Blu

@bluwrites.bsky.social

285 Followers 216 Following

🌈 sffh writer | new england → seongnam🇰🇷 | 🌱 | audhd | 💛🤍💜🖤 | 🖋️ Eat Them wip (27k of 90k goal, adult horror); LLL wip (40k of 110k goal, adult sci-fi) |🚫AI🚫|

Post from toottootthetefomstimmy reads: “turns out the only part of futuristic sci-fi movies that was fictional is that the robots would do the dishes so we could have time to make art. Instead AI makes our art while I still have to do the dishes.”
The bus wheezes on its way, and Tiago gives me a little wave akin to a salute. “You’re a cool dude, Leto,” he says. “See you around.” And away he clanks with his bags full of maybe photography equipment. I’ve forgotten to ask where he’s going. I’m heading the other way, past the overgrown graveyard with its spindly iron fence and around the corner to the neighborhood where I grew up. The houses here huddle nervously together, the once-bright paint on their shingles now long faded and peeling away. Most of them have been divvied up into multi-family units, so that extra doors and porches are haphazardly stuck on here and there. Too many people’s junk crowds the little brown yards out front, and the half-paved driveways are stuffed with dirty vehicles.
“I’m not disobeying commands,” he mutters, and he keeps cinching the thick strap across his waist. “No one at any point said I can’t test out the contaminants we might find here.” He hesitates so briefly I almost miss it. “But they probably will if I ask for permission, so …” “So you want me to play mad scientist with you as my test subject? Absolutely not. Get up from there.”
We take Onyong through wooded trails to Red Cove Beach and end up sitting on a decrepit bench overlooking the sea, passing a cigarette back and forth. Further out is an old lighthouse, long disused, at the end of a stone pier. The maroon water below bubbles fretfully, leaving a pinkish froth on its surface. There’s some nutcase out there, at the base of the lighthouse, who keeps leaning over the pier as though looking into the depths. People do that sometimes — the fumes will mess your mind, get you kind of high. They’ll also drive you mad, eventually, if you’re not careful. Our grandmother died of it in her sixties; she was a proper pollution huffer. We grew up here, with this view, this air, this sludgy, noxious beach. In the distance, the Beldam Bridge stretches the mile over into Briarwood. I ask Aster, “Does Harrowville have any big factories?” She exhales smoke in a pungent cloud. “Hell no,” she says. “Wouldn’t want to fuck up the view from the university.” And then she laughs.
Bullshit. “The program was dissolved a decade ago.” “Yes and no. The experimental base was moved elsewhere for scientific conservation. Your old January facility continues to train acquisitions, albeit with more sufficient safety standards than were in place for your cohort.” She comes around the desk and leans back against it so she’s looking down at me. “Rather, I should say, they were continuing. The facility appears to be compromised.” “Compromised,” I repeat. A ghost of the place flits through my mind: echo-filled training halls, air thick with wood polish and sweat and the clattering of weapons; steel and glass laboratories, needles and straps and screams; sun-kissed gardens and sweet red sap tea and kissing a boy behind the harbinger tree. “Good.” “There are children there.” I let out a bitter laugh. “And I’m sure their safety is your priority, is it?”
Wearing the Lion by John Wiswell
Lessons in Magic and disaster by Charlie Jane Anders The mercy makers by Tessa gratton The ghosts of Gwendolyn Montgomery by Clarence a. Haynes Palaver by Bryan Washington Herculine by Grace Byron The good vampire’s guide to blood and boyfriends by Jamie d’amato
An unkindness of ghosts by rivers Solomon Harrow the ninth by Tamsyn Muir The spear cuts through water by Simon Jimenez The song of Achilles by Madeline miller
Amplitudes: stories of queer and trans futurity edited by Lee Mandelo
Cover art of Luminous by Silvia Park. A colorful, mosaic tiger paces atop a mountain divided by two different shades of green against a strong purple background.
Mood board with images including dead flowers, books with tea, a girl in a mirror, and hands cupped around a candle
My tabby cat Moose sits on my back while I’m standing in the kitchen making ramen. He gives the camera a scandalized look.
Janet from the Good Place saying “love isn’t a triangle. It’s a five dimensional blob, so …”
3 images of captain holt. In the first he says, unedited, “when people say good morning they mean hello, when people say how are you they mean hello” In the second he says, unedited “when people say” and then edited “‘I still give money to branded Harry Potter content’” In the third he says, unedited, “they mean I am a person not worth talking too”
screen cap of Amy Santiago (labeled “plotters”) saying “writing things down is nerdy? What do you do?” Second screen cap of Rosa Diaz (labeled “pantsers”) replying “I just forget stuff like a cool person”
Photo of a giant ship stuck in a canal being slowly dug out. The ship is labeled “the ideas” and the digging machine (idk what these things are called) is labeled “the writing process” Tags: writing writers novel book fantasy science fiction horror sff romance
Cover of The Skull & Laurel. It depicts a black buffalo (?) with golden eyes and horns, swirls of neon-pastel smoke billowing from its mouth against a black background
Mood board with images including dead flowers, books with tea, a girl in a mirror, and hands cupped around a candle
chaotic photo of two dogs and three cats being rambunctious and very distracting
Message from 4/24/14 reads “you shouldn’t waste your time with a loser like me” followed by message from 5/27/14 reads “or should u”
