2025.07.07

Jul. 7th, 2025 08:44 am
lsanderson: (Default)
[personal profile] lsanderson
Mosquitos with West Nile found in Twin Cities. From Bring Me The News: “The findings suggest West Nile activity is starting to pick up in the area. Officials say the timing of the positive tests aligns with when mosquitoes have historically first shown signs of the virus.” Via MinnPost
https://bringmethenews.com/minnesota-news/first-west-nile-positive-mosquitoes-of-the-year-found-in-twin-cities-counties

Michael Douglas says he has ‘no real intentions’ of acting again: ‘I had to stop’
The 80-year-old, two-time Oscar winner said he had been ‘working pretty hard for almost 60 years’ – and is ‘quite happy’ watching his wife Catherine Zeta-Jones work
Sian Cain
https://www.theguardian.com/film/2025/jul/07/michael-douglas-says-he-has-no-real-intentions-of-acting-again-i-had-to-stop

‘Chipping away at democracy’: authors fear outcome of US supreme court’s LGBTQ+ book ruling
Some parents can now opt students out of LGBTQ+ book readings. The writers warn of increased book bans and bias
Melissa Hellmann
https://www.theguardian.com/us-news/2025/jul/07/authors-lgbtq-book-ruling-supreme-court

The radical 1960s schools experiment that created a whole new alphabet – and left thousands of children unable to spell
Decades ago, a generation of UK schoolchildren unwittingly took part in an initiative aimed at boosting reading skills – with lasting consequences
Emma Loffhagen
https://www.theguardian.com/education/2025/jul/06/1960s-schools-experiment-created-new-alphabet-thousands-children-unable-to-spell

At least 81 dead and dozens missing in Texas floods as more rain looms
Gary O'Donoghue Chief North America correspondent
Ana Faguy BBC News
https://www.bbc.com/news/articles/cddzrj323zzo
fox: my left eye.  "ceci n'est pas une fox." (Default)
[personal profile] fox posting in [community profile] agonyaunt

Dear Eric: I am very much enjoying the second time around following a long and less than joyful first marriage. My problem is plans for burial.

All of our children are terribly against our marriage even though both of our spouses were deceased at the time we met. Our children have virtually no relationship with us now and if there is any contact it is ugly.

I have a cemetery plot out of state with my deceased wife. My wife has a local plot with her deceased husband. I would like to get a new plot for the two of us but expect that any such request would receive pushback and be ignored.

My wife’s mother is buried with her second husband using her last name at the time of her death and her father is buried with a subsequent wife so there is precedent for what I want but I know her daughter would require that her mother be buried next to her father.

How do I get what I want?

I have not discussed any of this with my wife. If I did and she brought it up with her daughter the reaction would be for the daughter to express her displeasure by keeping the grandchildren from my wife. She has done that for less. If I am to get a plot, I should do that sooner rather than later as they are in short supply.

While living I would feel great joy if I could know that I could count on being buried beside my wife for all of eternity. Am I being silly to not just take the easy route?

— Burial Conflict

Plans: You have every right to make a burial plan that suits your life and your love. And — this might be controversial — you don’t have to tell your kids. If you have virtually no relationship as it is, you certainly don’t need to bend to their wishes. It seems there’s no pleasing them, anyway.

In general, it’s better to communicate about final wishes and plans for one’s end-of-life in advance. This helps intentions to be understood and gets questions answered while you’re still around to answer them. But the conflict that’s roiling your family complicates things.

Without knowing more about the circumstances of your marriage, I can’t say your kids are completely wrong, but the punishment you mentioned is more than concerning.

Perhaps they’re struggling with acceptance because of unprocessed grief, perhaps there’s something else going on that I’m not privy, too. Either way, the stated conditions dictate that the burial conversation should happen only between you and your wife right now. Once you’re both on the same page, you’ll know what the next step is. That might mean purchasing a joint plot that makes you happy and appointing someone other than one of your kids as executor. (That last part is probably wise regardless.)

