Roswell, New Mexico Femslash Exchange 2024

Save a horse, ride a cowgirl!

Join us as the weather heats up to celebrate pride with the women of Roswell, New Mexico. Get yourself a glass of lemonade and settle in as you sign up for the exchange and get ready to have a good time as we celebrate this show's unabashed queerness.

Details:

Each participant will be assigned to create a gift for someone, and will receive a gift in turn. Gifts may be fic (at least 2000 words), art (at least 1 drawing/edit), gifset (at least 3 gifs), fanmix (at least 8 songs), or fanvid (at least 2 minutes or a full length song).

Assignments will be anonymous - please have your ask box set to receive anonymous asks in case your gift creator has any questions for you!

Gifts may not be created using generative AI.

As this is a femslash exchange, all works must have as their main focus a romantic and/or sexual relationship between two or more of the women of Roswell, New Mexico.

Dates:

Signups close: Sunday April 21st (midnight Roswell time)

Assignments sent out: Sunday April 28th

One month check in: Sunday May 12th

Final check in: Sunday June 2nd

Posting Date Assignments: June 16th

Posting dates: June 24th through 30th

Questions? Our ask box is open!

Who're the finest Disney men and why are they Shang,Naveen,Wasabi and Mariano

MARIA DELUCA and ROSA ORTECHO ROSWELL, NEW MEXICO | 4.08

👽2023 RNM Comment Bingo is here!🥰

Jan 14 - Feb 14 2023

Comment on fics - Fill out a Bingo board - Win prizes!

[Link to all bingo boards] by @bean-me-up

[Comment Bingo Rules]

HEAR ME OUT... with marius getting into sm life-threatening situations canonically and mc pointing sharp objects at him twice (the first time in his sott ssr, and the second time in the bakerlon event in the cn server), that really got my brain thinking... enemies to lovers trope marosa in a royalty au: marius is the (temporary?) heir apparent since giann went missing, and rosa becomes a maidservant for marius... all in disguise to kill him. but this guy manages to avoid his death flags sm times which becomes unbelievable (like, this is He Who Cannot Die!) and also flirts with rosa while at it. while rosa is wondering how this guy is still alive and breathing and how she's pretty much failing her mission, she ends up falling for the charming young prince.

Marosa Vetalda, Arteloth 'Loth' Beck & Dranghien Lakseng from The Priory of the Orange Tree by Samantha Shannon

It’s the night of the white lilies. About ten o’clock, the flowers lightly move to and fro. Nocturnal butterflies pass with brilliant little stones on their wings and they make them kiss the flowers.

— Marosa di Giorgio, Contemporary Uruguayan Poetry: A Bilingual Anthology, transl by Ronald Haladyna, (2010)

"The bats arrived"

The bats arrived, attached to the coats of calves, gazelles; when I could, I plucked one off. And others, tamer, hung in the kitchen with their heads upside down; papa gave them wine, cigarettes. The women, dreamier, set out roses and orange blossoms, so that the intense perfume of blood and sugar in those flowers would calm them. One day, one bit me; but I carried on unscathed. I hear, yes, that “the children of the night make their own music”; but I don’t participate in the feast. I am like a witness. Or I do participate, and I don’t know

—Marosa di Giorgio (translated from the Spanish by Sarah María Medina), from Poetry Magazine (March 2024)

De súbito, estalló la guerra. Se abrió como una bomba de azúcar

arriba de las calas. Primero, creíamos que era juego;

después, vimos que la cosa era siniestra. El aire quedó

ligeramente envenenado. Se desprendían los murciélagos

desde sus escondites, sus cuevas ocultas caían a los platos,

como rosas, como ratones que volvieran del infinito,

todavía, con las alas.

Por protegerlos de algún modo, enumerábamos los seres y las cosas:

"Las lechugas, los reptiles comestibles, las tacitas...".

Pero, ya los arados se habían vuelto aviones; cada uno, tenía

calavera y tenía alas, y ronroneaba cerca de las nubes, al alcance

de la manos pasaron los batallones al galope, al paso. Se prolongó

la aurora quieta, y al mediodía, el sol se partió; uno fue hacia el este,

el otro hacia el oeste. Como si el abuelo y la abuela se divorciaran.

De esto ya hace mucho, aquella vez, cuando estalló la guerra,

arriba de las calas.

—Marosa di Giorgio, DE SÚBITO, ESTALLÓ LA GUERRA

why am i thinking about a marauders priory au as if that would be in any way shape or form easy and feesable

Marosa Di Giorgio, from "Carnation and Tenebrae Candle", translated by Jeannine Marie Pitas.

"Gardenia,

once again

I want to see you

as in my childhood,

with your solitary manner, unique,

your gleaming oval,

your ivory, talcum color,

may you unfurl again,

above a wedding at midnight,

when no one is expecting it,

like a blessing

with something bad in it;

I don't know what it was,

that kept me immobile,

hypnotized

and pregnant;

you made up for all the men

with your formidable silver sex."

Yo le rezo, después lo voy a festejar en un poema. ahora, sólo digo lo que él es: un relámpago, un perfume, el hijo varón de las rosas.

