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bookshelf-in-progress · 3 months

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A Wise Pair of Fools: A Retelling of “The Farmer’s Clever Daughter”

For the Four Loves Fairy Tale Challenge at @inklings-challenge.

Faith

I wish you could have known my husband when he was a young man. How you would have laughed at him! He was so wonderfully pompous—oh, you’d have no idea unless you’d seen him then. He’s weathered beautifully, but back then, his beauty was bright and new, all bronze and ebony. He tried to pretend he didn’t care for personal appearances, but you could tell he felt his beauty. How could a man not be proud when he looked like one of creation’s freshly polished masterpieces every time he stepped out among his dirty, sweaty peasantry?

But his pride in his face was nothing compared to the pride he felt over his mind. He was clever, even then, and he knew it. He’d grown up with an army of nursemaids to exclaim, “What a clever boy!” over every mildly witty observation he made. He’d been tutored by some of the greatest scholars on the continent, attended the great universities, traveled further than most people think the world extends. He could converse like a native in fifteen living languages and at least three dead ones.

And books! Never a man like him for reading! His library was nothing to what it is now, of course, but he was making a heroic start. Always a book in his hand, written by some dusty old man who never said in plain language what he could dress up in words that brought four times the work to some lucky printer. Every second breath he took came out as a quotation. It fairly baffled his poor servants—I’m certain to this day some of them assume Plato and Socrates were college friends of his.

Well, at any rate, take a man like that—beautiful and over-educated—and make him king over an entire nation—however small—before he turns twenty-five, and you’ve united all earthly blessings into one impossibly arrogant being.

Unfortunately, Alistair’s pomposity didn’t keep him properly aloof in his palace. He’d picked up an idea from one of his old books that he should be like one of the judge-kings of old, walking out among his people to pass judgment on their problems, giving the inferior masses the benefit of all his twenty-four years of wisdom. It’s all right to have a royal patron, but he was so patronizing. Just as if we were all children and he was our benevolent father. It wasn’t strange to see him walking through the markets or looking over the fields—he always managed to look like he floated a step or two above the common ground the rest of us walked on—and we heard stories upon stories of his judgments. He was decisive, opinionated. Always thought he had a better way of doing things. Was always thinking two and ten and twelve steps ahead until a poor man’s head would be spinning from all the ways the king found to see through him. Half the time, I wasn’t sure whether to fear the man or laugh at him. I usually laughed.

So then you can see how the story of the mortar—what do you mean you’ve never heard it? You could hear it ten times a night in any tavern in the country. I tell it myself at least once a week! Everyone in the palace is sick to death of it!

Oh, this is going to be a treat! Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve had a fresh audience?

It happened like this. It was spring of the year I turned twenty-one. Father plowed up a field that had lain fallow for some years, with some new-fangled deep-cutting plow that our book-learned king had inflicted upon a peasantry that was baffled by his scientific talk. Father was plowing near a river when he uncovered a mortar made of solid gold. You know, a mortar—the thing with the pestle, for grinding things up. Don’t ask me why on earth a goldsmith would make such a thing—the world’s full of men with too much money and not enough sense, and housefuls of servants willing to take too-valuable trinkets off their hands. Someone decades ago had swiped this one and apparently found my father’s farm so good a hiding place that they forgot to come back for it.

Anyhow, my father, like the good tenant he was, understood that as he’d found a treasure on the king’s land, the right thing to do was to give it to the king. He was all aglow with his noble purpose, ready to rush to the palace at first light to do his duty by his liege lord.

I hope you can see the flaw in his plan. A man like Alistair, certain of his own cleverness, careful never to be outwitted by his peasantry? Come to a man like that with a solid gold mortar, and his first question’s going to be…?

That’s right. “Where’s the pestle?”

I tried to tell Father as much, but he—dear, sweet, innocent man—saw only his simple duty and went forth to fulfill it. He trotted into the king’s throne room—it was his public day—all smiles and eagerness.

Alistair took one look at him and saw a peasant tickled to death that he was pulling a fast one on the king—giving up half the king’s rightful treasure in the hopes of keeping the other half and getting a fat reward besides.

Alistair tore into my father—his tongue was much sharper then—taking his argument to pieces until Father half-believed he had hidden away the pestle somewhere, probably after stealing both pieces himself. In his confusion, Father looked even guiltier, and Alistair ordered his guard to drag Father off to the dungeons until they could arrange a proper hearing—and, inevitably, a hanging.

