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Fave Five: Queer Fae YA
Fave Five: Queer Fae YA
The Witch King by H.E. Edgmon Master of One by Jaida Jones and Danielle Bennett Ash by Malinda Lo A History of Glitter and Blood by Hannah Moskowitz A Dark and Hollow Star by Ashley Shuttleworth
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This week I have a bit of a book haul since an order, a preorder and a trip to the second hand store all decided to happen.
Books in the photo: A Court of Silver Flames by Sarah J. Maas (preorder), Master of One by Jaida Jones & Danielle Bennett, The Duke Heist by Erica Ridley (order), Oroonoko by Aphra Behn and Three Guineas by Virginia Woolf (second hand).
Master of One- Jaida Jones and Dani Bennett
*I just wrapped up finals this week, so I didn’t have a full review- but wanted to put this out there just because I really enjoyed this book. My next read will have a full review (The Cousins- Karen M. McManus)*
The fact that we do not have a confirmation of a sequel is a crime. (especially after that ending).
I'll admit that I feel scammed by this book. The summary on the cover/in any blurbs does not accurately represent the plot. Minor spoilers ahead so read at your own risk- only 4/6 "relics" are even searched for and the "romance of legend" doesn't come to fruition until the last chapter. That being said, I loved it. It reminded me a lot of six of crows (the heist and multi-pov). The best part was the sarcasm and language. We also have disabled rep, queer rep (barely- but holding on for the future), and a trans character. I completely recommend this book- but don't expect exactly what is advertised.
5/5 stars
hey guys long time no fandom!!! I uh have a question that maybe someone in the Volstovic Cycle tag might be able to answer-
Does anyone have a list of the dragons and their descriptions? Especially the Jacquelines and Swifts. I’m pretty sure I remember there being one online at some point, but so far I haven’t been able to find it... and I need it, for Secret Reasons. :’D
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I figured out that two pieces of dark chocolate a day are not adding more inches to my waist, than nearly three decades of stress I asked this body to stomach
“Lighthouse” by Alex G and Danielle Bennett
i feel like you could track my art development just by looking at all my drawings of caius
I've come to my senses, but I don't know where to go. I just know it's getting home. Losing here. I know all the answers - you don't have to fix this. But I am so new to this, just being here. And they took all the parts of me, I wasn't ready to lose. And I wondered if I'd ever wake up as somebody new Tired run me down. Run me in the ground. I will build a lighthouse there somehow
April ran me down, left me looking at the backside of a pig hurt. At the end of the month, mud thick as thighs was smeared across my eyelids and lip corners and all over my spirit. So tired, this voice I am losing is both a red and white flag that tells a more honest story than my mouth does I'm tired of the discipline it takes to say no. Of the daily quits and the daily asks. Each message a ... skip and whatever groove I had finally slid into. Tired of being a thread always pulling through. Of showing up to a keyboard, unimpressed by anything I have to offer. I understand. I, too, am unimpressed by my own biography Tired of wanting to call my way through skin until I am an indistinct skeleton, slinking out unnoticed. Perhaps then I wouldn't be held the fire of my own splintered dream boards. Shrink me tiny enough to escape failure by anyone of my hundred definitions. Help me believe that this art was only ever an experiment I'm tired of doing my best. Of telling the sugar to let me go. Of being looked at like the next shiny trophy. A feeling like a ladder rung, like an empty promised land. I'm tired of what it takes to get clear. Of how heavy the fighting heart weighs in. Of the ‘not quite, almost, just wait here'. Of the questioning of my own aloneness, of my own enoughness, of my own too-muchness April reminds me that I am a six-figure grave and whoever taught me what that would mean. Where is the triangle of blame that promise me relief one day? Where is the relief in any of this one day? I've played every angle and I've gotten good at it, so why am I losing it; my sanity Now I guess that my life wasn't built on my record to win All that's left is a prayer on my breath, I'm enough as I am Tired run me down. Run me in the ground. I will build a lighthouse there somehow. The truth is I am only bothered when I think or I know I have completely lost control. My reputation, the feels, the knowing. I have chased and begged them home, even in my dreams, but I never learned to last so So I'm doing my best for the thousandth time to actually let it go and anyone who's ever eventually nailed crow pose or finally hit five miles knows that repetition expecting a different result isn't always insanity. Sometimes, it's just a way of growth I am flaking mud. Really, I am left in no one's dust. I am miles behind and I am still winning. I will never forget my own name. I am letting us all off my hooks. I am showing up, even when other people don't I am unlearning how to be tough and my fine hit curled Kings rarely dry pretty, but how refreshing to love myself however I become I am not forcing resolve, because I'm not sure that's the way life folds. But I am reconciling every version of myself, because I want them to meet one day and have a good laugh at how right we swore we were I am not made of formulas, so I can no longer respond on your Q. I'm gonna start asking questions that may make me seem slow, but I am labeling that a good four letter word And I figured out that two pieces of dark chocolate a day are not adding more inches to my waist, than nearly three decades of stress I asked this body to stomach The manner has come enough to know that I will not be buried alive. And I've never watched, but I can tell I am beautiful when I'm writing and I know there is a humble man saving the rest of his fourth of July's for my firework giddy applause And I don't know where he is, but I know he doesn't play hide-and-seek. And I know I want to tell him that I haven't been waiting. I've been creating a hotel of stories he can thank for the shameless, crooked smile I've become Tired run me down. Run me in the ground. I will build a lighthouse there somehow. I am flaking mud. I am waking up. Praise! April is gone and I think May was a new sun and I've never loved the sound of crumble as I do now. Under all that earth, I got soft, somehow I got a second draft biography. It says: I'm not much of a sailor but I've built some sort of boat. If you judge me by my crew, I am thoroughly good. If you judge me by results, I am a two-time world champion of facing what I feared the most I have been published by several renowned atlases, for my work repairing lighthouses using only sound. You'll know they're mine when you see them. How the lights loop haphazardly like they're completely out of control I will build a lighthouse there somehow
