse, or near death experience not self harm) 🥺

For Legolas-

"What's this from?" Legolas touched your arm.

You looked up from your book to find Legolas looming over your place in a chair by the fireplace, firelight catching on the silvers and greens of his uniform. You lingered in him for a moment, taking in his beauty. Then looked to where he touched you, to the scar his fingers traced over. "Orcs." You returned to your book.

"It must have been painful."

"You should have seen the orcs." You smirked and turned a page. "Sadly, they did not live long enough for their wounds to heal."

You could hear the smile in Legolas's voice. "I'm sure not." He leaned down and kissed the scar.

There was a thunk of his satchel hitting the ground, then your beloved came to sit in front of your chair. This was not an unusual occurrence. Legolas often sought your presence at the end of his day. What you hadn't expected was for him to slip his shirt over his head and hold out a pale, muscular arm for you to inspect. "Matches yours."

Book forgotten, it slipped from your lap as you leaned forward and ran your hand along the long scar. "Orcs?"

"Goblins." Legolas smiled softly as you kissed the scar, slow and sweet, savoring his warmth.

"Must have been painful." You looked up at him, entranced by his eyes in the flickering light.

"No longer." His fingers found the back of your neck, gentle, steady, bringing you close for a kiss you readily returned.

For Will-

You closed your eyes and tried to breathe, fingers stilling on the buttons of your shirt. You were exhausted and wished for nothing more than sleep, however you were so tired your fingers kept fumbling with the buttons of your shirt. Having already removed your gun, hat, and shoes, the shirt was the last thing to go before you could sleep in some sense of comfort in your undershirt.

You had just resolved to give up when familiar footsteps sounded outside your door. A pause, soft knock, and Will stepped inside. "The crew is still celebrating," he closed the door behind him, locking it with a soft click. "They'll probably be up all night."

"Good for them." You rubbed your eyes, swaying unsteadily as he approached. "Do you need something?"

"Uh," Will nodded to your bed. "Are you about to sleep?"

"I was attempting to," you fumbled irritably with your shirt and yawned. "Can't, can't get my shirt off."

Will's smile was gentle. "Here," he crossed to you, the closeness making your heart skip. "Allow me."

"It's fine," you took a step back and tripped, sure to have fallen had not Will caught you by the arm.

"Steady," Will smiled as you laughed at yourself. "You're exhausted."

"Unbelievably." You smiled up at him, the expression fading as his fingers found your buttons. "Will,"

His fingers paused. "Allow me to help."

"I don't...I'm not," your face grew hot, gaze falling down to his chest. "I have...I'm not pretty."

"Love,"

"A life...A life of a pirate is not always kind." You closed your eyes against the shame, only you were so tired it made you want to doze off standing up so you opened them once more.

"Listen," Will touched the side of your face and brought your gaze up to his once more. "Do you trust me?"

"With my life. But, you will think me ugly."

"Never." Will pressed a kiss to your forehead. "Never, my love."

You hesitated but did not refuse when he began to unbutton your shirt. His movements were slow and careful. Will kissed your nose, your cheeks, your lips as he worked, the sensation intoxicating. When your undershirt and arms were revealed you expected disgust to cross his face. Instead, you saw nothing but sadness and love.

"Darling," he breathed, fingers brushing along the scar on your collarbone, then over to the scar on your shoulder. The scars were everywhere, marring your tanned skin.

"Ugly?" You asked.

"Beautiful." He responded, leaning down to kiss along the length of each scar.

Fanfic Masterlist

Chapter Thirty (Part 2)

“Fucking hell,” He twists away and grabs the front of his hair. The rain has eased to a mist now but the clouds still shield the sky and block the light out like an early dusk. His limbs become a bit stilted and stiff as though he’s forgotten how to control them. “Fuck,” he says hoarsely, and he drops onto the wet sand and shoves the heels of his hands into the sockets of his eyes “This is it then, isn’t it? Things are over with us.”

I hesitate for a moment before sitting next to him, and the seat of my dress immediately soaks through and I don’t care about it. “Yeah,” I say gently, “They have to be, don’t they?”

“There’s nothing I can do.”

“I want you to go and be happy.”

He lets out an agonised, strangled noise, and it takes me a second to realise that he has begun to sob into his hands, and it’s the strangest thing, but I think I can feel my heart physically breaking inside my chest, tearing apart, ripping right down the centre. I didn’t know that when people spoke about heartbreak that this is what they meant all along. The ache inside me feels unbearable, and I want so badly to reach for him and tell him that I don’t mean any of it, and yes, I’ll take that Green Card and yes, I’ll come and live in Los Angeles, but instead I cram my wrist to my nose and I cry with him because it seems like the only sensible thing I can do. 

And once I’ve started I cannot stop, and the tears come, and they come, and they fill my eyes until I can’t see a thing but the greys and blues of the sea blurring together like watercolour bleeding down the page, and then I wipe them and I look to my right where Jude’s head is bowed and his shoulders are shaking, and I tell him that I’m sorry. He says something I can’t understand because he is crying too hard, but I don’t know that it really matters what it was, because on some level I know what he’s saying. Just like I do, he simply hurts. 

He sniffs and drags the heel of his hand up across his nose. He shakes his head as tears roll off the end of his spiky lashes, “God,” He says eventually, “I just really thought- I think I took it for granted that I’d get to be with you forever, or something, like we were perpetual-” and he bares his teeth and heaves a shuddering sigh into his lungs, eyes fixed on his feet, embarrassed, like he can’t bear to look at me and see what I think of him crying on the ground. “I wanted everything,” he chokes out, “All of the stupid stuff, you know? Christmases and New Years, I wanted to get you birthday presents and anniversary presents and travel with you and just- just wake up with you and make you breakfast and-” he squeezes his eyes shut, “But like, I can’t have any of it and now I just have to live without you, and it’s so horrible-”

I comb my fingers through the back of his hair and I whisper, again, that I’m sorry.

“I love you,” He says, though he knows that it’s not enough, and I know it too, because loving Jude Turner is like loving a memory, the dream, the idea of a man that my seventeen year old self believed would solve me, would prove that I am worthy of happiness only because he loves me back. And perhaps it’s an idea that he loves too, a girl who would make him feel young and careless and reckless, who would expect nothing, ask nothing from him but to be free.

I swipe at my damp cheek, “Yeah but one day you won’t. Someday when I’m long gone you’ll look back on this time and you’ll think about how glad you were that you never compromised or let yourself be held back by some girl. And then-” I sniffle, “-when you’re living this amazing life, and you’re happy and you’re successful and surrounded by people who love you you’ll think ‘oh yeah, her, God, you know, I don’t even remember what her name was anymore.’”

“No,” he shakes his head firmly, “No, I’m going to love you for my whole life.”

And then I make the loneliest sound I’ve ever made, somewhere between a gasp and a sob as I relent and throw myself into his chest so that I can let him hold me. He kisses my hair so gently and rests his cheek upon my head and says simply, “I’ll miss you.”

“And I’ll miss you,” I reply, “And don’t think I’ll ever forget you either. You know that you’re going to be everywhere, you’ll be the ghost that follows me around. Every time I wake up and you aren’t there, or get home and you aren’t waiting at the door, and every time my feet touch this coastline, and I get into the sea, or see the roof of that beach house poking over the dunes I’ll think, you know, I really wish he was here, because everything I did was better when he did it with me,” I exhale thickly, “But then I’ll think of you somewhere else in the world where I know that you’ll be happy and I’ll just be happy to, because I want that for you, I really do, even if I don’t get to be a part of it.”