As they dragged him to his doom, my father had the good sense to say one coherent phrase, loud enough for the entire palace to hear. “If only I had listened to my daughter!”

Alistair, for all his brains, hadn’t expected him to say something like that. He had Father brought before him, and questioned him until he learned the whole story of how I’d urged Father to bury the mortar again and not say a word about it, so as to prevent this very scene from occurring.

About five minutes after that, I knocked over a butter churn when four soldiers burst into my father’s farmhouse and demanded I go with them to the castle. I made them clean up the mess, then put on my best dress and did up my hair—in those days, it was thick and golden, and fell to my ankles when unbound—and after traveling to the castle, I went, trembling, up the aisle of the throne room.

Alistair had made an effort that morning to look extra handsome and extra kingly. He still has robes like those, all purple and gold, but the way they set off his black hair and sharp cheekbones that day—I’ve never seen anything like it. He looked half-divine, the spirit of judgment in human form. At the moment, I didn’t feel like laughing at him.

Looming on his throne, he asked me, “Is it true that you advised this man to hide the king’s rightful property from him?” (Alistair hates it when I imitate his voice—but isn’t it a good impression?)

I said yes, it was true, and Alistair asked me why I’d done such a thing, and I said I had known this disaster would result, and he asked how I knew, and I said (and I think it’s quite good), that this is what happens when you have a king who’s too clever to be anything but stupid.

Naturally, Alistair didn’t like that answer a bit, but I’d gotten on a roll, and it was my turn to give him a good tongue-lashing. What kind of king did he think he was, who could look at a man as sweet and honest as my father and suspect him of a crime? Alistair was so busy trying to see hidden lies that he couldn’t see the truth in front of his face. So determined not to be made a fool of that he was making himself into one. If he persisted in suspecting everyone who tried to do him a good turn, no one would be willing to do much of anything for him. And so on and so forth.

You might be surprised at my boldness, but I had come into that room not expecting to leave it without a rope around my neck, so I intended to speak my mind while I had the chance. The strangest thing was that Alistair listened, and as he listened, he lost some of that righteous arrogance until he looked almost human. And the end of it all was that he apologized to me!

Well, you could have knocked me over with a feather at that! I didn’t faint, but I came darn close. That arrogant, determined young king, admitting to a simple farmer’s daughter that he’d been wrong?

He did more than admit it—he made amends. He let Father keep the mortar, and then bought it from him at its full value. Then he gifted Father the farm where we lived, making us outright landowners. After the close of the day’s hearings, he even invited us to supper with him, and I found that King Alistair wasn’t a half-bad conversational partner. Some of those books he read sounded almost interesting.

For a year after that, Alistair kept finding excuses to come by the farm. He would check on Father’s progress and baffle him with advice. We ran into each other in the street so often that I began to expect it wasn’t mere chance. We’d talk books, and farming, and sharpen our wits on each other. We’d do wordplay, puzzles, tongue-twisters. A game, but somehow, I always thought, some strange sort of test.

Would you believe, even his proposal was a riddle? Yes, an actual riddle! One spring morning, I came across Alistair on a corner of my father's land, and he got down on one knee, confessed his love for me, and set me a riddle. He had the audacity to look into the face of the woman he loved—me!—and tell me that if I wanted to accept his proposal, I would come to him at his palace, not walking and not riding, not naked and not dressed, not on the road and not off it.

Do you know, I think he actually intended to stump me with it? For all his claim to love me, he looked forward to baffling me! He looked so sure of himself—as if all his book-learning couldn’t be beat by just a bit of common sense.

If I’d really been smart, I suppose I’d have run in the other direction, but, oh, I wanted to beat him so badly. I spent about half a minute solving the riddle and then went off to make my preparations.

The next morning, I came to the castle just like he asked. Neither walking nor riding—I tied myself to the old farm mule and let him half-drag me. Neither on the road nor off it—only one foot dragging in a wheel rut at the end. Neither naked nor dressed—merely wrapped in a fishing net. Oh, don’t look so shocked! There was so much rope around me that you could see less skin than I’m showing now.

If I’d hoped to disappoint Alistair, well, I was disappointed. He radiated joy. I’d never seen him truly smile before that moment—it was incandescent delight. He swept me in his arms, gave me a kiss without a hint of calculation in it, then had me taken off to be properly dressed, and we were married within a week.

It was a wonderful marriage. We got along beautifully—at least until the next time I outwitted him. But I won’t bore you with that story again—

You don’t know that one either? Where have you been hiding yourself?

