what are some cool games u have played? dont matter if u mentioned before. tell me again tell me again :D

uhh hmm.

well okami is my all time favorite the art & the music & the message/story are all just incredible theres not a single time ive finished it i havent cried. i absolutely adore ryoshima coast ive spent so many hours just running around there to listen to music. which fun fact for u i only know about this game bc in about 6th grade i picked up okamiden bc i thought the little doggy was cute & was like fine i'll play as this boy if i get a cool dog and u cannot imagine how excited i was to find out u DID play as the little dog. i was SOOOOO obsessed literally my exact thoughts were 'if issun is ammy's celestial envoy then i am going to be chibis' i have a metric fuck ton of fan art i did at the time bc i thought it was quote "the epic-est game for ds ever" also cried every time i finished it. i was 13 so i didnt know what "being down bad" was but do know i was as obsessed with kurow as i was with d-ne later and now tenshi not a single irl friend was unaware i was in love with him. also fun fact for u bc at the same time i was also getting super into vocaloid i was so convinced my vocap name would end up as chibiP to the point i named myself that in pkmn x chibiP after chibiterasu of course. please enjoy my banger old art which is not even a fraction of my output

yume nikki is my next favorite game specifically the og that changed my brain chemistry as a kid. i adore that game so much its hard to put it into words. its just so unlike anything else. there is absolutely nothing in the game that can directly harm u theres no real health meter theres no way to die during the main play the absolute worst that will ever happen is u get stuck or woken up. in a horror game. which is already just amazing. and the whole horror aspect just plays on something i dont think is often done as well in many other things. ur alone. u wander and wander thru worlds that loop and connect and seemingly have nothing to do with each other. theres no dialogue; talking to npcs just gets u a noise or animation at best. ur entirely alone with just urself. its all dreams so u know everything is of madotsuki's own creation, another layer to the all u have is urself feeling. the art is just unusual i cant even say any of it on its own is in anyway scary. the whole thing shouldnt be scary and yet every time i start wandering in a world i cant help but feel unease. amazing 10/10 no other game will ever have what this gave me.

everyone knows i play pkmn the best is still pmd sky that also rewired my brain i still cant play it without crying.

its been a long time since i was really just playing it as the chapters released & got translated but 1bitheart is so so so important to me too. i dont kin for multiple reasons but if i did nanashi would be my first choice. like- without saying that to her i got my one irl friend to play once & when she saw how nanashi was she turned to me and went "this is just you" hes very important to me even now. absolutely loved the whole friendship sim & the story & its twists & the endings & their implications left me in shambles at 1 am on a school night. my fave charas are nanashi enri & saaya btw. i should replay this.

i also love the etrian odyssey series i love the character portraits (esp with the more recent games' color customization) i LOVE the dungeon art & i think all the monster designs are so cool. adore the whole make ur own map aspect keeps me so entertained to take a step & look around & chart all the walls & path ways. unfortunately i fucking suck at every single one i am not very good at strategy games so i end up stuck at or before the 3rd stratum. but thats okay its still fun to me.

the other one i'll talk about at length is spirit of the north another game i loved the art of. u play as a fox & get a partner spirit fox & i just love it SOOOO much. its also a game with 0 dialogue but theres A Lot going on it if u care to follow along & explore & dig into details & the game play is also pretty fun to me. this is the one game i started learning the speedrun btw thats also a very fun way to play it but ABSOLUTELY play it as intended first it has so much to offer

aaaand special mentions to omori, oneshot, witch's house, mermaid swamp, corpse party, & limbus company

What are your ocs named?

uhm im gonna assume youre askinngabt this in a general sense. i have too many ocs to list in one go hshhsgah

for my object guys. theyre mostly just the objects they are, a lot of them have -y ending names though. a few exceptions to the ‘just named the object they are’ thing are snowy (one of those hats with the fuzzy ball on top idk what theyre called) and tabby (well xyr name is a pun/combination of the two things shes based on. so i giess that doesnt count. whatever)

as for my pther ocs. they all have really boring names half of them are just like ‘regualr’ names or just Things. i made a good majority of my characters when i was like 10 or smthn and theyve just stuck around so like. i cant change their names yknow itd feel Wrong. like uh one is just called no name. i think either i was copying a gag from mighty med (show i really liekd around that time) or me and the friend i made modt of my characters eith literally jist didnt wan tto take the time to give him a name. i thinkwe eventually eveolved it into a gag where he was friends with another character (cloud, i think i mentioned him in the tags of a post earlier) in the past but he entirely forgot abt him and just started calling him no name????? and everyone just went along eith it??? his actualy name was oscar or some shit… which is really funny to me considering what his character is likenow that name doednt fit him At All

haiii!! Thisbis my first time doing a request and im actually embarassed and prob u gonna decline it and find me weird and and- jdkgjwlej (overthinking rn)

Let me breathe before saying the embarassing request-

Could i request an Moon Goddess Reader x Wukong? (The design for reader inspired on Moonlight cookie :33 I'M A FAN FOR HER AND SEA FAIRY-) like some sun and moon stuff? It can be romantic and how they met for first time! It can be headcanons or anything you want

Again- sorry for the request im just so nervous and embarassed.

-Ander :3

[HELLO FELLOW COOKIE RUN FAN !!! it's not embarrassing at all, it's a very cute prompt !!]

[NOT PROOFREAD BC I AM TIRED]

Wukong with a Moon Goddess S/O

Wukong had first met you when you landed on one of the beaches on Flower Fruit Mountain.

Your impact caused quite a crash, being able to be heard from his hut with all the monkeys nearby freaking out from the loud noise. 

Wukong immediately went to check it out, holding an arm out in defense of the small simians behind him when he saw your form slowly sit up on the sand below you. 

When he saw it was a deity, he kept his guard up of course but something about you was just so… alluring?

He couldn't keep his eyes off your features as he slowly walked towards you, bending down to gently help you up. 

“Hey, you ok there?” His voice spoke lowly to you as you turned around, and it was like love at first sight if you could believe it!

He felt a boom in his chest as his eyes met yours, he swore he could see beyond the cosmos in your (eye-colored) pools.

Once you explained you were a moon goddess and you accidentally landed here from your magic, he decided he was gonna help ya!

Over the next few months, you stayed with Wukong on FFM (despite you could easily get back home, you two were just too curious about one another) and you two hit it off quite well. Whether it was telling each other stories or just sitting next to each other and enjoying the other's company. 

He also found your powers and magic kinda funny, it was like the complete opposite of his, just like you.

He was the light and you were the night after all. 

Despite being so different, you balanced each other quite well, you were softspoken and calm while he was just the complete opposite of that.

He loves to take you on his cloud, you both would fly through the sky and land at a random spot to star gaze.

He loved it when you talked about the cosmos, you were so passionate about them and he could listen to you talking about them for hours.

Stargazing on a random cliffside was actually the place he decided to confess, despite being the self proclaimed great sage he was BEYOND nervous.

Although it had only been about a year since you landed on FFM, he knew this was genuine love especially since he had been alive for so long.

He decided just to go for it.

Hey if you reject him, he’ll just go into hiding on Flower Fruit Mountain somewhere for the rest of eternity, easy peasy!

Wukong took a breath as he gently grabbed your face, taking your attention away from the night sky to him.

A warm smile spread across his face as he took ahold of your hands in his. 

“Hey starshine, I’m not really experienced with this sort of thing. But, I think we should take this to the next level if ya know what I mean… Because I LIKE like ya. So, what do ya say?”

Of course, you liked him as well giving him a kiss in response.

"Sorry I should have asked... Is that ok?"

A big goofy smile spread across Wukong's face as he scooped you up in his arms, nuzzling his nose against yours under the cool glow of the moon.

"Of course, that's ok moonlight, it's always ok for you to do that. In fact, you should do it again."

Training Challenge #8: Home & Family

@thescorpioracesfestival

It has started to rain when Freya walks back towards the farm with Corax after another day of beach training. The clouds are dark and promise a heavier rainfall during the night, and Freya is relieved they made it back before the worst of the rain arrives. She isn’t a fan of getting stuck out in a rainstorm with so many capaill uisce out on the beach.