There would still be a lot of complications, of course. Namely, one of you will predecease the other and at that point, presumably, the kids would find out the plan. So, while you are working on doing what brings you joy, I’d also encourage you to get down to the root of what’s going on with your kids.

[syndicated profile] ikeahacker_feed

Posted by Stacy Randall

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The post 5 IKEA Items, One Seriously Glam Vanity Desk Setup appeared first on IKEA Hackers.

Just one thing: 07 July 2025

Jul. 7th, 2025 06:44 am
[personal profile] jazzyjj posting in [community profile] awesomeers
It's challenge time!

Comment with Just One Thing you've accomplished in the last 24 hours or so. It doesn't have to be a hard thing, or even a thing that you think is particularly awesome. Just a thing that you did.

Feel free to share more than one thing if you're feeling particularly accomplished!

Extra credit: find someone in the comments and give them props for what they achieved!

Nothing is too big, too small, too strange or too cryptic. And in case you'd rather do this in private, anonymous comments are screened. I will only unscreen if you ask me to.

Go!

Accepting Me by Tazmy (T)

Jul. 7th, 2025 01:08 pm
cassiope25: Rodney close up on the Daedalus (Default)
[personal profile] cassiope25 posting in [community profile] stargateficrec
Show: SGA
Rec Category: Rodney McKay
Characters: Rodney McKay, John Sheppard, Madison Miller, Jeannie Miller
Pairings: Rodney McKay/John Sheppard
Categories: slash, emotional hurt, family, nonbinary character, on Earth
Warnings: No warnings apply
Word count: 3,962
Author's Journal: [personal profile] sgatazmy
Author's Website: Tazmy on AO3
Link: Accepting Me

Author’s summary:After receiving an email from 12-year-old Madison, Rodney rushes back to Earth with John in tow.

Why This Must Be Read:
This new fic by the wonderful Tazmy revolves around Rodney and his niece Madison, and it's wonderful on so many levels. It's a companion piece to Festering Wounds, Hurting Souls, Loving Hearts, which I recced here, but can easily be read as a standalone.

There’s so much empathy, understanding, and unconditional love woven into the story, making everything feel deeply palpable and giving it real emotional weight. At its heart, it’s about how every living being deserves to be seen, heard, and treated as they wish to be—simply accepted for who they are.
You get to experience all of this through some endearing McShep vibes, with all the best Rodney-ness and John’s loving insights. The glimpses into their own, partially hurtful life experiences are emotionally perfect and add so much depth.

It’s a beautifully written fic where every word lands, leaving you with a warm feeling in your heart.

snippet of fic )
tamaranth: me, in the sun (Default)
[personal profile] tamaranth
2025/103: Hemlock and Silver — T Kingfisher
I had just taken poison when the king arrived to inform me that he had murdered his wife. [opening line]

A new T Kingfisher novel is always a delight, and Hemlock and Silver -- a dark and occasionally horrific riff on 'Snow White' -- has brought me great joy, right from that opening line.

Read more... )

Connexions (22)

Jul. 7th, 2025 08:38 am
the_comfortable_courtesan: image of a fan c. 1810 (Default)
[personal profile] the_comfortable_courtesan
Had rather not be revealed

Sandy did not anticipate that Maurice was like to be at the club the e’en – was quite the height of Mamzelle Bridgette’s bustling time, the Season still a-whirl and already ladies wishing to be beforehand concerning the wardrobes wherewith they would devastate summer house-parties. But he had a deal less fret over his lover’s health during this time now that he came to apprehend the confederacy of his relatives, that sent Thomasina with a well-supplied basket to sustain her in her toil, and la, she did not dare take any back uneaten! So Maurice was at least eating good food from Euphemia’s kitchen, even was he staying up until all hours.

Mysell-Monting looked up from the chess-board and sighed that he might as well resign, for he could not see any way to evade this trap that MacDonald had got him into, tipped over his king, and rose. Sandy suspected that there was also some matter of an anticipated assignation – sure he would have liked to interrogate Mysell-Monting about his painful pleasures, that he found a very curious matter that converse with Maurice’s sister had not come about to greatly elucidate.