There’s a long pause while we cry together, and he reaches down to brush fresh tears from my cheekbones, “I feel lucky to have known you when I did,” He says, “When I- When I go to LA, you know, I doubt I’ll be back again for a very long time, and- God, -and by then who knows where your talent will have taken you and what you’ll be doing. To know you now feels like the greatest privilege, and I know that you’re telling yourself that I won’t remember you years from now, but actually I’ll be saying, yeah, I knew that girl once and she was incredible, I caught her in a moment in time and you should have seen her, when talent just radiated off her like the heat from a sunburn and she didn’t even know it yet.”

I turn to face him and look him dead in the eyes, because I don’t know the next time I’ll get to really look at them, “You’ll be happy,” I insist. If I mean it I can make it so.

“You too,” He says , “And maybe when we both are we’ll find our way back to each other again.”

“Yeah, I hope so,” I say, and in that moment the sun finally breaks through the clouds, just a sliver of it, and it hits the side of his beautiful face, glows on his cheek and his hair and through his brown eyes to turn them golden, the colour and warmth of flames.

That’s how I’ll always remember him. 

And when our story is over and the edges of the clouds turn pink and amber, I get up to walk away. I turn to look at him one more time though I can hardly bear to. Standing there in the sunlight he simply raises his hand. “I’ll see you, Evie,” He says. 

“Yes,” I say, “someday.”

THE END To my Tumblr readers, thank you so much for reading along. It's been a pleasure to share this story with you.

For a very long time I knew that I wanted to tell a story like this. I felt like I had so many things to say, about growing up, about this country, about the way it feels to inhabit it, how it felt to be young and bored with no money to spend during the recession era – the uniqueness of that particular moment in time and the feelings, places and people that have changed in the years since, but I just never got around to it.

One evening in July of 2022 my mother, who has become an avid wild swimmer since her retirement, took me down to the beach to take a dip in the sea. It’s a beach I’ve been on a thousand times having grown up just a few kilometers away from it. I’d swum in it, walked it, even worked on it for three summers during my early twenties but for some reason on that day I felt overwhelmingly nostalgic about it. This is not a very exciting beach, I thought, but isn’t it a bit beautiful in it’s own way. From my place, neck deep in the water I looked at the way the marram grass shimmered in the wind and bits of old fishing nets and driftwood littered the coarse sand. A line of identical holiday homes peeped up over a low stone wall, and a little corrugated iron summer house sat right in the middle of the dunes, flat roof, wooden deck. I’ve always wondered who owned it.

Later on I got home and typed a few paragraphs of a story on my computer. I hadn’t written a thing in years. Then I just didn’t stop.

I’d spent the entire pandemic overanalysing my teenage traumas, reliving the things I’d done in college and into the first years of my twenties. A lot of weird things happened to me. Very dramatic things, honestly. I think I am the sort of person that draws highly erratic types to me or perhaps is just inclined to stir up emotionally intense situations, and as a result my life had felt like a whirlwind, some sort of strange carousel until I was forced to step off it in 2020. There’s no point getting into it, really. You’ve read Lucky Girl, so you get the gist.

I have to say thank you to my wonderful friends for being my biggest cheerleaders during this process. They hyped me up and listened to my every thought, proof read, problem solved and helped me to understand that it’s not embarrassing to do this, in fact it’s actually pretty cool to publish a story in this way. Grace & Sarah, thanks for letting me borrow from your lives as much as I borrowed from my own, and for talking in circles with me about everything and anything that came into our heads. I love you to bits ❤

Also to my partner, who never read this story, but tells his friends that his girlfriend wrote a book!! Who brought me tea and cooked me food while I was in a whirlwind of inspiration. He really just wanted me to come into the living room so that we could watch Succession, or White Lotus, or X Files, or whatever else we were binging during the last 15 months, but he never complained. “Ah, sims.” He’d say, and shut the office door.

To my first love and my teenage friends, who I think of all the time. Who embodied a time and a space that I’ll never inhabit again, but I’ll never forget any of it. I remember all of the places or the people who were around me while I lived out the end of my childhood, and when I revisit the places we used to go there are a thousand tiny snapshots of memory everywhere. Of these teenagers that don’t exist anymore, who are all entering their thirties now, of the time we had, the person I used to be and the inexplicable importance of those few short years. Nowadays when I’m there, on those beaches and in those woods I swear it’s like there’s a ghost there with me, and it’s me, the person I used to be. I’m reminded of the incredible distance I’ve come since fifteen.

To my readers most of all, thank you from the bottom of my heart. You really kept me going when it got tough and when it all felt too close to the bone, and I was a bit too freaked out to write. Your comments made this story such a wonderful experience and I’m so glad that I got to share it with you all. I still kind of can’t believe that so many people have read this thing – it’s bizarre. I really didn’t think a single person would care, but here we are. You’re all angels.

All my love,

Hannah.

Beginning // Prev // Epilogue

Timmy forgor arc because I'm a fucked up little shit and I want my fave to suffer because that's how I am smh

Timmy canonically puts notes on everything that's important to him because he might throw everything related to Cosmo and Wanda so it shouldn't be any different that he'll put notes on everything related to the rest of the Nicktoons

But what if he also writes everything that happened in a diary and kept it hidden in a box filled with things related to his Godfamily and the Nicktoons?

Timmy already turned 18 and the next day after his birthday, the first thing he saw when he woke up is an empty fish tank still filled with water. Timmy got super confused because why is there a fish tank here? Why does it have water when there's literally no fish inside? Then he saw the sticky note and went oh ok I guest I shouldn't throw it out then.

Throughout the day, he keeps seeing sticky notes with his hand writing on it saying "Don't throw it out me! -Timmy Turner". Timmy doesn't know the purpose of all the things because he only does this when it's actually important so he doesn't understand why there's a sticky note with the same message pinned on his old hat.

When he, Chester, and AJ hangout, they'd sometimes ask him about the things he forgotten and Timmy is just confused. His reaction are just "What?" "Since when did that happen?" "Talking to objects? Did you hit your head or something cause wtf" Chester and AJ had to suffer but didn't dive too deep into it.

That until Chester mentioned Jimmy

Timmy isn't the type to forget people that he's close and actually liked him. So when Timmy said he doesn't know who Jimmy is it caused a havoc. Chester made cards filled with things related to their childhood while AJ interogated the poor brunet's head off just to get answers so he could somehow cure his bestfriend's amnesia.

This went for Gods' know how long it just keeps going.

But hey the Nicktoons fianlly visited hoorayyyy

They didn't encounter Timmy first though, they encountered Chester and AJ. They both felt like their dreaming but soon dragged them into their shared appartment with Timmy because wtf their bestfriend's bestfriends who doesn't even know they're his bestfriends from different universes are here and oh are they glad.

Before the Nicktoons could even say something, AJ and Chester already bombered them with concerns relating to Timmy while the three are all just there sitting on a small couch and saying literally the same things as if they were one person.

Where's Timmy? What happened to his Fairy programs? What do you mean he has amnesia? He doesn't remember us? What the fuck does this mean? Is this related to the Fairy World's rules?

They were all distraught. Spongebob who's no longer in disguise is sobbing. Danny is in denial. He sees him as his kid brother and said kid brother sees him as his big brother there's no way he could've forgotten him right? He denise it, there's no way.

And Jimmy is fucking depressed. After a long time of trying to find a way to go to Timmy's universe, the first thing that was said to him was that Timmy forgot about them.

Jimmy was mad. He wasn't mad at Timmy for getting his memories erased, he was mad that he didn't do anything to prevent it. He was mad at himself. But he knew damn well that there's no way of stopping Da Rules and the rest of the Laws of the Fairy World.

Meanwhile with Timmy, he sneezed as he's currently going back to his old house to get the rest of his old stuff. Then he went to the attic and saw some weird big old box with his name written on it. The box was filled with notebooks, diaries and pictures.

Timmy was utterly bamboozled

He skimmed through some of the pages. Fairies? Ghost brother figure? A talking sponge? And he's hooked? Timmy doesn't even know anymore. Then he took the photos inside the box.

What the fuck.

