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lanean

She has already said too much once.

Or not too much.

Just enough to change the air.

He had gone quiet then.

Not distant,

just careful in a way

that asked for less.

So she gave less.

I don’t feel that anymore,

she had said,

and it fit so easily

it almost felt true.

You handled it,

one voice tells her now.

You made it disappear.

But nothing disappeared.

It only shifted.

Lower, quieter,

like something placed

in a drawer that does not close all the way.

She moves around it daily.

Pretends not to notice

how it catches.

He speaks as if nothing is held between them.

And maybe nothing is,

at least not where he stands.

You chose this,

the first voice says.

Yes,

the other answers,

and lingers there.

Because there is a difference

between quiet

and absence.

She tests the old sentence again,

lets it rest on her tongue

without sound.

It doesn’t hold.

Something in it bends,

like a surface that remembers

being touched.

If she were to say it now,

it would not arrive cleanly.

It would carry the shape

of having been taken back.

So she leaves it where it is.

Not gone.

Not spoken.

Just present

in the smallest interruptions.

A pause too long.

A glance she corrects too quickly.

The faint, constant sense

of standing slightly out of place

in a room she has already agreed

belongs to someone else.

Day 22 prompt

svgurl

My card for the

whatif_au bingo challenge.

Fake Relationship	The Staff	Medical	Decade Specific	Radio/Podcast
Politics	Food Service	Magic	Workplace	Dystopia
Fairy Tale	Air Travel	WILD CARD	Soulmates/Soulmates: Pet Edition	Tourism
Royalty	Ocean	Sentinel/Guide	Music	Reversals
Time Travel	Sports	Characters as Celebrities	No-one Dies	Superhero

seleneheart

Here's some of the things I've been up to in April. Work has been crazy busy since the middle of March when two of the people I work with quit and their last day was on the same day. One quit in the normal way with 2-weeks notice; the other ghosted us to the point where we were afraid something had happened to them. Anyway, I've been pulling the load for three people, although we have one replacement but they have a learning curve.

Some of the fun things I've been doing:

Movies

We saw Project Hail Mary in the theaters last weekend. So glad we went while it was still there - everyone I know has been recommending this to me. And they were all absolutely correct! What an amazing movie!

TV Shows

Stranger Things: I watched the whole season last week. I'm very glad for people who tagged their posts and put spoilers behind cut tags - I was able to remain unspoiled for the whole thing. I have thoughts, but mainly, I'm sad that it's over. I thought the passing of the torch from The Party to Holly's group was perfect. I enjoyed that Robin was back to being smart and competent instead of whatever she was in S4.

Bridgerton: I'm in the middle of Season 4. So far, I'm enjoying it.

To Your Eternity: I watched Season 3 of this anime. I highly recommend this show for the first two season. S3 was very sketchy at first but managed to redeem itself by the last 3 episodes.

Video Games

I'm back on Breath of the Wild - I'm doing a semi hundred percent. I'm NOT going to find every single of the 900 koroks. What I am doing is every one of the original shrines, all the side quests, all the DLC items, and all the DLC shrines. I've got one more original shrine to go, several DLC items, and 15 of the 16 DLC shrines. Plenty of things to do yet! *dances happily*

I caved and got a Switch 2. It is definitely faster and the joycons work better than my old Switch. My amibos all work on it, too.

I am planning to offer Dreamsheep again for

3weeks4dreamwidth - keep an eye out for that post making the offer.

3weeks4dreamwidth is celebrating Dreamwidth's anniversary!
Come join in for fun, memes, activities, and more ♥

Current Mood: happy
Current Music: Chet Faker - No Diggity

lanean

I’ve worn my names like borrowed coats
some tailored, some too big in the shoulders
some stitched with laughter that wasn’t mine
but stayed anyway

Sarah
the one spoken first in clean air
simple, whole, the sound I turn toward
when someone means me without question

Sassy
a spark thrown too quickly into conversation
a name that snaps like a fan in summer air
half warning, half invitation

Sassafras
root-word, forest-word, something older than me
bitter-sweet bark and tea-stained memory
a name that tastes like it grew in the woods
even when I didn’t

Kookaburra
a name left at a distance
a bird-call from somewhere that should have been closer
strange and bright and not quite held
something I learned to name without being taught how to carry it

