traaps - this is the time

the 1975 - I always wanna die (sometimes)

november


Things I've enjoying in the month of November:

But her piece for the Kingdom of Ash Barnes & Noble Exclusive Edition is just... beyond.
And I may have pre-ordered this edition... even though I haven't started the Throne of Glass series yet... which is not something I normally do but... it's Maas... and I know I'll love it and would regret not buy it...
...
I'm trash.
Human trash.
But I just don't care and you can't make me...
(full list of all the special editions, here although none of them are available anymore...)

Now i've just got to make it through eight books without being spoiled while the internet freaks the Fae out about the last book ever and reveals fucking everything.
...
Well that didn't last.
Kingdom of Ash had been out for a day and I was spoiled (albeit minorly because I was pretty much expecting it) almost immediately.
...

Goddamnit, Court of Maas.
Godfuckingdamnit!

Note to self: from here on out, we only squint at the internet.

.............................................

Two special editions of the above mentioned yet-to-be-started series:
(Endlessly kicking myself for not buying two copies so I could frame the shit out of this)
They're so pretty.
(Just look at those details)
I have zero fucks to give.
I'm just going to hug them to my chest and swoon for a little while.

.............................................

Since using Instagram and Twitter I've started getting more into webcomics, namely these four:

Ana Godis' Still Life.
I'm so heavily involved in this already and we're only 27 pages in.
I could describe it.
But I don't want to.
It's just too good.
And I'll ruin it.
Just go and read it.
Please.
It's so fucking good and the artwork's incredible (good god, that style) and and and Godis deserves the love.
Now go.
Go, go, go.

(You can read the first chapter in order, here and chapter 2, here.)

Meawbin the Creepy Cat by Cotton Valent.
This isn't really a series as such, more a collection of instances of Meawbin being, well, creepy.
It's weird and soft and unnervingly reminds me of my own cat.
For example:
And:
Oh, and this:
I genuinely think he may have been dropped on his evil, fluffy head when he was a kitten.
But it's nice to know he has fellow weirdos out there.



A post shared by Cassandra Calin (@cassandracalin) on
Cassandra Calin's a very new find for me and I love her.
I love, love, love her.
And her oh so relatable girl problems:

And just general life problems...

And just very me problems:
Yeah, I've got one hell of a crush here.

And of course, the goddess herself, Sarah Andersen.
And my forever favourite for obvious reasons:
If I need a pick me up, she's my girl.

.............................................

Hexed:

For some unknown reason I sometimes won't read the next book in a series I love.
It's as simple as looking at the book on my shelves and getting an "I'm not in the mood for you" feeling.
So I won't.
It's bullshit but I'm a go-with-your-gut kind of reader.
Sometimes just holding them feels wrong.
I reiterate: it's bullshit.
Because when I finally do read them I almost always think, "Why the fuck didn't I pick this up sooner? You love these guys! Never listen to your brain, you know she's a vindictive twat."
She is.
She really is.
Because the second story in The Iron Druid Chronicles officially sealed my fate as a hardcore Atticus O'Sullivan fan.
Two thousand years old.
A fearsome and wisecracking warrior.
Slayer of gods.
Shapeshifter extraordinaire.
But present him with the girl he refuses to admit he's crushing on hard in a pair of pyjamas and he's still rendered brain-lame by a pair of breasts.
...
I don't know why I find this so charming.
I really don't.
But I do.

I just love this giant adolescent dork:

His breath was hot in my face—fiery, as a matter of fact—and those bulging muscles weren't an illusion. I had to draw on some power from my bear charm to keep him at bay.
"You killed my father," he snorted in a basso profundo rumble, "Prepare to die!"
"Inigo Montoya? Is that you?"

I really do:

I lunged forward, shot my right arm out, and whipped the towel up to head height. I heard it snap satisfyingly against something, and a sharp cry of pain followed from the blond witch immediately afterward. Douglas Adams was right: There is nothing so massively useful in the universe as a towel.

How could I not?

Note to self: Ignore guts, they are the Jon Snow of body parts. Do not listen to your brain, she's a blunderfuck who just wants to watch you suffer. Read all the things and do it before either of these idiots get involved.
End of lesson.

.............................................

This makes me so happy:

(can I find a source? No I cannot. Internet, you suck)

.............................................

Ilona Andrews' newsletter:


Ilona is Kate if Kate didn't fight the supernatural and had reliable access to the internet.
...
Glorious.

