june

Things I enjoyed in the month of June:
 Rebecca Ross’, Ruthless Vows:
Dear E.,The problem is. . . I want to hear from you at all hours. I want to read your words. I am greedy for them. I am hungry for them.
Yours,R.
...
Dear R.,Let me be your secret, then. Tuck my words into your pocket.Let them be your armor.
Love,E.
...
I would love to see you burn with splendor.I would love to see your words catch fire with mine.

[Warning: spoilers ahead]
There’s an inevitable moment that comes once I’ve read the last sentence of any book, a pause of unhindered reflection I allow myself to stew in a while to really acknowledge how I’m feeling and what the story I’ve taken into me has done to my insides - intellectually, emotionally, ofttimes physically. It’s a beat of space to revel in, to react however I want, and either move on or carry those feelings forever. A moment I experienced with Ruthless Vows whilst sitting in the garden, in a patch of early evening June sunlight, with my unsociable gremlin of a cat purring a few feet away from me and the quiet sounds of suburbia clattering in the periphery. An idyllic moment, one I strive for with every summer day it isn’t raining, and one that I’m sorry to say wasn’t reflected in my feelings with the closing of the Letters of Enchantment duology. In fact, in an unexpected curl of fate, I found myself feeling very little at all, which is not exactly where I thought I would settle with the conclusion of Iris and Roman's story.But I had an inkling it might be as the end drew ever closer.
There’s always been a meandering, ambling quality to Rebecca Ross’ storytelling, where the stakes may be high but the pace actively refuses to match its urgency, instead beckoning the reader along with the stroke of fingertips and a tip of the chin. A placid style of tale-weaving, one that feels inherently British with its smoggy mornings turned dappled afternoons turned close tempered nights, quenched with endless pots of English Breakfast brewing on life-scored kitchen tables. A style that suits Ross’ fable of Blitz-era war and ancient gods, magical typewriters, steampunk roadsters, and two rival reporters falling in love in the midst of it all. A style I, from the first page of the first book, was happy to sink into and let myself be soothed by its familiarity but also its fantastical strangeness; to feel the fleeting heat of my island's summer brush against my skin with Ross' words but also the impossible gust of air from an Eithral's dragon-esque wings, an experience I can't possibly fathom but somehow did. If there's one thing you cannot fault in Rebecca Ross' storytelling, it's her ability to create a world and make it not just vivid but sensory, even for, especially for, things beyond human comprehension. And for a story that held so many problems for me in the beginning, that felt firmly rooted in British culture but was sporadically intruded on by Americanisms which felt out of place and didn't mesh with the story, thus creating a jarring world-building experience, this second book shucked off any wavering in its sense of place. Ruthless Vows' Cambria is very much itself: British, of course. American, intermittently. Cambrian, absolutely. And if the story left me feeling listless, the world-building did the very opposite. I could spend what feels like forever rambling from place to place in this picturesque, at times cinematic, world Ross has created; be it by roadster with Tobias at the wheel and Attie at my side, or the simple act of following a few paces behind Iris and Roman as they traverse the countryside, two typewriter cases bookending their clasped hands. It's a world I vehemently did not want to leave, in part because of how comforting I found it, but moreover because there's so much left to uncover, places Ross only allowed us a few peaks behind the curtain of, lands spoken of but as of yet untravelled, and it's maddening to be shut out before the story's really begun.
Well, the other stories that is, because Iris and Roman’s does satisfyingly feel as though it’s come to the end of its inky ribbon's spool. Period. The end. Whatever lies next for them can be left safely to the imaginations of the readers and the wealth of contentment Ross bid farewell to us with. But as far as the others players of her story? Their pages lay decidedly unread.There's no "The End" on the final page of Ruthless Vows, which feels reflective of the breadth of story still waiting to be told; from Dacre's underworld, to where the leylines mapping it could potentially lead. If there's an underworld, is there an upperworld? How many more doors are there to be opened? And why did Ross rush to close them with such urgency? What of Enva and the door she disappeared through? If there are gods, are there demigods? Did the birds seemingly stalking Iris and Roman have any greater significance than metaphor? And how, after everything that happened, everything the people of Cambria experienced at the hands of the gods and themselves, will it affect their entire world? Their culture? How they move forward, and whether anything else lurks in the wings to turn their lives upside down?These are big questions, ones that ran rampant through my brain following the initial uneasy moment of numbness after reading the last few words, and ones that continue to bother me, along with the way the duology ended. What's the famous line: “The hard part about writing a novel is finishing it.”The conclusion of a piece of fiction is undoubtedly the part of the story to come under the most criticism: it was too brutal, it felt forced, it didn’t fit with the story as a whole. Common complaints that aren’t without merit, I’ve whined miserably about them myself countless times, but as a non-author, I can’t imagine the pressure of taking all the threads of your tale and weaving them believably together with only a few minor