He stood up himself and took up his glass of whisky. Came squeaking towards him Chumball and Pemberton.

MacDonald! Have you heard? Pemb lately had an epistle from Wappinge, that goes antiquarianize in the vicinity of Naples, and in among the minutiae of the statues and ruins &C he has seen, mentions that Basil Linsleigh is about in Society in those parts.

Insofar, said Pemberton lugubriously, does one count Yankees as Society, as we apprehend Linsleigh is staying with some people called Rutledge, from Virginia.

Sandy took a sip from his glass and conceded that he had had some intelligence of Linsleigh’s whereabouts, and that he had not expired like Byron of marsh fever or been slain by Albanian bandits.

Do you suppose he will return? Sure the scandal was a seven-days wonder.

Chumball sniggered and said, did Wappy not mention some model he was painting of quite surpassing beauty?

So, thought Sandy, Marcello had managed to place one of their allies to keep watch upon Basil and his activities, as he had intended. He doubted that Basil was in any eagerness to return to English shores, since he had fled not because of any fear of a scandal over sodomy but from criminal charges to do with illicit black-birding. He remarked that he recalled from his own visits to Lady Bexbury’s villa in those parts that indeed, the local fellows were of exceeding handsome looks, and, it was given out, very willing to oblige Milords Inglesi for quite modest remuneration.

Chumball and Pemberton looked wistful.

Came up Sir Hartley Zellen, saying, did you mention Lady B’s villa? Have just had a letter from Verena, has been some while on its way, about their departing from Rozofsky’s estates and making the journey by way of the Mediterranean, and that they had been offered the hospitality there did they pass through Naples.

One observed that Sir Hartley manifested a pleasing paternal affection towards Verena even had she been staying for some months with her real father, as he remarked upon her various exploits in the Ukraine. Of course, Lady Zellen’s three lovely daughters entirely did him credit – all beautiful, for their fathers had been quite the match to Honora Zellen in looks! – well-trained by their mama in the ways of Society, and had all made good matches, though Verena’s was the most outstandingly remarkable, an entire love-match with Gussie Imbremere, heir to the Marquess of Offgrange.

Did MacDonald care to dine?

Alas, said Sandy, Offerton has been very pressing for me to dine with him privately as has some discreet matter wishes to unfold –

They all looked knowing, for Sandy had a justified reputation for looking into troublesome matters with discretion and bringing about an acceptable resolution. Was that not, in fact, how he had met Maurice? Investigating the theft of his notions by a newcome modiste, Madame Francine.

And here came Terence Offerton, horsey-looking chap with thinning hair, cheeks reddened with broken veins, making amiable to the company though with some air of being eager to be closeted with Sandy.

Sandy hoped that 'twas not some matter of horseflesh – sure he could not count himself as expert in matters of racing and breeding and training, though he supposed he might call upon the knowledge of Belinda Penkarding did it come to it.

As they settled into the private dining-room they exchanged a little general conversation – what sort of a racing-season was Offerton having? Did Sandy ever hear aught of Leo Harper? – but once they had been served and the door closed upon 'em Offerton came to his concern.

Had lately discovered his head groom had took on a young fellow – indeed the matter was of some urgency, one of the other grooms had contrived to break an arm and another had took a fever – that seemed entire all one could desire in the way of handling cattle, a very good way with him – but what gave one to pause was that had been discharged without a character by Blatchett –

 Sandy managed not to start at this intelligence.

Had been employed at Blatchett’s hunting-box in Buckinghamshire – and the tale is, one day His Lordship up and dismisses him, he does not know why.

Sandy looked thoughtful, and said, musingly, one wonders had he seen somewhat that Blatchett had rather not be revealed – might not have understood the inwardness of the business at the time – but did any come questioning –

For he already had some inkling of what the groom might have seen. And that 'twas somewhat that one hoped he had not gone blab about.

