delphi: An illustrated crow kicks a little ball of snow with a contemplative expression. (Default)
[personal profile] delphi
Fandom 50 #3

Continuing my list of fifty Canadian songs I love from the past fifty years, 1979's is one that's probably popped into my head at least one morning a week since I was five:

Wondering Where the Lions Are by Bruce Cockburn

Knitting update

Mar. 13th, 2026 02:25 pm
cimorene: Abstract painting with squiggles and blobs on a field of lavender (deconstructed)
[personal profile] cimorene
The state of triplet sweaters when last checked on was that I finished #1 (a traditional Guernsey using PetiteKnit's Storm pattern in navy blue dk-weight Norwegian wool Sandnes Peer Gynt). Then I took over #2 (a mariniere using PetiteKnit's Marseille pattern in yellow stripes on black in dk Drops Merino Extra Fine) from [personal profile] waxjism, who had already knitted the body, and knitted the hem ribbing and sleeves and the neck ribbing while Wax started #3 (a traditional cabled Aran in forest green heather Peer Gynt). Wax got halfway up the body of #3 before stalling out in the cold snap while I knitted a little bit on a pair wool shorts for myself before giving up knitting in the cold as well.

Nobody knitted for a month or so. But all that time I knew I was going to have to unravel the neck ribbing on #2 and redo it, because it came out too tight/small.

After I ran out of wool for the shorts the other day, I unwillingly went back to the sweater. Knitting in black wool is very annoying because it's difficult to see the individual stitches. Yesterday I unraveled the collar and started over, getting through 17 rounds out of a planned 21, before I realized it was still too small and started over again. The third try is now at 18/21.

I need to order more wool for the shorts and some more needles and sock yarn and sock blockers.

We still haven't replaced the kitchen faucet, either. I asked Wax what she thought about ordering it a week and a half ago, and she said she could pick it up on her way home from work, but this hasn't happened yet.

The Importance of Being Earnest

Mar. 13th, 2026 09:38 am
goodbyebird: Rome: Atia of the Julii wearing red, on a red background. (Rome Atia of the Julii)
[personal profile] goodbyebird
Streaming for free here. I'm definitely watching this weekend :D

Friend Is Okay + Book Discount

Mar. 12th, 2026 09:14 pm
labingi: (Default)
[personal profile] labingi
Update to my previous entry: I heard from my friend in Baghdad, and she and her family are okay. She is, however, worried about her friends in Iran. Thanks to everyone for your kind wishes.

On a totally different subject, here is a Bookshop.org code for 20% off your first purchase (only ships to US):

https://refer.bookshop.org/egkfmyy2rdr6

Thursday night.

Mar. 12th, 2026 10:11 pm
hannah: (Laundry jam - fooish_icons)
[personal profile] hannah
A dash of snow came down around two thirty and again around six. Not enough to stick around, but enough to notice it wasn't rain. It was one of the more exciting moments of a day brought low by a cold. The ENT doctor yesterday and two rapid tests this morning are decent enough confirmation I can accept that's all it is, which is as cold a comfort as I can get these days.

I can't remember when I bought them, but the tonics I got from the herb farm at the farmer's market seem to be doing a better job of calming my throat down than anything else I've tried. As that's all I want them for, I'll stick with what seems to be working. Anything for a good night's sleep. There's only so many pots of tea you can drink in a day.

Can now access Tumblr

Mar. 12th, 2026 11:49 pm
aliensamba: yuuji from jujutsu kaisen (s)
[personal profile] aliensamba
Grateful that access has been restored.
queenslayerbee: blended image of a young blonde woman showing off a tattoo on her lower back, a young blonde woman laughing and dancing with her arms dressed, and decaying light pink roses. (dead girls (one over many))
[personal profile] queenslayerbee
Credit to the idea of a new earth version of Duke as Cassbat's Robin goes to cleromancy. It really set the tone to a lot of my headcanons for him in this timeline.

Title: dance of the little swans.
Fandom: DC comics (post-crisis future fic).
Character/Pairing: Cassandra Cain & Duke Thomas.
Rating/Warnings: M, none.
Summary: Cass Cain Week, Day VI: Past | Future.
Word count: 600.

read more
-

Cassandra Cain met Duke Thomas in dance class. 

