“That was the river – ” (Act IV)
Sep. 9th, 2026 12:36 pm![[syndicated profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/feed.png){kind=small}
cityofroses_feedJerks them open, awake, the lamp’s burning, someone, Ysabel’s leaning over her, “Wake up,” she’s shaking her shoulder. “I am awake,” says Jo.
“Come on,” says Ysabel, hushed, into the hall, opening the door to the right on a narrow bathroom, tile and fixtures barely a-gleam in the darkness. Ushering Jo inside, closing the door, Ysabel hunts about reaching, patting, finding the light switch, chipped gold trim, white tile, white sink, white toilet, lid of it covered by a plush brown cushion, a bathtub, dingily white.
“Go on,” says Ysabel, skinning her ivory nightgown up and off, awkwardly, with just the one hand. Dropping it to the floor, she reaches to tug at Jo’s sweatshirt, “Run a bath,” she says. “Get ready.” Her other hand closed about something. Jo kneels, skroink, skoink, adjusting the taps for water hot and cold. Fits the plug in place. Ysabel’s holding whatever she has in both hands, now, and watches. The sound of the water falling deepens as it fills, thickens, loses its trebled edge.
“Jo,” says Ysabel.
She looks up from the filling tub to Ysabel, up the bare brown length of her, black curls about her shoulders, the green of her cooly expectant gaze. Wrestles her way out of the sweatshirt, drops it to the floor, shoves off her briefs. Her one hand to her chest, she holds out the other, but Ysabel doesn’t take it, instead, she drops into it what she’s been holding, a weightily sodden handkerchief.
“That better not be,” says Jo, hoarsely wry.
“Don’t be a child,” murmurs Ysabel, stepping into the water, lowering herself with a hiss to sloshing sit, water gurgling, steaming, lips pursed, she looks to Jo, crouched beside the tub. “Show me,” she says.
“What?”
“Let me see it.”
The handkerchief still in her one hand, she lifts the other from over the nodule there, at the end of the long pale scar stitched from hip across belly up and up between her breasts to end in a whitened pucker about that thumb-sized gem, all of a single color now, a red so rich, so full, so very opaque.
the power of even a SINGLE horse is far beyond your conception
Sep. 9th, 2026 12:00 amdinosaur_comics_feed| archive - contact - sexy exciting merchandise - search - about |
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September 9th, 2026: Thanks to Dale for the tip about the true nature of horsepower!! It hasn't ruined my life AT ALL. – Ryan | ||
Whoop Agatha Christie Time
Sep. 8th, 2026 04:17 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
scaramouche- After the Funeral - I enjoyed this one, which is funny because I can get irritated if I feel Christie has been too withholding with the clues in order to pull a trick, but in this case it worked for me, I think because there were enough elements of "wrongness" popping out of the text to be noticed and it was relief to see how those elements tied together, even if I couldn't ultimately guess to what direction. ( Spoilers. ) Unfortunately the edition of the book I got messed up the layout of the family tree at the start, which annoyed me so much.
- The Sittaford Mystery - This was fun! I feel like it shouldn't work as well as it does, as one of those mysteries that's built around a specific murder-accomplishing hook that limits the number of possibles, but I think after having read so many of Christie's books that do the same, you have to appreciate the art of putting said mystery together. Basically a table-turning announces a murder, and since the supernatural do not exist, someone announced the murder on purpose, and it's a matter of figuring out why. Go-getter Emily Trefusis is a delight and I love her.
- They Do It with Mirrors - A Miss Marple story as she tries to protect a beloved friend. It's pretty straightforward but the (1) title and (2) diagram of the scene of the crime, got me overthinking things, but if you know your conventions you can figure out pretty quick how the murder was pulled off, and that isn't a knock on the story because it makes it becomes a matter of understanding the characters and their relationships to peel back the motives.
- Destination Unknown - This was a blast! An espionage story with a tight POV of a "normal" character who is brought into an undercover mission, but she's also competent and intelligent and starts out with a bit of a deathwish which explains why takes the mission. The whole journey is fun and we get to try to decipher all the characters she meets along with her, and it ties up really satisfying way for me. Yay!! Though there's some unfortunate ethnic descriptions, and a key moment is solved by another character donning blackface.
Various sundries
Sep. 7th, 2026 06:47 pmcityofroses_feedHappy Labor Day! Today is for me the fourth of a four-day weekend, so I feel I’m doing the holiday justice—though I have been engaged more than usual in the work of self-promotion over the course of it, which is in itself laborious. Ah, well. Let’s get to it:
“That was the river – ” (Act III)
Sep. 7th, 2026 12:36 pmcityofroses_feedRoughly shaggy woolen greyly fold and crumple dropping fall a limply scribble down the sunlit sky to finally so dribbled down collapse a puddle lopped upon a stretch of close-shorn grass, and then the sharp plop of a pin, a single glowering cabochon of garnet. Chanting below, harshly barking anger, simmering resolve, a rumble as something draws itself tighter and more tightly about the air, the sun, the light, the trim green lawn stretched flatly toward the parapets of brick that line the roof, a sudden rush of air, a dopplered squeak, a disorganized stumbling thump. She rolls heavily over to lie on her back atop that crumple of grey. Blinking at the shadow darkening the air above, the grass about, clenching up her eyes to brace herself as with a wallop a great white drapery stiff with gold lands beside her, a softly settling collapse, a drawn-out groan.
Jo’s up on her hands and knees, “Ysabel,” she’s pushing aside confusing folds of kaftan, “Ysabel!” but “I’m here,” says Ysabel, muffled, “it’s all right, I’m okay,” and a half-hearted laugh as Jo throws a placket aside to reveal her black-haired head, “I wasn’t expecting that.”