There’s light in the windows of the house, so Grandpa must already be home. When they come closer Freya can see him moving around in the kitchen, no doubt preparing the dinner. Freya get a warm feeling when she sees him, mixed with the usual worry of losing him. He is all the family she has left now, after grandma died a few years ago. Him and Corax.

After her mother and sister left for the mainland, it had felt like a sign when Freya found Kaja at the beach and Corax was born. Like somehow, she had lost family, but also gained new one. Kaja had also left, but Corax remained a part of Freya’s family, as essential as grandpa.

When she’s brought him inside his stall, put away all the tack and put his dinner, a large bucket of raw meat, down on the stall floor to him, Freya lingers in the stall for a bit. She treads her fingers through Corax silver mane and rests her cheek against his soft black shoulder and hums softly to him as he eats. He is family, and sometimes she loves him so much it frightens her. Most of her family is gone, but Corax remains, as does grandpa, and she doesn’t want to lose either of them.

She gives herself a few more moments to lean on Corax and breath in his smell before heading out of the stall and out into the rain again. She doesn’t want to worry grandpa by staying out too long.

Before she heads inside though, Freya decides to check up on the sheep to make sure they’re secure in the barn before the rainstorm comes in at full force. She’s greeted by soft bleating when she enters, and although she had intended to just do a quick count of them and then head inside, she can’t resist sitting down in the straw among the sheep for a few minutes, the way she use to as a child. Two of the sheep, Moon and Jen, immediately approaches and demands pets by softly nudging Freya with their muzzles. They don’t keep many sheep, only eleven ewes and, in spring and summer, their lambs. Freya knows them all by name, was there when most of them were born, and no matter how much she loves Corax, there is something about interacting with animals that she can let her guard down completely around that is hard to beat. The sheep gives her a feeling of safety, of familiarity, of calm that is hard to find anywhere else. They remind her of being a child and playing out in the barn with Jenna, after their father had died and they moved to their grandparents’ farm. Jen was named in honor of Jenna, born the spring after she and their mother had left Thisby, and with wool the same warm brown colour as Jenna’s hair. Freya’s own hair, with its frizzy yellow curls, bare more resemblance to the straw she’s sitting on than to any of the sheep surrounding her. Evidently, the sheep thinks so too, because a sudden thug brings Freya straight back to reality as Gretel, one of the youngest ewes, tries to eat the ponytail sticking out from under her beanie.  

“That is not for eating.” She flicks Gretel gently on her muzzle and the ewe stops chewing on Freya’s ponytail to give her an offended look. “I’m sorry, but its not.”

With a last few scratches behind the sheep’s ears, Freya gets up and starts to brush off the straw from her pants, just as a loud “meow” announces the arrival of their black barn cat, Green. Freya smiles and meows back at the cat and Green comes closer and starts to stroke against her legs.

“Hello pretty girl, have you caught any mice today?” Green meows as a response and continue to circle around Freya’s legs, making the walk out of the barn more difficult than necessary.

One look at the sky outside, and Freya decides to bring the cat inside the house with her. If there’s really a storm coming tonight, she doesn’t want Green to be out in it. She scoops up the now purring cat and, shielding her as much as possible from the ever-increasing rain, hurries to the house.

Inside she is greeted by their large grey sheepdog, Ash, the smell of freshly baked bread and grandpas voice calling from the kitchen to tell her to wash up before dinner. With a smile, Freya does as she’s told. She wants to spend as much time with grandpa before the races as she can, so tonight, she has decided to let herself forget all her worries about the upcoming races and just have a nice evening. Tomorrow, she can worry about something going wrong during the races. Tonight, she’ll have dinner with her grandpa and fall asleep to the sound of him reading to himself in the living room. Tonight, she’ll feel perfectly safe.

Masterlist

Voyage of the Damned

Sorry it took me so long to write this! I didn't finish because it's late and I was starting to scare myself... so I'll write part two in daylight

          "We have four days if fuel left... and we are six days away from any refueling station." Dice reported to Maul, his teeth chattering from the cold of space.

          "I'm not great at math... but... that doesn't quite add up I don't think." She sighed with a shiver.

          "No it doesn't, ma'am... and we've already stretched our resources to the max... basically we're dead in the water." Dice sighed.

          "We've come across an abandoned ship!" One of the troops exclaimed.

     They all ran to the cockpit, Maul and Savage started scanning the ship for life signs, life support and fule.

          "It has no life signs and fule so we will dock with the ship and take it."

          "I don't like this, I don't think thisbis a good idea..." she stated shivering.

          "If we don't we are dead, my love... besides we have boarded many of abandoned ships. I sense no threat in the force... forgive me but I believe your nerves are getting the better of you... you suffer from space sickness far faster than anyone here." Maul stated. She screwed her face up and hugged herself tightly but nodded.

     On the ship each of the Opress clan lead 4 troops as they explored the ship for the supplies they needed. Maul and his went to find fule, Savages troop went to find loot, as well as Ferral and his troop, and her troop went to find food.

          "Are you alright ma'am?" Tat asked steadying his leader as she started to sway and hold her head.

          "Yeah... sorry... I just got really nauseous and dizzy..." she sighed, blinking her eyes several times to clear her vision.

          "That is a part of space sickness..." Tat stated calmly. She nodded taking several deep breathes.

          "I know... but being on the verge of an anxiety attack... I've never had that with space sickness." She sighed looking around the darkness of the ship.

          "I thought we were the only ones in this part of the ship." A trooper named Bry spoke up.

          "We are." Tat confirmed.

          "Then whos running towards us." Bry questioned. She stepped forward igniting her lightsaber and holding it at ready. But nothing happened. "I'm sorry ma'am, I swear I heard some running towards us." Bry exclaimed. Several others confirmed hearing it to.

          "No its ok... I heard it too sweetie..." she added. "Who just chuckled?" She questioned.

         "No one ma'am." Tat replied looking around at his brothers.

          "I've got a really bad feeling about this." Another trooper named Vip mumbled rubbing his forehead.

          "Keep you head on the swivle, and keep in physical contact with each other." She instructed.

     Savage and his troops were looking for valuables, but there really seamed to be nothing to loot. He let out a rumbling g hum as he grew frustrated.

          "Theres nothing..." He growled.

  ��       "Oh wow it just got really cold." Jix, leader of Savages troops shivered. Savage eyed the burly trooper then his other troops. One of them started swaying and nearly fell over. His glowing grayish green eyes darted to the ceiling as dis the rest of the troops. A scuttling noise above them.

          "Uh... what was that?" Jix asked.

        "Me." A scratchy voice hissed into Jix ear. The big trooper jumped and yelled swatting at his ear.

          "What the kriff!" Jix cursed, a large thud and receding running steps sounded further down the hall behind them.

          "I don't like this." Savage rumbled "we need to find Ferral."

     Ferral rubbed the back of his neck, his stomach turning. He exhaled slowly.

          "What's wrong sir?" Biv asked.

          "Back on Dathomier... in my village... every now and then a spirit of a long dead nightsister would come into our village and tourment me for months for being able to see her... I've got that same feeling as when she would first start to haunt me, here..." He explained looking around. "We really need to leave this place." Ferral shivered eyes fixating on a spot. "All teams... Retreat slowly back to the exit..." He ordered quietly, into his comm.

          "We have the fule we need so we can leave." Mauls voice sounded.

     Back on thier ship they refuled and Maul was maneuvering away from the ship when his stomach suddenly felt none existent. It wasn'ta sense theough the force, but pure animal instinctsthat told him all was not well.

          "Karabast." Mauls voice shook. "Please... someone explain to me... how the ship we were just on... disapeared, right before my eyes." Maul questioned

          "I saw it too sir." Dice confirmed. "Let's just get some heat on and get home." Dice shook. Mauls amber eyes roamed the cockpit, never had he felt this way... like prey.

          "We have company..." Maul growled lightly.