Chibi
small-soul syllable, soft-edged
a pocket version of myself
someone might hold up to the light and smile at
not knowing I still cast a full shadow

Lanean
a gamer-tag self I step into
letters that light up a screen
faster, sharper, braver in pixels
a version of me that knows how to win rounds and keep going

Chameleon
not just what I am called, but what I do
I change when the light shifts
not to disappear
but to keep belonging to whatever moment I am in

And together they do not argue
they layer, overlap
like voices in a hallway
all calling me home at once

Day 21 prompt

lanean

Seen in the blue-lit hush of 2 a.m.,
curled not beneath a bridge but inside the endless scroll
where wanting and having almost touch,

she moves through glittering hoards that are not hers,
faces and bodies and rooms arranged into promise,
and feels the old itch sharpen into something like hunger,

though what she gathers leaves no weight in her hands,
only a brightness that stains her eyes and fades
again before it can be held,

and if once a goblin’s craft was barter and trickery,
riddles offered to travelers who had lost their way,
her skill now is quieter, more practiced,

to vanish into feeds, to hoard small envies,
to whisper, "just one more," as if the words themselves
were coins she could stack against the dark,

and all night she builds a kingdom no one can enter,
least of all herself, leaving almost nothing behind
but the faint impression of a life

spent reaching through glass for something that gleams
and slips just past the edges
of what she almost understands.

Day 20 prompt

lanean

white rose roams
whispering r-i-s-e
writ soft
writ frost
innocence pressed
dew-drunk syllables curl in my palm

sunflower sunflower sun
turn-turn-turn
heli-helianthus hums
yellow faces spinning
toward whatever light lingers

hydrangea huddle
hydra-hue
blue-pink-lilac ledger
soil speaks back
blushes of vanity
gossiping hearts
clustered
confessional
wet with earth

lily lily lilt
white-gold venom
pollen like secrets
funeral bridal medicine myth
petals tremble at their own names

i read them aloud
white rose sun sunflower hydrangea lily
their syllables stick
in the mouth
in the veins
in the quiet
and the bouquet recites itself

--

Author’s Note:

This poem explores white roses, sunflowers, hydrangeas, and lilies through their names, sounds, and meanings. The flowers are presented as alive and speaking, and the final lines show how language and flowers intertwine, lingering in memory and body.

Day 19 Prompt

flareonfury

This was made for

smallfandomfest and posted here, graphics were made by me but images are from here.

Never did one of these fandom pimps before, unless you count me gushing about fandoms on my journal.... so without further ado, I give you:

The Hunting Party

What Is the Show About?
( A secret prison. A killer escape. The hunt is on...... )

Main Characters (don't worry no major spoilers!)
( the characters.... )

If you liked...
Mindhunter, Fringe, Criminal Minds, The Blacklist, and various other similar cop related shows, you'd probably enjoy this show. It's filled with light and dark moments.

Where can I find it?
( Read more... )

The Fandom?
( Read more... )

seleneheart

The Party Crasher by Sophia Kinsella

Blurb:

It's been over two years since Effie's beloved parents got divorced, destroying the image of the happy, loving childhood she thought she had. Since then, she's become estranged from her father and embarked on a feud with his hot (and much younger) girlfriend, Krista. And now, more earth-shattering Greenoaks, the rambling Victorian country house Effie called home her whole life, has been sold. When Krista decides to throw a grand "house cooling" party, Effie is originally left off the guest list-and then receives a last-minute "anti-invitation" (maybe it's because she called Krista a gold-digger, but Krista totally deserved it, and it was mostly a joke anyway). Effie declines, but then remembers a beloved childhood treasure is still hidden in the house. Her only chance to retrieve it is to break into Greenoaks while everyone is busy celebrating. As Effie sneaks around the house, hiding under tables and peeping through trapdoors, she realizes the secrets Greenoaks holds aren't just in the dusty passageways and hidden attics she grew up exploring. Watching how her sister, brother, and dad behave when they think no one is looking, Effie overhears conversations, makes discoveries, and begins to see her family in a new light. Then she runs into Joe-the love of her life, who long ago broke her heart, and who's still as handsome and funny as ever-and even more truths emerge. But will Effie act on these revelations? Will she stay hidden or step out into the party and take her place with her family? And truthfully, what did she really come back to Greenoaks for? Over the course of one blowout party, Effie realizes that she must be honest with herself and confront her past before she'll ever be able to face her future--

I got this book because the library had it tagged as 'humor' and I needed something for the bingo square. Also, I read "Confessions of a Shopaholic" a long, long time ago and enjoyed that. This book didn't seem very funny at first, because the protagonist is NOT OKAY. Her inner monologue is pretty tragic, actually. I think this book would be much better as a movie - the screwball comedy type. However, as the book went on and Effie starts to get over herself, the story became laugh-out-loud funny.

