#unsung stories
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Books of 2024: ALWAYS NORTH by Vicki Jarrett.
To me, the scariest place on our entire planet is the Arctic, partially because the scariest thing on our entire planet are polar bears, which have been stalking my nightmares since middle school. So, of course, when I saw a fucked-up polar bear on the cover of a weird and fucked up maybe mystery maybe thriller definitely apocalyptic sci-fi adjacent book that takes place in the Arctic, I thought, "Oh yeah I should definitely start reading that at nighttime IMMEDIATELY while winter still nibbles on the edges of the weather, this is foolproof."
Reader: I am the Fool™.
I'm 80 pages in, and so far we've got weird inexplicable shit going on that we're trying to ignore, and we've been warned about bears SO Many Times All Over The Place (yikes), and we're now being stalked by a polar bear who has a History with the captain (borderline Moby Dick but make it a vicious land-capable predator), and time is fake because it's Always Daylight and we are doing Science on a Boat but make it Evil Capitalism also, and there's some neat textual framework going on with chapter headers, and I'm excited to see where this all goes!!
#books of 2024#books#book photography#my photography#always north#vicki jarrett#unsung stories#i got this when unsung stories closed up shop and went out of business btw#i really wanted a different volume but they were selling off all their physical inventory for very discounted#and 'weird fucked up sff/horror' is my jam and that's what they pub#i put this one on the list as Driscoll Adjacent and i'm delighted to report that once again my vibe checks are IMMACULATE#there is SO MUCH DRISCOLL ADJACENT SHIT IN THIS I LOVE IT#time is weird#you're being watched#bears you can't see are more dangerous than bears you can see#there's so much blood#everything is fuzzy and nothing feels real#landscape markers are unreliable#technology on the fritz#this place is not meant for humans#oh there's a line in here too about how polar bears are like cats because they're curious lmaoooo#i had a sympathy wince for lucius too XD#in btw#driscoll#crimson#aw#lucius#polar bear#ANYWAY I'M HAVING A GOOD TIME SO FAR WHAT DREAD WHAT ANXIETY#have yet to actually have polar bear nightmares again fortunately
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An unbothered queen has entered, and subsequently left.
[First] Prev <–-> Next
#poorly drawn mdzs#mdzs#wen qing#wen ning#jiang cheng#wei wuxian#In the audio drama she quite literally opens the door and then leaves after seeing them without breaking conversation.#It is both so impressive and deeply funny to me.#I imagine her just literally pivoting in one foot and walking right out.#She came home after a long day at work and in 0.5 seconds went “I would rather go back to the office than deal with this right now”.#Besides tickling me to near tears - this scene is also a great introduction to Wen Qing - her first instinct is to protect!#She lives by the code of 'I don't care who you are - if you need help I will lend it.' a true doctor and professional.#Sure she is *mad* that Wen Ning puts himself (and her to a lesser extent) at risk by helping 'the enemy' but she gives in quick.#I love Wen Qing a lot - she is such an unsung hero in this story.#Sorry that her first appearance on this blog was...what it was. I'll let your curiosity take you down that path...
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(vía 'To Catch a Moon' -- A Surrealist Novel Dedicated to Remedios Varo)
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Got her in 55 pulls! Baiting her with her most important people and fringe relationships works.
#dltext#currently m6ing her#now i just need silter for my makeshift rhine squad#'fringe relationships' meaning awkwardness with silence#and mumu and joyce being the unsung support of the rhine story
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this day.