Ever time I see your pfp in my notifs I think Moon has a super long nose, like this

THISBIS DJEJ

THis is late I’m so sorry but that actually made me laugh lol

Drawing his nose in the right way is hard ngl my arts always inconsistent with him

I went to my first pride event today. I couldn't really participate bc I was technically there to cover it but I'm like. Overwhelmed. Like I started crying on the car ride home and haven't stopped.

Like, this was the first pride event of ANY kind in this small, rural area that I live in and I have never felt more at home or happy in this community than I did today. There were over 300 people there and it meant so much to see people's support and hear LGBT people in the community talk bc frankly there are no real orgs here. I just assumed for so long there WASN'T a community, and I feel so much better knowing there actually is support out here.

For a long, long time, I just accepted that this was a very conservative christian area and I would never be able to 100% be myself bc I assumed everyone here was against it. Or if they weren't actively against it, they weren't the type to really support you. I've been on the job before and heard openly homophobic shit, not directed at me but said in general, and it just made me feel worse bc, again, I thought there wasn't a community or support group to at least counterbalance that kind of hateful attitude. But it feels so good knowing there ARE others and that so many people came out to show support in this little area. And I'm making myself cry again.

Started to look through your character list for someone to ask about and I think thisbis the first time I read through the whole list and man is it hard to decide now.

Maybe Ry or Mim?

oh nooo lmao I'm sorry it's so long, thank you though ^^ (also it looked to me like you had already answered for everyone when I checked your blog but if you didnt, shout and I'll send you an ask)

Ry's fight would be similar to the battles with Warden Amala in the sense that they switch through multiple styles of combat. The first 20% they spend fighting very much like a standard daredevil, lots of movement, making them hard to hit and making it hard to stay away. Ry doesn’t do a ton of damage during this phase and is weak to CC, though their bar is still locked. They throw lots of daggers every time they jump across the stage. The next phase lasts for 15% of their health, and they spend it fighting much like a virtuoso, swapping to range and focusing on condition damage and throwing powerful magical daggers from various positions they hop between, less mobile now but hitting hard and laying the conditions on. Their third phase lasts for the next 20% health, and they fight like a specter for it. The mobility is back, but damage has been mostly sacrificed to really lay on the conditions to try and wear down the player. They’re weak to CC again, knock downs and dazes able to stop them briefly for solid attacks between leaps and wells. The next 15% after that is spent with Ry fighting like a necromancer, dropping the mobility completely in order to focus on trying to heal and trying to catch the player in wells. The final 30% health for Ry, they opt for their most comfortable ritualist battle style while bringing the daggers from the first two phases back. They stand in the center of the arena, summoning spirits and daggers to try and keep the player distracted and away until they finally go down. Between each phase, their break bar reveals, and hitting Ry with enough CC will stun them. If their break bar doesn’t go down, they blind everyone as they transition to their next phase. If I had to pick a location for the fight, it would probably take place in what remains of Kormir’s library, with lich being caught off guard as they peruse the stacks. 

Mim, when confronted, transforms the area around herself and the player, creating a small arena of a flat stone circle surrounded by a fog wall. No matter how many players are in the party, it is always a 1 on 1 fight, each player sent to a separate arena to face Mim alone. Touching the fog wall will briefly confuse the player and teleport them to a different side of the arena. Mim focuses on attacks that push or pull the player, aiming to use the fog wall against them. She takes very little damage until the player breaks her breakbar, opening her up to damage until it refills and must be broken again. At around 50% health, Mim will begin to lay small fire and lightning traps around the arena. She herself does very little damage, instead aiming to use the environment and the player’s own attacks to defeat them.

sweater weather!

Scorpio Races fluff below the cut, please beware

Thisby women have a long history of battling the elements with handicrafts. Though not as famous as Fair Isle sweaters, Harris tweed, or even Irish mohair, Thisby wool is known for being so durable it can be worn for years and passed down through families; from jumpers to scarves and hats without the dyes fading or the threads fraying.

Even if Puck had the skill for the spindle and knitting needles, there was no one to teach her after her mother passed. The Maud women ran a crash course in pottery painting for the Connolly youngsters when it became clear that they needed the cash, but the sisters didn’t have time for the feminine arts (unless you counted flirting). They had sight enough for two out of three, and patience enough only for one.

But needs must. Tradition demanded tiny booties and hats and blankets, as baby Kendrick was well on its way already.

Puck rests her work on her belly, which has a healthy swell to it. The biggest hardship of pregnancy so far has been giving up riding, but trying to cast on is a close second. Her fingers are still strong and calloused from Dove's reins, but knitting is less about strength and more about witchcraft it seems.

Finn had found her a knitting primer in Fathom & Sons years back and given it to her as a joke, because Puck knitting was like seeing a barn cat walk on hind legs. Less funny now that she’s actually trying to make a go of it, however.

Her patience runs out. She’s made stitches so tight she can barely get the needles out of the loops, so she decides to get some air.

Corr and Dove are happy to see her as she approaches the paddock Sean fashioned on the old Kendrick farm.

Dove nudges her shoulder with her nose and Puck feels a deep pang. “Sorry, I miss our rides too.”

Her horse snorts back, Corr clucks. Then the baby kicks and Puck feels ganged up on.

“I know, I said I’m sorry!”

Dove is placated by Puck’s hands stroking her withers, but Corr has other ideas and makes to sniff at her coat pockets.

“I don’t have any scraps to spare, I’m afraid.”

Corr thumps a hoof on the ground and turns to smell the sea, always nearby on misty days. It’s not quite mid-October but the capaill uisce have already been spotted in the currents, hunting.

Dove rests her nose on Puck’s belly, seemingly to investigate.

“The doctor says it’ll be a while before I can ride again even after the baby comes, because my womb may wander. Which sounds like utter nonsense to me.”

The horses don’t disagree, but then again they don’t have the power of words either way.

Puck feels the baby again— a flip near Dove’s nose. This child already loves horses and it hasn’t even been born yet.

Dove accepts a cheek pat in lieu of a mount, but Corr gives her a look.

“Next time I’ll bring something for you, I promise.”

“You already have.”

Puck whirls around, nearly stepping on a deposit left by Dove. “You dirty sneak!"

Sean Kendrick has a gift for approaching quietly and scaring the daylights out of his wife. He must have walked Dove and Corr’s yearling to the far barn already, quieted by the foggy weather. Sure enough, Sunrise’s tail is twitching at the water trough.

“I didn’t want to disturb you.”

“Oh, you would never,” Puck smiles.

He hugs her and rests his hand where everything is happening-- where their future is percolating.

“How is our family today?”

“Annoyed, mostly. Malvern kicked me off duty, and Holly agreed. Just because I can’t ride, doesn’t mean I can’t still be useful. Apparently it’s unseemly for a woman in the family way to be seen mucking out stalls. I’ve also given up on knitting, and this one won’t stop kicking.”

Sean kisses her cheek, thinking. Always thinking.

His eyes twinkle. “You can muck out the stalls here as long as you like. We can wipe down the baby with fresh hay when she’s born, just like with the foals.”

Puck mocks disgust, but can’t keep up the ruse and laughs. Sean making a joke needs to be cherished and savored always. “What makes you so sure she’s a girl?”

“Just a notion.”

They walk back to the gate of the paddock, holding hands.

“Peg Gratton’s pendant says it’s a boy.”

“She finally cornered you?”

“We were out of Corr’s meat, and I needed a walk. I had to sit down to catch my breath--”

Sean’s hackles raise. “What do you mean, catch your breath?”

“Calm yourself, we’re fine. It’s just quite a walk up the hill from Malvern’s yard, you know. And I’m no longer fighting fit.”

He answers by sliding a protective arm around her shoulder, as if he might carry her across the threshold, or anywhere else she needs to go.

“You worry too much.”

He blinks at her like Finn's trusting cat Puffin. “I just love you, that’s all."

After three years married, surely she should be used to it. But her throat still bobbles at his earnestness, his troth to her for the race and at the church:  that he would always be at her side.

“I love you, I’m sorry. I’ll be more careful.”

