u/PracticalMagic3015

I just watched sterling point after seeing it all over the media being heralded as the most amazing show ever. I will give it to the show that it doesn’t feel as scripted and you can tell when the actors are riffing. They do a great job with the soundtrack and creating horrifically awkward vibes.

That being said I do not relate or find Annie’s struggles compelling at all. Her resentment towards her dad that we see episode 6 feels very out of nowhere. Her crying about her mother and saying something has been robbed from her when she can’t even remember her but seeming to be completely emotionally okay with the biological parents she has abandoning her seems very very strange. She comes from a place of incredible privilege and at this point it is hardly addressed in lieu of her being pined after and comforted every 5 minutes by a male love interest. Ramona is the far more compelling of the two. I would find myself less peripherally annoyed if the show was focused on her. She’s navigating losing the only parental figure she knows is now an orphan and has many secrets hiding from her. Instead we get nepo baby tears for an hour and very little completing behind it.

It just doesn’t really seem like we have any pre establishment of character shits of her struggling or actually navigating things weird.

Where would you go to thrift cheap records guys. I mean like dollar records not 15 dollars. I know I got some somewhere I just don’t know where

Im looking for witty regency romances with the same feel. I want to have good time, interesting characters with back story, a solid romance and great banter vibes

Looking for a place to buy letter stationary!

I’m interested in starting a Beth Brower book club where we’d read books similar to Emma m lion (witty Victorian romance), some of Beth’s stranded on an island book recs, and we’d exchange poetry and quotes like Hawkes throughout the week. We’d also reread Emma passages that correspond to big events like if Julius cadaver is happening that week we’d pick it up

Does this sound like a crazy idea and would anyone be interested. I was thinking of hosting as a Facebook group chat or starting something here.

We could host zoom meetings monthly but also I’m sure as Reddit kinda feels sketch so it might just be a chat. Up to you

https://fable.co/club/the-emma-m-lioners-with-tonimarie-519463963761?invite=8da1a579-8602-4444-9bb8-1b8bd79d4a04&referralID=IzTA1fT4yY

I want to start wearing make up again but don’t know where to begin

What do I do

Before the Fourth of July I had 4 solid safe meals I kept on rotation. Out of nowhere I had it and had horrific throat pain.

I went to bare bones for the past eeeks only eggs and pasta and was doing okay. Now even those two thing are giving me horrible swelly feeling and pain. I legitimately have 0 foods left and am terrified and defeated. I’m trying to eat still so I don’t starve to death but have begun fearing the pain that comes with food.

Does anyone know how to get out of a flare like this and not starve to death?

I’m so scared

I need a book that will make me feel the way this book felt. It doesn’t need to be Victorian. Just charming and witty with a great cast of characters

Looking for inspiration for my next writing

I made this quiz. It has 16 characters from the books! Let me know what you get vs what you thought you’d get and who you wanted

Our Printer just broke and it was terrible and printing color images. I’m looking for affordable color printer that will print my stickers with clan colors that aren’t faded or choppy!

Any suggestions

Our Printer just broke and it was terrible and printing color images. I’m looking for affordable color printer that will print my stickers with clan colors that aren’t faded or choppy!

Any suggestions

Tonight I fear I’ll evaporate, all starlight and stardust. I don’t sleep most evenings, although the angels of my eaves whisper, sometimes there are voices far less gentle and far more insistent- Found in the part of me that’s all flesh and leagues from the place in which spirit meets the bone. There in I find, My scarlet letter, to beat into my back in my minds eye. I am sleepless in this task. I am sisphysus.

Or Prometheus. My sin far less noble, my God far less capricious. So as my mind wanders so does my soul and then follows my feet.

It is nights like these I am grateful to pierce. Thankful for this consecrated, broken bench outside the bar below my room. To it I come weak and weary and it gives me, and many others, on such a starry nights, rest. I know I will not find sleep but hear I try to find rest. As I know it will not come , it does not. This knowing of mine is equal parts blessing and curse. It is so hard to hope or be thrilled when you can sense the turn of tides. That is not to say I will know all but I can sense the comings and goings. Like creaks in old doors like winds before storms. My soul is a wind chime that sings at the softest rain and declares that I take notice.