#sometimes u think two fellas have the great unsung american love story#and that they should smooch#and then they do smooch (on the head so like not really) in the state where u wrote a fanfic about them smooching#also like days after u draw a pic of them smooching and ur like lol im not posting this#you can imagine where im at. like mentally#feeling vaguely lisan al gaib
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me: that moment in twisted (the main theme song thing for twisted: the untold story of a royal vizier) is so real because throughout the entire show ja’far had been willingly accepting all the death threats and insults constantly thrown at him, his only friend is this parrot his dead wife gifted him, i wouldnt be surprised if he’s constantly getting nostalgia of sherrezade, and when the townspeople didn’t hate him, and when he actually had friends. and now, here, in this song, during this very moment, all he can see and hear are people that understand him. ursula, scar, gaston, hook, these are all people that he can actually relate to. all these “villains” that he thought he knew opened themselves to him, and finally revealed the truth about their lives, instead of the twisted take that sherrezade’s story told. people that he could actually consider real friends. but that doesn’t matter anymore, does it? he has to make a choice. his princess’ life is in his hands right now. if aladdin ever got hold of the lamp, who knows what he’d do? oh, let’s face it, everyone knows what his foolish mind is thinking. ja’far could never let that arrogant street rat do what he knew he’d do to his daughter. right, his daughter. it’s crazy you would think that a deeply caring and passionate man would leave his daughter, with no one to look after her in the blink of an eye. but what other choicde did he have? he may not ever see the princess again. he may never actually get his wish of returning his wife and retrieving the happy ending he ever so desired. but how could those thoughts reach his racing mind when all he could think of are ursula’s words. the townspeoples’ words. how much everyone despised him. so if he couldn’t live happily ever after with his loved ones... might as well give up his life for them. because mortal life isn’t worth living if he the ja’far everyone only ever saw... was twisted.
my two brain cells:
my two brain cells: jesus christ...
#starkid twisted#the road ahead may twist#but i will never swerve#i'll give them all the unsung anti-hero they deserve#i've nothing else to lose#so the only path to choose#is#t w i s t e d#let them twist my words#let the people scorn me#who cares if no one ever mourns me#let them bury the side of the story theyll never know#let the truth be twisted#let my life be twisted#i'll be twisted#its my turnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn
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when: cloe and kay's birthday, the night of september 22nd
where: cloe's office
trigger warnings: mild depictions of gore, references to all the shit that has been going on in senatus in the past year, self-worth issues, semi-suicidal ideation almost?? its not that but feels almost like that OK??
mentions: @emmawrxght @dhcmpirs @meryasek
Happy Birthday to You
Funny, how much can change in a year. Funny, how much can be lost to the flames. A year ago, Cloe’s star had been on the rise, her appointment to the Senate approaching, and with it the opportunity to make everything she had dreamed since her mother’s murder a reality. A year ago, Emma had still been alive, untouched by the ravages of a necromanced soul. A year ago, Meryasek had been alive and the fey still had their courts. A year ago, countless of halfblooded had been alive, ready to flock Rome in the hopes of a brighter future.
A future that had been taken away from them in the blink of an eye.
A year ago, there had been hope for a better, brighter future. But now? Now those hopes laid at her feet, turned to ashes as she discarded the hopes for something better in order to hope for survival. A hope for her people’s survival despite being embroiled in a fight between gods and monsters, between an immovable object and an unstoppable force.
Happy Birthday to You
She is weary, the weight on her shoulders making her wish that she could bow her back and bend to the pressure. Making her wish that she could sink into the embrace of oblivion and forget her worries and fears. It is a terribly fantastical notion to have the hopes of other halfblooded resting on her shoulders. To know that they look at her and see someone worth admiration, see their own personal Atlas holding up their sky for them in order to allow them a glimpse of the heaven they had been barred from.
It’s almost enough to drive her to the bottom of a bottle, to drive her to try the pills that had proven so much of a temptation for Kay throughout the years.
Almost.
Cloe wants oblivion, desperately wishes for moments of peace like the ones she had found on the Midsommar’s Masquerade, non-consensual cannibalism aside, but rarely has she allowed herself to make her life about what she wants.
She had been the perfect daughter for Victor to done affection when he found it convenient, the mature child for Liliana not to worry throughout her late night shifts, the supporting friend to ensure Kay always had a friend to lean on, the charismatic speaker for those who wanted a voice in the Senate but did not have the reckless lack of self-worth that she did.
Her entire life, she had been defined by what she could do for others, by her worth in their eyes rather than her own.
She is a halfblooded faiman, after all.
Lucky to be alive, lucky to be born, but not too lucky for she is still lesser than her father’s family. Lucky to touch the magic that humanity cannot, but not too lucky for it makes her an easier prey for the Eye.