Oh, I couldn’t possibly tell you that one. Not if it’s your first time. It’s much better the way Alistair tells it.

What time is it?

Perfect! He’s in his library just now. Go there and ask him to tell you the whole thing.

Yes, right now! What are you waiting for?

Alistair

Faith told you all that, did she? And sent you to me for the rest? That woman! It’s just like her! She thinks I have nothing better to do than sit around all day and gossip about our courtship!

Where are you going? I never said I wouldn’t tell the story! Honestly, does no one have brains these days? Sit down!

Yes, yes, anywhere you like. One chair’s as good as another—I built this room for comfort. Do you take tea? I can ring for a tray—the story tends to run long.

Well, I’ll ring for the usual, and you can help yourself to whatever you like.

I’m sure Faith has given you a colorful picture of what I was like as a young man, and she’s not totally inaccurate. I’d had wealth and power and too much education thrown on me far too young, and I thought my blessings made me better than other men. My own father had been the type of man who could be fooled by every silver-tongued charlatan in the land, so I was sensitive and suspicious, determined to never let another man outwit me.

When Faith came to her father’s defense, it was like my entire self came crumbling down. Suddenly, I wasn’t the wise king; I was a cruel and foolish boy—but Faith made me want to be better. That day was the start of my fascination with her, and my courtship started in earnest not long after.

The riddle? Yes, I can see how that would be confusing. Faith tends to skip over the explanations there. A riddle’s an odd proposal, but I thought it was brilliant at the time, and I still think it wasn’t totally wrong-headed. I wasn’t just finding a wife, you see, but a queen. Riddles have a long history in royal courtships. I spent weeks laboring over mine. I had some idea of a symbolic proposal—each element indicating how she’d straddle two worlds to be with me. But more than that, I wanted to see if Faith could move beyond binary thinking—look beyond two opposites to see the third option between. Kings and queens have to do that more often than you’d think…

No, I’m sorry, it is a bit dull, isn’t it? I guess there’s a reason Faith skips over the explanations.

So to return to the point: no matter what Faith tells you, I always intended for her to solve the riddle. I wouldn’t have married her if she hadn’t—but I wouldn’t have asked if I’d had the least doubt she’d succeed. The moment she came up that road was the most ridiculous spectacle you’d ever hope to see, but I had never known such ecstasy. She’d solved every piece of my riddle, in just the way I’d intended. She understood my mind and gained my heart. Oh, it was glorious.

Those first weeks of marriage were glorious, too. You’d think it’d be an adjustment, turning a farmer’s daughter into a queen, but it was like Faith had been born to the role. Manners are just a set of rules, and Faith has a sharp mind for memorization, and it’s not as though we’re a large kingdom or a very formal court. She had a good mind for politics, and was always willing to listen and learn. I was immensely proud of myself for finding and catching the perfect wife.

You’re smarter than I was—you can see where I was going wrong. But back then, I didn’t see a cloud in the sky of our perfect happiness until the storm struck.

It seemed like such a small thing at the time. I was looking over the fields of some nearby villages—farming innovations were my chief interest at the time. There were so many fascinating developments in those days. I’ve an entire shelf full of texts if you’re interested—

The story, yes. My apologies. The offer still stands.

Anyway, I was out in the fields, and it was well past the midday hour. I was starving, and more than a little overheated, so we were on our way to a local inn for a bit of food and rest. Just as I was at my most irritable, these farmers’ wives show up, shrilly demanding judgment in a case of theirs. I’d become known for making those on-the-spot decisions. I’d thought it was an efficient use of government resources—as long as I was out with the people, I could save them the trouble of complicated procedures with the courts—but I’d never regretted taking up the practice as heartily as I did in this moment.

The case was like this: one farmer’s horse had recently given birth, and the foal had wandered away from its mother and onto the neighbor’s property, where it laid down underneath an ox that was at pasture, and the second farmer thought this gave him a right to keep it. There were questions of fences and boundaries and who-owed-who for different trades going back at least a couple of decades—those women were determined to bring every past grievance to light in settling this case.

Well, it didn’t take long for me to lose what little patience I had. I snapped at both women and told them that my decision was that the foal could very well stay where it was.

Not my most reasoned decision, but it wasn’t totally baseless. I had common law going back centuries that supported such a ruling. Possession is nine-tenths of the law and all. It wasn't as though a single foal was worth so much fuss. I went off to my meal and thought that was the end of it.