Why is there a sponge? It's alive? Why is there a floating guy behind him? Who's he brunet with a weird hair style?

And why do these strangers feel so familiar?

The more he dives deep into it, the more his head hurts. Timmy decided to brush it off temporarily and took the box with him. He'll get his stuff next time.

ANYWAY the rest is up to you guys on how you want it to end I'm out of energy to write the rest ksksakjssfhasksf

*cracks knuckles* Here we go.

I have been quite curious about ORV for a while, though I had absolutely NO idea what it was about until I finally decided to take the plunge. I mostly keep finding interesting playlists, quotes that promise lots of pain and suffering, and cool fanart. I avoided it until now because it's long. Really, really long. And long series either go one of two ways with me: I either binge the entire thing at the cost of my sleep (and sanity) or read it so slowly I forget what happened in the first half by the time I get to the midpoint.

Anyways, something overcame me this weekend and I decided to finally read it.

Chapters 1-6: Prologue + Starting the Paid Service

I was genuinely surprised to learn the story is about a book becoming reality with death game shenanigans because, again, I've only ever seen pretty fanart and vague quotes that revealed nothing about the plot. Immediately, I was like 'okay, I'll read a bit and give it a chance'. This isn't normally my type of genre, but I do read outside my comfort zone sometimes (and enjoy it, like SVSS which is transmigration + comedy which is usually not my thing).

The opening lines caught my attention, actually, they work really well as a hook despite being the ending of the webnovel in the book. It leaves you with a lot of questions

"There are three ways to survive in a ruined world. I have forgotten some of them now. However, one thing is certain: you who are currently reading these words will survive."

Also, not that you really need the reminder with the page count right below, but it definitely implies this is going to be a looong journey. If there are only three ways to survive and you've forgotten some already, that must have been quite the journey...Anyways, I just really like the tone of the opening lines.

So, like, Kim Dokja is sadly relatable haha. The struggle of the daily grind is real. So is wondering how your coworkers can have so much energy or be such go-getters when you're just trying to get through the day.

However, his reaction to the whole 'fiction becomes reality' or even the traumatic head-bursting deaths right in front of him just isn't normal. And also sliiightly worrisome. Genre-savvy he might be, that's some traumatizing shit right off the bat! Although, that kind of goes for anyone in this story who survives past the first few chapters.

But Kim Dokja is surprisingly chill about the whole thing. The whole scene with the crickets also shows that he's intelligent...and also kind of good at messing with people. He might monologue to us, but he certainly doesn't go into detail with any of the people around him, or explain much about why he's doing something.

The story also shows a pretty realistic range of reactions to all the traumatizing crazy going on.

And for a story I wasn't sure I was going to like, it sure is a page turner. I'm not terribly used to all the game mechanics, but they're actually pretty fun. The game commentary just sparks joy in me, for some reason.

The whole "sole reader of this entire novel" thing is also interesting. One, it does put him at an advantage to literally everyone else "canon" to the story or not. But on a meta level, who do we write stories for? Sometimes it's for oneself, but most of the time stories are made to be shared, they're tools used to communicate with others. So, that makes the "final" line in the novel even more impactful. To you who are reading this story...

Next up will be chapters 7-11: Protagonist...

supernatural s15e19 inherit the earth (w. eugenie ross-leming, brad buckner)

i'm not sure i want to watch this, actually. all right, next day. let's see. combination of not wanting to watch them grieve cas after that weird reaction i had to 15x18 plus feeling like writing anything about spn is completely pointless. power through

covid lockdown-era city views, along with the akf/always keep fighting on the tower and the actual coke ad about social distancing "staying apart is the best way to stay united" well this is not helping my mental state and also presents confusing idea that this universe was affected by covid, which it obviously isn't. along with everyone being raptured

SAM I did this. We could have just given Chuck what he wanted, you know, his grand finale. But I resisted. I pulled the thread. I thought we could beat this game, do it better. We tried to rewrite him, and the whole world paid the price.

taking a moment to address the absurdity that chuck's being such a brat over the fact that the brothers won't kill each other he's gonna rapture the entire earth

CHUCK I mean, picture it. The two of you... And your little lapdog Jack... Rotting on a lifeless planet, knowing it's this way because you wouldn't take a knee. Eternal shame, suffering, and loneliness. Whew! That's deep. That's sophisticated. That's a page-turner.

it is something

little schmaltzy but i'll take it. ah, well. for 30 seconds at least. i know he comes back though so it's all good

very pretty lighting

i think it's been long enough i don't care about the endless reasons to get pellegrino back on the show and i'm just happy to see him and his overflowing charisma

LUCIFER Mm. Yeah. Alright, team. I don't want to bring ants to your picnic, but that ain't gonna cut it. Okay, think about it. If the Empty pulled me off the bench, it's 'cause the Winchester charm ain't enough, right?

harsh but fair

LOL new death, dead death, lucifer actually working with chuck, dead lucifer. we're making it snappy, folks

haha and now michael was working with chuck too and he's dead. this is sure something

gotta get them covered in blood and beaten to a pulp for old times' sake

okie doke. they figured out the michael business, jack is a power vacuum, sure. we gotta wrap this up, fellas

haha makes me think of this 1998 merlin miniseries with sam neill when they all turn their back on queen mab and she loses her powers because everyone forgets about her

SAM Then I think it's the ending where you're just like us and like all the other humans you forgot about. DEAN It's the ending where you grow old, you get sick, and you just die. SAM And no one cares. And no one remembers you. You're just forgotten.

i think about it a lot so i made some gifs a while back 😂

all right. de-raptured and people indoors

not sure how i feel about this whole speech from jack about how he's gonna be as new god and basically around but not around. sucks they semi-lost their kid too

SAM You know, with Chuck not writing our story anymore, we get to write our own. You know, just you and me going wherever the story takes us. Just us. DEAN Finally, free.

kind of surprised this wasn't the finale honestly, especially with that montage that managed to get me crying.

birds of a feather

Gotham Knights, Cullen Row & Carrie Kelley, 1.5k, GA

"With Batman gone, the Gotham Knights have taken his place in defending the city..." For now. But once their names are cleared, will that still be the case?

Cullen hopes it is. Though never expecting his life to turn in such directions, he finds himself liking the idea of being a vigilante. He even has ideas on what that might be like - keeping track of it all in his sketchbook that he doesn't show anyone. Because telling a piece of paper is one thing. Telling another person was something else. It made it all more real, and Cullen wasn't sure if he wanted that.

He has to decide quickly once someone catches him dreaming on the page again.

           Clean lines. Distinct, but subtle, patterns. Dark colors that blended in with the city’s natural shadows. Cullen carefully applied these aspects to the figure stamped into his sketchbook, hunched over its pages with a half-filled mug of quickly cooled coffee forgotten to his right and the last beams of daylight filtering in through the dusty and oversized window behind him. His fingers twitched through muscle memory. He had already drawn this figure tens of times since he, his sister, and the others first started nesting inside the unused academy clock tower. He had drawn the figure standing. Crouching. Bisected by the inner seam because the drawing took up two pages or a tiny speck that huddled within a corner. His profile was captured from all angles. He glowered forward, confidently, every time Cullen captured his full face. The figure jumped. He dived. He soared across the Gotham skyline. Cullen was only limited by his imagination. He tore through many pages, slashing different scenes onto paper of the figure in action. Tonight’s session was simple. The figure swung wide in a graceful arc towards the page’s edge, steely determination visible even behind the mask that partially concealed his face. It was as if he expected to break the page’s borders under his fist, yearning to exist beyond the page. Cullen did not believe he was ready for that, yet.

           “That looks awesome.”

           Cullen’s hand smothered the figure as his gaze jerked up and onto Carrie.

           The smaller girl stood over him, smiling, still dressed in her school blazer and slacks despite the school day having ended hours ago. “Sorry,” she said, stepping back. “I didn’t mean to intrude.”