.............................................

Re-reading Wildest Dreams:

It's soppy.
It's dirty.
And so fantastical I have a mini breakdown every time I read it (read from the bottom up):


I used to be a fucking ice queen!
Goddamnit, Ashley/Maas/Thalassa/Andrews.

Goddamnit.

.............................................

My sister showing me some love:
She's not wrong.

.............................................

The grand re-read has come to a close:

And it was fucking glorious.
...
I don't have much to say other than I love this series.
I love it to death.
I'll fight anyone who tries to take it from me.
Feysand is life.

I'm so thirsty for the next instalment.
Thiiiirrrrrrsssstttttyyyyyy.

Give me Nessian.
Give them to me now.
...
Also, now I don't have to feel bad for possessing a limited edition pin for the Throne of Glass series I haven't even started yet because now I can and I shall and I'll enjoy every fucking moment of it.

Quite possibly while wearing this pin:

...
And I never used to read series.
Fucking laughable.

.............................................

Required monthly dose of the Charles:

The view I'm presented with when getting ready for whatever's left of the day.
(Late risers, unite! Or just remain laying the fuck down because ugh, mornings, what are mornings?)
What makes this particularly special is when he makes multiple valiant - and mildly terrifying - attempts to eat the tops of my makeup brushes while I'm using them.
...
Special.
Oh so very special.

.............................................

John Fenerov:
I've been following (stalking, definitely stalking) his work for a while now and I'm still in awe of the almost tactile softness to his drawings.
My own work had a tendency to err on the heavy-handed side.
I naturally wanted an extreme contrast between the light and dark in whatever I was drawing.
And at the time I would have defended that want to the hilt.
But now?
When I look at the first image in this list I can't for the life of me fathom why.
The warmth and delicacy communicated in the movement of the hair alone is enough to make feel foolish for my brashness.
It makes me ache all over.
Just the way art should.

.............................................

Hark! A new Bryn Greenwood novel:

She destroyed me with All The Ugly and Wonderful Things.
Let's see what irreparable damage she can cause me with The Reckless Oath We Made.
...
Not that it matters.
I will read anything she writes.
Any.
Thing.

.............................................

The Hunt by Thomke Meyer:



This has been popping up in my Pinterest feed for months and I wish I'd taken the hint sooner.
Not only is The Hunt beautifully drawn but its composition is flawless and it achieves what every great graphic novel should by creating a visual "pull" to effortlessly lead you through the story.
This is even more impressive when the story is mute.
It takes skill to impart a story with the absence of words and Meyer not only achieves this but does it with a wealth of atmosphere.
Oh, to be this fucking talented.

.............................................

Words, words, words:



.............................................

I couldn't give a flying fuckstick about Riverdale and especially not about Archie Andrews but this?:
This is so damn pretty, I kind of want to stroke it.

.............................................

Ridiculous.
Beautiful.

.............................................

I couldn't not own this:

I love Wuthering Heights.
Love, love, love it
It's unfettered agony.
But tell me it's a beautiful love story and Heathcliff's just "Oh so dreamy", I will have to punch you in the uterus (or dick; all genitalia welcome to have some sense smacked into it).
It is beautiful and it is a love story but it's not a beautiful love story you hormone-addled fuckwits.
It's poison.
Feral fucking poison.
Heathcliff's a bastard.
Cathy's a brat.
They're hateful and they do love each other but christ, it's a twisted, possessive, life-ruining love.
It's not romance.
Fucking hell, if you read Wuthering Heights and get the warm romantic fuzzies then I suggest an intense course of therapy.
Prozac.
And a stiff fucking drink.

Christ.

.............................................

Thestrals have always been a favourite of mine in the Potterverse:

And in these troubled Potter times, a Thestral on my shelves is a welcome comfort.

And of course she permanently resides next to Luna... and Trevor the Unicorn pen...

Okay, I just need a minute to appreciate how fucking tiny Ron used to be.

.............................................

Dex's reaction to the heresy:

This is why I keep him around.

.............................................
Come to me, my pretty.

.............................................

Kevin Wada being a total wondrous bastard:

I can't take all the pretty.
It's too much.


.............................................

Receiving Conquest:

Thank you, Inktober for bringing Samantha Mash into my life.

.............................................

"Noted":

.............................................

Bells:

I'm not crying.
You're crying.