I’d forgotten all about it by the time I returned to the same village the next week. My man and I were crossing the bridge leading into the town when we found the road covered by a fishing net. An old man sat by the side of the road, shaking and casting the net just as if he were laying it out for a catch.

“What do you think you’re doing, obstructing a public road like this?” I asked him.

The man smiled genially at me and replied, “Fishing, majesty.”

I thought perhaps the man had a touch of sunstroke, so I was really rather kind when I explained to him how impossible it was to catch fish in the roadway.

The man just replied, “It’s no more impossible than an ox giving birth to a foal, majesty.”

He said it like he’d been coached, and it didn’t take long for me to learn that my wife was behind it all. The farmer’s wife who’d lost the foal had come to Faith for help, and my wife had advised the farmer to make the scene I’d described.

Oh, was I livid! Instead of coming to me in private to discuss her concerns about the ruling, Faith had made a public spectacle of me. She encouraged my own subjects to mock me! This was what came of making a farm girl into a queen! She’d live in my house and wear my jewels, and all the time she was laughing up her sleeve at me while she incited my citizens to insurrection! Before long, none of my subjects would respect me. I’d lose my crown, and the kingdom would fall to pieces—

I worked myself into a fine frenzy, thinking such things. At the time, I thought myself perfectly reasonable. I had identified a threat to the kingdom’s stability, and I would deal with it. The moment I came home, I found Faith and declared that the marriage was dissolved. “If you prefer to side with the farmers against your own husband,” I told her, “you can go back to your father’s house and live with them!”

It was quite the tantrum. I’m proud to say I’ve never done anything so shameful since.

To my surprise, Faith took it all silently. None of the fire that she showed in defending her father against me. Faith had this way, back then, where she could look at a man and make him feel like an utter fool. At that moment, she made me feel like a monster. I was already beginning to regret what I was doing, but it was buried under so much anger that I barely realized it, and my pride wouldn’t allow me to back down so easily from another decision.

After I said my piece, Faith quietly asked if she was to leave the palace with nothing.

I couldn’t reverse what I’d decided, but I could soften it a bit.

“You may take one keepsake,” I told her. “Take the one thing you love best from our chambers.”

I thought I was clever to make the stipulation. Knowing Faith, she’d have found some way to move the entire palace and count it as a single item. I had no doubt she’d take the most expensive and inconvenient thing she could, but there was nothing in that set of rooms I couldn’t afford to lose.

Or so I thought. No doubt you’re beginning to see that Faith always gets the upper hand in a battle of wits.

I kept my distance that evening—let myself stew in resentment so I couldn’t regret what I’d done. I kept to my library—not this one, the little one upstairs in our suite—trying to distract myself with all manner of books, and getting frustrated when I found I wanted to share pieces of them with Faith. I was downright relieved when a maid came by with a tea tray. I drank my usual three cups so quickly I barely tasted them—and I passed out atop my desk five minutes later.

Yes, Faith had arranged for the tea—and she’d drugged me!

I came to in the pink light of early dawn, my head feeling like it had been run over by a military caravan. My wits were never as slow as they were that morning. I laid stupidly for what felt like hours, wondering why my bed was so narrow and lumpy, and why the walls of the room were so rough and bare, and why those infernal birds were screaming half an inch from my open window.

By the time I had enough strength to sit up, I could see that I was in the bedroom of a farmer’s cottage. Faith was standing by the window, looking out at the sunrise, wearing the dress she’d worn the first day I met her. Her hair was unbound, tumbling in golden waves all the way to her ankles. My heart leapt at the sight—her hair was one of the wonders of the world in those days, and I was so glad to see her when I felt so ill—until I remembered the events of the previous day, and was too confused and ashamed to have room for any other thoughts or feelings.

“Faith?” I asked. “Why are you here? Where am I?”

“My father’s home,” Faith replied, her eyes downcast—I think it’s the only time in her life she was ever bashful. “You told me I could take the one thing I loved best.”

Can I explain to you how my heart leapt at those words? There had never been a mind or a heart like my wife’s! It was like the moment she’d come to save her father—she made me feel a fool and feel glad for the reminder. I’d made the same mistake both times—let my head get in the way of my heart. She never made that mistake, thank heaven, and it saved us both.

Do you have something you want to add, Faith, darling? Don’t pretend I can’t see you lurking in the stacks and laughing at me! I’ll get as sappy as I like! If you think you can do it better, come out in the open and finish this story properly!