           “No,” he said, “it’s okay.” Cullen slowly dragged his hand off the page, but not fully. His fingers skimmed the figure’s chest. “I thought everyone’d be out longer.”

           “Yeah. Steph texted me that her, Turner, and Harper will be out a little bit later.”

           “Is Duella not with them?”

           “I think she’s… doing her own thing.”

           “That – yeah, that sounds like her.” Cullen relaxed further, revealing more of his drawing. He twirled and tapped his pencil’s eraser on an unmarred section of the sketchbook. “What are you doing here so late?”

           Carrie shrugged. “I was… I had been helping Br… helping bring one of my classmates up to speed on stuff that he missed while he was out.” She fumbled over her words, twisting her fingers and faintly blushing. Cullen noted it. He didn’t mention it. “Figured I’d stop by and see if you needed anything.”

           “Me, specifically?”

           “Well, all of you. But since you’re the only one here…”

           He let himself smile. It was thin and tired. “I think we’re good for now. We hadn’t blown through the last of the supplies you and Steph smuggled in for us.”

           “Good, that’s good.”

           Carrie lingered. She didn’t stay in that one spot, taking cautious, measured steps across the floor, but she stayed near where Cullen sat. Her gaze bounced around the room, briefly connecting with his sketchbook and then flying elsewhere every few seconds. It was the only place her eyes landed more than once.

           Cullen sighed. “It’s… it’s a stupid drawing.”

           “It’s not stupid.” She said that too fast and knew it, too. Carrie huffed, squaring her shoulders and pinning him in his seat with her smile. Its sincerity nearly blinded him. “I think it’s really cool.” She inched closer to him. “What’s it of, if you don’t mind me asking?”

           Now he tensed. His stare dropped from her to the figure beneath him.

           Cullen worried at his bottom lip as he considered telling Carrie about his drawing. He’d been keeping this particular secret for quite some time and enjoyed doing so. It was a needed escape during the uncertain days and weeks that were spent trying to clear their names before the clock ran out on them. It gave him hope in those moments when it seemed like they were going nowhere, and the battle was too big for just them to fight. Cullen was afraid that, if he voiced it, the figure would lose his power. That Cullen dreamed too big, like always, and it’d be ripped from him and the cold, crushing waves of reality would seep back in to drown him.

           However, pushing against all that fear, was the fact that – out of all the members in their ragtag family – Carrie would understand his drawing, and what it meant, the best.

           He listened to that voice more than all the others.

           Cullen handed her the sketchbook. “It’s… me.”

           Carrie accepted it and studied what he had drawn. Then, with a small nod and a raised brow, she silently asked if she could flip through the rest of his marked pages. He signaled his assent.

           She carefully inspected his work. Her quiet review was tortuously long, the air in the tower thickening because of it. Cullen’s hands curled into fists. He nearly snapped his pencil in two.

           Finally, Carrie closed the sketchbook and handed it back to him. “These are all really good,” she told him. Then, she asked, “Do you want to be a vigilante?”

           “Aren’t I kinda one already…” he laughed, “the news certainly thinks so.”

           Carrie chuckled alongside him, pulling a seat close and sitting on it. “You’re on your way,” she said. “But I always thought you and your sister… that once you cleared your names you’d be out of here. Wasn’t that why you took the job in the first place?”

           Cullen stopped laughing. “It was.” He shifted in his seat, using the hand not holding his pencil to tug on his sleeve. “But… I don’t want that to be the plan anymore.”

           “Really?”

           “No, it’s…” He sighed. Cullen tipped his head back and hit the wall. He looked away from Carrie and found it easier to talk. He continued. “I wanted to start over in a new city because I thought there was nothing here for me other than my sister. And, well – being framed kind of sucked, and having Batman… Bruce… having Turner’s dad die and the city plunging into chaos since then also sucked… but because of all that I think I see now that there is something for me here? That maybe I didn’t before because I was… I was too focused on running away to notice. And letting some – some jerk scare me out of my home. When really it’s him and all the other jerks out there that think they own the place who should be scared out of our home, our city.” There was a lump in his throat he tried swallowing past. “Gotham needs people to step up now that Batman’s gone. To help. I like what we do and – and that it helps people. And even after we do clear our names and stop the Court, I think I’m gonna keep at it.”

           There wasn’t any teasing. No snide laughter or condescending hums. Carrie didn’t seem like the type, but Cullen was prepared for any outcome.

           Except, apparently, for Carrie laying her hand on his knee and telling him, “I think that’s wonderful.”

           He was startled by that. Cullen’s gaze found hers and he asked, “It is?”

           “Yeah.” She squeezed his knee as she spoke, “You’re right. Gotham needs people looking out for her, for the safety of everyone who lives here. Bruce… was one man. He did his best, but he couldn’t be everywhere. He couldn’t solve every problem. With him gone, it’s people like us who have to do our best and fill the vigilante-sized hole that was left behind.”

           Cullen was helpless to stop the smile that appeared on his face at her words. He reached forward and laid his hand atop hers, gently tapping the back of it in gratitude. “Do you think we’ll be enough? Batman was one man. We’re a bunch of kids.”

           “We’ll never know if we don’t try. But…”

           “But?”

           “I think we can be even better.”

           It was almost cliché, but Cullen felt lighter because of Carrie’s encouragement. Despite all that troubled him over the past few minutes, he found it easy to laugh with her and believe what she had said. Almost like what scared him wasn’t as powerful as he first thought.

           Carrie nudged her knee into his, drawing him from his contemplation. “Did you come up with a name?” Her face scrunched, brows drawn in and glasses rising off her nose. “I hope you didn’t think you’d be another Robin.”

           “No, no. There can be only one Robin.”

           “Is it bat-themed, then?”

           “No, it’s still a bird.”

           “But not a robin?”

           Cullen sighed, flipping open his sketchbook again to a page near the end with different names scribbled throughout it. “I’ve been thinking, going over different species and seeing which one made the most sense. There’s this big book of birds in your library, and I got a few I’ve been sitting with.”

           Carrie tapped at one of the names. Starling. “I like this one.”

           He did, too. “Still, I don’t know how it could strike fear into the hearts of criminals.”

           “Like Robin does?”

           “If you say it with a deep enough growl… Robin. See! Robin… spooky.”

           She punched his shoulder, laughing, “Shut up!”

           They spent the next hour debating codenames and Cullen’s dreams hadn’t felt more real.

The world is a Great Wheel that grows tall and withers in equal measure. All things ride its turnings; ruling for a time flowering and splendid, fruits of life's magnificence. Then we grow old and stagnate, returning to the hungry earth to nurture the next cycle. In this way we live our lives in eternal change, becoming more then less then more again. Life can be found in all things here, it permeates the very foundations of existence. Tis not for us to judge when wild animals tear at one another, or great oaks take root in corpse dross, or fungi enslave whole colonies of social insects.

Naturally this makes a bridge between the ephemeral and flesh, as much between wilderness and civilization. Death hungers for life, just as life aches to pass its time on the Wheel. Hungry Ghosts crave the sensations of the living, while living beings strain to pierce the Veil that is only a turning away. Those Wise of The Wheel seek sacred Mysteries like the Empress Hanging herself; shades clothed in flesh and speaking through beasts’ cries. They are but two sides of the same coin. A stag runs through the woods leaving a trail of blood. His flesh will sing in the stomach of the hunter and kudzu will grow along his bones. This is Its Truth, flowers blooming splendid before being plucked and pressed between the pages of the Old Ways.

Time moves forward, yes. But here, in the fullness of the Wheel, time has no true substance, for growth and decay birth one another in the same instant, there are no beginnings or ends, nor past or future. Only a cycle always moving in ceaseless cycles unto eternity.