tangles. It seems impossible, a thing not of talent but magic; so, with every ending I read, there are forgivenesses I naturally grant the story, allowances of “okay, it doesn’t entirely fit, but I’ll give it a pass because it’s making me feel so damn good.” Some could read this as shallow and not caring enough about the coherency of storytelling, instead favouring emotion over intellect, but I see it more as the acknowledgement of flawed things possessing the power to be beautiful and moving and complex without ticking all the "perfect" boxes. A piece of art you love or even just liked, in no way has to be faultless; it can be messy, narratively a little dodgy, or simply not what you would have chosen had you been in control. In some ways, maybe that's more satisfying because it grants imaginative scope and more art is born from those imperfections: fanfic, fanart, adaptations, etc. And who doesn't want more art, honestly?So, it took absolutely no effort on my part to grant those same forgivenesses to Ruthless Vows' conclusion once I took a minute to see past the initial lethargic grief of not sealing the book shut with a sigh of satiation, and remembered everything I enjoyed in the build up, and, in part, the end. Because it is a satisfying ending, it does manage to get the characters where they need to go and performs it in a fashion that doesn’t feel unfaithful to the rest of the story, but it was fast, and it did feel a little too easy. Perhaps I’m being harsh, what with the absurd amount of fantasy I’ve read over my lifetime making me a tad snobbish, but when your story is dealing with mortals and gods, two vastly opposing ends of the power scale, shouldn't the dénouement of their battle feel… grand? Brutal? Impossible? It can't be put to bed by a mortal girl with a magical sword, a violin and a lullaby, and three pages of light action.
Can it? Isn’t that too easy? Too safe? Shouldn’t I feel my nerves quake with the fear of “I know it’s going to be okay but oh gods, oh gods, oh gods it really doesn’t feel like it’s going to be okay!”, instead of a punctuated “Oh… well… alright then”? Shouldn't there be more than that? For this story, for the way Ross built the tension from two ordinary people falling in love in the thick of war, to two soulmates fighting to right the terrible wrongs of a terrible deity? I can't help but feel cheated, as if there was an epic battle right there to be had, one that could've shaken the very pages of the book I was holding... and Ross took the easy way out, whilst making character decisions I'm decidedly pissed off about, namely the death of Forrest and Sarah, and the complete omission of Marisol's presence at the end of the book.I'm not an advocate for no deaths in fiction, but I am a vehement champion for deaths only when they a) make sense, b) aren't shock-bait, and c) contribute to the story as a whole. Otherwise, all I'm going to feel is upset for no fucking reason and very fucking pissed off, which is the emotion currently gripping my throat in a chokehold by the deaths of Forrest and Sarah. They weren't major characters, but I wouldn't class them wholly as side-characters, either, but they did hold weight and significance within the story. And by Ross bringing them together in Oath's time of strife, having them grow this bond that made me interested in where their story could go and then snatching it away for reasons I can only fathom as "well, somebody had to die because some old author dude said so a million year ago!", it feels like a slap in the face. A little slice of hurt that didn't need to be inflicted and, frankly, I'm pretty mad about it. Why make me care? What did their deaths actually mean? Was it solely because Iris and Roman couldn't die, so why not Iris' brother, a man who's traumatised, mentally and physically, by war and at last found a little peace with a woman in need of some of her own? Who better to cause a little readership damage to and not cop too much of a fallout? If that's the case, then nope. Not good enough for me. Not only was it unnecessary, but on a grander scale, it was simply cruel. To the characters, to Iris (who's now an orphan and has been through enough, ffs), to what their story could've been, even in the smallest of ways.But at least they were given an ending, unlike Marisol. This one might actually piss me off more than the former because with Marisol, she was part of the main cast, she was vital to the story. Marisol is a lighthouse character, the physical embodiment of a beacon of home, a safe harbour full of warmth and kindness. And without her, Iris and Roman wouldn't have met again in Avalon Bluff; Iris wouldn't have known to send a message of warning to Keegan, Marisol's wife, and Hawk Vale would've most likely fallen; and Attie and Iris would never have met on their way to the Marisol's B&B, so there would've been no one playing the lullaby to put Dacre to sleep. She is an integral part of the narrative equation, and in a smaller but no lesser way, she was crucial to Iris and Roman's emotional growth by providing the kind of familial solace and protection they never received from their own. Without the days and nights of affection she happily dispensed upon them, Ross' protagonists may never have healed the way did, and let their guard down enough to admit their need for each other, thus cancelling out the entire story. So, where was she? In those last few pages of epilogue? Where was she? Where was Iris' pseudo-mother figure? Her friend? Her protector? The hell if I know, and I can't make it make sense. She should've been there, brushing brows and hugging close, wearing her every emotion on her face and doing it knowingly. She's the Marmee of the story and her absence at the end was simply wrong and I can't seem to get over it.Much like I can't get over Roman and Iris, who didn't let me down, not even for one moment.