It started as one of Tim’s initiatives, the last before promptly quitting because “one more day, and next time I fall off that ugly tower, it’ll be on purpose.” A handful of buildings were remodeled in areas alternately labelled “impoverished” or “working class” by the press, offering subsidized after-school activities for children.

Tim asked her to coach a few, as a favor. It confused her; what she did, she just… did. Cass, remembering those disastrous sparring sessions with Steph, had little confidence in her ability to teach.

Bit by bit, she got the hang of it, taking a strange sort of pride in slowly building a skill. Years later, although jobs or bank accounts still felt, at their core, superfluous, the volunteer gig became a nearly regular thing, alternating between neighborhoods as it struck her fancy.

Once, Cass was told teachers shouldn’t have favorites; a nonsensical notion: everyone had favorites, and Duke was one of hers.

He often arrived early, carrying a book of puzzle games, like crosswords. Cass was ludicrously bad at them, but whenever they made each other company before the others arrived, she amused him with… creative alternatives.

Duke was quite sharp; kind, and just a bit of a troublemaker, in a way that made other kids gravitate towards him. His coordination absolutely sucked at first; he got some special prescription glasses, and steadily improved since.

He was just a normal kid who smiled brightly when his step-dad arrived to take him home at the end of each lesson.

And one day, he stopped coming.


The Bat met Robin –the Robins – in the middle of another attack.

She knew of them. They started stopping petty crimes shortly after Damian shed the colors and left for Blüdhaven. Tim wrote a report, and Helena called her once to ask “are these yours” in a deadpan, judgemental tone, after an encounter that involved a nasty encounter with the Ratcatcher. Downright sweet, next to the recorded message Jason hacked into the batcomputer (“Keep an eye on this, will you? No need to follow the old man’s steps in everything, if you know what I mean”).

Cass was not Bruce. She hadn’t agreed to watch over a bunch of untrained vigilantes bound to get themselves killed. Especially not then. For weeks, people gaining strange powers, seemingly from the same source, had started sowing chaos around the city. Cass couldn’t see the pattern. Tim would’ve; Bruce would’ve. But Gotham was hers, now. She resented the idea of asking for their expertise. 

Whatever it was, it was certainly out of those kids’ league. She might bring out the good ol’ jaw pinch to safely take them out of the way, after dealing with the attacker.

But when she took the lead Robin by the scruff, she almost dropped him out of shock.

The dollar-store mask, the hood, the red jacket with the hand-sewed “R” on it… immaterial. She recognized the slope of those shoulders, the arch of that frown, the bow-like curve of those legs. 

“Duke?!”

A bright light blinded her, and when she finally regained her senses, all the kids were gone.


Cass and Duke talked much, much later.

“It’s my father. My biological father,” he clarified. “He’s why I do… this.”

With one gesture, he submerged both of them into a sea of darkness. 

“I can stop him. I know I can! I must.”

Cass listened to the despair of his voice, observed the conviction of his gaze. She’d hear about that day in the circus. Was this how Bruce felt then?

“Okay, Robin.”

-

A/N (c&p): In one future-canon series I plan to write... eventually, I borrow more stuff from Duke's canon backstory (like Joker's venom), and Cass is still a long way from this role when that happens, so I took the opportunity to make something different here, something I'd thought about before, with Duke's bio-father taking a significant role as his original villain. Something for him and Cass to bond over, as you will.

The title is from one of the pieces in Tchaikovsky's Swan Lake, which Duke and his friends (maybe also future Robins...) should totally perform.

40.

Mar. 11th, 2026 08:48 pm
hannah: (Rob and Laura - aureliapriscus)
[personal profile] hannah
Despite bad sleep last night, I got up and got going this morning. I ran just over 2.3 miles in 30 minutes as a new personal record, and took the stairs up to the gym also. I visited an ear-nose-throat specialist and was told I don't need to panic, and hearing it from a professional makes that a good deal easier. I went to a coffee shop on Madison Avenue that was fancy by Madison Avenue standards, got a vanilla latte and a glass of orange juice that were unfortunately both worth the high price tag, wrote some in my notebook, deliberately overtipped, and rode a bike back through Central Park.

I cooked monster sauce for the first time in a long time - so called because it's doctored up out of spare parts. A can of this, half a can of that. Some of this, more of that. It's always tomato based and it's about the only thing I make entirely on vibes. I ate it a lot in grad school, but haven't for years. The timing seemed right to do it tonight.