Faith

You tell it so beautifully, my darling fool boy, but if you insist—

I was forever grateful Dinah took that tea to Alistair. I couldn’t believe he hadn’t seen the loophole in his words—I was so afraid he’d see my ploy coming and stop me. But his wits were so blessedly dull that day. It was like outwitting a child.

When at last he came to, I was terrified. He had cast me out because I’d outwitted him, and now here I was again, thinking another clever trick would make everything well.

Fortunately, Alistair was marvelous—saw my meaning in an instant. Sometimes he can be almost clever.

After that, what’s there to tell? We made up our quarrel, and then some. Alistair brought me back to the palace in high honors—it was wonderful, the way he praised me and took so much blame on himself.

(You were really rather too hard on yourself, darling—I’d done more than enough to make any man rightfully angry. Taking you to Father’s house was my chance to apologize.)

Alistair paid the farmer for the loss of his foal, paid for the mending of the fence that had led to the trouble in the first place, and straightened out the legal tangles that had the neighbors at each others’ throats.

After that, things returned much to the way they’d been before, except that Alistair was careful never to think himself into such troubles again. We’ve gotten older, and I hope wiser, and between our quarrels and our reconciliations, we’ve grown into quite the wise pair of lovestruck fools. Take heed from it, whenever you marry—it’s good to have a clever spouse, but make sure you have one who’s willing to be the fool every once in a while.

Trust me. It works out for the best.

#the bookshelf progresses #fairy tale retellings #inklingschallenge #four loves fairy tale challenge #four loves fairy tale challenge 2024 #the farmer's clever daughter #theme: eros #story: complete #this one was *so much fun*#i was grinning throughout the brainstorming process #faith and alistair just *loved* telling me their story #and especially in the first scenes i kept stopping just because i was having so much fun with the lines #maybe it's horribly boring to read but as a writing exercise it was fantastic #i love these two so much #i haven't had this much fun since writing last year's epistolary story

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doomrichards · 25 days

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Secret Wars Variant, Chip Zdarsky, 2015 // Doom Jorking It*, Chip Zdarsky, 2024

Doom using his bottle opener mouthplate and then straight up “jorking it” and by “it”, haha, well. let’s just say. Reed’s bottle

*he did NOT say this, but the bottle opener comment was his!!

he also did deliberately pair Johnny and Daken (Akihiro) on the party variant cover, which made me wonder about Doom and Reed…

While I was in line I was told I could only request one character (line was long! so fair).. I was gonna ask Chip to draw DoomReed drunken kissing based on his party cover and told him so--& then... he asked me if I was the one who commissioned Rachael Stott to draw doomreed kissing.

And LOL yes that was me. I was also the Doom cosplayer!! So when Rachael said a Doom requested the DoomReed kissing art, Chip knew who she was talking about. Chip adding the ink wash really came together along with the "Thanks, Richards." word bubble!! That was all him!

#comics #doomreed #reed richards #victor von doom #doctor doom #mister fantastic #marvel #fantastic four #chip zdarsky #c2e2 #he really nailed it.. I last minute in line was like okay then Doom drinking the beer because that implies it’s from Reed #and then Chip just added the word bubble which really cinched it!!#doom’s mouth plate as bottle opener I can’t unsee now lol #he is a wine guy but for reed he’ll accept this once ❤️

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feline-evil · 1 month

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Dick or no dick confirmation Pickles was always going to be trans to me anyways; if he's swingin' somethin that's phallo babes, if he's not then his t-dick fat. What's not to get.