He looks like he’s formulating a reply when they hear a distant honk. Finn’s dusty truck is pulling up the drive, a gift from George Holly a few Novembers back when Finn fixed it for him.

Sean waves and turns back to the paddock to put Dove and Corr through their paces, probably also to give the siblings privacy.

Finn climbs out of the front seat, an old box in his hands.

“Puck!”

"Hello! You can join us for supper if you don’t mind cooking.”

He’s a scurry of excitement, barely listening. "I was in the cellar, trying to find some twine to fix a window sash and I found this.”

A flurry of dust is disturbed by him pushing the box’s lid aside to reveal— impossibly—tiny homespun wool garments, baby and toddler-sized and dyed a simple gray.

“Oh, Finn!"

He smiles, proud of himself. “I found it in a crate of Fathom & Sons catalogs and fabric scraps."

Puck is completely overcome— she has no memory of baby Finn, because she too was small. But of course these would have been saved. Only Gabe would have known these existed, and he’s not here to testify.

She can’t help herself, she begins to cry. Curse these weaker pregnancy moments.

Finn looks panicked, at sea in any kind of display of emotion. “Oh dear! What’s wrong?”

Through tears, Puck says. “Nothing’s wrong, everything’s perfect.”

Finn visibly relaxes as Puck picks up the tiniest bootie, somehow preserved in the cellar for all of those years. Thisby wool knitted by her ancestors, and saved by her mother in hope for the future with all of the sacrifice that entails.

Sean looks over to them from across the yard, and she has everything she needs to move forward.

Week 2

A Pair of Helping Hands        

   As I approach the McAvoy farm (always the McAvoy farm, never the Goveny or the McAvoy-Goveny Farm), my determination begins to flag, overtaken by a creeping apprehension. I have not done right by Nyx of late, leaving her in Gwen’s capable hands and telling myself that it is better for us both that way. After all, Gwen and John are Thisby’s golden couple, conquerors of the Races. Surely they knew better than I. I’d ridden out with Gwen over the summer, more infrequently than I’d have liked, and not nearly as frequently as Nyx’s hot-blooded temper demanded. Come the start of the school year and infrequent rides became rare, which became non-existent. I pay Gwen what I can when I can for Nyx’s boarding and feeding, though more often than not it’s returned to me in an unmarked envelope the next morning. We’re the both of us far too proud to either accept or reject money face to face, and so the same envelope of coins and flimsy paper makes its way across Thisby every few weeks. Silly and proud, two qualities that have carried over from my time at St. Marciana’s, despite the nuns’ best efforts to beat them out of me with a switch or scare them out of me with ominous Bible verses. I never gave either much mind.

           And as I stand at Gwen’s front door in a moment so reminiscent of our first meeting not quite a year ago, I must swallow my pride. It does not go down smoothly, sticking in my throat as Gwen opens the door with a surprised smile, and I can only manage a small, strangled sound of greeting. But Gwen just steps aside and welcomes me into her home with a knowing shake of her head.

           “I wondered how long it would be before you came knocking,” she says, gesturing for me to sit down at the kitchen table. “John! Lettie’s here!” she calls, before setting the kettle on for tea.

           “You… you knew I’d come?” How can she possibly, when I myself had not known half an hour ago that I would find myself at Gwen McAvoy’s kitchen table once more?

           “I knew.”

           “We both did,” John adds, making his quiet way into the room, kissing Gwen on the cheek. “Hello Lettie.”

           “You’ve felt the change in the air. We have too.” Gwen places a mug in front of me, mint-scented steam curling into the air. “It’s something you’ll learn as the years go on. Once you ride in the Races, the cooler weather tugs at your heart something fierce, almost as strongly as it pulls at the capaill. So yes, we knew you’d come.”

           “Now, the question is: Are you here for company, or for training?” Leaning his elbows on the table, John leans forward curiously. Coming from anyone else, it might have felt accusatory, but from John it is nothing but a gentle question that really asks, ‘How can we help?’ Not for the first or last time, I am reminded that I do not deserve their kindness. A deep breath steadies my nerves, and I look up from my tea.

           “I’m here for training.”

           John nods, and Gwen sighs. Both reactions strike me with a combination of understanding and resignation. I suspect it is what they expected, but it still stings to disappoint them in this way.

           “Well Nyx will be pleased to hear that,” Gwen says finally. “I know she was half-tamed when you purchased her last season, but, well three capiall uisce plus the few we’ve already promised to take on for the season, are more than a handful even between John and I.” She unconsciously pulls at the sleeve of her sweater, but I can still see the bandages on her arm.

           “I am… so sorry.” Guilt roils in my stomach, thinking of the burden I’ve left them with all this time. “I-I want to do better. I want to train. Seriously,” I add quickly as I catch the look that passes between John and Gwen. “I know I’ve been less than committed. I know that Nyx needs me more often than just when it’s most convenient for me. I know… I know I haven’t done right by her, or by you. But I want to train.”

           “Are you sure? Because…” Another glance between the two. “Because if you decided that the Races are not for you, that the upkeep of a capall uisce is not feasible, we could set her free, let her go back to the sea.”

           “Or, well, honestly we’ve had offers for her from interested riders, good riders with good offers. She’s halfway to rideable already and fast, and you could get a pretty penny for her.” John shifts in his chair, and I know that speaking about my financial situation has made him rather uncomfortable. “We’d hand pick the rider of course, ensure she’s in good, capable hands.”

           “It’s up to you.”

           I must admit that both options have crossed my mind many times. A decent amount of money to bring home to my family along with release from the constant guilt that I am not doing enough, and Nyx taken care of. I am still tempted tonight as I sit here across from Gwen and John, but then I remember the way my heart has been singing these past weeks, how deeply and beautifully it has ached in a way that I know in my soul will not be filled until I ride again.

           “I appreciate your looking out for both myself and Nyx. But I’m really quite sure that I want to train. I want to ride. If you’ll still have me.”

           “You did promise,” John prompts Gwen, nudges her gently in the ribs with his elbow, and she sighs again, though this time it sounds more good-natured, more determined.

           “That I did. All right then.” She tosses back the rest of her tea as though it’s a fiery shot of whiskey and pushes back from the table. “Let’s go. You too,” she adds, tugging on John’s sleeve. “I think these two ladies could use all the help we can give them.”

She grins at me as John rolls his eyes and chuckles, and a strange warmth spreads through my chest. I feel more settled somehow, as though I’ve been standing on the rocking deck of a ship and have just now stepped back onto dry land. I’ve far to go on this journey, but I have taken the first, hardest step, and I am not going alone. And so together we go to face our next challenge as she waits and wails in the barn.

Week 1 - Challenges 1-3 (Kind Of)

@sailingthroughemotion - Jen and Realist This story is continued from the 2018 festival. Check out the #tsrf2018 tag on my blog, if you’re curious (but it’s not necessary).

Huo and I have been busy. And, no, not in that way. Although maybe not without that, but we’ve hardly got enough time to even put a second thought into that because our schedules are constantly jam-packed. 