I did some editing and managed to get my stuff together enough to send out a query letter. I'm gearing up to wait for the rejection while also reminding myself any submission is a good one to stay in practice for the task.

I've gotten lovely notes and great cards, and all that would make it a good birthday. But all that could have gone aside and it'd still be a wonderful birthday. Because some weeks ago, I preordered an album and it arrived today. An album I'd waited weeks for, and months, and an album I could say I waited years for without knowing it. Because for well over a decade, I'd specify the difference between my favorite band presently making music and my favorite band no longer making music. And now I can't make that distinction quite so easily anymore.

Because after 19 years, Voxtrot released their second album.

19 years ago, I was in college. I was looking out towards the Pacific Ocean, drinking a jack and coke because that's what I'd been able to get the courage to buy for myself. I hadn't written any novels, or any fics of substantial length, either. I'd barely learned how to finish what I'd started.

19 years ago, I'd only seen the world end once.

This isn't an album the band could've made back then. They didn't have the broader maturity or experience on display here. It's still Voxtrot, beautifully so, and it's as rich and tasty and filling as ever. I don't know how I'd have taken it if they'd released it 17 years ago, 15, 10. Nineteen years. I've traveled the world and seen it end and seen it come back. I've said goodbye to people without knowing it was the last time, and welcomed more into my life. I've gone dancing and singing and been kissed a few times. There's things I'd change about the last 19 years, and few of them are about my life and what I've been doing.

It took Voxtrot 19 years to make another finely cut gem of an album that I think is better than their first.

I hope it doesn't take them another 19 years.

What I'm Doing Wednesday

Mar. 11th, 2026 05:02 pm
sage: painting of the front window of a bookstore (bookstore front)
[personal profile] sage
books (Ghattas, Raybourn) )

yarning
Made and sent 2 catnip-silvervine hearts (to the same customer who has ordered about nine of them now). Missed yarn group due to cold, torrential rain, and DST. Made and sent 2 multicolored kickbunnies. Finished the turquoise kickbunny for kitten academy's current momcat (her kittens are 2 weeks old and adorable!), but haven't gone to the post office yet. Continued Easter carrots after messaging the customer to confirm the number and cost (so stressful!). Now they just need smiles and hanging loops.

healthcrap
I loathe springing forward. Still can't get up at a decent hour. Daytime vertigo is now coming randomly. In the night, it's mostly connected to lying in bed/rolling over/getting up to go to the bathroom. Fun times. I do feel a bit better overall. I got all my healthcare coverage renewal info uploaded and am impatiently awaiting a telephone appt. Tongue still has a hole in it, but it's shallower than it was and is slowly healing...if I can just keep from biting it. Had to start a new tube of benzocaine.

#resist
+ Check locally for anti-war protests. I'm finding Reddit and Instagram to be fairly good sources if you check often. (Last Saturday was a national protest, but I didn't know about it until just a couple of hours beforehand. Doh!)
+ March 28: #50501 No Kings Protest #3

Thanks for the kind comments on recent posts. I've been terrible at replies. I hope you're all doing well! <333

113 ☆ January-February 2026 Reads

Mar. 11th, 2026 05:35 pm
tinkaton: nuriko | fushigi yuugi (♥︎ suzaku)
[personal profile] tinkaton
I wanted to stay on top of my book review roundups this year but we see how that's going lmao. Also I might start including a little log of what manga I've read too. But here's what I read in January and February so far!



Read more... )
delphi: An illustrated crow kicks a little ball of snow with a contemplative expression. (Default)
[personal profile] delphi
Another theatrical streaming plug:

The pro-shot of The Importance of Being Earnest, starring Ncuti Gatwa, Sharon D. Clarke, and Hugh Skinner, will be streaming on Youtube from March 12th to 18th!



A bit from the show:



National Theatre at Home has been one of my favourite streaming services for a long time now, with the way it bring UK theatre to someone like me (not in the UK, also not living in a place that gets much in the way of touring shows), and I'm really happy they're releasing this one for free on a bigger platform.

It may be an amiable egg

Mar. 11th, 2026 08:19 pm
cimorene: Illustration of a woman shushing and a masked harlequin leaning close to hear (gossip)
[personal profile] cimorene
"A nice fried egg, sir."

