I think this is mostly going to be a personal blog, so expect a lot about my interests. These include...
Science in any and all forms, but ESPECIALLY anything to do with space. Lots of astrophotography!!!
2. Books! I do read classics, but I must admit, I read for escapism. So expect me to rant about some less convoluted, more modern, less classy books. Especially fantasy :) I might make shuffles, Pinterest boards, playlists, anything really, surrounding books or characters I'm particularly interested in at a given moment.
3. Music! I'll hopefully post lots of music recommendations, maybe make a few playlists, etc.
4. When I have time, I do embroidery or I sew. Sometimes they're just kits, but when I pull out an original design, I'll post about it.
5. Expect a little poetry or creative thinking every once in a blue moon.
Fandoms!!!!
ACOTAR/TOG/Crescent city. (THIS IS A BIG ONE RIGHT NOW)
The Cruel Prince
Caraval
More to come :)
COMMUNICATION PREFERENCES
Asks are open, pls be respectful 💫
I'm not expecting a lot of attention on this blog because it's so personal, but by all means, if you want to say hi, please do! I love making friends on here.
I will not be linking any other social media.
Anyone and everyone is welcome! You are welcome to share opinions, thoughts and feelings, but again, please be respectful.
I consider myself open-minded and respectful of ALL opinions, but if I consider something harmful, I will speak up or set boundaries—respect goes both ways.
That's all for now, might add or take away from the intro post, we'll see how things go.
lowkey a small part of me excited for the impending nuclear apocalypse, as it brings with it the possibility of me somehow becoming a mad max-esque badass and I can make edits of myself with imagine dragons songs etc etc
(Can you guys tell i'm reading Shatter Me right now?)
Wendlyn is described as a coastal area, known for its lush, green landscapes and mountainous terrain inland, like towards Doranelle. . It has a hot climate (towards the coast) with terra-cotta roofs, vineyards, and in terms of food, SJM mentions flatbreads (teggya) and wine.
Sit tight, it may not read the best in some areas, and it is very, VERY angsty. This is the resolution I kind of wish we'd been given for Sam and Celaena.
This makes allusions to bodily harm, imprisonment, and the loss of a loved one.
Hope you enjoy, and by enjoy I mean cry and cry and cry and cry because Sam was my everything.
Credits to olenvasynyt for the divider!
Aelin stared at the piano forte in the centre of the stage.
It was a beautiful instrument, really, if she ignored the dust and grime that had built up on its varnished Blackwood hood and body. The black and white ivory keys were clean, despite the hood having been left up. Aelin herself had carefully dusted them off when she had come to the music hall a few days ago, with Rowan. When she had played one of her favourite pieces for him, laid that part of herself bare and did not shy from the vulnerable, raw feeling that came with that offering. He took it, shared it with her, as he always did. With that same steadfast faith and acceptance that made him her best friend. Her carranam. Her… well, her Rowan.
She would play for him again and again, reopen that wound, because she liked the way it ached. The ache was a reminder. A reminder that perhaps she had lost herself in death and revenge and politics, but she would keep this little bit of beauty, this music, for herself. And she would allow herself that if selfishness, because Rowan had asked for it, had asked her to play it for him.
So she had played for him, had played piece after piece after piece. But despite all she had given, there was one piece she had kept for herself. She had needed to keep it separate, to keep it sacred to the person she had been before. To Celaena. And to him.
She had it with her now, a folded stack of four or five sheets of music. She took her seat on the piano bench, balancing the papers on the stand over the keyboard. A scribbled note on the margin of the first page had her head hollowing out, her body sinking into the seat like a lead weight dropped into an ocean of darkness and silence.
“Try not to stain them with your tears when you play. It took a lot of bribes to get these.”
Her mouth twitched as she read those words, whether into a smile or a sob, it didn’t particularly matter. The note was unsigned, but she had known that handwriting as well as her own when she had found Sam’s gift waiting for her in her room, all those many months ago.
She took a moment now to relearn the curves and scratches of his lettering. It might very well have been the only bit of his handwriting she would ever be able to find. And that thought, that thought was enough to set her eyes burning, the ink swimming on the page beyond the film of her tears, her hands trembling as she carefully brushed the note to the far end of the shelf and stared at the first page of music.
She rested a foot on the pedal, her hands on the keys, and played the scale that the music took place in. And as the last sound rang out through that hollow, cavernous space, the space that had once been so full of light and art and beauty, she felt some tear deep inside herself begin to ache, to attempt to fold back inwards on itself and pretend it had healed. But it had not. So Aelin played the first few bars of the music, and in doing so, dug her fingers into that tear inside her and ripped it wide open.