To the world, her worth is on her blood, on what her magic can do. Not on her herself, never on herself.
Not until she made herself worth something by being too loud to ignore, too self-sacrificing to care about the target she painted on her back by demanding to be heard before the Senate. That made her worth something, her willingness to put herself in danger to help others, her willingness to draw the eyes of all those who prey on her kind in hopes of making it mean something.
Well, she had done just that. Gone above and beyond expectations, and what she had gotten for her troubles?
The guilt sitting on her shoulders as she entered Mutat Domum after the wedding to find it devoid of life in its entirety, countless of halfblooded she had sworn to protect gone in the blink of her eyes.
Dead friends, the memories haunting her every time she looked at the mirror. The nightmares of Emma’s embrace as she consumed her magic, the nightmares which reminded her that for a moment, she had thought she deserved to be ended by her friend’s hand because Cloe had failed her like she had failed many others. The images of Meryasek’s death imprinted in the back of her eyelids, burned into her memory so that she sees the light on his eyes fading as Ayi’ig pulled his heart out every time she blinked.
A year ago, she had believed that things would only get better. And now? Now, she has never felt so alone. Not even after her mother’s death. At least then, Kay had only been a call away.
At least then, she had known Kay would always be there by her side.
Except.
Except, she had managed to fuck up even that on her race to make herself be worth more than she was, hadn’t she?
Happy Birthday Dear Kay
Happy Birthday to You.
She sits alone in her dark office, brown eyes focused on the single lit candle placed delicately on the cupcake before her. There had been supposed to be two of them, painfully planned to match and still demonstrate Kay and her respective personalities. There had been supposed to be two of them, sitting across the desk as they sang each other happy birthday as it had been every year. No matter how far apart, no matter the continents spanning between the two, Cloe had always called Kay on their birthday, they had always shared a laugh about their coincidence of their birth.
They had always, since they met— since they found that they were not alone, that they were not the only halfblooded around, that they had someone who understood right by their side—, they had always sang happy birthday to each other.
Except. Except she had taken that for granted, thrown Kay’s efforts away without realizing that she had. She had lost her brother because of her pride, and she didn’t know how to get him back.
She had tried to find him that morning. Tried to ask him to share the cupcakes she had made with her, but she hadn’t been able to find him.
Not in his room in Mutat Domum, not on the training grounds, not in his apartment.
He had been avoiding her, and she understood. But for a moment— For a moment, she had hoped that they could set it all aside for their birthday.
How stupidly naive of her.
From good friends and true,
From old friends and new,
May good luck go with you,
And happiness too.
The candle burns dimly, the wax pooling over the cupcake’s icing as she watches it blankly, unable to muster the strength to blow it out before it ruins the sweets taste.
She doesn’t want a fucking cupcake.
She wants everything that had been lost in the past year to return.
She wants, and wants and wants, but it has never been about what she had wanted, it has always been about what she could do.
And what she could do is prevent any more grief, even if it means she has to take more burdens upon herself.
She is already Icarus, flying too close to the sun.Might as well make it so when she goes, she goes down swinging.
#musings { multitudes within the self }#drabbles { of stories unsung }#happy lonely birthday motherfuckerrrrrrr#cloe is going Through It at any given point tbh
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nathan ingram unsung hero of person of interest. to me.
#harold: ''i built a backdoor'' the fuck you did lol#that was all nathan! he's the one who refused to have those ''irrelevant'' numbers lost in the ether~ and gave the machine a chance#to save them. finch taught the machine a lot. so did the people that came later#but this is the most important thing someone did for her development imo#(it happens rarely but sometimes stepfather figures CAN be useful!)#talking to the void#my thoughts#poi thoughts#nathan ingram#so many poi feelings lately. smh#the machine#favourites: pinocchio stories#also i mean more as in unsung in the show than in fandom (no idea there)
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*thinks about Black Sails and ExU: Calamity at once*
*begins full-body trembling like a chihuahua*
#black sails#exu Calamity#it's about TRAGEDY it's about PREQUELS it's about FORGONE CONCLUSIONS#it's about unsung heroes or forgotten villains it's about inevitability it's about history retold#it's about fighting the future and losing it's about the stories we tell our children it's about the end of an age it's about HOPE#it's about the space between the lines of the annals of history it's about the LOVE that lives there it's about what that love will do#it is not incidental it is not inconsequential it's something so much worse: ESSENTIAL#I'M CHEWING THE DRYWALL#my nonsense
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Unsung Stories Haul!