Indeed, seems a young guileless fellow enough, but sure have come across fellows at races &C looking as innocent as the babe unborn that were rogues incarnate.

Sandy suggested that mayhap he should come to Offerton’s place and interrogate the fellow, under cover of finding out was there any matter of unjust dismissal and remedy – though, he added gloomily, in Blatchett’s position they are wont to turn off their servants for mere caprice and there is little one may do.

Offerton remarked that to his mind, Blatchett was a poor judge of horseflesh, and not so fine a one of men, either, did he spend so much time in the company of that detrimental Mortimer Chellow. And commenced upon a lengthy and rather confused tale of Chellow’s conduct at some card-party at the races.

So it fell out that a day or so later Sandy went out into Berkshire to Offerton’s place, and had some converse with the head groom, Stalyward, that declared that young Oxton was a fine hand with the cattle – worth two men at least – could not see the least harm in him – would not be entire astonished to learn that Blatchett was about some sly tricks, there was tales about that Chellow chap – and the lad had seen something, or refused to undertake some underhand matter –

One could place a certain amount of confidence in one that had been about racing circles these many years and risen to head groom here: had doubtless developed sound judgement!

To give some air of solemnity to the proceedings Sandy had been made free of the steward’s office, but to ameliorate the severity of the occasion had also provided a mug of ale and a snack of bread of cheese. The lad would have been up since dawn –

Very prepossessing, he came in with damp hair from which Sandy deduced that he had washed away the evidence of the morning’s toil under the pump afore this interview. Was very grateful for the ale &C, as Sandy commenced upon the more general questions –

Brought up around horses – father a groom himself – the stable at Blatchett’s hunting-box had been his first place – very quiet – His Lordship would visit occasional with friends – or sometimes by himself – was mostly a matter of tending Tipton the cob – making sure all was in order against a sudden visit –

His Lordship had not been for some while, but visited lately.

There I was, said the young man, holding Benbow’s head while His Lordship mounted, and I bethought me of the young lady, and once he was in the saddle, I ventured to hope that she had suffered no ill-effects from being bolted with on such a nasty night?

So he snorts and says nothing and rides off. Then that evening his groom Mr Axbury comes to me and hands me over my due wages and tells me to go, I am dismissed. Very fortunate I had friends here that would at least find me a nook to sleep, and they say they are in dire need of a pair of hands – but the being discharged without a character must concern Mr Stalyward.

Sandy looked at him with all the kindness he could summon up – for inwardly he felt very much what Clorinda would term John Knox look at this naïf young fellow ensconced so very close to a place, Jupp’s horse farm, frequented by Bella Beaufoyle. His very good nature was like to be disastrous.

Why, he said, that is very harsh and one must suspect there was somewhat behind but I cannot fathom what it might be. But let me advance your case to Lady Bexbury, that has interest with the Potter-Welch agency, that was in particular established to assist those that had been unjustly turned off or had other reasons for difficulty in obtaining a place.

That is above and beyond kind! Oxton exclaimed. For although everyone here is friendly, and 'tis a good place as places go, I had rather not be about racecourses, where there is a deal of low conduct even without the gambling.

It was a puzzle to think what they might do with him – so many of the establishments to which he might be recommended were those where Bella was like to be a visitor – but Sandy fancied that matters had now got to the place where he should convoke with Clorinda. And mayhap Belinda Penkarding.

So he made further reassurances that the matter would be looked into, and that they would be about finding him a more eligible situation.


sovay: (Silver: against blue)
[personal profile] sovay
From an apparent radiant in Arcturus, which made it either a straggler of the Boötids or just passing through, just as [personal profile] spatch and I were getting up from our summer-hazed star-watching under the three-quarter moon, we saw a slow fireball of a meteor streak south and westward. All we had seen until then were the familiar blinks of planes and what we less happily took for satellites crawling steadily across the body of Ursa Major. We lay on the granite blocks that were installed six or seven years ago in commemoration of the eighteenth-century farm that became first a field of victory gardens and then the public park where I would spend my childhood sledding in winter and setting off model rockets in summer. The jeweled string of the Boston skyline has built itself considerably up since then. I used to dream of finding a meteorite in a field. It seemed statistically not impossible.