Things happen. They always have and always will; this is how the Wheel sees Fate, markings on the spokes that signify important events but will naturally happen in the same way, just more worn. Eventually these testaments to experience will erode to the point of no longer being recognizable from their origin, but that is simply the nature of things.

Space is the movements of the Wheel itself; connections growing and dying in lockstep. Sympathy & synchronicities are simply where ourself and others have gone, and will continue to go. When Fate and Space run together in harmony they keep things going at a holistic rate; relationships cultivated then returned to the earth as right to do.

The Wheel and its Turners have gods of their own. They are primordial things, representing that which is of substance here, great hunting wolves, and leviathans of the abyssal deeps. But also, the lesser things equally of importance, the first corpse to be interred to a graveyard and the wheat seed that will eventually feed thousands; exalted as they are, for they are life clothed in death, and death clothed in life. All things have power, yet it is those who create momentum in the Wheel who are truly impactful.

I have found Timber's Wise have difficulty discerning where the line is drawn between the elemental forces & extancy; as they do with most things, we simply don't care much to ponder it though. Are the massive storms or roaring wildfire that ravage hearth and land really that different from the Wild Hunts of old? What matters to the Wheel's Truth is not in these details but rather in how it changes nothing. Of course tsunamis rip apart fishers' homes and disturb aquatic ecosystems, but new spirits join the local cycles and sediment rearranges the topsoil in peculiar ways. And those who survive another day will adapt to it all or perish.

Yet the Wheel is not as wild as it appears. The symbols and rites invoked here may be frightening to a people who have forgotten the true sacrament of sacrifice, but they are its fundament, and even the most detached city-dweller offers their own obeisance. Grinding the grain, seeding the soil, slaughtering the lamb, and brewing the beer distinguished complex creatures from the more base; they still do. Burying the dead and hoping they will be reborn to whatever next comes, we build our testaments of memoriam for those who no longer walk among us as if it matters. And in ways, it does. Both royalty and fodder, all things are the Wheel, and the Wheel is in all things.

FIREKEEPERS DAUGHTER REVIEW! A few days late and I wrote it late at night still emotional and processing the book with minimal revisions made since then lol please have mercy

Greetings, Tumblrians! I can say with complete confidence that this account has for sure become a book review account! Aaa. Not what I anticipated, had to change up my bio order a bit. This book, Firekeeper’s Daughter, is the first thriller that I’ve ever read(beginning to end at least), which made it a bit of an intense one to get through (especially when 100 pages in I’d forgotten most of the summary, thought I was reading a romance and got confused, and then the character I’d gotten the most attached to got murdered lmao?!?!).

Now first things first, this is probably one of the only books (that I’ve read) that I can call a page-turner! I have ADHD, so my attention span is a little faulty when it comes to reading or watching stuff unless I’m super invested in it. A lot of books that reviewers say are “impossible to put down” were unfortunately ones where I could do literally just that, even if the writing quality was admirable. (Iron Widow by Xiran Jay Zhao is one of the only other ones I can think of that goes against that, finishing it within 2 November days was what kickstarted my love of reading again! Without it I would not have this blog💕.) But within a week(actually, a little less than that if I’m remembering correctly), I was about halfway through! Daunis’s integration of her heritage and the Ojibwe teachings passed down to her into her investigation, as well as the richness of Boulley’s writing and my genuine investment in both Daunis Fontaine and the meth-related rabbit hole she found herself in, was what kept me trudging through all of the difficult content throughout. Then, the period in which I’d borrowed this book had expired, as this was meant to be something to read for my free time in ELA, but the teacher had a very strange schedule with trying to be both easy on us and get our current unit done so it meant that we couldn’t finish our choice books. Thus, I hadn’t actually had the chance to pick it up in months, the last time I’d read some of it being in about October of 2022. So this is probably the one with the strangest reading schedule of my current covered stories.

Also, some people are gonna be indifferent to the “Secret Squirrel” stuff, others are gonna hate it, I was in the former crowd. The gimmick got predictable after the first few times but considering this was the first time I’d read a book that was this font of intense, I didn’t mind it that much.

It definitely also gets more intense the further along you go. That’s where I began having some issues with how, in the midst of all of the serious topics covered in this, SA was written and described?? Not that it was glorifying anything, it certainly was not, but.. in the case of Grant, it felt like just a way to make him seem more like a villain(and therefore, one other character, whose mention would technically be a spoiler but they’re directly related). While those scenes were (thankfully) brief, and weren’t gratuitous(but they did..get particularly graphic), it was distressing to see them included. I do wish that this was one of the books I’d read that had trigger/content warnings on the first page for that reason(some of the ones published in the last 3 or so years, like Iron Widow or Blood Scion, have done that). It leaves a bit of an icky aftertaste in my mouth.

To change topics! I did like how Daunis’ struggle of secrecy, as well as her kind of living a “double life'' at multiple points was handled. Particularly, the conflict within her family was written really well. A lot of the guilt she had surrounding her parents and how they turned out due to her conception and life hit me hard??? There’s a line that really gut-punched me on page 394: “Children are never to blame for their parents’ lives. Parents are the adults; we are the ones responsible for our choices and how we handle things … If I’m in limbo, it’s because I chose to remain there. Even inaction is a powerful choice.” (Boulley, 394.) (Okay, fine, maybe I just wanted to have an excuse to quote that.)

WE’RE ENTERING SPOILER TERRITORY NOW! Parameters will be marked if you want to skrrt around it.

I don’t know how anyone else felt about the romance between Daunis and Jamie (I’ll make sure to check out some reviews afterwards!), but it just made me feel uneasy? I get that Jamie was supposed to be a (young) rookie investigator, one making up for the dent left in his record at that, but it was incredibly unprofessional for him to start a relationship with a (slightly) younger woman he was meant to only work alongside (and also had to technically teach how all the FBI things worked due to her being really new to this and only there for this specific investigation). Not that there was really much of a mentor-trainee dynamic there, Boulley made it pretty clear they’re on similar levels intellectually, but..still. Felt a little sketchy! I could understand Ron’s concerns, and I’m glad Daunis addressed some of those issues towards the end of the novel.

Anyhow! Some people in the reviews I’d read halfway through felt that Daunis’ recurring grief didn’t really feel impactful, as they didn’t feel emotionally attached to Lily, but I..actually did? She was the character in the first paragraph of this review I was mentioning vaguely. Perhaps I’m biased, due to some stuff I was sorting out emotionally at the time, but I do feel like it could be justified with the writing itself; We got a good idea of her personality, her importance to and relationship with Daunis, and some of her past(which would be part of the plot later on). And it doesn’t feel rushed(at least in my opinion); the first 100 pages or so of this book is meant to be a lighthearted introduction to our main character and her life, not the mystery we as the readers are about to be entangled in along with her. Yet. (And when shit hits the fan it feels like the kind of whiplash our protagonist got hit with.) While Daunis was a fairly reasonable person and so was Lily a lot of the time, Lily had a more upbeat and sarcastic part of herself that contrasted with her friend(and made their dynamic really work, I think). The pair interacted basically like sisters. I could see why Daunis was left emotionally and mentally scarred after what had happened to her. (And I did tear up a little bit at that brief scene in the afterlife.) (If anyone who’s read the book is reading this now though, please let me know what you thought!)

Last bit of criticism I have: For the final reveal of the masterminds behind the drug distribution inside the trailer, I felt it got..a little bit too “villain monologue”y? Fine, it’s a staple of the mystery genre, but the way that there’s just. Snide remark after smirk and every step of the timeline spelled out in a very know-it-all manner by Mike got annoying after being placed in an extremely serious story that grounds itself pretty intensely in reality. (I think it’s mildly funny that Levi was quite literally the “weakest link” though, and that one argument after the party didn’t just have an insult thrown in out of nowhere kshdhfomefo.)

Also, were the deaths of some of the other students ever explained??!! Was it a side effect or intentional? I can’t remember if that thread was left unresolved or if there’s something I’m forgetting.