I got THE most delightful box stuffed FULL OF BOOKS yesterday, because I really wanted UNEXPECTED PLACES TO FALL FROM, UNEXPECTED PLACES TO LAND after supremely enjoying the author's other book (AND THEN I WOKE UP).
Turns out the publisher was closing up shop, so they were offering deep discounts on all their paperback stock to clear it out. I figured what the hell, I can always use more weird fucked up SFF/H, so here we are.
#books#book photography#my photography#unsung stories#malcolm devlin#unexpected places to fall from unexpected places to land#i'm excited for the others in this stack too although i haven't looked closely!!#it's just all weird and fucked up and i'm here for that shit#also this is the spiders georg box btw#like i WAS tracking how many books i've acquired this year....and then.....this happened#nyoops
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Kadira, are you partial to any gods? Why or why not?
OC Interview: Send a question directed to one of my characters /muses, and I’ll answer in character as them!
"Oh, that's a question." Kadira chuckles, her fingers playing over the raw pearls on her bracelet. "On my mother's side, I'm Sarkorian-- a Kellid. However, when people hear Kellid, they think of the Yurktiri, the Mammoth Lords and their worship of the Green Faith and Gorum. We Sarkorians had a sedentary culture and national identity as well as nomadic culture, with the belief Aroden protected our home by driving Deskari and his cults into the Lake of Mists and Veils.
"My grandfather was young when Aroden died, but he was devoted to the Inheritor and that Iomedae would come and drive the demon lords through the Wound." Her smile is sad, "Both his daughter and granddaughter were born during the 1st and 2nd crusades respectively, and the latter is attempting to lead the 5th.
"I… I don't think my mother worshiped Iomedae… I… I don't remember." It sounds hollow even to her own ears, but for the life of the tiefling, she can't remember her mother's faith. One of those many memories that have been altered and shifted. Was it Irka who was faithless or was it Areelu? Maybe both?
"I prayed to Iomedae and felt unheard when I was in Areelu's lab, growing up. Maybe I had stopped praying because- '' She scoffs, continuing on, refusing to show any more soft underbelly than she already has, "Months later, I decided I would draw things that would remind me of home. Patterns that I remember my grandmother would weave for clothes and jewelry, and… I felt very peaceful. At night I would dream of a red bellied songbird, with a blue crown and wings of yellow and green. And the bird would sing."
"Shelyn's anathema is not to destroy art but I'd destroy my little drawings because I didn't want anyone to know I did that… but that little rainbow bird would still sing sweetly to me nearly all my dreams. I'm here now, I'm able to see the sky and hear songbirds… and I don't have to destroy my drawings now because I don't have to fear someone taking that from me.”
Her lips press tightly together as she continues to play with her bracelet, “Regardless, I don’t enjoy being called Imodane’s chosen.”
#undyingembers#answered ask#(oh this one took a lot of thought)#(i had this huge story about how Kadee thinks that Shelyn is the unsung heroine of language and culture)#(and then it got so super personal and raw)#(hank you so much for this question!)
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I didn't know this was apparently so common?!
#Marni nixon#musicals#the king and i#west side story#film facts#unsung#classic film#This woman should have had so much more credit#my fair lady
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Must you too die without your stories told? Must all of you die so ignored and forgotten?
Soman Chainani, from A Crystal of Time
#ignored#forgotten#untold stories#unsung heroes#obscurity#unnoticed#sad#quotes#lit#words#excerpts#quote#literature#soman chainani#a crystal of time#the school for good and evil
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A really underrated aspect of Spider-Man's origin is the search for Uncle Ben's killer. There's a small window of time where it looks like he's going to kill this man who murdered his father when he finds him. There's a spider on his back whispering "get him" and he's listening.