Their souls weren't mirrors but complements, constellations that burned side by side.

When I started this second book, I will admit I was nervous because I knew these two would be spending a large chunk of it apart, and more often than not, I get frustrated when the MC are constantly separated (I'm looking at you, Claire and Jamie. You two need handcuffed together).
If I'm invested in a fictional couple, or at least on my way to being invested, I want to spend time with them place, learning their communication style, how they fight and how they make up, how they move through the world together, and I can't do this if they're not within reach of each other. So, like I said, I was nervous about the distance between them, but actually their separation (which was almost the entire book) didn't bother me the way I thought it would, in fact, it actually bonded them more firmly in my mind. Those stolen moments under the cover of darkness, covert afternoon teas and secret rendezvous at Roman's home, and of course, their magically delivered letters were all the more sacred because as they played their roles for other people within the story, the pretences they donned like masks to survive, those honest glances of time when they were alone were made infinitely more precious.
In these fleeting chapters you get to watch as their love expands and flourishes, but without losing the playfulness of their "rivalry" or the urgency of what's unfolding around them.

[Roman] could wake in the deepest region of Dacre's realm, as far from the moon and sun as divinity could shackle him. He could wake and not know his name, forgetting every word he had ever written. But he would never forget the scent of Iris's skin, the sound of her voice. The way she had looked at him. The confidence of her hands.And he thought, There is no magic above or below that will ever steal this from me again.