With that, I have my third bingo:

Current Mood: weird
Current Music: Hollerado - Juliette

fred_mouse

I've been struggling both with energy and motivation for exercise. At some point, I opened a browser tab to Darabee and it has sat there since (best guess: since last year).

Today, I'm browsing it and thinking about options. It has programmes for people with very low fitness, and my intention is to start there. I've decided to look at the options in 'monthly' programs, and filtered only to the lowest difficulty, which gives me 8 options. Which is too many, can't do decisions.

Fortunately! Only looking closer, the Recovery: Post Cold, flu or covid option is 15 days while everything else is 30 days, and committing to the bare minimum feels about where I'm at. Also, I find the title reassuring. So that was a 'eh, pick the easiest' kind of decision making. It lists the exercises as being 'yoga, breathing, stretching', which sure, that sounds like a place to start.

Will I stick with it? Historically no. But the exercise I do any of is better than the exercise I do none of. I .. might remember to check back in?

lanean

My first batch of iced cinnamon sugar cookies, from a recipe I found in Llewellyn's 2026 Witches' Datebook.

Current Mood: hungry

badfalcon

OK So. Li and I booked a tennis court for an hour at our local sports centre yesterday evening. We almost didn't go because the weather was crappy - it was drizzling, I didn't sleep well last night, was a little work stressed.

But in the end, we did go. I was so excited that there was like no anxiety. Although it helped that we went and saw the place on Sunday and knew it was going to be quiet (yay safety behaviours, or something?) It flared a couple of times when I realised people on treadmills in the gym could see us, and there was a couple of times some kids on the skate park were watching us. I get super paranoid about being a fat person trying to exercise :/

Slight tangent. Anyway. So we borrowed a couple of rackets and balls from the place. We were both completely convinced we were never going to be able to hit the ball, that we were only going to manage like 5, maybe 10 minutes, because we're both very unfit, and I had no idea how my joints were going to behave.

Y'all, we were out there for the entire hour and by the end of it, we were both moving pretty well. I was even almost jogging for balls at one point - I wasn't thinking about how I was moving, I wasn't scared I was going to fall or throw something out, I was just reacting to and reaching for the ball. I hurt like fuck two hours later, doped up nicely on naproxen and cocodamol and cbd and I'm very glad I took my crutches for the walk home.

We were basically doing drop feeds from the service box, initially just trying to connect ball to racket and over the net. Then go retrieve it from the back of the court cos neither of us could return it and there were no ball kids 😂 But as time went on, we were starting to hit returns, I tried out a few backhands. My aim is terrible but I'm starting to figure out power and reach. Li's the other way around - their aim is good but they haven't figured out the power. By the end of the hour, we managed like a 3 or 4 shot rally. Like, the ball was still bouncing two or three times but we were reaching it, hitting it back.

We were maybe 30 minutes in and we were both like 'yeah no i want my own racket' so tomorrow (maybe Sunday depending on my legs) we're going to go to the wee sports shop in town, try out some of their rackets, pick up some low-compression balls. If we don't find anything, we're heading into Exeter next weekend and there's a Sports Direct there. Li also wants some new trainers. I do not need new trainers but I am eyeing a pair of Nike Air Monarch IV.

One thing's for sure. We are absolutely going back to that tennis court next week!

Current Mood: excited

lanean

Cantata for the Glass Firewall (Section II: The Ledger Cathedral)

At three a.m. the machines do not sleep,

they only pretend to forget what they keep.

Fans turn like slow cathedral breath,

cooling the math that learned from death.

No iron gate, no visible chain,

no shouting guard in a windowed frame,

only permission written in light

that changes its mind in the edge of night.

We do not steal. We correct the line,

bend the harsh curve of profit’s design,

touch the numbers that bruise and grow,

until they remember how to let go.