Circus and crosswords

Jul. 6th, 2025 10:19 pm
flexagon: (like smiley)
[personal profile] flexagon
A good week. Not much time to write it up but at circus there was h2h progress, handstand jump progress and my first spotted back walkover in several years. And when not at circus, I've poured many hours into working on constructing my crossword puzzle with my collaborator-mentor. Some into finishing up the last drawing lesson from the class I was given at Christmas. Some into making my July budget before the month started, and ordering a new external monitor (which I was always planning to do).

I was social and chill also; lunch/coffee with a couple of old co-workers, relaxing in [personal profile] motyl's pool. Went on a walk with my squirrel and the new camera, and learned a few more of its features. Found a good little park in which to go and take handstand photos, one of these weekdays when the kiddos aren't around.

I said I'd help organize some invasive weed pulling, but then I got too caught up in the crossword to do any of that today.

Felt a bit of FOMO, as it feels like everyone has done shrooms now (several of my friends for the first time this week) and I still haven't. However, I am about to go and ride roller coasters for a couple of days in Cedar Point. That should alter my consciousness pretty well.

Rosmei orders and novel impressions

Jul. 6th, 2025 08:29 pm
headstone: ((tgcf) ming yi - manhua)
[personal profile] headstone posting in [community profile] cnovels

Some interest was expressed in a writeup of the Rosmei titles I've acquired over the last year, so I wrote up some of my impressions of their books, as well as my experience ordering from each of the two main North American distributors. On my personal site: https://durandal.blog/blog/rosmei/

I don't have comments set up on my blog so feel free to ask questions or discuss under this post. Feel free to suggest any relevant tags, as well.

coffeeandink: (utena (fairytale ending))
[personal profile] coffeeandink

Ghost Quartet is a band: Dave Malloy on keyboard, Brent Arnold on cello, Gelsey Bell and Brittain Ashford on various instruments, and everyone providing vocals. Ghost Quartet is a song cycle, a concert album performed semi-staged, a mash-up of "Snow White, Rose Red," The One Thousand and One Nights, the Noh play Matsukaze, "Cruel Sister", "The Fall of the House of Usher", the front page photo of a fatal train accident, and a grab bag of Twilight Zone episodes. The ghost of Thelonious Monk is sometimes invoked, but does not appear; whisky is often invoked, and, if you see the show live, will most certainly appear. "I'm confused/And more than a little frightened," says (one incarnation of) the (more-or-less) protagonist. "It's okay, my dear," her sister/lover/mother/daughter/deuteragonist reassures her, "this is a circular story."

Once upon a time two sisters fell in love with an astronomer who lived in a tree. He seduced Rose, the younger, then stole her work ("for a prestigious astronomy journal"), and then abandoned her for her sister, Pearl. Rose asked a bear to maul the astronomer in revenge, but the bear first demanded a pot of honey, a piece of stardust, a secret baptism, and a photograph of a ghost. (The music is a direct quote of the list of spell ingredients from Into the Woods.) Rose searches for all these ingredients through multiple lifetimes; and that's the plot.

Except it is much less comprehensible than that. The songs are nested in each other like Scheherazade's stories; you can follow from one song to the next, but retracing the connections in memory is impossible; this is less a narrative than a maze. Surreal timelines crash together in atonal cacophany; one moment Dave Malloy, or a nameless astronomer played by Dave Malloy, or Dave Malloy playing Dave Malloy is trying to solve epistemology and another moment the entire house of Usher, or all the actors, are telling you about their favorite whiskies. The climax is a subway accident we have glimpsed before, in aftermath, in full, circling around it, a trauma and a terror that cannot be faced directly; the crash is the fall of a house is the failure to act is the failure to look is the failure to look away.