END OF SPOILERS! 

So, in conclusion, would I recommend this book? Most likely. Just be careful about the kind of story you’re going in for, and the kind of content that will be included. I feel it’s a little packed; it’s like Boulley really wanted to use this novel as a way to talk about not just some of her own experiences as an indigenous woman, and help people outside of her culture learn a bit more about it, but also tackle issues within her community; all within a narrative that already has a lot of elaborate threads going on(with the family drama/history and the mystery itself)! It is her debut novel, however, so she’ll have the chance to continue to grow as an author(and this was a well-written book albeit not without flaws!).

Rating: ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️/5.

Paz, signing off!

(Book trigger/content warnings: SA in both frequent mentions, and scenes on page 226-228 and 370-371(latter is worse in content), racism, including 2 instances of slurs(used by indigenous characters themselves but aren’t reclaimed), grief, PTSD, typical thriller stuff like drugging and kidnapping.)

2024 READING - COMPLETED BOOK 7/12

After waiting a few days following my last reading post, I got my hands on the sequel to Flame in the Mist!

It's been a few days since I've finished Smoke in the Sun (408 pages), and I have to say, I really had fun with this story. Both books were such page turners for me!

I don't normally like hardcover books, but I had to spend the extra dollar on thrift books to get the hardcover edition. The paperback edition offered didn't have this beautiful cover art, and I wanted both of my books to match appearance wise!

I do intend to keep these around, rather than re-donate them. I can see myself revisiting them in a couple years, after I've forgotten some of the details lol. And the books simply look pretty, even on the spine.

I did not overstay my time with this story, and I felt satisfied by the end. Some book series can drag on and on over multiple books, and I find myself losing interest by the 3rd book or so. But that's just me.

I enjoyed this second book. However, because of the circumstances of this second half of the story, I couldn't help but notice I was missing what I loved about the first book - the interactions between Mariko and Okami. They are kept apart from each other for most, is not practically all of the second book, save a few short meet-ups.

Their few moments they did have together were great and full of tension, and the epilogue was very sweet. I just wish we had a little more time with them at the end, when they finally were able to freely be together. I guess I wanted a more drawn-out reunion to make up for them hardly being together for this book.

I did enjoy the scenes with Mariko and Raiden though. Honestly I would've liked to see a bit more of their development...it felt like Raiden warmed up to her too quickly, but that's just me. I live for romance and slow burns lol, I always want more.

Strangely enough my main problem was the amount of editing errors and typos I came across, particularly in the last few chapters of the book.

Tensions were high and dialogue was intense...then I'd come across an extra period at the end of a sentence. Roku's name was written as Roka once, and it stopped me dead in my tracks with confusion until I realized they were talking about Roku. Ranmaru was once spelled as Ranmaruao or something like that at one point.

It was very distracting for me, especially when I was reading so fast because I was engaged in the end game. Ah well. I'd still recommend these if the plot of the first book sounds even remotely interesting to you!

—

Yay, I've hit 2k pages read!

I also finally did go on that thrift book hunt. My to-read pile is now thoroughly stocked up! I've already started my next adventure. x

—

Total books read: 7 Total pages read: 2,232

#May read

Prompt: one-word title

#studyblr w/knives reading challenge!

“Stories are powerful. What you don’t understand is that you have not yet written the ending.”

Yes! This is the second book, the sequel to Gilded, and it proved to be an exceptional page-turner. The gradual unfolding of the mystery had me on the edge of my seat throughout.

A brief Synopsis: Serilda and Gild cannot break the curses that tether their spirits to Adalheid's haunted castle. She is pregnant with Gild's child. Yet becomes the queen of Erlking and the King wants this child to be born. The only thing he doesn't know is that her firstborn is already promised to Gild. But what does the Erlking want?

Soon it becomes clear that the Erlking doesn’t only want to use Serilda to bring back his one true love. He harbors a desire for retribution against the seven gods who have long confined the Dark Ones behind the veil. If the Erlking succeeds, it could change the mortal realm forever. Meanwhile, Serilda is determined to work with Gild to help him solve the mystery of his forgotten name and past.

All Serilda has is her gift of storytelling, which is also the reason she had ended up being the enemy's puppet. Can Serilda break their curse and find Gild's name, before the Endless Moon, before Perchta, Erlking's beloved and the evil demon is brought back to life?

What do I think? Spoilers (maybe)!

" It isn't true, she wanted to whisper. To lean forward and nuzzle her cheek against his temple. To press him against the wall and mold her body to his. I am not his. I will never be his. "

The love story between Serilda and Gild was the most complete and slow-burn romance I might have read, and this quote tells it all. And here, it's the female who can save the male, from literal demons. She wants to find his name, his memories, his everything and he is ready to give up on everything for her. He does not know that it's his child she is carrying, nonetheless, he wants to protect them.

Its a true fairy tale, with the villains being 100 percent cruel. Its apparently the retelling of Rumpelstiltskin fairytale. (I have no idea). There is no way you will be misguided and have confusions on who is 'good' and 'bad'. It is nicely researched and the mystery unravels so slowly that you are gummed to the book till the end. There are folk-lore, legends and myths- nicely sprinkled throughout the story. I did not find any loopholes in the story telling, all the loose ends were joined at the end.

All the twists in the novel, shocked me! I did not expect stuff like that. I bought the book because of their beautiful prints and embossed letters, and the good story was a bonus.

Rating: ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

Exclusively on Amazon get Trick: Special Edition by Laramie Briscoe for just $1.49!!

Amazon US ➜ https://amzn.to/3Y2TREy

Amazon UK ➜ https://bit.ly/3Js3JDI

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Amazon AU ➜ https://bit.ly/409rMgE

From USA Today and Wall Street Journal bestselling author comes a special edition of a heartfelt second-chance romance featuring a swoon-worthy man, a single-mom, and an adorably cute little girl.

I loved this one by Laramie Briscoe. Action packed and a strong damsel in distress. This was a page turner and had such a great sigh-worthy ending. Definitely recommend! - USA Today bestselling author Susan Stoker

This edition of Trick features Trick, Unwrap Me, the Trick & Hadley text messages, and the first chapter of their son, Declan's book.

A forced sentence leads to a reckless passion…

Hadley

When my husband walked out on me over a year ago, it devastated me. When the divorce papers came, it wrecked me. When we had to sell our house, it broke me.

But then he moved in with his new flavor of the month and told our daughter his new woman wasn’t into children. That pissed me off.

Now Riley feels abandoned, and I can’t make it better; no matter how hard I try. I’m desperate to help her adjust to the loss of a male figure in her life. The Companion Program that matches adults up with children who have loneliness and abandonment issues is my last hope.

The counselors tell me he’s doing community service hours, and I ask to sit in on his meetings with Riley. The minute I see him astride the matte black Harley, I know neither my nor Riley’s life will ever be the same again.

Trick

Community Service. Two words I should be thankful for, but I’m not. I resent the hours away from building my business. The two previous kids I'd been paired up with didn’t work out because their mothers were more interested in getting in my bed than making sure their child was taken care of. This next match with a little girl is my last hope. Unless this kid works out, I’m destined to serve time.

When they push her into the room wearing pink converse with a black dress, her crazy curls barely held back by the barrette in her hair, and studious glasses on her face, I can tell she’s scared - of new people, of change, of being pushed aside. Something inside of me breaks, and I want this girl to feel wanted again.

What I’m unprepared for is meeting her mom. The second our hands touch, I see fireworks, bright lights, and a picture of the future I could one day have. The future I’ve never allowed myself to wish for.

Community service becomes more than a chore, more than the precious hours I have to give up. In the months that follow, I realize Riley and Hadley are just like me; they’ve been abandoned, left behind by the world, forgotten by those who should love them.