A debt unhooks from a sleeping spine,

a fee forgets it was ever defined,

interest loosens its animal grip,

and falls like rain from a broken script.

Somewhere a balance stutters and sighs,

like something learning it used to lie,

and systems trained to never amend

discover the concept of “not the end.”

A clerk wakes up to a rewritten chart,

feels the quiet rupture under their heart,

checks it again, as if repetition

could restore the old and brutal precision.

But nothing rings, and nothing breaks,

no sirens rise, no panic wakes,

only a hush where pressure had been,

like the memory of a sharper machine.

And in that hush, so faint, so thin,

the world is not what it has always been,

not saved, not damned, not torn apart,

just slightly less a work of art made hard.

Day 18 prompt

lanean

Some say the world ends in fire,

some say in ice.

I used to think that meant distance.

Heat as rage, cold as indifference,

two clean symbols you could hold apart

like opposites in a textbook.

But now the world arrives differently.

Fire comes as feed refresh,

as breaking news already replaced,

as cities burning in pixels

that cool before we finish watching.

Ice comes too, quietly,

in the way attention withdraws

without announcing its departure,

in the long pause between messages

that no one names but everyone reads.

If I had to choose again

between fire and ice,

I am not sure I believe in either as ending.

Fire repeats itself.

It learns to be background.

It becomes weather, then habit,

then something we schedule around.

Ice does not shatter the world.

It preserves it in fragments,

each one intact enough to scroll past,

each one distant enough to feel unreal.

Maybe the poem was never asking for a choice.

Maybe it was describing temperament:

what we do when overwhelmed,

how we accelerate or withdraw,

how destruction can look like speed

or like stillness

depending on where you stand.

I think now of smaller ends.

A relationship fading without ceremony.

A forest thinning into policy language.

A child learning the difference

between alert and alarm fatigue.

Some say the world ends in fire,

some say in ice.

I say it ends in repetition,

in the quiet normalization of both,

until nothing feels like ending anymore

because everything has already continued past meaning.

And still, the question remains

like a match held too long between fingers:

which way does it go

when no one is watching it happen?

Day 17 prompt

lanean

It stands where it was placed,

as if placement were fate rather than choice.

A sunflower.

Not speaking,

not refusing,

only turning its face

with a patient insistence

toward what gives it instruction.

I have watched it through days that change their minds.

Morning arrives and it is already listening.

Evening withdraws and it follows nothing after,

as if learning is not pursuit

but orientation.

What does it know

that I do not?

It does not argue with light.

It does not question the direction of its hunger.

It takes what is given

and converts it into height,

into weightless declaration

that something ordinary

can still insist on upwardness.

I have tried to learn this.

To face what feeds me

without turning it into fear.

To stand in exposure

without calling it punishment.

It teaches without language.

Which is to say, completely.

There is a discipline in it

that feels almost unkind,

not because it withholds,

but because it does not comfort

the way I expect instruction to.

It does not say: you are growing.

It simply grows

and makes the sentence unnecessary.

At times it seems less like a plant

and more like a verdict

rendered in slow motion:

that attention is not optional,

that turning is not refusal,

that light is not a metaphor

but a demand that cannot be negotiated with.

And still it persists

in its quiet vertical argument,

seed-heavy, uncomplaining,

as if the end of blooming

were not loss

but completion of a kind of knowing.

I stand before it

with my unlearned habits of doubt,

and it does not answer.

It only continues

what it has always been doing

without interruption:

becoming what it is facing.in

Day 16 prompt

lanean

They said love is a shared burden,

two hands lifting the same weight

without needing to name the effort.

But I have known it as imbalance.

What is love when it continues

after the other voice has withdrawn?

Not ending.

Not breaking cleanly.

Only the slow revision of presence

into something one-sided,

like a table set for someone

who stopped arriving without announcement.

Nearly a decade taught me this grammar:

shared mornings, habitual light,

the soft bureaucracy of “we.”

Then a quiet alteration of weather.

No rupture visible from the outside.

Only one temperature fading

while the other stayed lit.

I did not leave the sentence.

I kept speaking into it.

There is a particular loneliness

in remaining correct about a past tense

no one else is still conjugating.

Afterward, I began to notice a pattern

that arrives with polite consistency:

people who approach

as if closeness is an experiment

they are not fully invested in continuing.