“You fall, you’re gonna land, sooner or later.” Jo sets to yanking free that length of rough grey wool, hunched over, away. Ysabel sits suddenly up, heel of a hand pressed to her frown, “You’re,” she says, and then, “we’re still.”
“What,” says Jo, draping the wool about her shoulders.
“I would’ve thought,” says Ysabel.
“What,” says Jo, snatching up the brooch.
“What is that,” says Ysabel, getting to her feet, heading toward the parapet yonder, where the menace is loudest. The sky above a mighty bowl of cobalt blue piled high with stark white sharp-edged clouds that do nothing to dim the sun, and the hills away across the river and the towers downtown before them stand in merciless focus beneath it all. Somewhat more slowly Jo follows after, looking out over the parapet and down.
No. 48: July 1st
Sep. 6th, 2026 09:42 pmcityofroses_feedGreat cracks in the hitherto immutable. Ysabel discovers she has something yet to lose. 36 pages with color cover. $3.00 plus shipping and handling.
Almost dissolved— Three yellow Excavators— a Chalice of smoked glass— till Friday— “Have you seen the columns?”— the Gold in the Sack in his Hand— too Savvy, too Proper, too Good— Kibbet batata— the First appearance— “What time is it?”— Both, or Either— Condolences— her Business— no More— Clang the Brass headboard— Tertiary Dispersals— Needs most Deep & Dire— July 1st
Black Emporium Exchange
Sep. 6th, 2026 01:34 pmsettiaiFirst up is mysterious ways, a Fenris/Male Hawke/Sebastian Vael fic set immediately after Hawke's fight with the Arishok in Act 2 of DAII.
The next two are crossovers with Ratatouille that were prompted by someone making a joke regarding Neve Gallus and the rats of Dock Town back in May that a number of people then ran with when given the chance.
The first is a lovely piece of art and a short ficlet called The Informant.
The other is Anyone Can Cook, in which Remy the rat learns the hard way that Neve Gallus may be the one person in Thedas who cannot, in fact, cook.
ID.me sucks for U.S. people
Sep. 5th, 2026 01:39 pmamalthiaAfter an hour of trying to set this up, my account was suspended.
I had to switch browsers on my phone from FireFox to Chrome, clear my cache so I could receive text message with link, and just when I thought things were working I took too many selfies and they suspended my account. I'm not sure what went wrong with the selfie, maybe not enough light, or bad angle for my face they didn't say and they didn't tell me there was a limit. Otherwise, I would have stopped and switched to the video call option. If I don't get this fixed in the next two months I won't be able to log into any of the government services that are now requiring id.me verification.
My recommendation for anyone starting out, is to skip the doing it yourself and opt for the video call, though prepare for plenty of time, on reddit some users are reporting waiting for hours.
What really bugs me though is finding out id.me isn't even a government service website, it's a 3rd party contractor that the United States Government paid to perform online identity verification.
I personally think it's a VERY bad idea to put all the ID eggs in one basket for cyber-criminals (or government criminals) to target. But what do I know about data security beyond reading about all the hacked databases with user information stolen on a monthly basis.
Day 10
Sep. 5th, 2026 09:53 pmcimoreneWaiting now. No date has been set for the memorial yet. We haven't talked about buying tickets.
Feeling weird, a little surreal at times, kind of behind myself - that sounds like it's describing dissociation, but I don't think I'm dissociating - at least not normally. On the contrary, I've been ruminating on my dad almost constantly (in between reading, which I do compulsively when upset). But I don't feel up to tasks like deciding what to cook and timing it when Wax gets home, like I did the week before. Or like scrubbing things. I did do some laundry last week, but I forgot it in the machine two days in a row.
“That was the river – ” (Act II)
Sep. 4th, 2026 12:36 pmcityofroses_feedDancing in the street, purple pool-ring like an octopus about his waist, stubby inflated tentacles bobbing to the music from the speakers clipped to his rainbow suspenders, lyrics striding over a slinking beat, fuck the lease, I’m on my knees, he’s an atheist, I give him reason to believe, God bless, tiny white lights strung about his shoulders against the falling night, and glow sticks of every prismal color lopped about his purple capotain, stole his heart cause my cheeks thick as thieves. Half a dozen men and a woman in lederhosen and Tyrolean hats, and cradled in their arms the brassy curls of tubas, a euphonium, a sousaphone, Trebel Frei, says the sternly Gothic blackletter on the white cap over the big bell end of it, someone cheers. A squad of transparent umbrellas, the poles of them neon tubes of actinic pinks and yellows and greens twirled about to more applause. “Friends!” an amplified voice from speakers somewhere oddly distant, pointed away, “Neighbors! Honored guests!” and “Here we go,” says the man with the contrabass bugle, “Visitors from far and wide!” that booming voice, “Gracing our not-too-chilly and only somewhat rainy waterfront! Welcome, as we light up the Rose Festival with the one, the only, the best to ever do it, the greatest west of the Mississippi, welcome here and now, tonight, to the CareOregon! Starlight! Parade!”
“Okay,” she says, and sets a clipboard on the table between them, “okay. So I’m gonna read you your rights, and when I’m done, you’re gonna sign that, to show you understand.”
“I don’t need any rights,” he says.
“First, you have the right to remain silent.”
“I don’t want to be silent!”
She holds up a hand. “Bear with me. We’ll get through this. Anything you say can, and will, be used against you, in a court of law.”
“There’s no need!” he almost wails, “I came here to confess!”