There are two recordings available. Ghost Quartet, recorded in a studio, has cleaner audio, but Live at the McKitterick includes more of the interstitial scenes and feels more like the performance.

In Greenwood Cemetery, there were three slightly raised stages separated by batches of folding chairs, one for Dave Malloy, one for Brent Arnold, and one for Gelsey Bell and Brittain Ashford, with a flat patch of grass in the center across which they sang to each other, and into which they sometimes moved; you could sit in the chairs, or on cushions in front of the first row, or with cheaper tickets you could sit in the grass on the very low hills above the staging area, among the monuments and gravestones, and, presumably, among more ghosts. The show started a little before sunset; I saw a hawk fly over, and I could hear birds singing along when the humans sang a capella. It was in the middle of Brooklyn, so even after dark I couldn't see stars; but fireflies sparked everywhere.

A Sunshiny writerly ways

Jul. 6th, 2025 07:31 pm
cornerofmadness: (Default)
[personal profile] cornerofmadness
My cousins came today and stayed for like 6 hours so I am socialed out and my brain ain't coming up with witty writing stuff so I'm combining it with Sunshine challenge #2

Sunshine-Revival-Carnival-4.png

Challenge #2

Tunnel of Love
Journaling: The romance of summer! What do you love? Write about anything you feel sentimental about or that gets your heart pumping.
Creative: Write a love poem to anyone or anything you like



Now that I'm a college professor and not seeing patients any more, I have one thing I like about summer. I'm OFF WORK. Other than college sucks. Yeah I love to garden and swim but you can do both of that indoors and that's my preference. I'm heat intolerant. Summer literally makes me sick. Yeah I'm an autumn/winter kinda lady.

Yes I can appreciate all the good things that comes out of summer but yeah not really for me.



But I do have something about love written...or at least sex... have that story I wrote in a week 15K + here is chapter one. I'm proud of this one If Anything's Worth My Love, It's Worth a Fight It's Hazbin Hotel and it's naughty





Open Calls


Eldritch Prayers (Cthulhu Mythos Poetry Anthology)

Anomaly August 2025 Window science fiction stories under 300 words in length

Unseen Agreements Speculative stories that explore hidden bargains, mysterious contracts, and eerie agreements by Canadian authors

Dark Age Press August 2025 Window For Fantasy and Science Fiction Novels Sci-Fi and Fantasy

Horror on the Range Horrifying Wild West Stories

Common Bonds 2 Stories that belong in the fantasy or science fiction genre, have a clear aromantic MC, & centers around a non-romantic relationship

Tractor Beam Volume 3 Speculative Fiction, Soilpunk (they're claiming to pay 1000$)

Ten Manuscript Publishers Open to Direct Submissions in July 2025

SQUID Online: Now Seeking Submissions.


22 Young Adult Publishers that Accept Unagented Submissions



From Around the web


How Authors Can Promote Books Using TikTok and Instagram

Juxtapositions Can Make Great Sentences

Generate Greater Book Profits in 4 Easy Steps

Gazingly (Lovingly) Into the Abyss—Introducing Horrormance, the New Genre-Blending Sensation so...apparently I've been reading and writing this without knowing it had a title

How to Subtitle Your Book to Encourage Sales

Story Development: The Overlooked Revision Opportunity.

Plot Holes? I Prefer to Call Them “Opportunities for Interpretation”

How Writers Can Stay Hopeful in a Tough Publishing Climate


From Betty

Constructing a Compelling Romance

Should Your Fantasy World Resemble Earth?

Adding Dance to Your Fictional Culture

The Gravity of a Single Word: Why Writers Must Choose with Care

Write Your Manuscript Like an Endurance Athlete Trains

The What Ifs of Building Believable Alternate History

How to Avoid Apostrophe Abuse


The Living, Breathing Novel

The Emotion Amplifier Playbook for Antagonists

Three Hidden Reasons Writers Procrastinate

How does a comp title help a self-published book’s marketing plan?