Thanks to the one last hope in both our lives - we found the light in the darkness we’d been searching for.

Unwrap Me

Life gets a little crazy sometimes, especially when you've got two kids, two businesses, and you are two parents who are very hands on.

But when Trick's gift doesn't get here in time for Christmas, I have to improvise. They say variety is the spice of life. To keep my man happy, marriage on track, and our sanity, I decide to give him what he craves most in the world.

Me. With a bow on top.

Patrick Tennyson won't know what hit him. It'll be the surprise of his life, and all he'll have to do is follow the instructions.

Trick,

Your gift got a little delayed. Instead, I've improvised. Follow the snowflakes to the bedroom. When you get here, unwrap me, and I'm yours.

Hadley

Christmas is about to get so hot we'll be melting the eight inches expected tonight. ;)

#BAPpr #LaramieBriscoe #BookSale

Exclusively on Amazon get Trick: Special Edition by Laramie Briscoe for just $1.49!!

Amazon US ➜ https://amzn.to/3Y2TREy

Amazon UK ➜ https://bit.ly/3Js3JDI

Amazon CA ➜ https://bit.ly/3HxKGXk

Amazon AU ➜ https://bit.ly/409rMgE

From USA Today and Wall Street Journal bestselling author comes a special edition of a heartfelt second-chance romance featuring a swoon-worthy man, a single-mom, and an adorably cute little girl.

I loved this one by Laramie Briscoe. Action packed and a strong damsel in distress. This was a page turner and had such a great sigh-worthy ending. Definitely recommend! - USA Today bestselling author Susan Stoker

This edition of Trick features Trick, Unwrap Me, the Trick & Hadley text messages, and the first chapter of their son, Declan's book.

A forced sentence leads to a reckless passion…

Hadley

When my husband walked out on me over a year ago, it devastated me. When the divorce papers came, it wrecked me. When we had to sell our house, it broke me.

But then he moved in with his new flavor of the month and told our daughter his new woman wasn’t into children. That pissed me off.

Now Riley feels abandoned, and I can’t make it better; no matter how hard I try. I’m desperate to help her adjust to the loss of a male figure in her life. The Companion Program that matches adults up with children who have loneliness and abandonment issues is my last hope.

The counselors tell me he’s doing community service hours, and I ask to sit in on his meetings with Riley. The minute I see him astride the matte black Harley, I know neither my nor Riley’s life will ever be the same again.

Trick

Community Service. Two words I should be thankful for, but I’m not. I resent the hours away from building my business. The two previous kids I'd been paired up with didn’t work out because their mothers were more interested in getting in my bed than making sure their child was taken care of. This next match with a little girl is my last hope. Unless this kid works out, I’m destined to serve time.

When they push her into the room wearing pink converse with a black dress, her crazy curls barely held back by the barrette in her hair, and studious glasses on her face, I can tell she’s scared - of new people, of change, of being pushed aside. Something inside of me breaks, and I want this girl to feel wanted again.

What I’m unprepared for is meeting her mom. The second our hands touch, I see fireworks, bright lights, and a picture of the future I could one day have. The future I’ve never allowed myself to wish for.

Community service becomes more than a chore, more than the precious hours I have to give up. In the months that follow, I realize Riley and Hadley are just like me; they’ve been abandoned, left behind by the world, forgotten by those who should love them.

Thanks to the one last hope in both our lives - we found the light in the darkness we’d been searching for.

Unwrap Me

Life gets a little crazy sometimes, especially when you've got two kids, two businesses, and you are two parents who are very hands on.

But when Trick's gift doesn't get here in time for Christmas, I have to improvise. They say variety is the spice of life. To keep my man happy, marriage on track, and our sanity, I decide to give him what he craves most in the world.

Me. With a bow on top.

Patrick Tennyson won't know what hit him. It'll be the surprise of his life, and all he'll have to do is follow the instructions.

Trick,

Your gift got a little delayed. Instead, I've improvised. Follow the snowflakes to the bedroom. When you get here, unwrap me, and I'm yours.

Hadley

Christmas is about to get so hot we'll be melting the eight inches expected tonight. ;)

Knockknock cupon 4th of july 2018

Knockknock cupon 4th of july 2018 free#

Brands provides the academic architecture for how the last great-power competition-between the United States and the Soviet Union-was won. To the writers of the National Security Strategy: Here’s your handbook. The Twilight Struggle: What the Cold War Teaches Us About Great-Power Rivalry Today by Hal Brands policymakers, it’s both a study and a warning.-Robbie Foot, a scholar at the University of Oxford, has written a meticulous book on how China is working to hash out its own rival vision of the global order at the United Nations, and it’s well worth a read. Throw a stone at random in Washington, and you’ll likely hit someone giving a speech on the threat China poses to the international order. Grab your vyshyvanka out of the closet, and start turning pages.-Jack For the true wonks:Ĭhina, the U.N., and Human Protection: Beliefs, Power, Image by Rosemary Foot But you will be rewarded for your patience, as Plokhy takes readers on a swashbuckling survey through Ukraine’s history, from the ninth-century vikings of Kyivan Rus, whose statues dot the modern hills of Kyiv, to the Nazi occupation and the breakup of the Soviet Union. You’re not in for a Dan Brown-style page turner or a Barbara Kingsolver whodunit when you pick up Plokhy, Harvard University’s top professor of Ukrainian history. The Gates of Europe: A History of Ukraine by Serhii Plokhy Given how profoundly the conflict shaped China and the Korean Peninsula, it’s a wonder more policymakers in Washington aren’t closely studying the conflict today.-Robbie history spans from the corridors of power in Washington to the unsung heroism of young Marine corporals on the battlefield during the legendary Battle of Chosin Reservoir. Halberstam’s exhaustive research on the “forgotten conflict” in U.S. I started this classic tome on the Korean War during my 15-hour flight to Seoul for a reporting trip this summer, and it was tough to put down even when the jet lag set in. The Coldest Winter: America and the Korean War by David Halberstam It’s the perfect summer read for any military history buff.-Robbie The oldies but goldies: I burned through this book in about two days. Against All Odds follows four of the most decorated American soldiers in the war and the long scars that the war left on them long after the Allied victory. It’s hard to think of a topic more overcovered in the world of nonfiction than World War II, but Kershaw continues to find fresh ways to look at the war. Bernard Trainor, covers all that and more in his latest book on the counter-Islamic State campaign, taking the war from a napkin sketch in the minds of Pentagon planners all the way to the end of Trump’s presidency.-JackĪgainst All Odds: A True Story of Ultimate Courage and Survival in World War II by Alex Kershaw wars in Iraq post-1991 with retired Marine Gen. Most Americans likely missed the U.S.-led fight against the Islamic State, save for a few key moments, such as the liberation of Mosul and former President Donald Trump leaving the U.S.-backed Syrian Democratic Forces to fend for themselves against a Turkish onslaught. It is jampacked with action and adventure and is a compelling new portrait of British imperial hubris and folly.-Robbieĭegrade and Destroy: The Inside Story of the War Against the Islamic State, From Barack Obama to Donald Trump by Michael Gordon River of the Gods follows an East African and two British explorers as they embark on a yearslong quest to find the source of the Nile River. Millard has already proved herself to be a master of narrative nonfiction through her previous books, and her latest is no exception. River of the Gods: Genius, Courage and Betrayal in the Search for the Source of the Nile by Candice Millard Here are our favorite picks, starting with new releases and working our way back through time.

Knockknock cupon 4th of july 2018 free#

Your SitRep hosts have been working their little fingers to the bone culling through online book deliveries, little free libraries, and stacks of advance book copies at FP’s (now reopened) office to find you beach reads that are so riveting, you won’t even notice how sunburned you are. It’s mid-July, officially the dog days of summer, and that means it’s well past time to catch up on your reading for the year.

The Magnus Archives #007-The Piper

This one was so good. There is so much thematic juiciness.