Our winter was spent mostly coasting - my parents had left me a healthy amount of money which Huo and I split into improving his house a bit to accommodate for aging Jax, who was starting to get a bit fed up with the boarding life, and fixing up my motorcycle. It was enough to pay for electricity for a good while, so I opted for taking shorter shifts at the butcher’s so I could work more on the house and with Realist. He doesn’t get to sit after the race season like he had the year prior - any signs of previous injuries are nothing but distant memories, so I continued to work with him. He’s a young, healthy stallion - he could use the muscle and the brain food. After Huo’s final reconciliation with Blue, he has seemed to have gotten over his aversion to capaill, and after we put the finishing touches on Jax’s backyard resort, he even opted for using Realist as his “ranch” horse. It’s quite a sight to behold, really - a pint-sized capall under a slightly archaic Western saddle with a slightly too-tall Thisby islander settled onto him. I am quite relieved that Realist doesn’t throw a fit about the different saddle or the new rider. Huo does ride differently - he doesn’t play around and debate with Realist like I do, but rather just works with him straight on. It’s a functioning system and sometimes I find myself quite fond of how supple Realist is under a tom-thumb bit. Our spring was spent in a similar fashion, except Realist had become virtually Huo’s horse, and when I wasn’t at the shop or tuning the motorcycle, I was tending to Jax’s arthritic needs. During my brother’s visit, he acquired himself a horse with a distant capall lineage that was suitable for export and agreed to start working our family’s Thoroughbred farm again. Business was rolling in for them again, I guess, so I was welcome to the funds some more, meaning I could get some nicer riding gear and have enough to pay for the insane import prices on some of the supplements Jax desperately needed. Jax is a sweet old man - it’s easy to see how he and Huo have been coworkers for so long, and evening now and again I layer on a few extra blankets under my English saddle and take him for a spin around the pasture. He’s stiff and he doesn’t have the same dangerous energy that a capall does, but he’s still a pleasure to mess around with. Huo, too, hasn’t been empty-handed. When he’s not steering Realist through his sheep, he’s working on his truck, and if the truck is up and running, he’s coursing to Skarmouth and back to sell his wool and some of his lambs. I can definitely say that it’s been nice. We have a comfortable routine, and although sometimes it gets a bit monotonous, it’s at the very least a rhythm rather than chaos. I happen to be one of the few people on Thisby that can say that they have nothing to fear - the whole island may want me dead (it’s been proven every single time I’ve tried to step foot around the races), but as long as I am just living along with this hunk of grass and rock, topped with a generous amount of sand, I can most certainly say that I haven’t got a single thing to complain about. — My knuckles ache from writing with a piece of chalk all evening and I’ve lost count of how many names I’ve written down. A few of the men and women that recognize me ask me if I’m planning on taking another year off while a few of the boys and girls that don’t, look at my scars and ask me if I’ve ever ridden. I recount my evening to Huo as we lay sprawled on the bed, half-reading forgotten letters. Huo is unusually quiet. “I don’t think I’m going to waste my time this year,” I continue anyway, scoffing. “That stupid race has nearly cost me my life twice now and for what? Spare change?” More silence. And then, “I ran Realist this morning.” I can already tell where this one is going and I’m ready to roll my eyes when what he says next catches me completely off-guard. “Some passing couple recognized him.” “From what?” I furrowed my brow. It wasn’t uncommon to see capaill surface and disappear and surface again. I mostly hoped that it was from the races - I wouldn’t want somebody making claims about a horse they lost some number of years ago. “From when you trained Kaitlyn,” he said it so coldly that my heart almost jumped to my throat. I had never told him about Kaitlyn. I only turned back after crossing the finish line with the excuse that she had been ‘just someone I thought I recognized’; I only went ot her funeral under the guise of it having been a surprise shift at the butcher’s and that had been a public service, as most race-casualty services often were, so I didn’t recognize any of the people there. My hear began to beat loudly against my ribcage. “H-her parents?” I stammered. Huo gave me the barest of nods. “How did the find out?” My voice suddenly sounded small, timid. “Her diary,” Huo said with a dry laugh. “I’m sorry I kept it from you, Huo, I-” my breathing began to hitch in my throat - to live under one roof with a man and not tell him about the possibility of a horribly miscalculated risk… “That’s not what I’m…” he exhaled through his nose and tried again. “That’s not the issue. They want an explanation. They want some kind of compensation.” “They’re trying to frame me for murder,” I said out-loud what I knew I never shoudl have. “Thisby laws protect capall owners, but they don’t protect trainers,” Huo continued. “No, hold on - do they think that I forced her to catch that thing?” I sat up, wild-eyed. “That’s not the point, Jen, you can’t just run head-first at this, listen to me,” he took a deep breath and slowly let it out. “You signed the entry form for her, didn’t you?” “Yes, but I-” “Her parents didn’t even know she was racing, Jen!” Huo’s voice was so thoroughly steeped with disappointment that I just wanted to fall through the floor then and there. “But she told me…” my eyes began to fill with tears of frustration. The cognitive dissonance between grieving for Kaitlyn’s death and wanting to blame her for what was slowly registering as the end of the world was tearing me apart. “She kept talking about her brother, and…” “She was an only child,” Huo’s voice softened a bit and he finally sat up and gathered me into his arms. For the first time in a while, he smelled of horse sweat. He really did run Realist. “She lied to you, she lief to her parents, she lied to everyone.” I began to sob like a small child. Not the usual polite, bottled anguish I would usually put myself through to make sure I was silent, but instead helpless, uncontrollable wailing. I was both terrified and awashed with a new wave of grief. Not for the blonde-haired girl with the determined eyes but for the big-withered raven black mare that had the heart to die for her. I thought of Realist and how he longed only for my company and not the lulls of the ocean. I thought of Jax and how many years he’s served and how little he probably has left. And Huo held me, and he let me cry, and let me cling to him like I was not his strong, equally grounded girlfriend, but like I was sickly, toddler-aged granddaughter. Once I felt like I could breathe again I got myself a glass of water and Huo and I stood like coast-worn statues in the darkness of the kitchen. “How much do they want as compensation?” I managed, trying not to hide my disgust at the fact at calling monetary value ‘compensation’ for a human life. “Some… twenty thousand, thirty?” he scratched the back of his head. “Good lord,” I smiled, although I didn’t know why. “And if we - if I don’t pay it back…?” This was my problem, not Huo’s, if I hadn’t thought to tell him of this earlier, why should I have to drag him into it now? “They’re taking it to the mainland court. They family’s not from Thisby.” “Fucking Christ!” I exclaimed, feeling the animalistic urge to shatter the cup I was holding but somewhere deep inside, my sensible, grounded, equestrian self pulled back on the reins. — The road to Skarmouth that night felt like the road to purgatory. Most lights were off or dimmed, only the caterwaul of distant capaill and the perpetual crashing of waves gracing the stillness. I unlocked the back of the butcher’s and carefully snuck my way behind the counter desipte knowing that I was the only one there. I felt a deep need for secrecy, for if anyone found out the real reason I was actually putting my life on the line in these island games again, I’d die of shame alone - to hell with sea monsters and cliffs. I took the chalk in my still-aching hand and added an extra line: “Jen - Realist”. And just for good luck, I threw some coins into the betting jar with my name on it that I had kept from last year, just for good luck. The coins hit the bare glass walls with a hollow, resounding clatter. I needed all the good luck I could get this year.

The Scorpio Festival 2018: Origins

@thescorpioracesfestival

Stories from the Book of Waves

This is a story they won't tell you in Saint Columba's, or if they do, they'll tell you a sad, shallow version of it. A shadow of the tale. But come here to me now, and I'll tell it to you in full, and you and I will have the beating heart of the story. I know it well, for I was there for most of it.

I wasn't there for the makin' of Thisby. Maybe it's true what they say at the church, that God hisself said words and made land. I like to think it rose up from the sea all of its own accord--a contrary birth for a contrary land.

The capaill came with it. Before the gods and before the fae and before man, they were here, wintering on Thisby when the sea was too rough, and returning to it every spring to foal. 

The gods came later, and the ungods, us they call the fae now. Not that most believe in us now, not since Columba came around, but we go on all the same. 

There was Lir, the sea himself, whose name they don’t remember but who they’ve never really forgotten, and his son, them they call Shoney. Shoney was the King of Thisby, once. They still remember him some, since the church couldn’t make him go for true, only now they say he was a witch, or a saint. Either way, they know that when he pulls his great cloak around Thisby, he covers the isle in mist, and keeps us safe from raiders at sea.

They’ve never forgotten Epona. How could they, when the capaill live and breathe in her honor, as sacred to the Mare Goddess as the island ponies?

They’ve forgotten their grandfather Donn, cruelest of all. These days they believe they go to Heaven when they die, but Donn wished for all his children and their children to gather in his home, in Tech Duinn, in Tír fo Thuinn. (I have heard it said that they know still of Tír fo Thuinn, the land under the wave, and some still believe the drowned live there eternally. They do not seem to find this the comfort it once was, and for this I’m sorry.)

Anyhow, we didn't have the place to ourselves long before the humans showed up, with their boats and their spears and their fierceness.