#metalocalypse #jay talkin #I'm sorry they wrote that awful gross little man far too likeable and relatable to on a trans level #for me not to hoot and holler and cheer for the trans pickles agenda #changes nothing about his character arc or any of the show anyone is capable of being the kind of person he is #don't make the mistake of thinking thats exclusive to cis men #his transness wouldnt change that #only adds on an extra layer to him that i think works fantastically.#Listen that dude was rejected by his family driven to drink and drugs young to escape that ran away to be in a band #is called fucking Pickles of all things and refuses to tell anyone his real last name;#over the span of four seasons and two movies he slowly starts to learn to be for others what he never had #he becomes more caring more supportive #it's not a stretch to say he undoes some of the toxic masculinity he's been keeping himself shielded behind #and learns how to be a kinder man.#all of which have no contradictions with him being trans!#In fact it doesn't take much extra thought to find ways a lot of this can line up with some trans masculine experiences #i mean. Did no one else have a younger phase where they swung as far as they could into crass rude and uncaring ways #to try and assert their masculinity only to grow and realise that you can be a man and be more caring.#Did no one else have father issues. 1 800 come on now i know those are both shared experiences a lot of us have had LOL.#at the end of the day this show aired nearly 20 years ago and is finished. we're not getting more of it #so nothing is altered nor changed if pickles is canonically trans or not ok. its fine #i mean hell i dont even need canon confirmation hes trans to me and thats all i care abt #but i think if yr getting suuuuuper weird abt needing him not to be canonically trans you have some issues #and bio essentialist ideals of gender if you think only a cis man can act like he does #again. anyone can be like that. its not exclusive. him being trans would not change him in any way shape or form lol #AND ALSO GODDDUUUGH for once i love getting to see a guy pushing 50 whos depicted as trans #do you have any idea how dire and barren it is out here. we never get to see a trans guy older than 30 and whos not a pristine model #I WANT MORE OLD SHLUBBY SHITHEAD TRANS GUYS IN MEDIA

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malo-mart · 10 months

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Don't know if people will agree with this, but I felt Nintendo missed a huge opportunity not using Paya as the fifth sage. It would have been impactful in linking the Sheikah to the main body of the story, as well as adding depth to her character that isn't revolved around meek woman + infatuated with main boy character. I know they were instead trying to highlight the Zonai more by using Mineru, but I felt Links arm and the story of Sonia and Rauru got this across. It was also hard to connect as a player with mineru when she is present in just a few scenes and has no relationship to Link. I think what infuriates me the most is that they just completely erased the Sheikah influence from the first game instead of using it to continue expanding on the concepts and reminding us of breath of the wild. Majora's mask had no issue giving us nods to ocarina of time, but for some reason tears of the kingdom felt much more distanced as a sequel............anyway Paya deserved better

#sorry for always dumping incomprehensible slabs of text here about random shit in totk #i havent seen anyone criticise the fifth sage story line but personally i thought it was very weak #in comparison to the first half of the story which i felt was fantastic #i think first half and then the last bit of totk are so great #but about 3 quarters in theres a weak section where its easy to lose interest. let me know if you guys agree or if you liked the fifth sage #storyline how it was #totk

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wellhalesbells · 8 months

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top 9 books

tagged by @rosieposiepuddingnpie - thank you and curse you, this is my least favorite/favorite thing to do!

The Starless Sea, Erin Morgenstern (a book about the love of books and story-telling, another great example of this is Cloud Cuckoo Land, by Anthony Doerr but this edges it out just a little in my all time faves. Also consider this a stand-in for Erin Morgenstern's other gem: The Night Circus.)

The Secret History, by Donna Tartt (I always waffle between the dark academia vibes of this or the snowy Amsterdam/dry Las Vegas heat of The Goldfinch - they're both absolute perfection and have gay undertones so they bounce back and forth depending on the day.)

Middlesex, by Jeffrey Eugenides (you know how people use 'sweeping tale' to describe certain books? That's this one. It just whisks you away. I know everything there is to know about the Stephanides clan and I'm a better person for it.)

The Bedlam Stacks, by Natasha Pulley (Honestly, also consider this a stand-in for every Natasha Pulley book there is. Sometimes my favorite is The Half Life of Valery K, sometimes it's The Watchmaker of Filigree Street series, sometimes it's The Kingdoms; it's really whose yearning I'm vibing with the most that day: Valery and Shenkov? Thaniel and Mori? Merrick and Raphael? Joe and Kite? It varies.)

The Stand, by Stephen King (I also really want to put Holly in that spot, I just finished it and I haven't loved a Stephen King book like that since The Stand - the only reason I didn't is because Holly is, at least for now, the last book in a series that is a spin-off of a series and every other book in those series don't hit the level of Holly, at all.)

Anxious People, by Fredrik Backman (this can also act as a stand-in for A Man Called Ove as well since I love them both for the exact same reason - they believe in the best in people. They make you feel better about humanity in general.)

The House in the Cerulean Sea, by TJ Klune (I will also point out that I have yet to read a TJ Klune book I haven't loved and that is not an insignificant amount now. This one is an older queer love story with the added bonus of found family. It's magical and heart-full and kind)

Project Hail Mary, by Andy Weir (Also a big lover of The Martian but this has something extra special for me - the alien was unique and I cared so much about every character that even glanced across the pages.)