"And what, pray, do you mean by nice? It may be an amiable egg. It may be a civil, well-meaning egg. But if you think it is fit for human consumption, adjust that impression."

—PG Wodehouse,"Mulliner's Buck-U-Uppo"

The Joy Who Lived

Mar. 10th, 2026 07:59 pm
delphi: An illustrated crow kicks a little ball of snow with a contemplative expression. (Default)
[personal profile] delphi
If anyone's interested in checking out some queer comedy theatre with a slate of great trans and gnc performers:

The Joy Who Lived: March 31st to April 12th

You can find a list of shows by date or you can browse by category. Shows are running both in person in Los Angeles and as live streaming events that are also available to view up to two weeks afterwards. I tuned in a while back for their fundraising show, a chaotic live runthrough of the Ocean's 11 script called Gender Heist, and it was a heck of a good time.

Couldn't've liked it more.

Mar. 10th, 2026 09:24 pm
hannah: (Perry Cox - rullaroo)
[personal profile] hannah
I got invited to my dad's book group meeting tonight in the capacity of caterer. I brought the cake and I helped the host's wife in the kitchen, where she and I ate while the book group sat around the larger table in the dining room. There's no hard feelings - they're friends that wanted to see each other, and I liked catching up with her. We talked about daytime talk shows, MASH and its laugh track, women by themselves, bad books recently read, and a little bit of poetry. She said that the skin on my chest - the dress I wore was modestly low cut and still well below my neck - was an amazing white, pale, smooth, like something in an old poem about describing beautiful women.

She also suggested I'd be good as a special education teacher, and when I said I didn't have the patience for more than one kid, she said I could do one-on-one. I know how hard that work is, and found it deeply touching she thinks so highly of me. It's not something I think I'll actively pursue, and it's still quite touching.

Everyone loved the cake I brought. Two people asked for slices to take home and share, one person asked for a second slice to eat right there, and two more asked for slices for their breakfasts. I was told it was sublime and that I outdid myself; I replied that next time I'd simply have to do myself, which got a chuckle. One of the other members drove there instead of walking or using public transit, so my dad and I got a lift back to our place. A gentle end to a nice night.
labingi: (Default)
[personal profile] labingi
(Copied from my Substack)

Disclaimer: I’m not claiming my story is important. It’s just the story I have to tell.

One of my best friends lives in Baghdad, which is among the many, many places now bombed in this regional war started by my government. As I write this, she and her family are probably all right. As far as I know, there have been no strikes near where they live and work. They’ve survived worse. They survived being bombed by my country during the war over obviously fake WMD’s. But as the days go by and I don’t hear from her, I can’t help reflecting that they might soon die because my country is run by lunatics and cowards.

And I keep thinking I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what to do.

My own senators and representative already oppose the was on Iran, even heavily pro-Israeli Ron Wyden. I’ve already written to thank them. But they are outnumbered by the cowards in Congress. I could sign petitions. I could write or call other legislators. I could stand in the street with a sign, but what can I do that would have real impact? Where do my strengths lie for taking action?

I don’t have a good answer for what to do about this war. But broadly, thinking of my life on Earth, my mind turns toward my writing, and as that’s a focus of this Substack, I’ll share a thought about it. In my science fiction, I write messy situations, and I write with sympathy toward virtually all my characters. I sometimes feel this puts me at odds with the prevailing values of my own progressive comrades in current social science fiction circles. The Zeitgeist there seems to favor sharp divisions between right and wrong: the oppressed are in the right; the oppressors are in the wrong. This must be clearly driven home in the name of real-world justice.

I think I respectfully disagree. Not with the premise about oppression being bad, but with the narrative prescription of moral simplicity. I’m not saying straightforward moralizing stories shouldn’t exist. Many value them and get validation of their own struggles from them. Those stories have their place. But I occupy a different place. I try to write (almost) everyone with sympathy: oppressed, oppressor, dictator, soldier, abused, abuser, the broadminded, the dogmatic.