There's part of me that believes if they'd spent the whole book side by side, they may not have evolved enough to reach that final battle with Dacre, wouldn't have taken the chances they did if they were clutching too tightly to one another, constantly worrying who's hand would be ripped away first, blinded to everything else - we saw what happened in Avalon Bluff, after all. So, even if didn't like it, spirting them away to opposite sides of the battle was the more interesting choice, and benefitted the story and their relationship with greater effect.But, just to be completely contrary, as is my wont as the mercurial brat I am, I do deeply wish we'd had more time with them as a couple, more time to be at ease with them instead of the few meagre pages of epilogue Ross sealed the story shut with. Just a bit more time, a few additional chapters to bask in their contrariness, their verbal sparring, and the softly mundane ways they show their love and admiration. That's all I would ask, just a little more time, because even with my aggravations with the story, I have truly loved being inside the world of Cambria alongside all of Rebecca Ross' characters; it's been an effortlessly indulgently place for my brain to land, and I love it wholeheartedly for its familiar peacefulness, for the way it echoed the dawn chorus of late spring mornings and the seeking ribbon of steam in the clutched cup of tea of the first risen, entirely alone with the creeping sun. I love it inexpressibly for these things, and if only I didn't have to leave.And isn't that just the greatest compliment a work of art can receive: if only I didn't have to leave.
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Josepha Fasano's anti AI verse:

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"The miraculous task of it?"
⬆⬆⬆
If you want a rant about how AI is killing the planet, making people stupider, and robbing artists sans any degree of remorse, then I'm the one you're looking for.Cure cancer, predict natural disasters, find a way to get the Orange Horror out of the White House!Don't make soft core "art".Or inform an idiot boy child how to turn “ruined” pasta sauce into gochujang cookies....SCOOP IT, MAN BOY! SCOOP. IT!…I may have seen/heard that Samsung advert too many times…
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Overcompensating:
It's not that complicated, really, Overcompensating is the American Pie, Animal House, Greek of the queer community.
But with, perhaps, a bit more nuance?Maybe?I'm not sure, but it definitely nails the painful awkwardness of being not quite an adult with hormones running absolutely fucking rampant through every cell in your body, driving you to do some truly unhinged things.I mean, not this unhinged, because wow, my eyes, but still, it's pretty bloody weird being a teenager.Lawless and feral, and nobody tells you if you're doing it right!Which actually still stands when you're in your thirties but with the added bonus of everything hurting and you're knackered all day, every day, for absolutely no reason.It's like spinning the gameshow wheel of "What'll hurt today!" and it always landing on "Everything!"I wish I was eighteen and this stupid again.I'm so tired and everything crunches.
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We're using philosophy to defend my book goblin ways, now? Oh, fuck yeah!:

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Thank you, Julian de Medeiros, this is just want I needed to justify the numerous piles (because I've run out shelf space) of novels I'm surrounded by, which do have a system, it's just not alphabetical anymore... but there is a system!It's called vibes, and "Oh, look! A flat surface!"

Ps. Louis?

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...

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Continuing to Clockwork Orange myself into watching movies because otherwise my executive disordered ass simply won't do it:Glass Onion: A Knives Out Mystery
⭐️⭐️⭐️
My sister said it best:
"Netflix: Knives Out Mystery!"
Pretty, dumb, easy to parse the twist - even for my dumb ass - and an ultimately unfulfilling ending.Netflix really knows how to ruin a good thing, huh?But hot damn, Daniel Craig looks like he's having a blast, strutting around in his little outfits - the swim gear, omfg, sassing anything that breathes, and breaking my ears with his gloriously tone deaf accent.
It's criminal we kept him leashed for so long in pretty boy prison when this dapper motherfucker was just waiting to be let loose.Go on and kill me in Queer, mister Craig, I'm gonna love every damn second.
Ps. Janelle Monáe.
SWOON.

Another Simple Favor
⭐️⭐️⭐️☆
I really wasn't expecting to like this because, y'know... sequels, but I can honestly say I had a blast, and it wasn't because of the story, which was ridiculous, but because of my lady, my feral short queen, the one and only, Anna Kendrick.
When she goes apeshit, my dopamine levels rise to exponential levels. It's a real rocket launcher experience into the blessed realms of "fuck yeah, this is awesome!", which is all you really want when Anna Kendrick's on the screen. I'm more than sure she can do the whole deep and meaningful worthy thespian thing, milady's talented as fuck, but my favourite of her acting suits is and will always be: absolute gremlin with zero shits to give and a craving for crazy, crazy violence.
It's tailor-made for this two apples tall woman and she brings it hard in the follow up to one of my favourite sapphic as fuck movies. Which it is, by the way, sapphic as fuck. If anyone tries to convince you this isn't a love story between two batshit women with serious impulse control, then just point them directly to the University of Sexual Tension and Intense Eye Fucking and get them some damn schooling, because Kendrick and Lively (controversy aside, she's fantastic as Emily Nelson, it can't be denied) are horny as fuck for each other, in the best way: delightfully twisted.
Brotherfucker and Sisterfucker, you can't beat 'em, only watch with this expression on your face:

Elvis
⭐️⭐️
Eesh.This has all the depth and nuance of a carnival puddle: neon bright, millimetre deep, and a little sticky.What in the biopic hell was Baz Luhrmann thinking taking this on?(I love Luhrmann's work; Strictly Ballroom, Romeo + Juliet, and Moulin Rouge! are three of my most beloved movies, so the mess of Elvis is pretty shocking to me)Whether you like Elvis or not, it's inarguable that he was a genre defining moment in music history which continues to resonate and influence to this day. And he, as a person, is perhaps not the most fascinating of characters, almost a cliché in most ways, but there's a story worth telling there of exploitation, race, predation, hypersexualisation, addiction, poverty, and the cumulative effects of holding a single person on a worldwide, godlike pedestal.And Luhrmann's sensationalised sideshow barely scratched the surface, instead paraded Austin Butler around like a painted doll doing his "best" The King impersonation and it coming across like a kid on Halloween who's gone method.
It's pretty embarrassing, if I'm being honest, and my gods, so fucking long! It took me three days to finish this disaster.We really need to bring back the days of the ninety minute movie, if only so I can watch a movie from start to finish without tripping distractedly into existentialism.For my mental health, I beg of thee.

Cocaine Bear
⭐️⭐️⭐️☆
This delivered on every ridiculous thing it promised.Absolutely no notes.
Cocaine Bear is a legend, may her legacy be uttered in the same breath as b-movie cinematic marvel, Black Sheep, the most fucked up farm animal to grace the screen.

Nightbitch
⭐️⭐️⭐️☆
This is a story about motherhood, but it feels universal to every woman, childbearing or not.The almost primitive rage that simmers inside, that we push deep down as soon as we become aware of the gender gap and how it’ll affect us for the rest of our lives.How we move, how we talk, how we respond.With smiles on our faces, with quietly spoken words of diminishment to ourselves and our accomplishments, how every single one of these moments takes that adolescent simmer to an eruption we will at some point scream loose, shed our human skins and run and rage and finally be fucking free of it all.Like dogs, like nightbitches.
I don’t know how successful this movie is as whole, the first half is definitely far more compelling than the latter, but the meaning and intention instilled within it is potent, aggressive, and mesmerising.Amy Adams is not a favourite actress of mine, I’ve never quite warmed to her style, but in this she’s staggering, I could not look away from her, not even when she got really unsettling. Especially when it got really unsettling.
This movie’s going to make a lot of people uncomfortable, for the simple fact of it depicting a woman viscerally unburdening herself, but for everyone else? I think there's going to be a single collective thought doing the rounds:
"I, myself, have been known to howl at the moon"

The Greatest Hits
⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️
…Ow.This asks a lot of interesting questions about what you would do for the person you loved, what you would give up, whether you'd be able to erase your entire history together to save them, if you could be that selfless? But also what mourning does to a person, and the extra layer of grief that comes from moving on that's steeped atop it. The when, the how, the can I?
It's... heavy. It's a lot.And in the case of The Greatest Hits these feelings are all tied up in the sense memory of music, the way certain songs grip onto moments in our lives and the meanings that subsequently become attached to them. It's involuntary, innately human, and when you hear those songs, it's like someone's pressed the play button, dropped the needle, tapped the icon, and you're right back in that moment, living it all over again.Everyone has those songs that are irrevocably tied with a part of their history. Ones we know intimately, one's we've forgotten, and others we're not even aware of until they happen.For me, it's Wings of a Dove in the kitchen, Ballerina with an arm around me, California at the top of my lungs in a crowded street, Casimir Pulaski Day with a criminal's book in my hand, and so many more. And with every single song, they soundtrack a moment I can picture vividly, fondly, grievingly, joyfully.Music is magic, music is memory, and now, whenever I hear the Disco Pusher remix of Roxy Music's, To Turn You On, I'll think of this movie. Of how sad it is, how messy, and how it deals with grief in such a gentle, relatable way.