You can't say no to a human who's gotten it into their head that someplace is home, and these ones thought that of Thisby fast. How could we blame them? We thought the same.

It was small and lonely and lovely, and it was where the sky and the sea and the land met, as holy in its own way as Emain Ablach. And holy places have to be watered in blood.

So we warred.

There we were on one side, gods and ungods with shining bronze swords and conjured mists and all the magics of land, sea, and sky. And there were the humans on the other, with steel and grit, and that was enough. They were descendants of death, born of the sea, and took what was theirs by sword and fire.

Well. Theirs and the capaill's.

Rider Challenge #3: The Beach

URL: @roseravenkey

@thescorpioracesfestival

Character: Tessa Westfall

Despite my turmoil of the news Rea gave me yesterday, I have to keep my wits about me today. Today is the first day all the capaill uisce will be on the beach at once. Sleipnir has been on the beach a few times, but not with this many capaill since last year’s races. He’s going to be more highly strung than normal. I must keep my wits about me. He will be like a different beast today. That’s the mistake people make on the beach that gets them killed. They think they know a capall, but when it’s that close to the sea with so many of its kind around it, they change. I will not make that mistake today. Someone will die, but I’ll make sure it won’t be me. 

I have Sleipnir groomed and tacked up, ready to take to the beach. He’s adorned with iron bells in his mane, tail, and feathers, laced in with his signature green ribbons. He looks handsome, but he’s skittish on the end of his rope, dancing and singing. He is not wearing his saddle. I don’t trust him enough to ride him today. No, today we will go down to the beach to get back into the feel of Scorpio again. It’s not just him I don’t trust today. I’ve seen a man be ripped clean out of his saddle at beach training by another capall. He had been afraid of his own, but he forgot about all the others that would be there. The last we saw of him, a group of capaill had surrounded him, bleeding red into the cold surf.

Sebastian and Rea are with me, bringing Dor and Jetta with them. Like Sleipnir, Dor and Jetta wear the iron bells and ribbons. Dor in blue, Jetta in deep red. Neither have a saddle on. It’s the way we were taught. The three of us seem to be the only ones with any sense on this island by not riding our capaill on the first day of beach training.

So we all walk the way to the beach. It’s not far, just ten minutes walk. Then again, nothing is very far on Thisby. As we presumed, the beach is swarming with capaill. We can see the mess of the beach. Hundreds of half moon crescents in the sand where the capaill have stood, the waves of the sea are being kicked up by man and beast alike, but the most chilling of all are the red smears of gore which have already begun to stain the sand crimson. 

We can see at the other end of the beach a fight between two capaill has broken out, so I make a mental note to avoid that area. Walking to the beach, we stand there, trying to get used to the beach again. I kind of love it, but it terrifies me. I’ll just think that Sleipnir is settling down, when a capall somewhere down the beach will scream and set him off again. He doesn’t cease his dancing as the capall screams again and he keens back. It’s an unearthly sound, the song of the capaill, and it chills me to the bone. Every time Sleipnir is set off, it irritates Jetta, who every time he makes a sound, she pins her ears and snakes her head at him, teeth bared. They’re far enough apart that as long as Rea and I keep our wits, we should be fine. In theory anyway. Dor likes the excitement of the beach, his tail is straight in the air, his head is high and his ears pricked. Unlike Sleipnir though, he is stood stock still, his nostrils flaring as he takes in the scents. Occasionally his head snaps around and he opens his mouth with his teeth on show when he hears or sees something new, but his feet do not budge until Sebastian tugs on his bridle.

Slowly, we manage to dodge capaill, salesmen, and running riders to edge closer to the water. There are less people closer to the water, as they are afraid of letting their capaill to close to it, lest they get dragged in, but we’ve been riding on the cliffs for a while now, the main reason we’re on the beach to start with is to help our mounts get used to the beach and the water. People are so afraid of the sea, but they forget to train their capaill to become more accustomed to being near it without going mad. That’s our strategy anyway. So we get to within feet of the waves, the salty wind lifting and knotting our hair. The capaill have their ears pricked toward the ocean, and far off in the distance I think I see something breach the surface. I look to my left and it seems Sebastian has seen it too. A look to my right at Rea confirms it. I look back to the spot among the waves to see if it emerges again. It does. The granite coloured head and neck of a wild capall uisce can be seen above the water for just a second until it disappears to the depths again. Granted none of them are ever completely tame, but this is a capall completely untouched by people. Dangerous and deadly.

None of us have spoken since getting to the beach. There’s hardly any point, it’s so loud we’d have a  hard time hearing each other. However our capaill are getting even more restless than they were before and we’ve been here maybe an hour or so, just creeping to the shoreline, so the three of us all look at each other and unanimously make the decision to call it a day. If we stay any longer, especially on the first day, we could put ourselves in serious danger. We walk back up the beach at an excruciatingly slow pace, and just before we leave the beach, we have to walk past a shape hidden under a white sheet. There are two things the sheet can’t cover though, the sheer amount of blood and gore seeping through it and on the ground around it, and the fact that the shape under the sheet is humanoid, but misshapen with joints at odd angles, pieces missing, and a chest cavity with a horrifying hole in it just too big for the sheet to mask. It was bound to happen, everyone knew it, someone was always going to die today, but even still, we are never ready for it. Sebastian is walking first and asks an official standing next to the body,

“Who was it?”

The official hesitates a little before replying,

“I suppose you have the right to know, Mr. Westfall. It was Old Farmer Jon Benet’s boy, Thomas.”

“Thank you, sir. Our condolences to the family.” My brother hides his emotions well, but I can tell he is distraught. Thomas had been one of his close friends for years. I put my hand over my mouth in shock.

“I’m sorry, lad. I know you were close.” 

Sebastian ducks his head now when he walks away with Dor, stooped and withdrawn. I can’t look at the sheet any longer. I dip my eyes to look at Sleipnir’s hooves as we follow Sebastian. We all walk home in silence. Rea splits off to go to her home with a quick goodbye. Once she’s gone, we continue to walk in silence. At home Sebastian turns to me,

“I’m sorry Tess, I need to go in. Please put Dor away for me? I just need... I just need to...”

“Yes, I understand. Pass him here and you go in.”

“Thanks Tessie.” He passes me Dor’s reins and strides into the house. I put away both capaill in their stables and gave them their feeds. I put Dor’s tack away on its peg, then take Sleipnir’s back to the house once I’m done and everything’s away. Walking in through the kitchen I see my brother hunched over in a seat at the kitchen table. He looks up as I come in. His eyes are bloodshot, cheeks flushed, and eyes streaming. I’ve never seen my brother in such a state and I can’t bear to see him like this. He sniffs and when he speaks his voice is cracked and raw.

“I’m sorry, Tess. It’s just that he was one of my best friends, you know? I just can’t get my head around the fact that I will never see him again.”

“Don’t be sorry, Sebs. You have a right to feel how you do. I feel crap too, and I didn’t hang out with him all that much so I can only imagine what it must be like for you.” I toss the bridle in my hand onto a chair and sit on the one next to it, opposite my brother.

“What can I do to help?” I ask him.

“I don’t know. I don’t think there is anything you can do.” He replies.

“How about a mug of hot chocolate? That’s a start at least.”

“Thank you, that’d be nice... Did I ever tell you I have the best sister in the world?”

I smile and stand up to make the hot drink for him. It’s the least I can do to help him grieve. Once it’s made he accepts it gratefully and I give him a hug before settling back in my chair opposite him. We sit there in the pale kitchen light in relative quiet with out drinks for a while until Sebs declares that he needs a little time alone. I gladly let him go to his room and I wash up before going upstairs too, taking Sleipnir’s bridle with me and hanging it on its hook on the wall.

Book Recs

Hi guys I decided this would be the easiest way to make a book rec list! So, without further ado...