Excerpt from my fantasy horror book ETwip: “It’s the same stuff.” Without thinking, I reach for your wrist, meaning to show you that the pearly, sinewy string of the friendship bracelet is exactly the same as the longer strands of goo laced along the wall like the web of a talentless spider. But I’ve forgotten how you reacted before, and this time you’re even quicker. You snatch my wrist before I can make contact and your forearm snaps tight against my triceps, effectively arm-barring me straight into the goo.
The Photographer by Didier Lefèvre and Emmanuel Guibert
my cat casually and delicately cleans his paw in front of the screen that I’m trying to read #booksky #cats
(Italics) Leto. I’m so serious, text me back. (Normal) And then, about ten minutes after that: (italics) You said there was nothing here. (Normal) My heart rattles around in my ribcage. Oh my god, if the neighbors saw — you must have climbed the fence and found the unlocked storage door. I’m both mortified and pissed, and I’m struggling with putting this into a scathing text when another message pops up. (Italics) Need your help. (Normal) I hate you. I hate you so much. I’m gonna kill you when I get there. I text you back: (italics) On my way.
The golden compass by Philip Pullman
Video shows a beach at sunset. There is snow the ground, and the horizon is a fiery orange that reflects in the water
Stained glass magpie with its wings outstretched
Closeup of my cat’s upside down face and his tiny lil teeth
A tabby cat lies with his head stretched upward against my laptop, which is now shut on my lap. I am reaching out to scratch his squishy tum tum
Stitches: a memoir by David small
A pale pink mug with a stylized, raised image on the front of a cute little white cow with ornate silvery patches on their back and face
The mushroom at the end of the world: on the possibility of life in capitalist ruins by Anna lowenhaupt Tsing
Stained glass octopus held up to the sun. It seems to be a fiery mottled red
An owl sits on a snowy branch. After a moment, the owl takes flight through the falling snow. They disappear into the trees and the video gets shaky.
Stories of our lives: an archive of Kenyan queer narratives by the nest collective
Pic of the back of a leica m3 (googled it real quick)
same image as above, with problem areas circled and outlined
A man hold a camera to his face. He has a tiny right pinky, a fat left pinky, and a tiny left thumb (we’ll assume he was just born this way). His right eye is squinted closed. His left eye can’t be seen, but the viewfinder seems to be somewhere between the closed eye and the bridge of his nose.
The Spirit Bares Its Teeth by Andrew Joseph White
Utopia by Thomas More
My Favorite Thing Is Monsters by Emil Ferris
Nathaniel Hawthorne’s The Marble Faun
Photo of the cover of my copy of Howl’s Moving Castle by Diana Wynne Jones
Amber Glenn reacting to her win with her eyes closed and her hand over her mouth. Pinned to her USA jacket is an enamel progressive pride flag in the shape of a heart. (Photo from teamusa IG page)
photo of an open roll of Girl Scout thin mint cookies stores in a resealable bag. The bag looks like a cartoon panda’s face with its mouth wide open, and the cookies can be seen through the clear plastic of the mouth, as though the panda is in the act of eating them.
Masonry style fireplace with rough limestone and a glass front. The fire inside is absolutely glowing.
Photo of figure skating queen and queer icon Amber Glenn. She wears a sparkly dress, has a medal hung around her neck, and holds behind her the progressive pride flag
Harley and Ivy from Harley Quinn
A picture I took of the sunset while walking my dogs on the beach. The is it setting behind an outcrop and makes the sky glow orange around a few narrow clouds. The wet sand reflects the colors.
photograph of Youghiogheny Turquoise Iridized Stipple glass (credit: Delphi Glass)
My two dogs (foxy-looking village dogs) sit on a path strewn with autumn leaves. The smaller dog on the left wears a striped white and red hoodie, while the dog on the right wears a striped white and blue hoodie.
A simple stained glass Lynx made from iridescent blue and pink glass with gold stars and a crescent moon painted on the glass
Illustration by @maybell.eequay: a cute green frog in a mushroom hat and high heel red boots sits on the foot of a colorless bed. Above her are the words “existing can be exhausting”
Starting three for Phantom: Sabrina Ionescu, Satou Sabally, and Natasha Cloud
And that awful sense of déjà vu came crawling back up their throat. Why did this feel so familiar? Breathe. Breathe. Had the medickers already cut them open? Spread their ribs apart and looked inside? Could they see Kijun’s lungs pumping away?
Caravaggio’s oil painting of Narcissus. From Wikipedia: “Caravaggio painted an adolescent page wearing an elegant brocade doublet, leaning with both hands over the water, as he gazes at this own distorted reflection.[2] The painting conveys an air of brooding melancholy: the figure of Narcissus is locked in a circle with his reflection, surrounded by darkness, so that the only reality is inside this self-regarding loop. The 16th century literary critic Tommaso Stigliani explained the contemporary thinking that the myth of Narcissus "clearly demonstrates the unhappy end of those who love their things too much."[4]” (I entirely disagree and prefer the ironic interpretation that this is a tale about the impossibility of desiring what you already have; in Ovid, Narcissus is unhappy not because he loves his reflection, but because he longs for it, and yet by virtue of already having himself, he cannot gain what he sees. It is both heartbreaking and ridiculous.)