What does this have to do with the war in the Middle East? This war has been enabled by simplistic morality narratives: Iran has a harmful regime (true); therefore, it’s fine for “the good guys” (us/US) to drop missiles on them because they are “bad guys.” The same rationale supports ICE, excuses January 6th but deports people for a school protest, excuses kidnapping the president of Venezuela while defending “Our President” tooth and nail. It’s American exceptionalism on steroids: “We are Good, and they are Bad, so anything we do to ‘get’ them is Good.”

This kind of mindset, even if it’s not even close to this level of stupid, makes it easy to label groups as deserving punishment because they do bad things. Iran’s government is oppressive; it does fund attacks that kill civilians. This eclipses the schoolgirls, the families going about their business, the people doing the hard work for decades of trying to resist a reactionary theocracy. It makes a bomb seem like an easy answer.

My friend, whom I dearly love, could die in this war. She’s an English teacher just trying to live her life.

What can I do? I’ll go on trying to figure that out, imperfectly, often ineffectually, and sometimes irresponsibly, as I learn how to be a citizen under fascism. But one thing I will surely keep on doing is writing characters with sympathy. With the exception of a few very minor walk-ons, it will be every character, every time: the murderers, the rapists, the wealthy, the colonizers, the trampled, the sacrificed, the raped, the ignored, the destitute, the elite, the insightful, and the lacking in insight. I’ll do it because this world needs more sympathy, and that’s something I can do.
queenslayerbee: Isabelle Adjany as Lucy Harker in 1979's "Nosferatu the Vampire". She's surrounded by darkness, looking over her shoulder while she wears a white nightgown and a cross as a necklace. A hand with long nails like a claw is reaching for her neck from the darkness behind her. (Default)
[personal profile] queenslayerbee
Another story from Cass Cain Week 2025.

Title: accomplices.
Fandom: DC comics (pre-No Man's Land / Lost Days).
Character/Pairing: Cassandra Cain & Jason Todd.
Rating/Warnings: M, none.
Summary: Cass Cain Week, Day V: Death | Rebirth.
Word count: 500.

read more
-

Taking refuge in her hideout, she observes the boy's return.

Unlike the others, she doesn't await him with apprehension. She doesn't go without meals, picking up scraps thrown away by the careless or the dead rodents she encounters in the building’s corners.

She doesn't need the boy's help. She just... watches.

The food he brings is not like what she finds. She's seen fresh products sometimes, but there’s always people in those places. People never want her around. They act unkindly.

The people down there want the boy around. She detects a selfish interest in them, but not just that. Some greet him happily, making strange sounds with their mouths.

The boy never makes any. He struggles, like her. But she thinks he understands them, what they need. And he gives it to them. It's a habit. He did it before she came; if nothing stops him, he'll do it after she's gone.

But she'll watch. Just one more time.


A week later, the boy climbs the building and stands before her. It alarms her. How long did he know she was there?

He motions towards the window. Does he want her to... jump?

Curious, and maybe a little reckless –was she wrong about him? Was he sent to take her back? What else would anyone want with her?–, she does just that. 

She sees him leap after her, flying, graceful. He repeats that motion. He means her to follow.

Dusk arrives, and they advance from shadow to shadow. Silent and surreptitiously, they enter one of those buildings the fresh food must come front. But this is... the back. There's no people here.

There are boxes, dozens of them, warm to the touch. Their smell makes her mouth water and her stomach roar. 

He grabs a strange tool, with wheels, similar to smaller ones she's seen him use, and starts putting boxes inside it. 

Someone interrupts. An older man, tall, muscular. As he opens his mouth –will he yell? She hates when people yell–, the boy leaps behind him, putting him in a chokehold.

She almost jumps in to stop him, before seeing the man just… falls sleep. They boy stopped him, subdued him, but didn't harm him. 

The two of them finish filling the carrier. He graces her with a smile, his eyes fully focused for the first time; something cheerful, and charming, and a little mischievous. Hesitant, she returns it.

In the alley, people greet them. There's screaming, but it's filled with palpable joy. An old man approaches her, repeating that sound (zankiu) she's heard over and over directed towards the boy. Her eyes dampen.

When she opens her box, she finds a strange animal. Like a large insect, but bright red? With hard skin. Does she bite it?

She sees the boy rip off the head of one of his with ease, slurping its insides. 

She follows suit, choking on an appreciative moan. 

It's the most delicious thing she's ever tasted. And she’s eating it with company.

-

A/N (c&p): I'm giving Cass seafood, as a treat.

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