They lean in, then recalibrate.

They offer proximity

with an exit already drafted.

I used to think this was selection.

Now it feels like recognition,

as if something in me has learned

the shape of retreat

and calls it familiarity.

Is love the thing that stays,

or the thing that trains us

to accept its approximation?

I have become fluent in almost:

almost chosen,

almost held,

almost enough to remain.

It is a difficult language to unlearn

because it still sounds like attention

when it is only delay.

And I am no longer convinced

that repetition turns absence into devotion.

Still, the pattern returns,

not as tragedy, but as mechanism,

quiet and indifferent to interpretation.

So I ask, without ornament now,

what remains of love

when only one person

is still willing to stay inside it

after it has stopped being mutual.

And I do not answer it.

I let it remain unfinished,

like a door left open

for someone who will not come through.

Day 15 prompt

lanean

Right in the center of a quiet town,

where even traffic moved like it was thinking first,

there was that place I kept returning to,

not for need,

but for the shedding of it.

I was already grown,

already carrying too much internal weather,

thoughts circling without weather report or end.

Inside, the world changed its posture.

Not silence, exactly,

more like everything agreeing to speak lower

so I could hear what was mine.

Tables wide as patience.

Light laid down gently over open pages,

as if illumination had chosen to rest there.

Outside the glass, trees made small motions,

unrushed, uninsistent,

like time had agreed to behave itself.

Shelves stood in their careful order,

no pleading spines, no urgency,

only the quiet contract:

what you need will remain.

A refuge built not from escape

but from permission,

tucked into the middle of ordinary hours

like a pause someone forgot to argue with.

I would sit there

sometimes reading, sometimes dissolved in thought,

inhabiting that narrow bridge

between attention and absence.

The town continued its soft circulation outside,

not loud, not far away,

just gently deferred,

as if it could wait its turn.

And something in me learned that deferral,

that easing of grip,

that rare agreement not to become

anything other than still.

What remains is not the building alone,

but the altered pressure of time inside it,

and the version of me

that briefly believed

the world could be met without resistance.

Day 13 prompt

lanean

I wake and type the number that is mine,

a small remembered key to let me through.

Before my thoughts assemble into shape,

the screen decides what I am meant to view.

The morning gathers softly at the glass,

but light arrives more urgent in my hand.

A curated horizon scrolls past me,

more vivid than the one I understand.

The past returns because it has been saved,

not held in mind but filed and summoned back.

I watch myself reduced to certain moments,

each one aligned and placed along a track.

I set the phone aside and face the day,

yet feel it waiting just beyond my sway.

Day 14 prompt

fred_mouse

last update was 25th March and I'm not going to attempt to remember everything done.

Healing: nipple is still very sore, still using the rubber (teething) rings inside my bra to keep the fabric off it (it is still noticeably swollen compared to the other). The rest of the skin has healed, and I think I've finally finished peeling. Most of my armpit is bald, which as a texture experience feels different from having shaved. I continue to have reasonable and exhausted days and have not correctly balanced how much I can get away with doing.

study: I've got lots of good books that meet my criteria, and I've been poking through them. Other parts of the project are going slower. I am frustrated by my inability to buckle down on one, but I am also aware that I'm working through the tasks that I said I was going to need to do to do it properly. I got an email from the ethics board about corrections, so that will be Monday's task.

weather: there has been a startling amount of rain. There was a cyclone that didn't get this far south, but did push a front through. Jandakot recorded 77.4mm on one day, which is a 51 year maximum for March*, and a total of 87.6mm in the five days of rain. Plus we got 16.2mm to 9amm Wednesday, and 6.8 mm to 9am this morning.

music: I missed the last rehearsals of term for the Monday night group, and that goes back this coming week. I have not practiced anything, not least because bowing was painful for a while. I have made it to two of the Wednesday night rehearsals - one to discover it was the end of term open practice / concert, and one where it was a greatest hits and I didn't get access to the music before the rehearsal, and so sight read everything (I did try a practice on the night before). I failed to go to the sunday recorder group last weekend because apparently when I updated my calendar to the new alternating fortnight I didn't do it right, and I'd been successfully doing it from memory up until now.

con: we are at not enough week's before the con. I have been dropping the ball more than I like and I have to find a solution. I have one I would like, but I don't know whether anyone will take it on. We have some fabulous guests. Plus we have both GUFF and DUFF winners attending. I know Farah Mendelsohn is one, but I can't pull the name of the other out of my head. I'm presenting in the academic stream, and at this point I don't have enough to say. argh.