I remember the solitary nature of my own company. Circumpection in inching on the threshold of companionship. Weaving some delicate threads of camaraderie to pull one up and uplift a broken spirit. How lonely yet precious of a thing it is to be allowed to hold on to the thread of of another’s life. How careful one must be to not attach and pull apart the fragile thing. Still, against my better judgement, and past precedent, I too am a spider:

Whitman-

A noiseless patient spider,

I mark’d where on a little promontory it stood isolated,

Mark’d how to explore the vacant vast surrounding,

It launch’d forth filament, filament, filament, out of itself,

Ever unreeling them, ever tirelessly speeding them.

And you O my soul where you stand,

Surrounded, detached, in measureless oceans of space,

Ceaselessly musing, venturing, throwing, seeking the spheres to connect them,

Till the bridge you will need be form’d, till the ductile anchor hold,

Till the gossamer thread you fling catch somewhere, O my soul.

In the past months, My solitary nature is challenged by the forging of a new metal. Of gold. I have strung my string to many and pulled the thread loose, but I have found myself accidentally tethered. Attached. It is not by my own doing:

Dickinson

The Soul selects her own Society —

Then — shuts the Door —

To her divine Majority —

Present no more —

Unmoved — she notes the Chariots — pausing —

At her low Gate —

Unmoved — an Emperor be kneeling

Upon her Mat —

I've known her — from an ample nation —

Choose One —

Then — close the Valves of her attention —

Like Stone —

I find that my soul has made its selection. It strange how there is a portion of oneself, instinctual and animal, that decides against our jurisdiction. Who is it and how does it know? Is it similar and incomprehensible like the Holy Spirit. Is he the one threading our lives together and drawing us together like sand and shore? Or is it something more. Are our souls lighthouses predetermined and searching to pull certain predestined ships to their port. Or so we look for people who are made of similar mysticism. That ineffable and mysterious. I think that is what has occurred. Me, Emma, Pierce, and Islington. Our souls, born in entirely different times, somehow forged from the same fallen star.

Islington had always been kindred. The two of us smoke and mirror. Two shadows cannot but help but share the same ground. Neither demanding the other bend light or be within grasp. Then Miss. Lion blew into town like a clover. Pulling the thread of her own life and walking against the wind. Suprising me in the ways she would circumvent fate. Not falling in the places I had prepared myself to catch her. Slamming into pavement in corridors beyond even the sensing of my life’s breeze. Delighted by suprise. Suprised to be delighted.

And with her, her own shadow. Pierce, his thundering suspicion and circumspection. A mirror and shadow like myself, islighton, but looking to ignite. Flint unstruck, with steely eyes. Knowing he’d deny both salvation and sanctuary, relieved and burden. Wishing to know him and them. And then feel the breath of life, the four of us, static electrify, buzzing and warm together. Wanting to weave them into the web of my life. Wanting to make shadow risen.

To make myself tangible so maybe I could be held. Only wanting that thing. But the desires of the flesh are not always something we must accuise. I will not storm into their world, I will not when the weight of mine could sink their webs. My past, my desire for the present all a Thorn burrowing and burning into my heart:

2 corinthians 12

“a thorn in the flesh was given to me, a messenger of Satan to a buffet me, lest I be exalted above measure. Concerning this thing I pleaded with the Lord three times that it might depart from me. And He said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for My strength is made perfect in weakness.”Therefore most gladly I will rather boast in my infirmities, that the power of Christ may rest upon me. Therefore I take pleasure in infirmities, in reproaches, in needs, in persecutions, in distresses, for Christ’s sake. For when I am weak, then I am strong”

Tonight, I will pray on this bench. And hope under its weight I do not collapse. I will not collapse. I must forge onward.

Who knows

-

When I posted Islington I also wanted to try this. Hawkes is very very hard to understand get g to realistically capture him was more hard than I imagined and I couldn’t do it

Im complaining stuff and making a playlist and would love people to discuss/ get more quotes as goodreads has great ones but i want yours.

If anyone has ones pertaining to hawkes that are mystical id appreciate it.

Much love to yall