Vera Wong's Unsolicited Advice for Murderers, by Jesse Q. Sutanto (I laughed, I loved, I goggled at Vera's incredible ability to bring people together - a more motley crew of people there is not and yet somehow Vera not only makes it work, she makes them family <3)

Special shoutout to Lessons in Chemistry, by Bonnie Garmus, I read this semi-recently (within the last year) so I don't know if my gaga-ness with it will fade or not but right now I'm like: this should absolutely be on this list, I just don't know if that's gonna hold or not. The writing is absolutely gorgeous and the plot is perfect, I just don't know if it's top ten nine perfect, y'know? Also to S.A. Cosby - Razorblade Tears is literally hanging off the end of this list by its fingernails (also read everything else by him because it's all good!).

Ongoing series - that either aren't finished or that I haven't finished so they're not cemented yet (aka Maddie cheats so she can have more spots): The Thursday Murder Club series, by Richard Osman (it's up to four books now and they are absolute perfection - it's a series that believes the best in people, even its villains, no one is allowed to be one note and you never know who it's going to pick up and keep forever), The Monk & Robot series, by Becky Chambers (it's just such a quiet, peaceful little sci-fi series that loves its characters and tea), Empire of the Vampire, by Jay Kristoff (absolutely no notes on the first book, I was stressed out and ravenous), The Infernal War Saga, by Hailey Turner (pitch perfect first two books, I'm obsessed with everyone and, like, borderline too into Honovi and Blaine??), Legends & Lattes, by Travis Baldree (this book is kind and it's found family and it's Cozy High Fantasy, like, who even knew how badly I needed that?! - a prequel is due out next month!), The Expanse series, by James S.A. Corey (okay, I know this is done but I am only through book six, though so far absolutely every one has been perfect), The Amina al-Sirafi Series, by S.A. Chakraborty (the first book is so good, which I am zero percent surprised by because I five-starred my way all the way through The Daevabad Trilogy as well!), and the Susan Ryeland series, by Anthony Horowitz (these mysteries are absolutely right up my alley - because who's investigating them? An editor of the first book's murdered author. I hope he can manage to keep these going because they are so damn good!)

tagged: @andavs, @maichan808, @callunavulgari, @midnightisquiet, @bleep0bleep, @petals42, @emeraldawn, @melowdeee, @alocalband, also anyone else who wants to do this - i love seeing people's literature tastes!!

#i read the interview the author richard osman did for thursday murder club after the last book #and he was like 'my wife's an actor so i try to have every character - no matter whether they have one line or not #be something that someone would want to play' and like YEAH. YOU CAN TOTALLY TELL #they allll get something so good and it is FANTASTIC to read #this list was so hard y'all #i need a nap #i hope there aren't any really bad typos i am doing this verrrrry tired #uh oh i've found the keyboard again

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nintendont2502 · 8 months

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I still genuinely can't get over the fact that homestuck is just. It's back. We got new official content last night and were getting MORE?? James Roach is basically in charge now?? James 'Yall Know I Just Do The Music Right' Roach????

#this is a fantastic thing btw im just #holy shit!!!#i got into the fandom late last year as they were shutting down the for fans by fans line and i just thought this was it #i was in another dead fandom #which is fine! i came to terms with that and i was fine #and honestly i was just getting excited that my local homestuck community seemed to be growing #and then we get new content??? oh my god #me.txt #homestuck

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fazedlight · 9 months

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you know, i’m a big lena luthor apologist, and i totally get the frustration that arises from how badly kara/the superfriends treated lena in the show, and i get also that as a result when people try to write kara and alex in particular as ‘in character’ from canon that to some extent they will almost inevitably come off as tending to take lena for granted or being overly suspicious about her etc etc etc at some point and -especially- if you’re jumping off from some unspecified place in the show as a starting point.

but it is SO weird to me that someone would go into the comments of people’s fics and get upset about kara’s behaviour in fics, especially since it feels like those are the exact reasons so many fic writers (and the fic writers you’ve listed in particular) are trying to convincingly recreate or adapt the characters into fics where lena and kara DO have to talk to each other and they DO have to process all of that trauma and there is balance for the fact that they’re both flawed and that their flaws play into each other in specific ways.

at the end of the day i think lena does have a soft spot for kara and kara does tend to jump the gun, while lena was brought up to be all careful consideration and trying to be good, so yeah, a lot of the time lena ends up being the one to step up, but kara is also completely soft for lena as well, and that’s kind of just part of their dynamic and fic writers almost inevitably are trying to show growth for them both (and i think for me personally i always especially like to see kara owning what she did) that didn’t happen on the show.