#There needs to be a story honoring the unsung character that is Peter Parker's stance on killing#It's so fluid. Way more fluid than what people think#He spares the life of Ben's murderer but also flings a bag of pumpkin bombs at Green Goblin in the heat of the moment#He avows no one around him gets to die meanwhile some years before he swore vengence on Kingpin on the chance his Aunt dies in the ICU#It's so human. Naturally we don't *want* anyone around us to die. Hopefully anyway. But everyone has their limit#And though he practices restraint everyday holding back his punches he still gets some form of gratification#From enacting violence on the bad guys seeing as he spent so much of his life being the weak one. It's insane#peter parker#spiderman
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Lost in Time
Unsung Prompts: First in, last out
Time turns everything into a dream.
You know where you come from, but little by little, the memories of that place start to fade. You no longer remember the tone with which the machines used to hum, and though you could say which structure stood where if you visited the ruins of your old “home”, you couldn’t tell their exact size, shape or colour. The details are slowly getting lost. Insignificant, someone might call them, but our perception of the world is nothing but built on those insignificant details: layered together, like strokes from an artist’s brush, they form our reality. A world without clear details is not a reality; it’s a dream.
You are starting to forget her, too: your first master. Did she have a beauty mark on her left or right cheek? How many servants did her household have? What was the reason why she sent you on that skirmish – the one that both saved and doomed you, in a way?
The memories are turning into a jumble of bits and pieces, with a few emotions mixed in between. Red cloth. The scent of vanilla, amusement. Familiar faces on both sides of the battlefield.
At least you remember him vividly: your second master. His laugh, expressive body language, the glint in his amber eyes when something made a dent in the mask of a carefree, amiable adventurer. You remember him – but a part of you wants to add “for now”.
When you think about it, you feel an odd ache in your chest region, though you cannot quite tell why.
It is not fear: you don’t know any fear. Melancholy, perhaps. Longing. Or just… isolation. It’s difficult to say. Feelings are strange things.
You can feel it even when not lost in the past, thinking about things that once were. You notice a grey hair in the innkeeper’s head that wasn’t there a few moons ago. You listen to the guests enjoying tea outside while you guard the premises and hear them talk about children growing up, whether theirs or someone else’s. You witness new chocobo chicks being born and plants growing and withering.
You see the passage of time, in other words.
Yet you don’t change, or at least you don’t feel like you do. The headaches come and go, but you continue doing your duties diligently and to your utmost best. There is no physical change, unless mending clothes and cutting overgrown hair counts. Someone tries to guess how old you are or when your name day is, and you just blink at them or shrug. The real answer would be too complicated – or vague.
But quietly, you wonder: will the same visage still greet you in the mirror after another cycle or two, or a decade? Will you see the inn passed down to the next generation and stay, like a fixture, or will you leave to find another master or purpose?
Will you still be here when everyone you know now has been buried – and see how with their memories, you start to lose a little bit of yourself, too?
The toll of time can be heavy, particularly for someone who has stood by and watched the world go – voluntarily, or involuntarily.
#IC story#Merces#I've decided to finally start posting my writing prompts in Tumblr#partly to keep this blog active and partly to just share the stuff more openly#Unsung Prompts#I'm still unsure whether to post my old things or not but I might at least share a few favourites#but anyhow have a sad for starters I guess :')
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they go, we go
I want you to know
what I did, I did
#` ( MUSIC: THE BALLAD OF THE STRUGGLER / YOUR UNSUNG VOICE. )#(shaking) this is my favorite song in the world and slapping it on jelly was only natural#ITTTSSSS a song directed to his counterpart – a confession to his poor-decision making throughout the story up toooo#pre-innocence... iirc#but that last part where he repeats it over and over is directly about his light scar#it's the one thing he's hidden from his counterpart and when it comes to light how it happened#it's basically a big#'and i'd do it again'#WHICHHH is a big deal for him bc he's grappling apathy like a bull and he's actually succeeding bc his love is driving him#instead of hindering him#IDK#big rambles#...i think jelly's gonna start a pingpong match with neku man he's spinning a lil faster
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