Get Out
⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️☆
The three main thoughts I had while watching:
“Sink.”  -  *whispered holy fucking shit*
That’s what you get, Bradley Whitford! That’s what you deserve!
Oh, yeah, this totally tracks.
...Also, that Jordan Peele has the innate ability to creep me the hell out whilst simultaneously making me think deep thoughts, which is exactly what great horror should do - unless you're the House of Wax remake.
It shouldn't have taken me eight years to watch this. I really suck, sometimes.
Ps. I still can't get over how Posh Kenneth ended up here.

Fingernails
⭐️⭐️⭐️
The problem is, as soon as they started pulling fingernails off, an unknown phobia of mine was awoken, and every two seconds I was making this face regardless of what was happening:
Kinda ruined the vibe, y'know?
Sidenote: this was really boring.I like everyone in this, and the concept is interesting, but goddamn, there's purposefully placid moviemaking and then there's... this.
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Adam Murphy's The Charlie Brown Hobbit:

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Slowly but surely with help of fanart and the original source, I'm taking back my love of Tolkien's works from the putrid clutches of Peter Jackson.That man may have had a few moments of casting brilliance (Aragorn, Gandalf, Ian Holm), but overall, he despoiled a masterpiece and made insincere slop, and it hurts my Middle-Earth-loving heart.Adam Murphy's mini, illustrative, mashup epic has more soul in it than Jackson managed to illicit in his drawn out, entirely bankrupt franchise.Fantasy will rue the day they let that man anywhere near J.R.R's works. RUE. THE. DAY.
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June Jawbones:
Yelled my guts out all month to Renee Rapp, Sabrina Carpenter, Conan Gray, Yungblud and then bawled my eyes out to Ethel Cain after getting weird with Sofia Isella because catharsis, her name is angry fucking women (and non-toxic men)....Except, I did no actual yelling because when you've had chronic laryngitis for five months, haven't been able to speak, had a camera down your throat, and are now currently in speech therapy to learn how to talk again instead of sounding like a frog impersonating a creaky door impersonating that kid from Shrek Forever After, you don't get to yell!You don't get to whisper!You get to...
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Miraculous Makers of Stuff:

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Megan Zaniewski

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Temika Sperry

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Molly McCafferty
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Reactor articles:Theatre Kids at the End of the World by Molly Templeton
Shakespeare would've loved this.(see: The Mechanicals)

How To Break a Heart: Subverting the Hero's Breakup Trope by Jenny Hamilton
Finally, somebody acknowledges it.This has been annoying me for decades.
Ps. I bought Little Thieves immediately after finishing the article.

The NeverEnding Story: Childhood Trauma and the Stories That Change Us by Tyler Dean
Nothing quite as humbling as reading a doctorate holder's mini thesis on the root of your childhood trauma.“Urtext” was a new one for me.
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42*:

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Douglas Adams, the wonderful, sneaky man you were.
One of my favourite factoids about Adams is that when they were filming the 2005 movie, he would constantly be having a new ideas to add to the story, so he would just burst into meetings or tell anyone available about them and they would be added to the movie.Imagine being still that excited about a story you wrote twenty six years prior?Nerds, they're the best of the human race, undoubtedly.
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Plant update:🌱 I did it! I was brave! I performed plant surgery! And now my first Peperomia pup resides in its very own pot, growing bigger by the day.Am I proud plant parent?