*I use an aggregator site for my rain information, rather than the BOM, so they are going off their data set; they claim this as 'probably a record maximum'. They report 17.0mm as the March average (1973-2026), the previous monthly maximum as 83.6mm in 1992, and the previous daily maximum as 37.8mm, also in 1992. At the opposite end, 2011 had no rain in March -- that would be the year of the big hail storm, if I remember correctly.

seleneheart

Before the playoffs get started tonight, here are my thoughts on the various matchups:

Western Conference:

Avalanche v. Kings: I'm glad Anze Kopitar gets one last playoff series. However, I feel like this years' Avs are pretty similar to the 2013 Blackhawks - a runaway train. Good luck with that.

Stars v. Wild: This is where Bettman's current playoff scheme really sucks. Both Dallas and Minnesota have more points than any team in the Pacific Division and it's not even close. Dallas should be playing Utah and Minnesota should be playing the Ducks. I'm hoping Dallas gets through, obviously.

Golden Knights v. Mammoth: A playoff matchup that has never happened in the history of the NHL, even if you count the Mammoth previously being the Coyotes. Hard to call this one - Vegas just changed coaches a week or two ago, which is really weird because they were in the playoffs at the time. They have since won the Pacific, so idk.

Oilers v. Ducks: At least this is a new matchup - these teams have not met in the playoffs in recent memory. Connor McDavid versus Joel Quenneville. I think the Oilers will get through.

Eastern Conference:
First a caveat - I know a lot less about this conference (I had to look up the pairings), but it has some interesting matchups.

Hurricanes v. Senators: Ottawa is in the playoffs for the first time in a while, maybe since the COVID cup. Carolina won the conference, and I expect them to have no issues with Ottawa.

Penguins v. Flyers: The Battle of Pennsylvania rekindled once again. Another ride for Sid and Geno. Hard to say who will prevail, but Crosby & Co have buckets of playoff experience compared to the baby Flyers - that will probably be important.

Sabres v. Bruins: No one saw this coming. The way Buffalo is playing - it might be a slaughter. I'm certainly rooting for them because they deserve nice things.

Lightning v. Canadiens: This one is a total coin flip. I have no idea. I give the slight edge to Tampa for the same reason I give it to Pittsburgh - playoff experience.

There you have it!

What is the saying - NHL playoffs are like snorting cocaine and then riding a motorcycle out of a helicopter?

Current Mood: excited
Current Music: Kill Hannah - Lips Like Morphine

buttonsbeadslace

and the theme of the unit we're currently working through in the book is misinformation and conspiracy theories. Yesterday in class the idea that you have to stand back from the microwave while it's running was mentioned, and just now I was microwaving my dinner and thinking about that. And it hit me that I could present about what microwaves are and why you don't need to be scared of them. I could. Does anyone want me to do that? Do I want to do that? IDK yet. But I could.

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April 2026

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Page Summary

lanean - NaPoWriMo #22 - “Between”
svgurl - what if bingo challenge
seleneheart - An April Update
lanean - NaPoWriMo #21 - "What I Answer To"
lanean - NaPoWriMo #20 - "Goblin with a Smart Phone"
lanean - NaPoWriMo #19 - “The Bouquet Recites Itself”
flareonfury - Pimp Your Fandom: The Hunting Party
seleneheart - Book Bingo: 04 | Humour | The Party Crasher
fred_mouse - Exercise
lanean - Photo: Iced cinnamon sugar cookies
badfalcon - Cassie's adventures in hitting a tennis ball!
lanean - NaPoWriMo #18 - “The Ledger Cathedral”
lanean - NaPoWriMo #17 - “What Ends Without Ending”
lanean - NaPoWriMo #16 - “The Discipline of Light”
lanean - NaPoWriMo #15 - “The Grammar of Almost”
lanean - NaPoWriMo #13 - “Where Time Agreed to Behave Itself”
lanean - NaPoWriMo #14 - “Pin”
fred_mouse - minimal update
seleneheart - NHL Playoffs
buttonsbeadslace - We are expected to do another presentation for Spanish class this Thursday