(this is all under the cut because it’s waaayyyyy too long I’m sorry)

**means poc main characters (that I can remember, the others might but I can’t remember sorry) NA means new adult

Sci-Fi

The Lunar Chronicles by Marissa Meyer**

Classic fairytales but they’re all friends and flying around in space trying to save the world and the moon

Renegades by Marissa Meyer**

There are good guys (the Renegades) and the bad guys (the Anarchists). Both have powers and both want to take the other down. The Anarchists hatch a plan to infiltrate the Renegades. Huge cliffhanger on the last page and the next book isn’t out yet I’m sorry.

Across the Universe Trilogy by Beth Revis**

Godspeed is a spaceship sent to find a new Earth. Scientists and soldiers have been cryogenically frozen to be woken up when they land. Meanwhile, many generations have been living aboard Godspeed so they’ll have colony when they get to new Earth. A scientist’s daughter accidentally gets woken up too early and befriend the future leader of the people of Godspeed. What follows is so many twists and turns and cliffhangers you’ll have to finish all three books as fast as you can. 

Sekret Machines #1: Chasing Shadows by Tom Delonge and AJ Hartley

Like 7 main characters who don’t meet until the very end. They each are somehow wrapped up in the whole Area 51 UFO conspiracy and it’s a wild ride. There’s a massive cliffhanger on the last page, so just a fair warning. 

The Body Electric by Beth Revis**

A girl can see into peoples’ dreams and memories and meets a boy who says they used to be in love and sees his memories to know he’s telling the truth. Which means... someone has altered her memory. (Takes place in the same universe as the Across the Universe trilogy, but no background knowledge of those books is needed)

The Illuminae Files by Amie Kaufman and Jay Kristoff

This trilogy is a wild ride. The books are set up as collections of found files and documents and emails and it makes for a truly immersive reading experience. Spaceships with AIs that won’t listen and just make everything worse and kill people. It reads like a high stakes space movie and it’s thrilling and incredible.

Fantasy

Daughter of Smoke and Bone trilogy by Laini Taylor

A girl collects teeth for a chimaera who grant wishes, for a price. Black handprints appear everywhere around the world, left there by angels. The girl gets swept into a battle she didn’t even know existed and falls in love with an angel, but everything comes with a price. 

Strange the Dreamer by Laini Taylor

Lazlo Strange grew up researching about a lost city called Weep. Then he gets the chance to visit it and help solve its problems. Meanwhile, Sarai is a godspawn and yearns to be human, but in the meantime must be content with watching their dreams. The two eventually meet and craziness ensues. 

The Prestige by Christopher Priest

This is borderline sci-fi too, but it’s about magicians so like... I gotta put it in the fantasy category. Very similar to the movie (go watch it!) Focuses on two rival magicians both trying to perfect the same trick, but they go about it in very different ways. Nikola Tesla is a character and is played by David Bowie in the movie. The ending is wild and crazy and a little creepy, but all in good fun.

The Nightmare Affair by Mindee Arnett

About a girl who can see into peoples’ dreams and goes to a boarding school for magical beings. She and her reluctant partner have to help figure out who has been murdering students.

The Unbecoming of Mara Dyer Trilogy by Michelle Hodkin**

This one is a little creepy. Mara Dyer can kill people just by wishing it would happen. She meets a boy who can heal people just by wishing it would happen. Of course, nothing is what it seems. 

The Great Library Series by Rachel Caine

Literally a book about loving books. In this world, only certain people get to read books and take care of them, but of course, that has its own dangers. 

The Scorpio Races by Maggie Stiefvater

This is about the fictional island of Thisby, where every year deadly water horse come out of the sea and the islanders race them. This year, Sean Kendrick, the undefeated champion, is racing to buy his freedom. Kate “Puck” Connolly is racing to save her family’s house, but sadly, only one can win.

Realistic Fiction

To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before trilogy by Jenny Han**

This series is adorable and makes me smile so much. Lara Jean writes her crushes love letters and then hides them in her closet and never sends them. Well, they get sent. And who is her most recent crush? None other than her older sister’s boyfriend. So, to counteract the letter, Lara Jean enlists the help of a past crush to be her fake boyfriend until it all blows over. 

This Adventure Ends by Emma Mills

This book made me laugh and cry! A girl moves and befriends a set of brother/sister twins. Her and another friend track down a lost painting and her father is basically the book’s version of Nicholas Sparks.

I Am the Messenger by Markus Zusak

This is about an underage cab driver who accidentally stops a bank robbery and then gets playing cards in the mail and has to figure out what to do with them. It features a dog named the Doorman who only drinks coffee and a hysterical narrator. This is my all-time fave book.

Punk 57 by Penelope Douglas (NA)

The main characters have been pen-pals for years but have never met, though they are both hopelessly in love with each other. Then something happens and the boy stops writing. The girl doesn’t understand what’s going on. Meanwhile, there’s a new kid at her school that she can’t seem to stay away from. This story is very gritty and angsty, but wonderful.

The Hating Game by Sally Thorne (NAish)

The two main characters are both the assistants to co-CEOS. They share an office and absolutely despise each other. They always play games to see who will cave first and to find out what makes the other tic. Obviously, they have a lot of pent-up feelings and anger. 

I'm legit going through the pain of writing these on this godforsaken app. Haha, thisbis pure wany, if you want i can come off anon i don't mind, my blog is pretty impersonal. *Puts clown hat on*ive been here since 2011 unfortunately but still you can blog and not pay yet.

You raise a question now does he like brownies? Candy? Dessert? Crepes? Ooor fancy New York things? Pizza? Sushi?

Karen has gone past her dd 2 season arch and that's why shss great in punisher. Again devolpment really nice for a character. Rare but nice. Then again if you wanna help eith criminals and youre just you i guess youll be annoying you know what i mean?

Yeah yeah matt elektra the orphan thing they match I think they made em deliberately equals. Yeah and Matt ans nat complimented each other well bec nat is also an orphan and alone and is alwaya fighting.

Ah ben Barnes makes sense.Ive watched all of his filmography 💁 naturally, its not that long!!! For years he wasn't getting any roles it was hard.

Yeah all of new York is getting gentrified is really sad methinks. Historical centres are nice but i guess rich people need placws tp live *rolls eyes*

See this is why i dont play games, im not competitive at all, I don't Care at all. I'm just here for fun hahahaha i have zero strategies. I need the boat date immediately, and the hudson definitely smells he shall wear a mask lol he'll be fine.

more matt talk below cut :)

oh no lovie!! i'm so sorry szkjfjez this app is the worst!! maybe you can write everything out in a notes app and then copy paste it here? also you can decide if you want anon or not! whatever you're most comfortable with! also since 2011!! look at us surviving this horrible platform. also. we're all clowns for being here so long. or just being here 🤡. we're nice clowns though. not the horror type.

ooh great question!! i do think he's a new york boy through and through, so maybe deep dish pizza? shoarma? uhm? pretzels? maybe some curly fries from arby's? (i'm actually having sushi tonight, so i really hope he would like that! sushi date pls matt!!!) he doesn't look like a dessert person to me for some reason? what do you think?

yeah i gotchu! i'm just glad her character actually developed in the punisher! in dd she just complains, ruins stuff by trying to get a scoop and idk!!

okay why do the best characters have the worst back stories? 🤨 i see a trend and i do not like it. pls give these wonderful people some fluff? like. they deserve to have a nice life after all the crap they went through!

i tried to watch westworld for ben but alas, even though it is science fiction (which i love) i find it's kinda boring, so i quit </3 thank god he was cast in shadow and bone and in the punisher! such a great actor!

pls why am i imagining him in his black dd costume and a surgical face mask rn 😂 but no, i hope you can experience a boat ride with matt soon, it looks so dreamy...

i got a question for you! which character (besides matt, foggy, karen etc) do you like best from dd? can be a villain too, of course!

@from-the-sea-to-the-sea and I talked a bit about Finn x redemption-arc Mutt, and... I have no self-control. So, here are some not-entirely-shippy and pretty much out-of-character words.

Two weeks after the races, Mutt Malvern washed up on the beach. This in itself would have been odd enough, considering that bodies were lost to the sea more often than they were returned by it. The truly odd thing, however, was that he was alive.