"Poema X" / Marosa di Giorgio

La hija del diablo se casa. No sabíamos si ir o no ir. En casa resolvieron no ir. Ella paseaba con la trenza brillando como un vidrio al sol. Vestido celeste. Y las pezuñas delicadísimas, cinceladas y de platino. Con los ojos un poco redondos, insondables, se paraba frente a cada uno, como publicitando, invitando, o, consciente e inconscientemente, amenazando. La hija del diablo se casa. Cerraron las puertas de mi casa. Pasado el mediodía resolví huir. Crucé por arriba de los jardines de fresias y junquillos tratando de no trozar ni uno de los ramos amarillos, de los que vivíamos; por ocultas veredas; creo que hice tres veces la misma senda, me perdía, y tuve miedo que, desde la casa, estuviesen espiando mi inútil vuelo. ¡Al fin toqué las puertas de los hornos! Pasaban platos con todas las escenas del amor erótico. "Invitan con la Carne", dijo una voz que me pareció de una vecina; miré y, si era, estaba embozada. Y también servían niños no natos, cubiertos con azúcar. "Son riquísimos". El tam tam celebratorio apareció adentro de la tierra y en un perpetuo crescendo, anuló las conversaciones y llegó al colmo. La hija del diablo, de pie junto a la pared, el pelo igual que el sol, entreabrió el vestido, las piernas, las pezuñas. Su himen cayó roto (se oyó un leve bramido) y corrió como una margarita entre nosotros. Alguien gritó: -¿Y el novio? -Se va por aquí. Es chiquitito. Cerré los ojos. Creo que cayó un aguacero. Huí arriba de los jardines, de los ramos amarillos; entraba en cada cueva y salía aterrada. Entré en mi casa. Mamá estaba fija en el mismo lugar, haciendo el mismo encaje. Sin levantar los ojos, comentó: -Pero, ¿qué haces? Andas por el jardín con estos aguaceros.

-Marosa di Giorgio 

one of the weirdest post-book feelings is when you really enjoyed the story as a whole, and it was well worth the time commitment, but the ending is so unsatisfying that it lingers in a very haunting sense for a week after finishing it

that’s been me with the priory of the orange tree

[spoilers below since a few friends plan to or are currently reading]

my biggest issue was that the ending felt so rushed. for so much of the book, there had been a slow build of dread and tension for the nameless one’s return, but the fact that the return happened and ended in the same chapter was disappointing, considering some of the other scenes like loth’s foray into yscal, the parade ambush, and tané rescuing her dragon from the pirates held more weight and length that the main battle did.

some of it came across very orchestrated as well - I could suspend belief to an extent, but when it came down to the sword just happening to land perfectly back on the ship instead of the sea, and then tané’s dragon who’d been missing just happened to show up in time to catch her out of the air, and so on, it broke the immersion a little to show the author’s hand in moving along the plot.

I also really wish that loth had been sent south along with margret so that a perspective of that ‘battlefront’ would be present while letting him continue to have importance, since after his negotiations, he ended up sidelined. it would’ve added some depth to the battle - how horrifying would it have been to witness the human vs human combat in the homeland of people possessed by or scared of fyredel rather than offhand at sea? - and wrapped up loth’s arc by returning to find marosa as he’d been worried about through his chapters, and perhaps find closure about kit, too. and if the perspective had been added amidst the sea siege, it might’ve helped the pacing not feel so hasty.

my smaller complaint is that niclays’ desire to change as a person felt more forced than natural. after how long he’d been selfish, and made even more embittered by loss and his exile, then hinged so much on being a Not Grandfather to truyde, I fully expected that he would’ve gone off the deep end after discovering what happened to her.

I could probably pick at more about the ending that left me unsatisfied with it, but aside from that, I very much did enjoy the book as a whole. the worldbuilding was wonderful to settle into for a while (and as I said in another post, leaving it behind for another book has even been a struggle), and the characters had so much depth that made it fun to read each point of view, especially in how intertwined they were, too. and overall I’m very glad I finally listened to the encouragement to read!

On Chapter 20 of The Priory of the Orange Tree and I love all the characters, they all deserve the world and I totally get why fandom seems the most into Ead, Sabran, and Tane, but also just imagine me pressing my face up against the glass until it’s smooshed and desperately crying about how I want a full Donmata Marosa story, she’s so badass, sobs, I love her so much, tell me everything about her!!!!

I went to Hot Springs a few weeks to, among other things, borrow a collection of Chika Sagawa's poems from a friend who lived there. He threw in Marosa di Giorgio's I Remember Nightfall (Jeannine Marie Pitas's translation) as some complementary lagniappe, and I must say I'm very glad he did so. There's something like a festoon of glittering little jewels threaded throughout di Giorgio's work, only you look closer and some of the jewels are jewel bugs, all emeraldine and sapphiric and wriggling, others are shards of broken glass, glinting unconsciously. One thing transforms into another when your attention on it starts to lapse, just like in those dreams where you're walking through the Minneapolis Skyway System and you hear a sudden thumping sound behind you, so you turn around and now you're in concrete shack in the middle of the woods, walls painted shock white, poor ventilation, an iron door set into a recess shut and lock-status unknown, and you know you should know where you are, for how else do you know about the woods outside?

My friend's always gifting me little things: a sunbird token from his stay in Nepal, a tiny figurine of the Buddha for prosperity, a postcard, a map, a bottle of wine, an opportunity while we're at his girlfriend's house watching Over the Garden Wall (which my dumb ass had assumed up until that point was a movie) to sit on the couch next to his girlfriend's handsome nonbinary roommate and let our hands gradually brush against one another for longer and longer throughout the show until one by one everyone retreated to their bedrooms, and we did so as well, and, as I rode some sweet they/them dick on a bunk bed, occasionally thumping my head against the ceiling on accident from the height, think about how to cultivate a personal image of a masc bottom. He's always been very considerate like that.