🌿 But oh wait, say hello to the new pups!...I don't know why the Pep mother is so damn fecund, but long may she be fertile because I frigging love these plants.
☘️ New Kalanchoe friend.I think she's a Shell Pink Blossfeldiana, but don't trust me on that, my google plant sleuthing isn't all that impressive.Pretty, though, ain't she?
🪴 Potted on this Peperomia Orba (aka. Pixie Lime) cutting my sister gave me and it's become oddly floppy but seems to be thriving?Plants are weird, they give me a headache.
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"I am the infinite stairwell between integers.":

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New burn: "You're vestigial"
I will defend the Oxford comma 'til the end of time, though.
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Four months of epic romances I think you should read:
I meant to make this list back in May, but y'know, being the reigning queen of procrastination kinda got in the way.But here they are, my latest romance recs, go forth and feast on the feels:

💘 Lucy Score, Things We Left Behind

small town

enemies to lovers

stern brunch daddy

feral librarian

dual POV

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

💘 Jess K. Hardy, Come As You Are

snow love

middle age

hurt/comfort

addiction

dual POV

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

💘 Jen Comfort, What Is Love?

fast burn

autism/neurodivergent

rivals to lovers

bicker-flirting

dual POV

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

💘 Alicia Thompson, The Art of Catching Feelings

modern epistolary

accidental catfish

slow burn

sports romance

dual POV

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

💘 Kate Canterbary, Change of Heart

workplace romance

secret dating

sunshine lab & grumpy cat

bbw x cinnamon roll

dual POV

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

💘 Tessa Bailey, Asking for Trouble

fake dating

enemies to lovers

dom x domme

fast burn

dual POV

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

💘 Jessica Joyce, You, with a View

road trip

academic rivals to lovers

bicker-flirting

stages of grief

dual POV

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

💘 Livy Hart, Talk Flirty to Me

second chance

childhood sweethearts

hate banging

imposter syndrome x people pleasing

dual POV

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

💘 Eve Dangerfield, Something Else

domme x sub

gremlin love

wicked stepmother

bitch & sweater boy

single POV

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

💘 Emily Henry, Book Lovers

book nerds are hot

small town vs big city

meta meta meta

simmer burn

ice maiden x prickly sweater boy

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

💘 Sally Thorne, 99% Mine

twin bro’s bff

adhd

second chance

feral gremlin & good guy

chronic illness

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

💘 Eliza MacArthur, Soft Flannel Hank

charlie swan fanfic

cabin trope x only one bed

ptsd x depression

vamps & witches

dual POV

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

💘 Melanie Sweeney, Take Me Home

scholarly rivals

road trip x small town

winterfest flirting

secret pining

dual POV

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

💘 Kate Canterbary, Before Girl

he falls first

slowwww burn

sweater boy x organised nightmare

plus size heroine x middle age H

dual POV

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

💘B.K. Borison, Mixed Signals

small town

baker x teacher

fake dating

golden retriever H & sunshine cinnabun h

POC rep

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

💘 Victoria Lavine, Any Trope But You

growly cinnabun x jaded sweater girl

meta romance

cabin trope

extreme hiking as foreplay

chronic illness rep

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

💘 Mazey Eddings, Late Bloomer

wlw

forced proximity

chaotic sunshine x lawful grumpy 

neurodivergent x autism

dual POV

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

💘 Kate Clayborn, Love Lettering

summer in the city

coded romance

font flirting

neurodivergence

slowwww burn

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

💘 Anyta Sunday, Sagittarius Saves Libra

mlm

twin swap

bi-awakening

himbo musician x brunch daddy

fake dating

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

💘 Tessa Bailey, The Au Pair Affair

sports romance

brunch daddy & sweater nerd

fast burn

forced proximity

dual POV

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

.............................................
#starterpacknoai:

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Trixie by Joey Donatelli

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When the AI bots regurgitated out the Starter Pack prompt, artists the world over flipped the stylus-clutching bird and made their own better, cuter, authentically human-made versions and it was simply the best damn thing.This is why, as much as AI scares the shit out of me for so many reasons, I don't think it'll win in the end because art = soul, and the Hal just ain't got it, not even a molecule.
.............................................
Rewatching:The Birdcage
I don't need a reason to recommend this as must watch seeing as it's peak camp, absolutely perfect, and my love for Robin Williams, Nathan Lane, and Hank Azaria in these specific roles is eternal and really fucking infinite.But now I can recommend it as the perfect movie to craft to.
I was six miles double-sided tape deep into making a 3D Zelda-themed gift for my sister, and had it not been for the trilling tones of these three men, I'd've gone absolutely apeshit and bitten my sticky fingers down to the knuckle.
...And I really like having fingers!

Dawson's Creek season 4-5
Oh.Boy.Five seasons into the rewatch, one to go, and I still think it's a teen masterpiece.But here are some more thinks I learned along the way of this rewatch:
🛶 Dawson Leery is still the fucking worst, who totally emotionally blackmailed his mother out of an abortion and absolutely killed his father by being brat, but I can just about stand him when he's dating Jen. Just about. A little bit. A SMIDGEN. ... But he still sucks.
🛶 On the flip side, Jen is a puddle of fluff, simpering nightmare when she's dating Dawson. My black cat nightmare girl with the forked tongue is neutered down into a doe eyed kitten with zero spine and I HATE IT. Only Dawson "incel" Leery could make me hate my dream girl, Jen Lindley. Only him. ... He's a fucking monster.
🛶 Nobody loses their virginity like Joey Potter. Jesus fucking Christ, take a pill, woman.
🛶 Dawson and Joey kissing at the end of season four is gross. Pacey deserves SO much better.
🛶 How did I not see Michelle William's appalling wig in season four? I love my wife, but my god.
🛶 Everyone has normal, imperfect teeth and it’s making me really creeped out by modern chompers. Bring back eye teeth, they're the best ones! The fangier the better!
🛶 Why are so many grown ass adults kissing these grandiloquent teenagers? SO many lawsuits unlaw-suited. Grooming was rife in this show.
🛶 What is this hair? Who did this to him? Did it look like this in One Tree Hill? This is worse than any of Dawson’s 90s boy band wigs and I genuinely didn't think that was possible!
🛶 They should've kept Drue Valentine. Domesticated his red flag ass just enough to make him gang-assimilate-able but still an absolute menace. He was fun.
🛶 I miss Capeside. Boston sucks.
🛶 Pacey can do... better?Longlife PJo stan, here, and this realisation hurts my soul, but damn, Joey treated his perfectly imperfect ass like trash.At least Andie just screwed another guy in the mental asylum, Joey vomited her icky "let's de-virginise each other" pact with Dawson all over her relationship with Pacey. Ew.
🛶 Professor Wilder is fine as hell. I thought it when I was a teenager and I think it now.
🛶 They really didn’t handle Jack’s queerness well. Like, at all. 90s/00s tv needs to apologise to queer millennials the world over for the absolute mess they made.
🛶 I hate, without exception, all of the Halloween episodes. And I love Halloween, so this is unacceptable.
🛶 How did the precocious five-some survive without Audrey for so long?
🛶 I miss long tv shows. Twenty two episodes minimum per season, forty-five minutes long, a lifetime of brain-rot fodder to keep the brain demons at bay.I love me a limited series, but damn, a good chunk of a season wouldn't go a miss in these "let's cancel everything even though the fans love it!" times.
🛶 This show is undeniably, without question the reason I talk like I swallowed the dictionary, followed it down with a thesaurus chaser, and cannot complete a sentence without doubling, often tripling, my adjectives - see: undeniably, without question.Throw in the Buffy Lexicon and my chance of talking like a normie was fucked from adolescence.And I wouldn't have it any other way.