i actually went back and reread the first four chapters of diat (because i’m annoying like that) and not only do we get insight into both of their perspectives, lena and kara both get space to ruminate and introspect on the previous events as the chapters progress, and i really like kind of the quiet way that a lot of their issues are naturally brought up both as their internal monologues and conversations with others and each other as a result of the narrative in a way the show never managed to do. (“i don’t need to be raised, agent danvers” made me cackle out loud.)

so that is SUCH a weird comment and especially given that as of right now lena….literally does not have time to process anything? because the world is kind of ending? i’m not sure urgently throwing her into action has anything to do with being mean to lena and being good to kara? because if she’s going to be upset about kara the world is going down with her temper tantrum and lena is just never going to do that??? :D

…flippant snark aside, i’m loving the callbacks to canon inserted throughout and how you’ve managed to make canon and the magic!lena work for the worldkillers. this would have been so much better as an introduction to magical lena, and i love when lillian gets to show up like this. i also have a particular soft spot for the question of how muddy the show is about alien-human relations (and especially the way they never address kara’s hypocrisy about kryptonite when they have dealt with several kryptonian adversaries) so i loved that (fairly early on) when kara was like but krypton would never?! that lena got to have her exasperated ‘you gotta be kidding me’ moment.

i’m definitely not doing your fic justice but i’ve already written an essay, so sorry for the extremely horrendously long-winded ask. excited for the next chapter!!!

Yesss!!! 💗💗 Part of why I adore these characters is because…. they’re both hurting, and they’re both trying to do the right thing! It just so happens that their traumas interact very badly. Kara has lost everything before, so she wants control - and has this knee-jerk reaction to the kryptonite that was really hurtful, and she lied because she’s desperate to not lose Lena like she’s lost everyone else. Meanwhile, Lena was forced as a child to adopt the Luthor credo of lying to get ahead, was betrayed over and over again… and now she’s developed her own knee-jerk reactions to being lied to.

To me, it was always clear that the thing that pushed Lena over was killing Lex, before finding out who Supergirl was. She sacrificed someone so precious to her (despite his flaws) to save the world, and very specifically to save her friends… especially Kara. Finding out that the one person she had chosen to save had deeply betrayed her (not just with the secrets, but with the spying, with the meanness) - she wanted to avoid any and all pain at that point, even if it meant brainwashing the world into being nice to each other. If she had found out before shooting Lex… well, that’s part of why I wrote No One and Nothing, and of course DIAT. (I also wrote Synthesis to show that it wasn’t just keeping secrets that set her off, it was everything else too.)

… a lot of my fics are secretly “In this essay I will-” but anyway …

I wrestle a lot with trying to stay balanced in my fics - I think stories often make sense to tell from Lena’s point of view more often, which makes it hard sometimes to show how much Kara is wrestling with her own actions. It’s one of the billion things I wonder if I’m doing right when writing. But hey, it’s a craft, over time I try more things, and I think I tell a better story than I did when I started 15 months ago. But at the end of the day, I’m still learning to write the stories I want to write.

With Lena dealing with the end of the world… I also feel like that was a very canon response for Lena to have. She was pissed during Crisis, too - and in an even worse state with the superfriends - but when the world is ending, she can put that aside for a time.

I was so nervous about magical!Lena - I know a lot of people hated that subplot in the show, it made me anxious that people might give up on the fic entirely. I’m glad you’re enjoying it! It seems to have gone over okay, which is an immense relief. (I was also nervous about Alura being a villain for a while - I suspect Alura’s arc was part of the original season 3 plan, but I wasn’t sure how it was going to go over. Honestly that’s part of why I put out ETYK first, because I wanted to make it clear that I do really love her as a character.)

Never feel sorry for a long ask! I love these!! I just may write an essay back 🤣

#you're fantastic thank you for this ask #I'm glad someone liked the “I don't need to be raised agent danvers” line!!#the alien-human relations is a mess. they lock up aliens without due process all the time but suddenly it's bad when they do it to Lord??#at least in season 4 they approach that more thoughtfully... sometimes...#I really do love interweaving canon with fics. Feels like wrestling a bear but it's so satisfying when it's done #Writing Lillian is so much fun. She has one last scene in the next chapter that was fun to write #anonymous #asks

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