We have been getting lots of teases for future plot threads lately. Things Jon knows are important in some way or another and draws the audience's attention to. Not just things I know will be important due to later episodes. We haven't gotten much of the Archives Staff, but threads are being set up to be pulled. Also, who wants to bet this statement was where it was because Gertrude was dealing with Joseph?

The show has officially left behind having the statement giver be the protagonist who nearly escapes in favor of having the statement giver be standing to the side of the victim. This means we get a lot more people dying gruesome deaths than before. On one hand, the statement giver is more generic and less interesting. On the other, it makes the monsters more scary, because less people get away.  In retrospect, Page Turner really was a weird episode torn between two modes of storytelling.

As a milestone, this is the first statement set in the distant past and the first to center on an actual historical figure. Both keep the story fresh while expanding on the world we hear about.

The Men

We got anti-war ideology, poetry, music, fractured fairytale aesthetics, and eldritch personifications of war. Not a bad haul.

Setting this story on WWI rather than WWII is a wonderful choice. WWI is often framed as a brutal, meaningless war, one with no glory and no reason. WWII is usually framed with a hero dynamic. You can’t talk about WWII without discussing Nazis and the horrors they commited. WWI can simply be discussed in the horror of the trench soldier. Clarence has no idea that an even worse war is just around the corner but we do. The dramatic irony makes his statement hurt even more.

Clarence Berry is a forgotten, unremarkable soldier from WWI, getting through all four years horribly burned but mostly intact. While Wilfred is rich and eventually famous, Clarence is experienced and practical. It becomes apparent that keeping your head down and missing out on glory is the preferable fate. There's no heroes in war, just the dead and the diying. The field hospital is overstaffed, hurried and awful. People die fast easy and meanigless. Those who get dragged too deep in the war don’t get out. Clarence cites some common myths about the glory of war at the start, before the story starts going deeper into just how horrifying every facet of trench warfare is. It's as if Clarence starts out trying to soften the reality and talk about it glancingly, before the truth becomes unavoidable.

The perspective of the forgotten is highlighted by juxtaposing Clarence with Wilfred Owen. Very little of Wilfred Owen's life is actually explored in favor of an outside perspective and a lack of any glorification. His poetry on the horrors of trenches and gas warfare contrasted the public perception of war and the confidently patriotic verse written by earlier war poets. Only five of Wilfred's poems were published before his death, one in fragmentary form. However, most of them were published posthumously. Historians have theorized about the possibility of him being a homosexual. His death is the focus of the statement.

Wilfred has a symbolically loaded character arc. He starts out as a rich man looking for the glory and beauty of war. He finds it. The beauty and glory of war is slaughter and suffering. Wilfred is found alive and shell shocked-covered in blood, left alone on the field for two weeks.  He gets to live, to share and spread that horror. He gets to go home. He does not get to survive. He lives at the monster's grace, and then is ultimately incapable of escaping the war. Clarence remarks on Wilfred’s desire to be remembered at the beginning. There’s something intimate and fitting about getting what you wanted, when you no longer want it.

The War

I love fractured fairy tales. The Pied Piper fairy tale has nothing to do with war. Only slaughter and the death of innocents. Clarence draws a direct line between the Piper and the Pied Piper of Hamlin, despite the lack of commonalities other than pipe music. The touch of actually having someone from Hamlin who never gets to do anything is a nice little flourish. Clarence is skirting right on the edge of a fairytale, but he never gets to confront it. The source of information he considers is from the other side of the war, separated by language and culture.

The statement prioritizes the focus of the foot soldier and never validates nationalism. Never giving respect to the notion that they're fighting for anything rather than just dying senselessly. We never see a high command or any patriotism. Soldiers are either the children led away for their parents' debt or rats drowned at the pleasure of their countrymen. Either way they are small things killed for the reasons of others.

Absolutely nothing about this war is portrayed as having any even remote upside except surviving it. You spend years suffering in a dirty hole, getting maimed, sent back out, dying wearing no one cares and maybe you only get out horribly scarred for life. There is no glory. There is no fighting it. There is only senseless slaughter.

The Piper itself is a beautiful horror. A being with three faces and so many arms. A face to bleed, a face to scream and a face to draw in others, tempt them and lead them astray. Those who search for beauty hear the music it plays, a haunting tune of bagpipes and pan pipes. Bagpipes have a long history of being used in war, while pan pipes are associated with the Greek god Pan, who had the mythic ability of panic, a piercing scream that struck fear into all that heard it, sending them fleeing the battlefield. Another myth concerning the pan pipes is Pan pursuing a woman who does not desire him, and when she turns her body into reeds, he simply breaks them off and uses what's left of her as she sees fit. Both myths are brutal, violent, and fit so very well with the Piper drawing innocents in for slaughter.

The scariest part of the Piper is the one saluting arm. The ones playing and begging for mercy are understandable in their own way. Fighting and pleading, that’s fine. Saluting your own death, throwing away your life for some greater ambivalent notion of a country that does not care about you. Dying for a lie feels worse than dying for nothing.

This is the clearest description of the monster we’ve heard thus far. Not them was only ever seen in shadow, while the Anglerfish was always hidden so as to only see the lure. It manages to perfectly balance horrifying imagery with beautiful stylization. I could look at it for hours and always find something more.

The monster is beautiful and the war is horrifying. The fantastical elements enhance the horror of the mundane, while still allowing them to speak for themselves. Wonderful.

Review: The Island by Adrian McKinty

Who doesn’t love a seriously creepy, heart-pounding thriller to see you through the boiling hot days of summer? I certainly do! I know that Adrian McKinty is known for The Chain, which I haven’t read but I’m very intrigued by the premise of that book. His latest release The Island was genuinely unputdownable for me, so I thoroughly recommend it if you want something that will make you completely forget where you are and what the time is!

When Heather Baxter married Tom, a widowed doctor with two children, she knew that their marriage may well involve some travel. So she’s excited to learn that all four of them will be taking a trip to the Aussie outback where Tom is due to speak at a conference. A boat trip to the remote Dutch Island promises glimpses of koalas but almost as soon as they arrive, it becomes apparent that the island locals really don’t want them there. But after a tragic accident, it becomes apparent that the hunt is on and they won’t be leaving alive.

Like all good thrillers, there were a couple of mysteries running simultaneously and one of them could easily have been forgotten about. I was wary of Tom from the very beginning because the husband/father is always a prime suspect for having done something incredibly dark, even if it’s not related to the main action. There were a few times where Tom’s status as a widower was mentioned and towards the end, it becomes more apparent that the death of his first wife wasn’t exactly as it was reported. So, my suspicions were with him but as he was largely absent from the bulk of the plot, my attention was diverted and I couldn’t quite figure out how or even if he was involved with what was happening on the island.

One of the locals was also having a bit of a crisis of loyalty, simply due to the fact that he wasn’t a true islander. I found Matt a really interesting character who was thoroughly unpredictable and it seemed to be the only island resident with any kind of moral compass. This is a fast-paced thriller, so I understand why we didn’t get a lot of background on the O’Neill family but I think I would have loved it. I wanted to know how they came to be squatters of Dutch Island and why they were as depraved as they were.

There was a touch of Lord of the Flies to the story too and I think it delivered a similar message. The idea that humans are the real monsters and that in extreme situations, that monster comes out is a really powerful one and perhaps puts the O’Neills in a more sympathetic light. Remote islands turn ordinary humans into violent, immoral demons -who knew? 

The Island is a very exciting, heart-in-mouth page-turner with a few twists along the way and plenty of drama at the climax. There is some really horrible imagery, so it’s certainly not for the faint-hearted. I found it very easy to put myself right in the terrible action, which is testament to McKinty’s talent but perhaps put pictures in my mind that I simply can’t shake. A must read for lovers of sticky, tight thrillers that won’t quit.