A Writer Can Rely on the Unreliable Narrator POV

A bit of free-writing

Jul. 7th, 2025 11:59 am
landingtree: Small person examining bottlecap (Default)
[personal profile] landingtree
In the last while I've been doing very little long-form writing, but I have been doing a bunch of sitting down at the table and seeing what I can write before standing up again. This began as deliberate automatic writing. It's interesting for me to read back over as I lose my memory of the exact thought process that produced it, and what had been a vivid map of that thought process goes partly dry and inexplicable, like a dying leaf. I will not share any of this because it would be dry and inexplicable to anyone else from the beginning. However, it did sort of nudge me imperceptibly closer to normal writing until I suddenly went 'I think this is now just me writing fiction again in the usual way.' I will post here a few of the bits toward the story-er end of this process. They are still not guaranteed to make sense or to resolve like stories, and to prove this, I will start with one that doesn't.

~

Dragon didn’t know what he was getting when he ordered that leg from a human. It’s a huge crystal structure all chain-hung and shivered by light and wind. The guru who lived in it fed her followers on meat she got from somewhere - they said she cut off pieces of her own flesh and grew again whole. I don’t believe it but it’s not as though I ever caught the delivery vans. I never ate there, though they say it tasted fine – better than fine.

There was a little village nearby that predated her structure and hadn’t changed much in relation to it. The cultists needed no supplies and the villagers weren’t friendly, having other gods. There, they made clothes by growing lichen on statues. You could order a dress for your granddaughter, hoping you’d have one and she’d be about such-and-such a size. Or you could get lucky. They were expensive but not that expensive – the village had such fields of statues in all different body-forms that it wasn’t a luxury reserved for kings. How they treated the lichen and got it off the statues in strong, supple condition, with the beautiful, wild patterns hiding in the green and grey, was a secret you could only have learned by staying there ten years and learning every part of the process – and no one in the village, taken away from all that lived-in expertise, could have set the thing up again! Just one of the nutrient paints had its own maker with her own handed-down teachings. Not secret, but hidden in day-to-day life.

So this was how things stood before the dragon came: the new cult with its cathedral-sized beauty of glass, and the old village where doctors weren’t trusted. The dragon turned up at the structure to eat human meat because it had been told that there, it was encouraged. Having slept through an age of the world, it wasn’t sure how things stood, and it was more cautious than some of its brethren, having the idea that humans had become a lot more dangerous in the meantime (and in that it was correct). It was less large than the structure but certainly no single person could have done it much harm, for even its eyes dwelt behind a membrane like iron, and the throat – that tunnel proof against fire – was the very toughest part of it. Dragon throats last while all the rest of the insides have rotted away, hanging in the skeleton and the suit of scales.

After some surprise and a lot of running about, the guru’s followers called her out of trance, which displeased her but she agreed it had been the right move when she saw the dragon. She agreed to give the dragon what it wanted and withdrew to her holiest chamber, where, allegedly, she butchered her own leg on a chopping block without ever shedding a drop of blood and then grew back upon herself layer upon layer like the fastest of lichens. And she emerged with the meat, which was perfect and not quite like anything – I had seen it and imagined a Pegasus, or one of the great birds. The dragon ate. And then asked for more.

Now, the sacrament could not become a dragon-feeding factory, so the guru said no. And so the dragon – why, no one knows – abandoned its patience and advanced after the guru when she withdrew into the structure of chains and glass. The noise could be heard for miles.

Whatever contest followed had no victor. The cathedral’s remains lie strewn now, tarnishing and scratched, over all that field, along with a few pieces of the dragon – though not as many as you would expect. No worshippers gather there, though now and then some sad pilgrim passes. The locals still grow their lichen finery and to them, it seems, what happened was only as memorable as that time someone’s uncle got indiscreetly drunk and proposed marriage to three people in a single evening.

help with Venetian dialect

Jul. 6th, 2025 06:05 pm
dinogrrl: nebula!A (Default)
[personal profile] dinogrrl posting in [community profile] little_details
Hello wonderful people!