It hurt. It ached and stung and clawed at her heart, her lungs, her belly. It weighed her down, pulling her under the surface. It rolled through her body in waves of black oil that made her want to tear her skin off, and never bother with growing a new one. But still she played, and despite it all, the music began to draw her into that place of calm and focus, that place that drew her from her wretched, vengeful mind and left her somewhere above all of it, floating in the space between sound and body and soul.
And as the music began to weave itself into melody and harmony, call and response, she once again felt those chains clasp over her wrists, felt that whip lash into her flesh. She felt dirt on her face, her hands, under her fingernails; she felt the reverberations from the pickaxe, the moment she had driven it through that overseer's sternum.
She was crying now. Her mouth stayed closed, her jaw relaxed, but hot, wet tears traced down over cheeks, her chin. Like a dam overflowing, like a scalding hot shower.
But she kept playing, and the dirt lifted itself from her skin. The raised scars on her back melted back into even, mostly unmarred flesh. And then, as the music reached its crescendo, that night unfurled around her once more.
The lights above the stage sprang to life, the floorboards shining and clean. The seats that had been stacked and discarded on the wings of the stage sat in neat rows, and musicians dressed in their typical formal black played their own instruments with such skill, such feeling that each note burst through her like a shooting star of wonder and victory. Of love, beauty, of the hope for a better world that had caused those musicians to forfeit their lives.
And as the final movement began, she paused. The musicians and lights and the orchestra around her faded back into dust and shadow. For where those chains and whips had marred her, where the blood of her friends, her enemies, her country had stained her, she now felt the ghost of warm hands. Soft sheets, morning light through curtains, the comforting press of a firm, familiar body at her back. She could have sworn she could smell just the slightest hint of lavender.
She played the last note and held it, lifting her gaze from the keys. She faced the seats, faced that box that had once been hers. Where she had clapped, and cried, and cheered on that night when she had first heard the music. She could see her seat just barely through the gloom, and behind it, completely encased in shadow, that was where Sam had sat on that night.
The note still sounded through the music hall as Celaena stared at that patch of nothing. And through that darkness, she could just barely make out the glint of his brown hair, the shine of his eyes, the glow of the stage lights gilding his cheekbones. And behind all of those shadows, she watched him stand from his seat and raise a hand, in applause, or maybe in farewell. Both, perhaps. And behind that veil of shadow, she watched him give her that beautiful smile, one last time. And slip behind the curtain.
Celaena waited for the note to finally fade back into silence, then she sat on that piano bench and waited for her tears to stop flowing. And finally, Aelin gathered the papers, stacking them neatly. She slipped them and Sam’s note into her pocket, still carrying his light with her, even now that he had disappeared into shadow.
Because she had never been given the chance to play it for him. And someday she would play it for Rowan, but she had needed to play it for Sam first. And now, having given him that, having given herself that, Aelin walked off the stage.
From beyond the veil, Sam Cortland smiled as he watched her go. And when she had left the music hall, as darkness and silence settled once more, he began to whistle the first few notes of that song, of that piece of music that would hold the two of them together, across worlds, across years, for all eternity.
House of Earth and Blood might have the best ending out of any first book in a fantasy series yet. Everything came together perfectly and it was so wholesome. 10/10 would recommend.
Hey! I'm making a night court-themed playlist for myself, since I didn't totally vibe with any of the ones I found. If you happen to listen and have any recommendations for songs that match the vibe, please share! I love new music.
Rowaelin - So, baby, can we dance Oh, through an avalanche? And say, say that we got it I'm a mess, but I'm the mess that you wanted // I loved you despite deep fears the world would divide us
Chaolaena - If I’m on fire, you’ll be made of ashes too // if I’m dead to you why are you at the wake
Doraelin - Sorry that I hurt you, I don't wanna do, I don′t wanna do this to you, I don't wanna lose, I don't wanna lose this with you
Rowanlyria - I've got a lot to live without, I'm never gonna meet What could've been, would've been, What should've been you
Samlaena - I never thought we'd have a last kiss, I never imagined we'd end like this, Your name, forever the name on my lips
Manorian - Devils roll the dice, angels roll their eyes What doesn't kill me makes me want you more // he looks up grinning like the devil
Elorcan - Just grab my hand and don't ever drop it, My love, They are the hunters, we are the foxes And we run
Chaorene - This love is difficult, but it's real, Don't be afraid, we'll make it out of this mess
Lysaedion - Get me with those green eyes, baby, as the lights go down, Give me something that'll haunt me when you're not around 'Cause I see sparks fly whenever you smile
Nestaq - If you fail to plan, you plan to fail, Strategy sets the scene for the tale, I'm the wind in our free-flowing sails And the liquor in our cocktails
With the passing of Jim Lovell, all three members of the Apollo 8 crew have now passed. In honor of their memory, here is their famous Christmas Eve broadcast from lunar orbit. See you in the stars, Jim, Bill, and Frank.
~The Lights Between Stars~ @thelightsbetweenstars - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