It hadn’t felt like two weeks to Mutt. He couldn’t really say how long it had felt like, but two weeks? It sounds absurd, and anywhere but Thisby, it would be: Mutt Malvern spent two weeks under the waves.

This truth is unknown to the rest of the island. Perhaps it is not a truth at all – two weeks? – but all of what Mutt remembers, even what he can no longer understand, is lit by sunlight or moonlight filtered through salt water. It’s too strange to say, and it’s impossible to fit into something so small as an explanation anyways. Mutt holds this under his skin, like salt in his blood, and he tells no one of his time in the sea.

Mutt’s father does not understand this. He’s been saying for years that Mutt needs to grow up, needs to calm down, but now that the Scorpio Sea has boiled the anger from Mutt, he is still unhappy. He made a show of being pleased for Mutt’s return at first, but he now says that his son hasn’t truly come back. There is no point, Mutt realizes, to saying that he would rather be changed than step back into his old footsteps. He avoids his father these days.

Well, perhaps his father isn’t the only one Mutt avoids these days. They give him strange looks in town, like they’re afraid of what he might do next. And it was hard at first, keeping the sea inside of him and keeping the worst of himself out, but it’s gotten easier. It feels more like himself than a mask he’s putting on, and he knows that the anger was the true mask.

But they still stare. They don’t fear him in a way that some once did, but in a different way. People don’t like to be confronted with the idea that a person can change; it makes them feel neglectful.

Instead of braving the streets of Skarmouth, Mutt now spends much of his time in the tiny cemetery squeezed in next to St. Columba’s. He knows that his own half-carved headstone is waiting in one of his father’s sheds. It would be too morbid to contemplate it directly, and there is a certain sort of company in this air, woven with the whispers of ghosts.

After the first week, Father Mooneyham quietly suggested that he tidy up the tiny plot if he was going to be spending all of his time there. Now, the weeds have been chased away and there are flowers growing along the fence. The older graves have been cleaned off so that their inscriptions can almost be read. Looking at the puzzle of them makes Mutt think of the sea.

There is seldom work that needs to be done in the cemetery now. Mutt simply patrols the stones, yanking the occasional weed and collecting the occasional rotted flowers someone has left. Sometimes, he just sits among the old stones, feeling the presence of stories no longer known.

It is raining today. It’s only a persistent drizzle for now, but not a single person on the island would doubt that it will turn to a screaming storm later this evening. Mutt is sitting in the cemetery, drenched like a memory. He would stay here through the ocean coming onto land and taking him back, he thinks.

There haven’t been many going by the church today, and those who have noticed Mutt have pretended that they didn’t. He is the cautionary tale – both the threat of what the sea can do to a person, and the threat of what your children could become. The latter one is not so new. He doesn’t think it would be there if he’d always been as he is now, but the past clings to him like salt to a capall’s mane.

It is nearly four o’clock when someone stops and looks at him straight on. The light is growing dim, and the rain is picking up, so Mutt pretends not to notice; once this passerby realizes who he is, they’ll hurry on again.

They don’t.

The person comes straight into the cemetery. As he grows closer, Mutt can see that it is Finn Connolly, and he looks away. Finn is the brother of Kate, who is seeing Sean, and there are no words that Mutt can say to Sean. Sean, he thinks, would be both intrigued by and envious of his experience with the sea. Sean, he thinks, might have deserved it more, with his love of the sea and all she offered. It makes him angry to think of Sean thinking the same thing, and it makes him angry to think it himself. There is a lot on the topic of Sean that Mutt can’t bear to think.

“Hey,” Finn Connolly says. He has stopped with his shoes right in Mutt’s eyeline. Mutt doesn’t dare to look away from them.

Finn crouches down in front of him. “Matthew,” he says. Mutt almost can’t remember the last time someone called him that name. He chances to raise his eyes to Finn’s shoulder.

Finn’s hands are busy with a bag he is carrying. After a moment, he pulls a sodden pastry out of it and holds it beneath Mutt’s nose. It smells like vanilla and daydreams. Haltingly, half-expecting it to be withdrawn, Mutt reaches up and takes it. He finally looks Finn in the face, and is met with a smile.

“Do you want to go inside?” Finn asks. He doesn’t ask why Mutt is sitting out in the rain to begin with, and he doesn’t say it patronizingly; his voice is as cheery and casual as if he were a friend asking him into the pub on an October evening.

Mutt shrugged, but he got off the ground. Finn straightened up beside him and started off for the church doors, leaving Mutt to follow at his own leisure. Mutt moved slowly, leaving his legs time to adjust to motion again. By the time he was inside, Finn had already draped his coat over one of the pews, and himself alongside it. Mutt sat down on the same pew, with plenty of space left between them.

“You can eat it, you know,” Finn said, gesturing to the pastry still in Mutt’s hand. Finn reached into his bag and fetched one for himself, taking an enormous bite as if to demonstrate.

Mutt hesitated. “I don’t want to impose,” he said. He knew that the Connolly’s weren’t the wealthiest folks around. Sure, Puck had won the races, but as Mutt understood, most of that money had gone into debts or Sean’s horse.

“Oh!” Finn said, waving this concern away. “They gave them to me at Palsson’s. I made way too much this morning – didn’t realize it was going to rain – and some of those pastries really don’t set a great example on day two.”

Mutt looked down at the pastry Finn had given him. It was soft and tempting and oozing with icing, but it probably couldn’t keep those qualities forever. Mutt raised it to his lips, glanced again at Finn, and took a bite. It tasted even better than it smelled.

“This is good. You made this?” Mutt questioned, his mouth still full.

Finn shrugged. “It’s not so hard if you follow the recipe.”

“Still,” Mutt said. “It’d probably be shit if I did it.”

Finn’s eyes went wide, and he looked fretfully towards the altar. Mutt had forgotten for a moment that he was in the church, and the last time he’d had a conversation in this building, that wouldn’t have stopped him swearing, either. “Sorry,” he said, looking down at his hands.

“It’s fine,” Finn said. He was working on nibbling at his pastry now, not quite looking at Mutt. “You must be soaked,” he commented, changing the subject.

“Oh.” Mutt looked down at his shirt, clinging to his skin. “I guess.”

“You could come to Palsson’s next time,” Finn offered. “It’s almost as empty when it’s raining out.”

“Oh,” Mutt said again. “Thanks.” Finn replied with a crooked smile. There was a little bit of icing at the corner of his mouth, which left Mutt with no choice but to smile back. They went back to comfortably eating in silence after that, though Mutt did surreptitiously shorten the space between them.

“Uh oh!” Finn exclaimed suddenly after a couple of minutes. Mutt looked over and he was frantically attempting to wipe a drip of icing from the pew with his icing-covered hands. Mutt laughed, and Finn looked up at him imploringly. “Father Mooneyham is going to be so mad!” he fretted.

“Should have thought of that before you invited me in,” Mutt said without concern, holding up one of his dripping wet sleeves in demonstration.

He’d meant it to be comforting, maybe, but Finn’s eyes only went wider. Mutt grimaced at himself and said, “Okay, hold on.” He stuffed the remainder of his pastry into his mouth, wiped his hands on his pants, and peeled off his shirt – which, honestly, he’d been wanting to do since Finn had pointed out how soaked it was. He held it out for Finn. “Here.”

Finn no longer looked horrified, but he looked rather wary. He stared at the shirt without taking it, so Mutt sighed and nudged Finn’s hand aside to wipe off the pew with the wet shirt. Once that was done, he draped the shirt over his shoulder. “Good as new,” he said.

Finn nodded slowly. “Okay,” he said simply, which really couldn’t be interpreted.

“You should probably get home before the storm really hits,” Mutt said awkwardly. He didn’t want to chase Finn off, but he also didn’t want to be the reason Finn had to walk back in heavy winds and chasing rain.

Finn looked over at him. “I could stay a little longer, I think,” he said with a little bit of a smile, held back by his teeth.

Mutt watched him for signs of insincerity, but there were none. “All right,” he said. And though Finn no longer had any icing on his face, but Mutt smiled back.