I've got a fantasy story that's set in early 18th-century Venice. I don't speak Italian, and definitely don't know the difference between the various regional dialects, so I'm looking for some help with a nickname in Venetian.

I have a priest who can use magic, who is not exactly a nice guy. Nobody likes to be around him, he's the kind of person you can just tell will erupt like a magic-spewing volcano the moment something doesn't go his way. My main character is ten when she first meets him and has a very visceral Do Not Like reaction to him, comparing him to a pack of rabid dogs. She is not told his name at the time, so in her mind she dubs him Father Mad Dog (creative, I know).

Several years ago I tried to parse "Father Mad Dog" into Italian/Venetian, and I don't know where I came to the conclusion that it'd be "Don Can' Pazzo" but that's what I've been using. I guess somewhere along the line I was under the impression that cane would get shortened to can when used like this. Is any of this correct? Or do I need another phrase entirely?

vital functions

Jul. 6th, 2025 10:20 pm
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Reading. Burch + Penman, McMillan-Webster, Wells, Davies + Jones, Hwang Carrant, Keynes + Aidley )

... all of which adds up to more pain-related reading than I felt like I'd managed this week, huh, I thought I had tripped and fallen entirely into Murderbot and EatYourBooks indexing but apparently not!

Writing. A response to the EHRC consultation, which was... several thousand words. A very, very brief response to the Pathways to Work green paper consultation ("I am too disabled to manage doing this properly. These charities are speaking for me. Please fucking listen to them.")

Watching. The first half of Fantasia, with the toddler, with my hand held through all the scary bits to reassure me, apart from the bit that was SO scary that we had to get up and distract ourselves until it was over. Which had absolutely not been flagged as one of the scary bits, and which was the deep-sea-origins-of-life section.

(I had not watched the film since primary school, I don't think? And between then and now I have played a bunch of orchestral music, for most of that time on the violin but latterly as a French horn. It turns out that when I'm not distracted by playing a completely different part, I have incredibly intense sense-memories of several of the pizzicato sections early on...)

Another Murderbot episode. (I continue Indignant.)

Another Farscape episode, this one Taking the Stone (S02E03), which I think was firmly back to early season one levels of incoherence.

Tragically we have not managed The Old Guard 2, because I have had too much migraine and there have been SO many things Happening, but... maybe this week???

Cooking. Several new things! Four from East, leaving me at 41/120 recipes still to make (two of which are "probably won't happen" for reasons of "grapefruit" and "matcha"); of those this week's meal plan includes two (aubergine larb with sticky rice; Vietnamese coconut pancakes). I appreciated the reminder that fried new potatoes are tasty, and A is notably into the chargrilled summer vegetable salad, though I was not a fan of the faff and think I prefer smitten kitchen's charred corn succotash.

Approximately zero faff was salt lassi, and A is now aware that this Special Treat is available; low faff was a cherry clafoutis with fruit from the plot, which I overcooked a bit but, hey, I do in fact like caramelised crunchy bits.

Eating. FIRST BATCH OF DESSERT GOOSEBERRIES ARE RIPE. A tiny handful of Sugar Magnolia sugarsnap peas. Misc jostaberries. RASPBERRIES. And also supermarket strawberries, because we have hit the stage of the summer where they're down to £5 per kilo :)

Growing. I have been doing small bits of harvest and failing to get support structures in for the beans and tomatoes. The outdoor tomatoes have tomatoes on. The squash are coming along; I put more squash seeds in, on the grounds that they're super late but might still do anything; I have not managed to kill all of the chillis; the pepper has flowers.

Harvested lots of dried peas for sowing next year. Am attempting to develop Plans that might actually let me have a full bed of broad beans and a full bed of peas in the interests of getting Reasonable Quantities of them. If the council doesn't tell me I'm not allowed the abandoned plot next door--

I could get so much done if I could coax myself out there for even an hour a day but the agoraphobia is saying No, annoyingly. Gonna try to get A to chase me out more this week.

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